Page 112 of Things I Read About

“Why?” I step toward him, but he backs up.

“Because we are not right for each other. We live different lives.”

I sniff. “That’s stupid. Everyone lives different lives.”

“I mean incompatible. We have incompatible lives. I’m out of here, Sally. Out of this.” He looks out at the water on the open side of the gazebo. “When this is over, I’m going to Chicago. No matter what. I’m finally starting a new life. And you’re starting your life in Dallas.”

“So, I’ll transfer.”

His head jerks to the side. “What?”

“I’ll change schools.”

“No.”

I step closer. “Then you can come visit, we’ll figure everything out after you’re settled in your new job. I’ll wait for you.”

He steps back and everything about him changes. His eyes lose their gleam. His jaw pulls tight. He balls his fists at his sides. I look down at his hands.

“No, you won’t,” he says, low and gritty.

“She… she didn’t. She didn’t wait for you. The girl.” His nostrils flare so I go on. “She cheated? When you were overseas?”

“She lied,” he says through gritted teeth. “I knew she was cheating even though she wouldn’t admit it. And like the sap I am, I whined to my best friend in the world, who enlisted with me. Guy who was by my side since the night Zachary bled out in my arms.” He works his fists open and shut again. “He lied, too.”

“She cheated on you with your best friend?”

“That’s not all,” he says, his bitterness piercing me. “My family knew. Didn’t want me to react and do something stupid, like put him in the hospital with my fists. So, they lied too.”

“Nate, I’m so sorry.”

“And I’m dense. That’s the thing. I was dumb enough to believe them all. For a long time, too.”

I extend a hand to touch to him, but he moves out of reach. “You’re not dense!”

“I am. I am a gullible, violent, angry, broken-ass soldier.”

“Nate.” I say his name but I’m crying so hard it just comes out as a sob.

“A real chump, I guess. Or everyone else is just really great at lying.”

“Seriously?” I croak. “The lying? You’re holding spring break against me? Still?”

He seems to soften at that, but only barely. “You’re not listening. It’s irrelevant Sally. It’s the past. Maybe a nice memory. But soon, we’ll never see each other again.”

“But you’rechoosingthat. We could try this. Try us. For real.”

“Fine. I’m choosing it then. I’m choosing me. My future. But listen to me.” He finally looks over, then steps up to me. He grabs my chin and tilts it up. He hunches down so we are eye to eye. “You should too. You should choose you, Sally. Choose yourself, your future, the dreamyouwant. No more side character crap, you hear me?”

“But what if…” I look down, but he puts his hands on my neck, forcing me to look into his eyes. I shudder. I let myself stare into his deep brown irises.

“What if what? Whatever it is, Sal, you can handle it. You can do it.”

I close my eyes and say it. “What if the dream I want is you?”

“It’s not.” He drops his hands but holds me by the elbow when I almost fall without his support. “Even if you think that now, I’m no one’s dream, Sally. You don’t know me well enough to realize it. Your dream is out there—smart, and stable, and wearing elbow patches.”

Elbow what?