Page 96 of The Last Thing You Said

But not like this. Not like this, so close to the anniversary, when we’re both so sad and angry.

What are we doing?

I slide my arms down, against his chest, and shove him back. He gasps as I step away.

“Lu?” There’s hurt in his voice, but I can’t let it get to me. I can’t.

“No. Not like this.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

I want to hurt him like he hurt me.

“Isn’t this your usual routine? You’re sad, some girl wants to save you from your sadness, you get laid?”

His mouth drops open again, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. And I can’t believe I’m saying it. His eyes bore into me, wide and wounded. “Lulu, no,” he says, and takes a step toward me.

I hold up my hands to stop him. “Leave me alone, Ben. I can’t save you.”

I walk away and let the tears fall. I’ve gone a few yards when I hear the car door slam, hear the Firebird rev and peel out. In the other direction. Away from me.

51 · Ben

This is not the right path.

52 · Lucy

The next day, I wake with the memory of Ben’s arms around me, of his kiss. How I pushed him away. My stomach drops.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

My parents are at work, and the empty, echoing house closes in on me. I step out to the deck. The sky today is sunny, bright blue. A bluebird sky, Ben would call it.

I wonder what Ben’s doing, if he’s out fishing, if he’s thinking of me and the horrible things I said.

I call Hannah.

“Lucille,” she says after I’ve told her what happened, “honey, you’ve got to let him back in.”

If only it were that easy.

I get ready for work.

At the Full Loon, I can be one of my mom’s best servers. I can treat every customer like a guest. I can throw myself into it. I can ignore the sick feeling in my stomach, the guilt that bubbles up. Guilt about the kiss. Guilt about feeling so relieved that Simon has gone home for his grandfather’s funeral, that I don’t have to see his bruised face.

Everyone in town comes out for the Grand Reopening the next day. Tami brings Emily, who spins on one of the new stools at the counter. Clayton shows up as promised. He hugs me and says, “So, how’s my favorite little delinquent?” I shove him but really I’m glad to see him.

We serve pie and coffee. The man from the newspaper takes pictures and interviews Mom and Daniel. We all crowd around behind the red ribbon as Mom cuts it with an enormous pair of silver shears. Rita’s here even though she quit months ago—Mom said it wouldn’t be the same without her.

And later, because it’s Monday night, Guthrie and Ben show up.

They sit at the counter and my mom serves them. Guthrie raises his hand in a wave as I walk into the kitchen.

I shiver, remembering Ben’s hands on my back as he pulled me close to him, his lips on mine.

“Take these out to the boys?” Daniel says, motioning to two plates of the Grand Reopening Special—Daniel’s brand-new Five Alarm Jalapeño Burger with Smoky Sweet Potato Wedges.

“The boys?”