Every Other Weekend(92)

“You’re nuts.”

“What I am is freezing.” And happy. I couldn’t stop smiling up at him.

Adam turned his head back and forth, looking around. “How did you get here?”

“Remember that whole conversation we had about hot-wiring my mom’s car? Turns out it’s super hard, so I took her keys instead.”

I’d been fully prepared to pay for an Uber or hitchhike if necessary, but ever since my mom had broken up with Tom, she’d been going to bed earlier. Or at least going to her room and shutting the door.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” His gaze roved all over me and the chill fled wherever he looked.

“I am, but you’re about to end up with the solid block of ice version of me if you don’t get me somewhere warm.” I’d already been outside way longer than I’d intended, because I’d had the brilliant idea to park down the block in case Adam’s mom heard my car pulling up. Only it turned out Adam didn’t live on a block. The road I’d trudged up had turned into rocks, which had turned into dirt long before his house finally came into view. The snow was letting up, but the temperature felt somewhere close to two degrees, and the wind was kicking up. