Page 112 of Never Will I Ever

Believe me, kid. I know the feeling better than I care to admit.

“You can always tell me the hard things, kid. Promise.”

I listen to Elijah ramble on for a bit after that, not quite zoning out, but not being as attentive as I should either. It’s hard when my mind is racing, reeling and circling around all the things I should’ve done differently.

All the things I’d change if I could finally break free of the chains binding me.

“Avery, can I tell you something else?”

I smirk and murmur, “Yeah, sure.”

Feeling like he’s about to tell me something ridiculous that happened after I left camp, I settle back into the couch and wait for the tale.

There’s a pause on the other end of the line before his soft voice drives rusty nails into my heart.

“I’m not the only person whose feelings you hurt. Kaleb…he wasn’t the same without you here. He was crabby a lot, and the rest of the time he seemed really sad.”

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the kid is trying to hurt me for leaving. But he isn’t that kind of person. He’s just…saying the hard things.

It’s not his fault if it rips me to shreds by hearing it.

Releasing a mangled cough, I try to breathe around the emotion clogging my throat when I mutter, “Now I really know you’re stretching the truth. I’m sure he threw a party the second my car left the parking lot.”

“If the party were a funeral, sure.”

I choke on a laugh, still feeling the sting of his admission despite his quick wit. Which, come to think of it, sounds a lot like someone else I know.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have left after all. You’ve clearly spent too much time around the twins.”

“Dayton,” Elijah corrects, and that has us both laughing a little. It quickly fades, though, leaving a sobering silence between us before he whispers, “Avery?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“I just want you to know…I really like you and Kaleb together.”

A knot catches in my throat, and this time, I have no choice but to let my voice crack around it.

“Yeah, kid. Me too.”

My conversation with Elijah has been on my mind a lot the last few days, and if I thought I was down in the dumps before his call, it’s nothing compared to now. Now, I’m downright miserable. Sulking in self-pity and regret.

And because misery loves company, it seems my father wants to get in on the action.

He’s been overly present the past few days, using some vacation time for us to take the boat out or grab lunch at his favorite restaurant downtown. And while some father-son bonding would be fine and dandy, he spends most of the time talking about me going back to Foltyn in the coming weeks.

The problem is, the more I think about setting foot on that campus as a student again, the more apprehensive I get. Not because of Kaleb or missing baseball or anything else, but rather because I don’t want it anymore. After what I did to Aspen and Keene, I don’t deserve it. And after going along with this plan of Dad’s, I only feel more unworthy of a second chance. It’s eating away at me like a parasite, and I know if I don’t do something about it soon, I may lose my mind.

Which is why I find myself walking downstairs this morning like I’m walking into my own execution, a pit of dread sittingin my stomach when I turn the corner to find my father in the kitchen.

“Avery,” he notes, barely glancing up from his coffee and paper sitting on the island. “I’m surprised you’re still here. I’d have thought you’d be heading out to see some friends before classes start.”

Acid burns the back of my throat at yet another reminder of what I’m about to do, and it has me swallowing a few times to rid myself of the taste.

Say the hard thing.

Say the hard thing, and let the chips fall.

“Actually, I’m not going.” I mutter, steeling myself for his reaction.

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