Page 41 of Forever & Always You

We cuddle together on the couch, blankets draped over us as the rain ricochets off the boarded windows and Spider Man: No Way Home plays on the giant TV.

Every weekend we spend together, I have the exact same thought: that I could live in this bubble forever, just Austin and me, with my head resting on his chest and his heart beating soothingly in my ear.

Half the time, I find myself falling asleep like this. His arms feel so safe.

Not only could I live in this bubble forever, I want to. I need to, in the same way I need oxygen.

I grab the remote and pause the movie. Kicking away the blankets, I swing my leg over Austin and settle into his lap, my hands pressed flat to his chest as I gaze down at his curious, but also confused expression. “What you said last night .?.?. about me moving in here with you?”

Austin’s eyes brighten with hope. “Yes?”

“Obviously, I want my degree.”

That sense of hope is instantly replaced with deflation as Austin releases a sigh.

“I know, Gabby. I get it,” he says softly, allowing his hands to naturally find my hips.

“We can come back to the idea once you’ve finished school.

We’ll keep visiting each other on weekends until then, and time will pass fast—”

“ I want my degree ,” I say again, firmer this time as I press my finger to his lips to shush him, “but I don’t care whether or not it’s a Duke degree.”

Austin parts his lips in surprise beneath my finger and grips my hips tighter for leverage as he sits up. “I like it when you’re goofy, but don’t be goofy about this . It’s Duke, Gabby. You can’t transfer.”

“There’s more to this decision than how prestigious the college on my future resume will be,” I say, then roll out my shoulders.

“Okay, fine. Once upon a time, I cared. I bragged about it to anyone who would listen and I stuck Duke bumper stickers to my car before I’d even attended orientation.

Hey, don’t laugh.” I pinch both his cheeks in one hand, smooshing his lips together and holding him captive like that as I fix him with a stern look.

“I love Duke, but I’m all alone up there, and I’m trying to think of the bigger picture when it comes to what will make me happy.

And I’d be happier here. ” I smile. “With you, in our hometown. The UNC campus here is beautiful, and I can look into transferring my credits. I’ll help out more at the dog shelter with you, alongside planning my amazing adoption events, and I’ll work on my relationship with my mom a little bit because it’s rather sad how repressed she is and— oh my God. ”

“What, Gabby?” Austin asks as I scramble off his lap.

“I’m the worst daughter in the world,” I groan, grabbing my phone and scrolling through my contacts until I find my mother’s name.

I press my phone to my ear and pace the living room in small circles as it rings.

“There’s a storm kicking off and I haven’t even checked in on her.

You think Priscilla McKinley knows how to board up windows herself? And she’s not answering her phone!”

Austin pushes himself up from the couch. “Try your brother. See if he knows she’s safe?”

“I haven’t spoken to Zach in weeks. I’m still waiting for him to apologize for throwing his fist into your face,” I grumble, but reluctantly call my brother, anyway.

“What?” Zach’s angelic voice snaps when he picks up.

“Hi. Just checking everything’s good with you guys? You’re all safe indoors?”

“Of course,” he says, his abrupt tone easing. “At least this storm won’t get you up there in Durham.”

“Actually .?.?. I’m here in Wilmington. I’m with Austin.” I nervously catch Austin’s eye in front of me as he listens in.

“Of course you are .?.?.” Zach sighs, then adds, “Well, stay safe, you two. Have you heard from Mom?”

“That’s what I wanted to ask you ! You normally help her secure the house whenever there’s a storm.”

“ Normally she asks me to,” he counters in defense. “She didn’t this time, so I assume she has it figured out by now. Winds aren’t going to be that strong, Gabs. She’ll be fine. Probably sitting with a glass of wine watching her soap operas right now as we speak.”

“But she’s not answering her phone.”

“Probably just doesn’t want to talk to her junkie daughter.”

“ Zach, ” I snap, because now is not the time for cracking jokes. When he quits laughing, I say, “I’ll keep trying her.”

“I’ll try, too.”

I hang up on Zach and dial Mom again, growing increasingly restless.

Zach’s rather blasé about the idea of Mom being unreachable during a storm, and I know the winds aren’t going to be strong enough or the rain heavy enough to cause any severe damage, but I feel terrible that she didn’t cross my mind until now.

