Page 39 of On the Way to You

Emery was silent a moment, his hands fisting the steering wheel.

“Sounds almost like that love you were talking about.”

I tilted my head. “How so?”

Kalo readjusted herself on my lap, huffing as if our talking was keeping her awake. I chuckled, petting behind her ear.

“Well, it’s like with my grams. Sometimes I smell something or hear something that reminds me of a time with her, and it hurts, but… in a good way. In a way that reminds me she was here, and alive.”

My chest ached with his admission, and I was tempted to reach for him, to wrap my hand around his own, but I kept petting Kalo, instead.

“Yeah. I think it’s exactly like that.” I paused. “Or like when you love someone and they break your heart. It hurts to remember them, but it would hurt worse not to.”

“You’ve experienced that heartbreak?”

I flushed then, eyes back on the road. “Well, no. But I think I can imagine what it would be like.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

I swallowed. “Not yet.”

“Ever had a boyfriend?”

“Not unless you count Trevor Baker in the fourth grade. He kissed me by the swings.”

Emery laughed. “I’m sorry, it’s just… I find that so hard to believe.”

“That Trevor Baker kissed me? Hey, I was a looker in the fourth grade. That was before I needed glasses.”

“No.” He laughed again. “I mean that you’ve never had a boyfriend, a real one.”

My heart squeezed, and I looked back out the window. “Yeah, well, no one in my town really wanted much to do with me once I lost my leg. Add in the fact that my family didn’t exactly have the best reputation and, well…” I shrugged. “But it’s fine. I had my books, and this fluff ball here.” I scrubbed Kalo’s head.

“What’s your favorite book?”

It was my turn to laugh. “You can’t just haveonefavorite book. That’s like me asking you to choose a favorite arm.”

“My right one, of course.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m serious. I’ve read thousands of books, there’s no way I could ever pick a favorite.”

“Okay, well which one got you hooked on reading.”

Smiling, I reached into my purse by my feet, pulling out the worn copy ofCatcher in the RyeI’d brought with me.

“No shit,” Emery said, eyeing the book. “You’re a Holden Caufield fan?”

“He was my first crush.”

Emery laughed again just as we rounded a corner to reveal another breathtaking view of the mountains. “Most girls were crushing on Leonardo DiCaprio, and you were lusting after Holden Caufield.”

“He’s a stud. He’s smart and witty, and foolish.”

“And you like foolish men?”

I shrugged. “Ilikedfoolishboys. Past tense.”

“And now?”