Page 94

“It’s not that we weren’t funny… Weren’t we funny?” He begins to pace, his long strides taking him from one side of the room to the other in record time.
“Maybe not.” I do know we weren’t lighthearted. We had deep thoughts on issues. Our lives revolved around family, and neitherof them were very funny. “But things change,” I decide. “And from the looks of you, something has really changed.”
For maybe the first time ever, Bo looks ready to burst. I can tell he’s got something important to say to me.
He pauses for a moment. “I talked to the therapist.”
“And?” I hold up a hand. “It’s personal. You don’t have to tell me anything.”
“I think I want to.” He shakes his head with a shy grin. “It’s exhausting, talking about myself.”
“That’s because you never do it.”
“I didn’t really have a choice this time. She got me talking about my brothers. Lyra. We didn’t even get to my mother.”
I hold my breath. “Is that for next time?”
Bo nods. “Tomorrow. She said we could wait for next week, but I didn’t want to. If this works, I don’t want to wait.”
“What do you want to work?” I ask. “What are you hoping to get out of this, Bo?”
“I want to forgive myself. To…to love myself, so I can love you. Properly.” His blue eyes meet mine and hold. “The way you deserve.”
I press my lips together so he can’t see my smile. I really hope he can’t tell that I’m about to melt right now, melt straight into a gooey pile on the rug because Bo is soft and sweet and…
And he loves me.
It’s there on his face and in his eyes, and in every move of his body.
He loves me.
“Tell me how it went,” I prompt when all I want to do it rush into his arms.
He starts to pace again. “It was… good.” He looks surprised to admit it, maybe as much as I am. “She made me feel like a selfish idiot about some things, but I needed to hear it.”
“That’s great. Not that you felt like an idiot but—”
“I know. But there’s something even better. I talked to Lyra.” He grips the back of his neck as he looks at me. “About the accident. She said—she remembered Mom was happy.”
“She was happy?”
“She wasn’t upset about anything. She told Lyra that I was home, that we would have dinner that night. They were singing.”
“Bo.” My hand covers my mouth and relief washes over me, leaving my arms and legs tingling.
He turns to the window, hunching his shoulders. “She wasn’t upset with me,” he says and it’s like he’s finally believing it. I want to clap my hands. I want to dance with joy. I want—
I want to hug him.
“It wasn’t my fault,” he continues, talking to the window as much as he is to me. “She might have been… maybe she was happy about us.”
Three steps and I have him, winding my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek against his back. Bo turns around and then my cheek is pressed against his chest and that is so much better.
His hands slide up my back, stroking like he’s touching me for the first time.
It feels like it.
It feels like the first time Bo kissed me in the parking lot of the high school before class. The snow was falling, his hand was warm on my face, and then he leaned in to kiss me.