Page 89 of The Last Kind of Kiss
“You loved Summit. She was a part of your past, and a part of what made you into the man you are today. It’s understandable that you still have the one thing that reminds you of her. And I don’t think it means you’re not over her—I think it means you’re scared of forgetting her, of moving on, because you’re so complacent with wading in this grief that it’s all you know. Emotions were running high for both you and Lila. I’m sure you both said things you didn’t truly mean.”
“God, I should’ve just told her the ring didn’t mean anything. I shouldn’t have let Summit’s memory get in the way of me being a decent fucking human to the girl I love.”
My mom gives a brusque chuckle, and I manage to question her through each ragged inhale. “What?”
She pulls back from me, running her hands down the length of my arms, a small smile pronouncing the creases tugging at love-filled eyes. “You just said you love her,” she tells me.
I said that? Just now? I didn’t even realize it. It felt so natural to say—soright. I break away for a second to collect my thoughts, and in that tender moment of absolution, the wingbeat of my pulse renews with liveliness. I love Lila Perkins. I don’t just love her smile, her eyes, her determination, her ambition, her kindness…I loveher. And I think I’ve loved her this entire time, but I never knew how strong that love was until I saw my life without her in it. Oh my God. I need to tell her right now.
It's time I let Summit go. It’sokayto let her go. Doing so isn’t a betrayal, and neither is loving Lila. Summit would’ve wanted me to move on, right? She would’ve wanted me to be happy again. I can’t…Iwon’t…live the rest of my life punishing myself for her death.
The tears have thinned enough to restore part of my vision, and I can feel my heart break free from those harsh restraints, no longer incarcerated by long-lasting grief. I feel like I’ve been viewing the world through a mirage of chromosomic colors, and for the first time since Summit’s death, color has been brought back to the foreground. The beat of my heart’s conducting a never-before-heard rendition in the curvature of my ribs, and every cell in my body is fighting to go to Lila, to grovel, to tell her the truth that she’s deserved to hear this whole time—to keep her from leaving.
“I love her, Mom,” I say, letting the last of my tears flee down my cheeks.
Lila is my everything. My whole world. When I’m with her, I get this feeling I don’t get with anyone else—this feeling I can’t put into words because the mark it leaves on me is so profound and inexplicable. She’s a melting pot of stars, sunlight, and rain-drenched earth; she’s the beauty of an untraveled expanse of constellations winking overhead, lighting the way for lost souls; she’s the warmth of the sun as it peeks through crepuscular curtains of night; she’s the smell of cleansing petrichor that lingers after a storm. This girl is the embodiment of everything sacred, and I want nothing more than to devote myself to her for as long as I live.
My mother nods, and a light breeze winnows through the strands of her hair. “I already knew, honey.”
“How?”
“Because I’ve never seen you lose your mind like this before. I know you, Bristol. You’re a rational thinker. You’re methodical when it comes to your emotions. You love with your whole heart, but in increments. With Summit, you were always firm in your ways, assessing the situation and then acting accordingly. You rarely, if ever, lost it. And I’m not insinuating that you didn’t love her—because I know you did—but the love that you havefor Lila is different. It’s more passionate, more unpredictable, more dangerous. It’s the kind of love that challenges you to be a better person. It’s the kind of love that has the power to tear down all your defenses. It’s not perfect—because things rarely are—but there’s beauty in that.”
My relationship with Lila hasn’t been perfect. We’ve had so many setbacks, but fate brought us together for a reason. If I hadn’t taken that modeling job with Kitty’s Catwalk, I never would have reconnected with her. And if I had never reconnected with her, I would’ve missed out on the greatest love of my life. It was worth all the pain and the tears to get to this very moment.
I don’t want to spend the holidays grieving my dead ex anymore—I want to spend the holidayscelebratingSummit’s life instead. I want to celebrate with my teammates, my second family. I want to celebrate withLila. I’ve held on to so much agony for so long, and I’m done having it dictate my life.
