Page 89 of Room to Breathe

“I don’t think he loved me,” I said.

She gave me disbelieving eyes. “Maybe not anymore, but he did. And it sucked.”

“If he did, he didn’t know it. Neither of us did. We didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She sighed. “I’ll think about it.”

“Okay,” I said. “I understand.” I wanted to scream and rush past her, to her room at the back of the house, and take the books. Because I wanted to talk to Beautoday, not tomorrow or a week from now. But I managed to control myself. Barely.

I turned and walked away. How many more times could I feel this crushing weight of defeat?

I was nearly to my car when I heard her voice calling out from behind me. “Wait!”

I stopped in the middle of the street and turned. She was walking my way carrying the stack of books. There were six of them, so it wasn’t an easy task. I propelled myself toward her before she could change her mind. We met on the sidewalk and she pushed the books into my arms.

“Thank you,” I said.

“I didn’t do it for you,” she said. “Maybe this is the closure I need.”

I nodded.

“Tell him I saidscrew you.”

I sucked in my lips so I wouldn’t laugh. I didn’t want to laugh at her because I understood the rage she was feeling. I had been there myself not too long ago. But the way she’d said it had sounded so sweet.

I may not have laughed, but she did. And when she was done laughing she said, “Will you say that to him for me?”

“I promise.”

She smiled. “I think we could’ve been friends if Beau wasn’t around.”

“I think so too,” I said. “I wasn’t lying when I said I always liked you.”

“Same.”

I lifted the books a couple of inches. “Thanks.”

“Those are terrible books, by the way. I only made it through half of one.”

This time I did laugh. “Should I tell him that too?”

“No, that’s just my opinion.”

“Noted.”

I couldn’t get out of the car. I was doubting myself now. Doubting that he wanted to talk to me. He had said as much in the bathroom, that he wanted me back, that he missed me. He’d pleaded with me as I left. But maybe I’d broken his last straw when I didn’t respond to his texts, didn’t come over until now. After all, he hadn’t shown up onmyporch. Maybe he’d changed his mind. That thought was keeping my butt firmly in the seat of my car.

That, plus his mom was scary. Not as scary as King Grandpa, but still, I knew she didn’t like my family right now. Thought we were a bad influence on Beau. Or a bad look for the family. I was sure my most recent suspension hadn’t helped, if he’d told her. And my dad’s deal and testimony wasn’t going to do much to repair his image or mine.

“You’re a chicken, Indy,” I mumbled under my breath.

I picked up one of the books on the passenger seat and flippedback the cover to the title page. The signature of the author in bold green Sharpie was scribbled near the bottom.

At the very least, he’d be happy to see his books. Maybe some of that energy would extend to me. This thought pushed me out of the car. I should’ve brought a bag or something, because awkwardly holding an armload of books wasn’t exactly the image I wanted to portray when he opened the door.

It was too late, I was here, and if I turned back now I might never get the courage again. I rang the doorbell with my elbow, then threw my shoulders back, standing up straight.

The door opened on well-oiled hinges, not a single crack or squeak to be heard. I was disappointed to see his mom standing in the doorway. She was just as disappointed to see me. There may have been a smile plastered on her face, but her eyes told the truth.