She’s alone in that big house, and neither of her children bothered to make sure she was safe and hunkered down.

We’re the worst , and now I need to compensate for it.

“Still no answer?” Austin asks when I lower my phone from my ear with a frustrated groan. “Would you feel better if we went over there to check on her? Make sure the house is secure and she has everything she needs in case the power cuts out?”

“You’d come with me?”

“I followed you into bug-infested lakes when we were kids,” he says with a smile, tilting his head to the side. “What makes you believe for even one second that I wouldn’t follow you through a tropical storm?”

Yeah, I am so transferring schools for this man.

I thank him with a quick kiss and we head upstairs to grab our shoes.

This storm wasn’t quite in my plans when I packed a bag for this weekend, but Austin has me covered when it comes to a raincoat—he gives me one of his, though it engulfs most of me.

It swishes around by my knees as we make our way to the garage and climb into my car, because on the off chance a tree branch falls on us as we drive across town, better it happens to my easily replaced Prius than Austin’s Porsche.

I let him drive, and he does it with zero complaints for once.

He’s too focused on squinting through the bucketing rain hitting the windshield.

“Are we idiots?” I ask after five minutes of driving and the realization that we haven’t passed any other cars out on the roads. “There’s no one else out here.”

“Well, you’re kind of supposed to stay inside during a storm, but .?.?.”

“Goddamn Priscilla McKinley,” I mutter, and we exchange a grin.

My mother really does have a knack for being the center of attention.

I swear, if Austin and I are driving through this storm to get to her and this entire time she really has just been drinking wine and watching soaps like Zach believes . .?. Oh, she’s gonna get it.

We pull into our old neighborhood, the Georgian mansions on the right and the housing projects on the left, and immediately I feel a flood of relief when I spot Mom’s car parked in our driveway.

Though it lasts only a moment, replaced instead by agitation, because why hasn’t she moved her car into the garage?

Why aren’t any of the windows covered up?

Why are her stupid decorative stone bird baths still in the front yard?

“She hasn’t done anything, ” I remark in exasperation as Austin parks my car up on the drive behind Mom’s. He kills the engine and we meet each other’s eyes, the rain thundering against the metal of my car, then nod in perfectly synced agreement—time to get out of the car.

I pull the giant hood of Austin’s coat over my head and kick open my door, stepping out into the torrential downpour. After a long summer of scorching sunshine and muggy humidity, the smack of cold rain that blows into my face is a shock to my system. It sends a chill down my spine.

“Run!” Austin yells, and in the seven seconds it takes us to dash to shelter on the front porch, somehow we are both drenched. Austin shakes out his wet hair and raps his fist hard against the front door. “Mrs. McKinley?”

“Mom?” I call out over the rain, following up Austin’s knock with more thumps of my own.

We jump back a step when we hear the deadbolt unlock, and the door cracks open a few inches.

My mother peeks out, her eyes narrowed warily as she looks Austin and me up and down.

When she realizes it’s me beneath the hood of this raincoat, she does a double-take.

“What are you doing out in this weather?! Come inside right now.” She throws the door open wide and ushers us both over the threshold before the wind rips it from her hands and slams it shut again.

“You weren’t answering your phone!”

“It’s on charge,” she says.

“ It’s on charge, ” I repeat flatly, then gape at her as I push down my hood and send drops of rainwater flying over her pristine floors. “Why is your car still outside? We have built-in shutters on the windows, Mom. Why are they still open?”

Mom anxiously toys with a loose strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear. “It’s fine, Gabrielle. It’s not a hurricane.”

“The winds are still going to get up to sixty miles an hour out there!” I argue, then press my hands to my temples as I roll my eyes angrily. “You didn’t even move the bird baths! That’s so dangerous.”

“Did you come here to lecture me?”

“No,” I say. “I came here to check you were okay.”

“Mrs. McKinley,” Austin says, clearing his throat and gesturing outside. “If you don’t mind, I can help secure things for you. Where are your car keys?”

Mom fastens her attention on Austin, and I wonder if it dawns on her too that this is the first time she has ever let him step foot inside the house.