“I messed up. When I walked away from her today, I left her believing that she was competing with Summit. My job as her partner is to reassure her. And now…now I might’ve just lost her for the last time,” I admit under my breath.
Even though the tears have dried, my mother still instinctively reaches out to brush away any last dregs on my face. And although her touch is cold, it jumpstarts the roaring fight within me.
“In true love, you can never mess up. You just have to be brave enough to hold on to it.”
30
RUN, RABBIT, RUN
LILA
The guest room is cold, empty, hollow. Not even the jaundiced light from the chandelier can sanctify the space in an ochre haze—can scare away the penumbra of night outside. Snow accumulates on the adjacent windowsill, melting into condensation on fogged glass, and hordes of weeping snowdrops are entombed beneath a blizzard of white. As warm and welcoming as the house feels, there’s a subterranean unease here now—one that’s been unearthed by my doing.
I shouldn’t be here.Bristoldoesn’t want me here.
I hate fighting with him. I hate how my insecurities always seem to prevent me from being happy. He kept the ring a secret from me because he didn’t feel comfortable telling me.Iforced him to shut me out.Ishould have been more understanding of his pain. And I picked a fucking argument during the hardest time of the year for him. I’m a terrible girlfriend.
God, will you listen to yourself, Lila? You’re so sure that he’ll leave when he’s given you his word that he won’t. It’s like there’s nothing he can say or do that will ever be enough, all because of a past he can’t change. You’ve always villainized him, even when he didn’t deserve it.
I tamp down the tears in my eyes, and my stomach roils with guilt. I try to focus on anything other than the crack in my heart—the miniature, decorated Christmas tree in the corner, a picture of baby Bristol in a heart-shaped photo ornament, the little bowl of peppermints on the spruce coffee table. This cabin is beautifully grand, and I…I don’t belong here. I should just leave tonight so I don’t ruin anything else. His parents were so generous to let me stay here. How can I face them after the things I said to their only son? I’m disgusted with myself. I was hoping this trip would bring me and Bristol closer together, but all it’s done is push us further apart.
I’m planning to slip out the door the minute I get the chance. I don’t think Bristol wants to see me, much less talk to me. He’ll be happier without all my extra baggage weighing him down. And who knows? Maybe we’ll meet up again when he returns to Riverside. Maybe we can stay friends. Ihopewe can stay friends.
I don’t bother with packing my suitcase. I don’t bother with lugging it down the stairs. I don’t even bother with leaving Bristol a text message. All I do is take a page out of his book, and I run without looking back.
Pitch-black night claws across the sky, half-obstructed by the coagulated mass of daunting pines that borders the vertiginous ledge beneath my feet. The only illumination I’m offered are my headlights, and I can’t see beyond the dense tangles of foliage or the ongoing deluge of snow clogging the lane. Nobody in their right mind would be out on the road right now. It’s too dark to see anything, and the possibility of crashing through these flimsy guardrails grows the further I distance myself from the cabin. But I don’t care. I guess…I guess a stupid part of me would rather be stranded on the side of a mountain than have to face the irreversible damage I’ve inflicted on Bristol’s and my relationship.
The rain has begun to beat menacingly on the hood, buteven the persistent hiss in my ears isn’t loud enough to drown out a disembodied crack that comes from somewhere to my left. The crystallized dewdrops that once littered the trees have malformed into ugly, jagged icicles, and they heave back and forth with each rustle of the pines. Despite my high-powered fluorescents, all I see before me is a wasteland of desolation—a far cry from the glittering groves that once announced earth’s annual rebirth. I’ve never driven in snow like this. I’ve driven during some heavy downpours, sure, but I wasn’t simultaneously swerving through a rocky-ass obstacle course.
My heart tap-dances against my chest as I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, my knuckles the same off-white color as the snowy peaks cradling the small basin of Big Bear. The wind picks up outside, lashing against my windows, bringing with it an army of sleet that steadily covers my windshield.
