Page 113 of Push

“Ye–yeah.”

I scooted closer to her on the bed until our foreheads touched. “When we got ready in the mornings, you’d come up behind me when I brushed my teeth. You used to put your hand on my back, rest your head on my shoulder, and after your eyes found mine in the mirror, you’d smile and tell me to knock ’em dead.”

“Really?” She didn’t believe me. “That’swhat you miss more than anything?”

“Hell, yeah. That was the ego fuel that pumped me up until I was unbearably full of myself. I blitzed through work, knowing I was coming home to even more.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“How could you? I never told you. I never wanted to admit my loneliness out loud. You’re so strong. I worried you’d think I was acting like a big man-baby demanding how much attention I want from you.”

Gwen was quiet, taking it all in. “I guess I didn’t realize… I thought it was, you know…the sex you wanted.”

“I won’t lie. Sex with you is incredible. I’m talking earth-shattering, rockin’ the wheels off the bus, kind of incredible. But it’s the little touches I miss the most. I missyou.”

“I miss you too.” She sighed. “Do you ever think we can get back to where we were before?”

Thoughts raced through my mind. Erasing Kayleigh and every dumb choice I’d made since she’d been dumped in my lap sounded good, but… “No, and if I’m completely honest, I don’t want to.”

Gwen’s breath hitched, and she pulled back. I was quicker. My hand gently touched her arm and urged her to wait.

“We were struggling for a long time before Kayleigh came into the picture,” I explained. “My choices only exploded what was already falling apart.” I reached up to tuck the loose hair behind Gwen’s ear and let my fingers linger a little too long on her cheek. “I want what we’re working toward now. We’re talking and being honest with each other. I don’t want us to keep looking back all the time. I want us to keep going forward from here—betterthan before.”

“I want to try, too.” Gwen’s hand folded over mine. “I really do.”

“Truly, Gwen?”

My heart stayed lodged in my throat for an eternity before Gwen softly said, “Yes.” I could make out her sweet smile in the dark. “Times infinity.”

36

She Heard the Report

Gwen

When Toby put hismind to something, no one stopped him.

Once upon a time, he’d dreamed of becoming a carpenter. He’d tossed around the idea of a mechanic, too. His parents had shot back a ferocious “hell no” to both options.Theirson would never be a blue-collar worker.Theirdaughter was studying to be a doctor.Theywere important people.

Toby had shouldered their rejection by scouring the university course guide. After first choosing veterinary science until I reminded him he’d have to help sick animals as well as adorable ones, he settled on dentistry.

Study wasn’t his thing. He preferred sports. Using his hands.Doing. But for that last year of high school, he’d knuckled down. It was sheer determination and grinding through his studies—and maybe a few make-out sessions disguised as tutoring for extra encouragement—that had gotten him accepted in the end.

All that was years ago.

But now, listening to Toby as he walked me through his plan to deal with Kayleigh, I took notice. This wasn’t a knee-jerk offer. He’d thought about it—dental schoolthought about it.

He wrote a list and ticked off everything he said he would.

He got a new phone. A lot of muttering and swearing confirmed he’d changed his passwords. He downloaded an app that helped him locate the tiny white tag stuck to the bottom of his car. The locksmith came and went.

Tick, tick, tick.

Toby sifted through the secrets in his gym bag. He refused to look at the Polaroids, but he read Kayleigh’s notes, snapped photos, and tucked each scrawled memory in a Ziploc bag. If he remembered a date, he printed it neatly on the front with a marker he’d fished out of his junk drawer.

When he finished, he stalked out of the kitchen and disappeared to the bathroom. I hovered outside. I didn’t hear him puke, but I think he did.

My knock was soft. “Toby.” I cracked the door open and peeked inside. He was hunched over the sink, his face paler than the porcelain tiles. “Are you okay?”

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