Page 22 of Give You Up

“What are these from?”

My welts.

“I’m highly allergic to you.”

“Not funny. I should know these things. Or else how am I supposed to help you when it happens again?”

“I’ve survived four years without you.”

“Years I can’t get back. Let’s make now and forward count, Pixie Dust.”

God, what he says . . . It’s bloody confusing and stinking hot.

“You can’t help unless you make everything that gives me anxiety go away.”

“These welts are because you’re having an anxiety attack? What’s the trigger? Is it talk of my parents?”

My eyes still closed, I roll my head side to side on the headrest.

“It’s this Gary guy, isn’t it? You were fine until I brought up his name. What’s the deal with you and him?”

“Not telling.” If I do, I’ll want to tell him the rest of my mom’s story. I can’t do that. Taron loves my mother as much as I like his mom’s homemade pies.

“Syn, look at me.”

I open my eyes and do as he says.

“Babe, I’m sorry about your mom.”

The concern in his voice and the tender way he looks at me takes me back to the good old days of shy Syn with hot-tempered Taron.

“It’s nothing for you to be sorry for. Cancer isn’t your fault.”

“Not being there for you is one hundred percent mine to own.”

“You didn’t know, and that’s my fault. My mom’s gone, and I now have friends who are willing to give me a kidney.”

“Syn.” Big sigh from him. “Babe.”

“Don’t, Taron. I’m not your babe, your girl. We”—I point to him, then me—“won’t work.”

“Why the hell not?”

“We’re too different now. I’m not the same girl who attached her star to a rising star. I’m my own person.”

“You forget something important, Syn.”

“What’s that?”

“I shine brightest when I’m with you. Now let’s go eat. I’m fucking hungry.”

10

Taron

“Personal professional snuggler, eh?”

We’re inside the bowling alley diner, sitting at the bar with our bodies angled toward the other. Swallowing, then following her burger with a chug of water, Syn holds up a finger. After she wipes the sauce off her fingers and I swipe the ketchup from the corner of her mouth with my napkin, she answers my question.

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