Page 85 of Every Heartbeat After

Laughter bubbles up my throat once more. “Oh, is she now?”

“But only for me. Because I’m her best friend in the whole world.” Then she leans forward and throws her arms around me, squeezing the air right out of me. “Don’t you ever forget it, either, Tess Monroe.”

“As long as you don’t forgetme,” I retort.

She snickers. “As if anyone could.”

If only she knew just how heavily I’m betting on that.

ChapterThirty-Five

Tess

“I should’ve called first.”

Alicia continues thumbing the motel remote, searching for a channel that’s at least twenty-five-percent static-free. We’ve landed at a seedy motel somewhere in New Mexico, where the cable is about as good as any other amenities they offer—such as a half-functioning vending machine that hums so loud I can hear it from our room half a motel away from it. It’s a far cry from the Carmen, that’s for sure, but oddly reminiscent of the Horseshoe.

Her gaze remains trained on the screen, face awash in artificial light, but she furrows her dark brows. “You called Gary two weeks ago. He was thrilled.”

I shift uncomfortably on the mattress, trying to find a spot not completely caved in by previous tenants. “I meant I should’ve called Kit.”

“Oh. Why? It’s not like he gave you a heads-up when he crashed your vacation.”

I wave my hands frenetically in the air, my feelings put to motion, then drop them onto a bedspread that will forever reek of smoke. Alicia settles on a show where people have to survive butt naked in what appears to be the Amazon rainforest with nothing but their wits and a small knife about them. I shiver as a man swallows a handful of some questionable-at-best water, knowing dysentery awaits him.

“This is unhinged behavior.”

She scoffs. “He started it.”

“I meant the show!” My head lands on a stack of lumpy pillows with a muted thud. “Has anyone ever told you that you argue like a middle schooler?”

She drops the remote onto the table between our beds and pins me with a sardonic smile. “Hazard of the day job, I’m afraid.”

I stare at my best friend, willing some of her confidence to flow across the divide and fill me instead. Ever since we left Alabama two days ago, she’s been unwaveringly excited, certain that this will be the grand romantic gesture to end all grand romantic gestures.

I, however, have been a bundle of nerves.

Turns out, letting my true nature take precedent has had a two-fold effect. It has made me 1) an absolute sop who cries at the drop of a hat and 2) an overthinking mess. With every mile that passes, bringing us closer to Loveless, I play each moment with Kit on repeat in my head, checking for signs that I built it up to be bigger than what it was.

But I always come back to him kneeling before me with his eyes cast in shadow and his jaw set with determination. I see his lips part, thin and expressive, around words that still rock me like a physical push, even in memory.

I’m in love with you whether I tell you or not.But he did tell me, and more importantly, he showed me. By walking away when the pain of doing so was written so clearly in every ridge of his muscled body, because he knew it was what I needed. By leaving the light on for me so I could find my way when I was ready.

It doesn’t take long for soft snores to spill from Alicia’s side of the room. One glance confirms my suspicions; she’s fallen fast asleep with an arm dangling over the edge of the bed, like she’s reaching for me. Alone with my thoughts and the flickering light of the television, I stare up at the yellow-stained ceiling and send silent prayers not to God but to Kit.

You were right. It isn’t over between us. It never could be. I’m coming. Please be waiting for me. I’ll be there soon. Soon. Soon.

Tomorrow,I realize with a jolting heartbeat that pitches my stomach into my throat. After weeks of packing or selling—mostly the latter—all my earthly possessions and getting everything in line to transfer ownership of my grandparents’ house to my best friend, it seems impossible that the day has come. That after what feels like a lifetime, but in reality has only been more like a month and a half, I’ll get to see Kit again. Almost a year to the date from when we first met.

For the millionth time I unlock my phone and, bypassing a notification of yet another video Mara sent to me via some app she finally convinced me to download, navigate to his unanswered messages.

It brings a strange sort of comfort to reread them. Like for as long as they exist, so did we. Physical proof of some intangible thing that we shared.

Even if Alicia is right, that I’m doing exactly what Kit did by showing up unannounced at the Carmen, it still feels wrong to go from ignoring him to standing on his doorstep, begging for another chance. I don’t allow myself to think about it for too long—an Olympic feat that I deserve at least Bronze for. I type quickly and press send before I can consider the consequences. I half expect to hyperventilate, but instead, my racing pulse calms. Just knowing that somewhere not too far from me in the world he’s reading the words I’ve written is enough for me to relax, roll onto my side, and finally succumb to sleep.

* * *

Kit

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