Page 126 of When You Wish Upon a Wideout

“What about prom?” My voice cracked because really what I wanted to ask was “what about everything?”

When Beau said nothing, I knew he never intended to take me to prom.

How stupid is that to ask about, Mom? Beyond, right? But that’s all I could think about. Because prom was supposed to beournight. Prom and what followed were on the wish list. And it’s not just about sex. It was about giving ourselves to each other. Then we’d finish school and have the best summer. We’d knock everything else off the wish list someway, somehow.

Beau didn’t say anything about prom. He didn’t say anything at all the rest of the ride, and neither did I. I focused on the dark road in front of us as he drove me home for what I felt would be the last time, even though when I reached the handle to open the door Beau swore it wouldn’t.

“Sienna.” Beau held his hand out—I don’t know if it was to stop me or to tug me in for one more hug, one more kiss. “I swear I’ll come back for you. But Ihaveto do this. And I can’t do it like we planned before.”

That was Beau’s way of saying he couldn’t do it with me, even at a distance. I struggled to breathe as he continued. I got that he had to do it for Greg. But why couldn’t he do itwithme?

“I need to be focused and... I’m going to have to fight like crazy to start at FSU. If I give it my all, then maybe I can do that. Andif I’m thinking about you... ”

My eyes lit up in anger. “If you’re thinking about me, what? You can’t remember a circus route? How many steps before you cut for a corner?” I stopped and ground my teeth. “You can’t balancemeand football because I’m too much?”

He stayed silent. The dim lights from the truck’s dash let me see two important parts of Beau—his eyes and the scar on his head. I say they’re important because they are my favorite parts of him. His eyes because they are warm, comforting, familiar. The scar forever etched into his temple reminds me that when you come back from the brink of death with a second chance at life, you seize it. I get that’s what he was doing. He just wasn’t seizing it with me.

“You don’t get it,” Beau said. “You don’t know what you mean to me.”

“Not enough, apparently.”

“Not enough? Are you serious?” Beau spat angrily. “How about this. I was supposed to finish school early—lastsemester. I was supposed to move to Florida months ago. I didn’t stay this whole time because of someone who means ‘not enough.’” He stopped and cursed under his breath before continuing, “I stayed because you mean too fucking much. You’re all I think about. But you’re a know-it-all, right? Any catches I didn’t make, any interceptions I caused was because I was too slow on the break, yeah?” I folded my arms across my chest, wishing he would stop talking. “No, Sienna. They happened because my head wasn’t in the game. I was thinking about you. How to make you happy. How to say the right thing when you’re sad.”

I wasn’t sad at that moment, Mom. I was devastated. But Beau didn’t say the right thing next.

“I’ve spent almost a year of my life thinking about how the hell I can erase look you had on your face when I first saw you. You can’t even see that.” Beau smacked the steering wheel, and even though the horn hadn’t worked for a few weeks, I jumped. “I’m trying to make something of myself for you. For us one day.”

He was right, though, Mom. BecauseallI saw was him not choosing me.

“Don’t act like you’re doing this for me,” I told him, looking down at my lap. “This is about Greg.”

“Well, don’t ask me to choose between you and my dead brother because I’d choose Greg.”

My head shot up, and Beau must have seen that it felt like he had just slapped me in the face because his eyes flooded with regret.

“I just... I need you to be strong, okay? And I... I know you’ll be okay.” He reached out and tried to touch my cheek, but I pulled away. “And I promise, when the time is right, I’ll come for you and we’ll—”

I didn’t give Beau a chance to finish. I sprinted from the truck.

It’s been eighteen days, Mom. Yes, I’m back to counting. It’s been eighteen days since I went back into the house where Dad was waiting. Eighteen days since I looked at him and growled, “You should’ve told me.”

So, I’m back to where I was, thinking about the seconds and minutes that tick by since life was better. Only it’s different now. When you died, I counted the days since a part of me died with you—when you broke this family and decided it was better to stop living with us.

And now, I’m counting again to mark the day I realized the most important person in my life could keep living without me.

Both sting. Both hurt. Both burrow a hole deep into my heart and strangle it.

I’m not writing this from the roof. I’m not writing it from my room with the fake stars blasting on my ceiling. I’m writing it on the floor of my closet where I’ll leave this diary. To be honest, I want to throw it in the trash. But for eighteen days, I’ve been swimming in the deepest hole I’ve ever known. I can’t keep thinking of all the high points of this year, of all the happiness I found again. But I’m wondering—only wondering—if many more days from now, maybe a thousand or more when I’m a little less angry, I’ll need to be reminded that stories can be beautiful even if they end painfully and not with a happily ever after.

Love,

Sienna

chaptertwenty

“I’m here to collect!”Beau hollered, tossing his keys on the counter beside Sienna’s bag. He kicked off his shoes, making his way to his room as Sienna rose from the bed, still wrapped in a robe. “Ah, even better. A payment with interest,” he said playfully but grew confused when Sienna rushed to the bathroom.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, watching her pull the robe off and slipped back into her clothes.Maybe I shouldn’t have left even if Henry was there,he thought.I told her I’d stay until she got back.“Ijustleft. Henry was there already. Grace is fine. She and Molly were watching—”

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