This is What Goodbye Looks Like (29 page)

“Of course she’s the reason,” he mutters bitterly. “And don’t get me wrong, I
want
to hate her. It makes me feel like a complete traitor for not hating her. But, I just...can’t.”

“Why not?” My heartbeat is a fast and quiet murmur, just like my words.

“That girl lied to protect her family,” Seth says. “She did a really shitty thing, but she did it for the right reasons. And if I was in her position...I mean, I’d like to think I wouldn’t have lied. But, truth is, I probably would have done the exact same thing.”

I think I should be crying now. Or laughing, maybe. Anything to show the relief dancing around my mind. But all I do is close my eyes and press my face against his shoulder, wishing I could disappear.

Seth doesn’t hate me, and he’s even willing to try to understand my choice. Maybe it’s not quite forgiveness, but it’s close, and it’s the most charitable thing anyone’s ever offered me.

And what do I give him in return? Nothing. Literally nothing. I have the proof of my mom’s guilt, I have the evidence his family needs for closure. But I didn’t hand it over, and even as I cling to him and feel the sadness in his sagging shoulders, I know I still won’t be able to make myself give that memory card to the police.

“I’m sorry.” I wish he knew how much I meant it, almost as much as I wish he knew exactly what I was apologizing for.

He gives a hesitant chuckle. “How many times do I have to tell you not to apologize?”

“Sor—” I cut myself off and shake my head. “I just hate seeing you in pain. That’s all.”

I take his hand, letting my fingers twine with his. He brushes his thumb against my wrist, tracing soft patterns on my skin, and his comforting warmth fights back the chill that’s been creeping up on me ever since he brought up the trial.

“I’m sorry to be talking about this,” he says. “We’re on a date. We shouldn’t be talking about this sort of stuff.”

“We’re on a date, not visiting Wonderland,” I say. “There’s no reason to pretend reality doesn’t exist just because we’re spending time together.”

He lets out a long breath, something between a wistful sigh and a sound of relief. “Have I mentioned how much I like you?” he murmurs, leaning toward me to whisper in my ear. “Because I really, really like you.”

“I like you, too,” I mumble, hiding my blush as I press my face against his shoulder.

He chuckles, and there’s actually a hint of humor in it this time. “You sound so ashamed,” he teases.

“If only you knew,”
I want to say.
“If only you could understand how wrong it is to let myself fall for you, and to let you fall for me.”

But instead I say, “I’m just not used to this.”

“You’ve never dated?”

“I’ve gone on a couple dates and stuff, but...” I shrug. “Nothing ever lasted long.”

He kisses the top of my head. “The guys over in California must be really stupid if no one’s ever made you their girlfriend before.”

“Or maybe you East Coast guys are just slightly delusional.”

“Maybe, but I think I like being delusional if it means going on another date with you.” Seth cups my face in his hand, letting his fingers brush gently against my cheek, and then leans over and rests his forehead against mine.

“Are you going to act all shy again if I kiss you?” he asks, his tone playful.

My heart thuds painfully against my chest. “Maybe.”

He shakes his head a little. “It’s a yes or no question. No maybes allowed.”

Yes, I want him to kiss me. Yes, I want to date him.

No, I don’t deserve any of it.

But as I open my mouth, all that comes out is, “Maybe I should get nervous around you, but I can’t. Not anymore. So, no, I won’t get shy.”

He smiles, and I have one second to appreciate how handsome he is like this—his lips are still a little red from the cold, and all the sharp lines of his face seem even more defined. Then he kisses me, his lips firm against mine, one hand cradling my cheek while the other cups the back of my neck.

I wait for myself to freeze or pull away or do anything to end this. But I just close my eyes and give into the kiss, letting my heart pound and my skin flush as I press my lips against his.

Seth pulls away first, but he quickly presses me close to his chest, letting his chin rest on my head.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

“For what?”

“For being you. And for sharing you with me.”

My cheeks must be pretty close to crimson by now, and I press a hand against my face, only to find Seth’s still there. I take his hand in mine.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Yes, I do. Because that’s what gentlemen do when they receive a gift.”

I smile a little. “And since when are you a gentleman?”

“I converted about two seconds ago. Just go with it, okay?”

I laugh and lean against him. We stay like that for a few moments, just enjoying each other’s warmth. But then Seth’s tone turns solemn, and he asks, “Do you believe in fate?”

“Why do you ask?”

He shrugs a little. “It’s just, I’ve always hated the idea of it. It’s kind of terrifying to think that I don’t really have control of my own future. But since I’ve met you, I’ve been thinking maybe it’s real. I mean, what are the chances that we’ve both been through tragedies recently with our siblings? And that I ended up meeting you now, right when I was looking for a photographer to help with Parker’s project? It just seems like more than coincidence.”

It’s definitely more. But I don’t have the guts to explain to him that I purposely brought us together, so I just murmur, “I don’t know about fate, but I believe in death. Does it really matter why we all end up in the same place?”

“Yes. Because I think that’s who people really are—not their destinations, but how they choose to get there.”

I consider this for a long moment and then nod. “I don’t think fate can be real then,” I say. “Or at least I hope it’s not. But, whatever brought us together, I’m glad for it.”

I realize it’s true as soon as I say it. Despite all my guilt for lying to him, I don’t regret coming to Harting and meeting him. Sharing our pain with each other has somehow managed to dull it.

He kisses me lightly on the top of my head. “I’m glad, too.”

Right then, both of our phones ping with a new message at the same moment. I check mine and let out a grudging sigh.

“Landon’s here,” I say. He was nice enough to drive us, although I’m kind of regretting not taking a taxi so we could have stayed longer. “We should get going.”

