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“Damn, man.” Keene hopped up next to me. “When did this happen?”
I glanced over, feeling the pain of it all over again. “Right before she told me she was leaving Westport for good.”
“Fuck,” he muttered. “So you’ve had another panic attack and not told anyone aboutthat, either, I’m guessing.”
“Actually, no,” I realized. “I didn’t. I haven’t had one since our meeting.”
“Hold up.” Keene lifted his hands. “Let me get this straight. You camethis closeto being outed as a damn home-wrecker. Your reputation as the wholesome, boy-next-door football player’s been put into question bythousandsbecause of that douchebag’s article. Your parents kicked you out.Andthe love of your life one-and-doned you, which is, like, your greatest relationship dread. But you haven’t had a single attack? How the fuck is thatpossible?”
“I’m not really sure,” I admitted glumly. “But I think it had something to do with the way I flipped out when I saw all the moving boxes in Raina’s kitchen.”
Brow furrowing, Keene shook his head. “Huh?”
“It upset me,” I explained. “Realizing she was leaving… I mean, I handled it all wrong. I said shit I wish I could take back. I was just…a complete ass. But I actuallyprocessedwhat I was feeling right there on the spot. I didn’t try to hide it or hold it in. There was no reason for it to burst out of me later in the form of anxiety because I let myselffeelwhat I was feeling.”
“Well, shit.” Keene nodded as if impressed. “That only took you a dozen years to figure out.”
I winced. “God. Itwillbe twelve years this June since Hayes died, won’t it?”
“Yep. And I’m proud of you, man. Good job on letting yourself feel pissed when you got pissed.”
When he patted my back in congratulations, I sent him a miserable laugh. “Thanks. It didn’t win me the girl, but at least now I know how to properly mourn her.”
“She’ll come back,” he said quietly.
I glanced at him in surprise, but he only lifted one shoulder. “My mom came back, and I got a second chance to tell her goodbye. I was able to thank her for being the most important person in my world for the first nine years of my life, even though now”—he rolled his eyes in irritation—“I gotta figure out how to send her off to where she’ssupposedto go. But…fuck. If I can communicate with her again after ten years of her being gone,anythingcan happen. Marriage might not be for me, but you were freakingbuiltfor it, man. You are the epitome of the perfect, loyal, monogamous boyfriend, slash, future husband. Your girlhasto come back. She just has to.”
I sighed, pretty certain it was impossible. There was no reason for Raina to return to Westport. Ever.
To Keene, however, I said, “I hope you’re right.”
39
RAINA
With a sad sigh, I tossed my phone aside and rubbed my eyes; I’d grown tired of reading through all the job ad listings in Galveston.
Slumped on the captain’s couch, I pulled a pillow into my lap and hugged it to my chest. I had no idea what to do with my life anymore.
Technically, I was supposed to behealing, but other than still getting exhausted easily, I felt like everything was going okay. I’d learned how to walk and read again. I was even cleared to drive. My headaches rarely came at all. I had no hallucinations; my physical therapists said I was doing awesome; and the grief counselor the captain had hooked me up with also seemed impressed with the strides I’d made.
Plus I was itching to get out and actually do something again.
I just didn’t knowwhatto do.
The captain suggested that I enroll in some classes in town, but…
College didn’t sound worthwhile to me unless I was going to return to HaveU. So I figured I’d just enter the workforce and try to find a permanent job. Except every listing sounded so bleh that it made this stupid restlessness inside me grow thicker.
When my phone jangled with an incoming text, I snatched it up, only to heave out a disappointed breath.
It was just the captain, telling me he was going to be late again.
Which meant I was going to spend another night home alone, probably eating microwavable mac and cheese with some Flamin’ Hot Cheetos for supper in front of the television, while watching the newest episode ofWe Were the Lucky Ones.
I jotted off a quick reply to the captain, letting him know I’d gotten his message and that I loved him. I was about to toss the phone back to the side, but instead, I bit my lip and paused before opening the messages Foster and I had sent back and forth in the last few weeks.
It’d been five days since we last corresponded. He’d let me know that he’d received the key to his new apartment, and he thanked me for sending it.
