Page 14 of Izzy and Her Off-Limits Love

“We can go wherever you want. Don’t worry about me. I can find something to eat just about anywhere.”

Her eyes glint with a hint of mischief. “But Liam, I don’t want your butt to explode.”

I groan. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Never,” Izzy says.

It’s a phrase she heard me say all the time as a kid, especially right after my diagnosis. I said it with full sincerity to anyone who would listen to explain why I couldn’t eat like everyone else.

“Well, in that case, I really need to check out these sweet potato fries. If you’re planning to marry them, I’d like to give my stamp of approval. Maybe threaten to hurt them if they ever hurt you.”

“Riley’s sweet potato fries could never hurt me.” Izzy grins, but it falters quickly. She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’m sorry I freaked out in there.”

I wait without saying anything because I get the sense she isn’t quite finished owning whatever truth she wouldn’t admit before.

“I think I was just … surprised?” She tugs my coat a little tighter around her shoulders. “You know our family. They’re always in everyone’s business. How did no one think to tell me you and Natasha broke up? I mean, you brought her to Christmas last year! I assumed there was an imminent proposal.”

The idea of proposing to Natasha makes me jolt. “There was never a proposal on the horizon.”

Especially not after seeing how she measured up to you, I don’t add. I still feel guilty about bringing her home to meet the family and then yanking the rug out from under her when I told her it wasn’t working. She was a nice woman. For someone else, not me.

“I guess we could have stayed in touch a little better,” I say. “Maybe instead of trusting the family to tell us things, we should have actually talked to each other.” I step a little closer. “And not just this year. In general. When did we stop being so close?”

After my mom married my stepdad, Camden, the two of us moved to North Carolina to be with him since he couldn’t leave his hockey team. I was ten at the time, and moving felt like an adventure. And that’s exactly what it turned out to be. I started playing hockey, experienced my first white Christmas, discovered the magic of apple cider donuts.

But some integral part of me always ached for the beach, so I was happy to be back on Oakley for holidays and the summer months when we lived on the island full time.

Izzy was always waiting for me when we pulled into town, and for the first few years after I moved, we picked up right where we left off like no time had passed.

When we were both old enough to have phones, we started texting each other. Mostly gifs and emojis and silly selfies back and forth. Rarely anything serious or deep, though I think I knew I could talk to her if I needed anything. I hope she felt the same. But somewhere along the way, even our fun exchanges stopped.

Now that I’m thinking about it, I wonder about the role our family played. They were pretty incessant when we were together, dropping not-so-subtle hints about Izzy having a crush on me or saying what a cute couple we’d make. They kept it up all the way through college, even if, by then, it was just elbowing each other and exchanging hopeful looks whenever Izzy and I were talking.

Which only made me want to stand farther away.

It’s not that I didn’t think Izzy was beautiful. She was. Plus, she had this spark that made her different. Something magnetic. Izzy glowed with a warmth that spread to anyone lucky enough to be in her circle.

It intimidated me if I’m being honest. I wasn’t some loser nerd, exactly, especially with the confidence and social skills I gained from playing hockey. The sport went a long way to balance out my hyper-focused academic side.

But hockey could only do so much.

When girls were interested in me, and they often were because I was an athlete, it rarely lasted once they realized how long I could talk about the merits of Excel spreadsheets.

Izzy never seemed to mind my nerdy interests or the rabbit holes I sometimes dove down, but I didn’t like the pressure from our well-meaning (but intent on meddling) family. Plus, we lived in different states and wouldn’t attend the same universities.There was nothing logical about a relationship with Izzy, and I was, at least in my younger years, highly motivated bylogic.

But all that went out the window when I saw Natasha next to Izzy. The three of us were sitting around the fire pit out at Hunter and Merritt’s and started talking about Harriett’s deli in downtown Oakley. She’d just had a sandwich-naming competition, and the entries were hilarious and small-town in the best possible way. Izzy was animated and interested and totally engaged, and Natasha looked at me like I was an alien from outer space. Apparently, she only likedNew YorkLiam.

Seeing herseeOakley, which is such a huge part of who I am, changed everything.

Not to mention Izzy. Sitting beside Natasha. Pulling me into the warmth of her glow. Making me feel seen more than anyone else ever does.

And that’s just it. It’salwaysbeen that way with Izzy. I’d just never recognized it for what it was. I recognized it then, though. And I’ve been thinking about her differently ever since.

“I don’t know,” Izzy finally whispers, pulling me back to our conversation. “I wish we stayed in touch.”

“We can start now,” I say, studying her face. “If you want. And it’s kind of nice being slightly out of reach of the overbearing, nosy people we love.”

She grins at this. “They really are nosy, aren’t they? I still can’t believe none of them told me you and Natasha broke up. It’s weird.”

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