Seth nods, but then he stands and heads over to the wall with the poetry bookshelves, Koda at his side. He feels for something, stopping when his fingertips brush against a corkboard pinned to the wall.

“Is anyone around?” he asks quietly.

I glance around the empty room and shake my head. “No. Why?”

He feels along the board, letting the cork glide under his fingers. For a moment, I think he’s searching for one of the announcements tacked on there. But then he finds an empty corner and bends back the thin board, giving it a yank. A piece tears away that’s a couple inches long and about an inch wide.

“Seth!” I hiss. “You can’t tear up their news board!”

He smiles sheepishly and tucks the corner of the corkboard into his jeans. “But I just did.”

“Why?”

“So I can add it to my collection of souvenirs I have hanging on my wall.”

“I thought that was just for new places you visited,” I say. “Haven’t you been here before?”

“Of course I have. But I’ve never been with you.”

I blush, and he chuckles softly, like he can sense how embarrassed he’s making me. “Come on,” he says, holding out a hand for me. “Let’s get going. Landon will be a grump if we keep him waiting.”

I stand up, barely noticing the usual pain in my knee, and start toward the exit of the library. But Seth pauses and waves me over to the poetry bookshelf.

“Wait,” he says. “Actually, we haven’t gotten what we came here for yet.”

“You didn’t come here for the kiss?” I ask in a mock-offended tone.

“Nope. That was just a bonus.”

He reaches out, resting his hand on my forearm and then trails his fingers along my arm until he finds my shoulder. He gives me an encouraging nudge toward the bookcase.

“We actually came here to get you some real reading material,” he says. “Go on. Pick something out.”

“I have plenty to read, Seth.”

“But all the stuff you read is ridiculously sad.”

“It’s just realistic.”

“If you’re saying that, then you have
definitely
been reading way too much Bukowski. Now come on.” He pats the bookcase. “Pick out something happy.”

I stick my tongue out at him, feeling even more juvenile since I know he can’t see it. But I grudgingly turn to the bookcase and nudge through a few of the books. “How about some Poe?”

“Are you kidding me? He is
not
a happy poet.”

“But I love his writing, so reading it makes me happy.”

“Try something by Walt Whitman,” Seth says. “He has quite a few happy poems, and I think you’ll like his writing if you like Bukowski’s style.”

I scan the shelves, stopping when I see Whitman’s name on a spine. It’s a small book, hardly any bigger than my palm, but it’s a bright green color that seems a little too cheerful for my tastes.

“Do I have to?” I ask.

“Yes. And no whining.” Then he leans over and kisses the top of my head. “But if it makes it more bearable, we can read it together.”

I use one hand to reach over and twine my fingers with his, and the other to grab Whitman’s book off the shelf. “Deal.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

When I get back to my dorm after our date, Brie’s sitting at the desk and talking on the phone with her mom. She’s been talking to her family less lately, or at least she’s not doing it right in front of me. She seems worried I might feel like she’s rubbing her family’s perfection in my face. But, honestly, I’ve just kind of missed hearing their conversations. Her mom and dad are some of the nicest people ever, and even though Bailey isn’t quite old enough to understand phone and video chats, the short conversations Brie has with her little brother are adorable.

I lay on my bed and turn on my laptop, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible as Brie finishes up her call. Pulling up my photo editing software, I continue the work I started yesterday on the sixth photo for Parker’s project. I’ve started sorting through and cleaning up the photos, even though I still need to take more. So far, they’re turning out nice, and I think getting the project done by the deadline isn’t going to be as hard as I anticipated.

When Brie hangs up a few minutes later, she’s frowning a little.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

She nods. “Yeah, I think so. Bailey just has a fever, so my mom’s taking him into the doctor tomorrow, and—”

She cuts off all the sudden, guilt taking over her expression.

“Stop it, Brie,” I say, shaking my head. “You have every right to be worried about him.”

She twists a strand of her hair around her finger and looks down. “Yeah, but it’s just a little fever, and, um, I shouldn’t have mentioned it to you. Not when your sister is, um... Wow. Sorry. I’m being really awkward right now.”

Cold suddenly flows through me as I’m reminded of reality. Yeah, tonight’s date felt really good. But that doesn’t change the fact that my little sister is about to die soon, and once that happens, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to consider anything in this world good again.

For Brie’s sake, I force myself to say, “Look, there’s no reason for you to feel guilty about worrying over Bailey. That’s what big sisters are supposed to do. Right?”

She gives a hesitant nod, and then her expression brightens a little as she comes over to my bed. She snaps the lid of my laptop closed and sits down on the mattress right next to me.

“So.” She leans forward. “How’d it go with Seth?”

“Good,” I say, scooting back a little.

She raises an eyebrow.”Did you make out?”

“No.”

She snorts. “Liar.”

“Okay, so we kissed.”

She gives a little squeal and snatches up one of my pillows, hugging it to her chest. “So you
did
make out.”

“We kissed.”

“In a making out sort of fashion.”

I roll my eyes and open my laptop back up, letting the screen hide my smile. “Aren’t
I
supposed to be the one telling what happened?”

“Well, duh. That’s kind of what I’m trying to get you to wrap your shy little head around.” She taps me with the pillow. “Come on, spill. Tell me everything you guys did.”

And I do. It’s strangely relieving to tell Brie about the evening, because as the words flow easily out of my mouth, they sound...normal. Not like the events of a girl with a broken life seeking help from a boy with a broken heart. Not like the latest tragedy in a long string of disasters. It just sounds like a normal girl talking to a normal friend about a normal first date with an abnormally amazing guy.