Page 28 of Here We Go Again

What if I hadn’t begged Dad to take me to get food? What if I hadn’t asked to drive? What if we’d just stayed at the iceplex while Carter finished his sprints? What if we’d taken a different route?

“I know that now,” I say, “but back then, I wanted the hurt. I wanted to suffer because Dad was gone. Mom lost him, my brother lost him, because I couldn’t wait fifteen minutes to get a burger.” I give my head a little shake, pushing the feelings aside and forcing myself to look at Becca, to stay anchored in this moment, right here, with her.

There are tears in her eyes, her hands still gripping mine.

“You would have said all the right things,” I say, my voice low. “And I didn’t think I deserved any of them.”

She nods and sniffs, tugging her hands back to wipe away her tears. “I get it,” she says. “I hated it. But even then, I understood it wasn’t really about me.”

I hate that she’s crying. That all these years later, she still feels enough to trigger tears. “I’m sorry I pushed you away, Bec.”

She closes her eyes for a brief moment, then opens them again, her lips lifting into a small smile. “Sorry you had your brother break up with me after your dad’s funeral?”

I wince. “Definitely sorry about that. You deserved so much more.”

She presses her palms flat against the table, then takes a deep breath. “Thank you for apologizing,” she says. “I think I thought I was over it, but clearly”—she motions to her tear-stained face—“I still have some lingering feelings.”

“Rightly so,” I say. “I know it was just high school, but we…” I don’t finish because I’m not sure I should. She has a boyfriend. I don’t want to make things weird by talking about a relationship that ended years ago.

“We felt like more than that,” she finishes for me.

Warmth spreads through my chest at her words. I’ve always believed it was real love for both of us. But it feels good to hear her acknowledge it too. “Yeah, we did.”

She studies me for a long moment. “I should go,” she finally says, then she slips out of her chair.

I quickly stand, panic rising in my chest. “Right. I … should we…?” My words trail off, but I have no idea what I was even going to say.

I can’t ask to see her again. She’s seeing someone else, and I’m never going to be that guy. I could ask to be her friend, but even that feels questionable because I’m not sure I trust my motives. I don’t think I could ever look at Becca and be content in the friend zone. Even all these years later, the feelings I used to have are so close to the surface. She meant too much to me for my heart to ever see her any other way.

She holds out her hand. “Friends?”

My heart squeezes inside my chest. I can’t say yes. But I can’t say no either.

I slip my hand into hers. Her skin is warm and soft and sends a familiar bolt of longing through my body. “Friends,” I say.

She gives my hand a little squeeze, then she pulls her fingers away and turns to leave. I watch her walk away, emotions coursing through me, but then she pauses and turns. She looks at me, hesitating for just a beat before rushing back, quickly closing the distance between us.

When she reaches me, she pushes up on her toes and wraps her arms around my neck.

I hug her back, pulling her close as I savor the familiar feel of her pressed against me. My hands skim her waist as I breathe in the scent of her, keenly aware of every part of me she’s touching. Her hands on my shoulders, her chest pressed against mine, her hair tickling my nose.

I don’t know how I lived without her—without this.

How did I ever let this woman go?

The hug is over too soon, then she’s backing away again.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she says. “That you’re playing hockey. You deserve to have the life you always wanted.” She bites her lip. “I think your dad would agree with me on that.” She offers me a sad smile, then she turns and leaves for good.

All I can think as I watch her round the corner of the coffee shop and disappear is that it’s almost the life I’ve always wanted.

Almost.

8

BECCA

After I’m out of the coffee shop, I practice my deep breathing as I speed-walk through the hospital. Technically, I could go home. Race upstairs and grab my things from my locker, then flee the hospital.