Page 70 of Over & Out

“Hopper?” the voice on the other end says. It’s Mabel. “She’s okay,”

All my bones feel like they’ve vanished. “ThankChrist,” I breathe. I sink back against the seat. Then I remember it’s not just her. “The baby?” I ask, voice choked.

“A healthy baby boy,” Mabel reassures me, voice soft. “It was touch and go for a bit, but the doctors say the Apgar score is great…”

She says a bunch of words that don’t make sense to me, grams and centimeters and a bunch of medical things I’m impressed she thinks I understand. But I’m too busy being relieved as hell that Tru and her son are okay.

Her son.

I hand the phone to Chris, my eyes wet. Then I ask the flight attendant for champagne. After Chris has Mabel repeat herself, we toast, and for a moment, I think everything’s okay again. I let the bubbles fizz down my throat, pleased I stuffed that last-minute item in my bag.

Chris pours another glass. She sees me watching her and says, “There’s a car waiting on the other side.”

“I’m not judging.”

She looks at me over the glass as she sips. Then she sets it down on the pull-out table next to her.

“You know what?I’mgoing to judge. Why the fuck haven’t you talked to me about what happened?”

My stomach sinks. I set my glass down. “Fuck.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is this an inconvenient time?”

“Chris,” I grit out.

“What? That night, you wanted to explain to what happened. Then, when I didn’t want to hear it because I was in too much fucking pain after you ran out on me like a goddamned chicken. But somehow, overnight, you changed your mind?”

I open my eyes. She’s pissed, of course. But behind the fire in her eyes, the tense muscles and flushed cheeks, I can see the hurt. I can see the confusion etched across her beautiful face. My heart hurts so fucking badly for what I put her through that I feel my chest closing in. Like it’s going to form the words for me. Tell her everything.

I could. I could tell her all of it. But what would that do? It would make her hate me even more. It would make her quit.

I was the one who caused you to crash. It was me who was there, who was half in love with this mystery girl I never once spoke to. That was you. I’ve been hiding that from you. If my father finds out, he’ll ruin any chance of you having a happy, normal life, even in hiding, because he’ll tell you my deepest, darkest secret. He’ll make you hate me. And then, he’ll either tell that to the world or paint it all like it was your fault I fell off the face of the earth. You’ll be known everywhere you go as a star-wrecker.

My mother lived in the dark shadows of my father’snarcissism. Every time she tried to get herself out, he’d make her life hell, even long after they divorced. Even with my so-called protection. He always found a way. The man needs to be behind bars, but he hasn’t committed any punishable crimes.

Unlike his son.

No, I can’t tell Chris. I can’t ever tell Chris, and it rips my heart in fucking two. But my broken heart is the least of these problems, isn’t it?

Chris looks down at my hands fisted in my lap, at my jaw clenching so hard I’m pretty sure I’m about to crack a molar. Then she huffs. “You know what? Forget it. Go take an anger management course. Start a journal. Fucking take care of yourself and keep out of my way. I’m going to see this thing to the end of the year, but then I’m gone.”

“Fine,” I say, my chest cracking in two.

“Fine.” Chris flicks open her seat belt and stands, stalking over to the seat on the other side of the plane. She looks truly done with me. Even a few feet away, I miss the feeling of her next to me. Her warmth. The soft scents of her lotion, her shampoo, of her. What the hell am I going to do when she’s out of my life for good?

My stomach pitches so hard at that I feel like I’ve been punched.

I toss back my champagne, then pat my pocket for the little notebook I’ve been keeping there ever since she started. I pull the pen out from the little built-in holder and curl over it on my little table, scribbling what I need to.

When I’m done, I feel the tiniest bit better. I tuck thebook back into my pocket and lean back against the seat, closing my eyes. It’s late. Two in the morning, according to my phone.

I sink into the absurd fantasy that’s turned into my happy place. That impossible dream, of Chris and me with a future. I fall asleep to the image of her running through a field of daffodils, laughing over her shoulder at me.

Inexplicably, I’m in my Duke costume, and I’m on a horse.

I must have fallen asleep, but I go with it. Because it feels like fucking heaven.

Chapter 23

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