She doesn’t hesitate to accept his offer.

Grabbing her keys from the hook by the door, she hands them over and tells him, “Thank you, Austin. I’d really appreciate that. ”

Austin throws up his hood and bows his head, bracing himself to get soaked all over again as he opens the door and dips back outside. It’s such an Austin thing to do; helping out my mom during a storm despite the disrespect she’s always thrown his way.

“Get out of that wet coat,” she instructs, and I immediately shrug it off. “I’ll get a pot of coffee going to heat you both up. Austin does drink coffee, right?”

I try not to stare at her too dubiously, for she’s being uncharacteristically hospitable. “Only decaf.”

“Okay. Pot of decaf coming right up.”

She scurries off into the kitchen and I head into the living room to watch Austin from the window.

He moves both mine and Mom’s cars into the garage, along with all of Mom’s yard decorations, and then works his way around the house utilizing all of the shutters.

When he gets to the window I’m watching him from, he adorably blows me a kiss before pulling the shutters closed.

Now that the entire house has been plunged into darkness, I turn on some lamps and curl up on the couch with a pillow hugged to my chest just as Mom walks into the room carrying a tray of coffee and cookies.

She sets it down on the center table and looks at me awkwardly, unsure how to navigate my unexpected visit.

“You didn’t need to come out in this storm to check on me,” she says.

“We kind of did. Those bird baths of yours were about to become projectiles.”

She purses her lips, almost sheepishly, and settles on the couch opposite me. She doesn’t relax, though. She remains perched upright and rigid with her hands interlocked together in her lap. “I’m not very good at these things, Gabrielle. Whenever there were storm warnings, your father .?.?.”

“Took care of it,” I finish, because I know. He took care of everything for me, too.

Mom’s gaze drops to her hands, and I don’t push the subject further. We aren’t going to bond over how useless we both are at being independent, functional human beings, but I’m also not going to give her too hard of a time. I’m still learning how to exist in a world without Dad’s guidance, too.

“Can you stay?” Mom asks so quietly, I almost second guess the question.

I raise an eyebrow at her, seeking clarity.

In what universe does my mother want me to impinge on her privacy?

She explains, “You shouldn’t be heading back out across town in this weather.

I’d feel more comfortable if you stayed here tonight. And Austin, too.”

As if summoned by his name, a gust of wind tears through the house when he returns back inside. He appears in the living room, soaked to the bone with a trail of rain on the floor behind him, hair completely sodden. “All sorted,” he announces.

“Here,” Mom says, hastily getting to her feet and pouring him a cup of coffee. “This ought to heat you up.”

“Oh, thanks, Mrs. McKinley, but I actually only drink decaf—”

“It is decaf,” she informs him, forcing the cup into his soaking hands.

“Gabrielle gave me the heads-up. Now please. Sit down and get out of that wet coat. Would you like a dry shirt? Zachary has lots of spare clothes here. Yes, you can borrow something of his. I’ll be right back!

” Mom whisks off up the marble staircase, leaving both Austin and me entirely flummoxed.

He collapses onto the couch next to me, his hand rubbing soothingly over my thigh. “What’s going on?”

“I’m .?.?. really not sure. I think she may be—dare I say it—relieved to have you secure the house for her,” I say, and my features ache from being so contorted with puzzlement. I break out into an easy smile and turn my head sharply toward Austin. “So hey, what do you think of the house?”

Austin laughs and makes a grand display of looking around, nodding in appreciation at how perfectly maintained everything is while sipping his coffee. “It’s exactly how I used to imagine it would be. Rich people live here kind of vibes.”

“Do you like it?” I press, and Austin eyeballs me with suspicion.

“Yes .?.?.?”

“Good, because you’ve been invited for a slumber party!”

“You’re kidding.”

“Not kidding,” Mom says, waltzing back into the room with one of Zach’s old T-shirts. As she hands it to Austin, she sternly tells him, “You’ll be staying in the guest room, of course.”

“Of course,” Austin agrees, and I nuzzle my face into the damp sleeve of his shirt to hide my blushes.

It may have taken over a decade, but finally, finally, I’m getting that long overdue sleepover with my best friend.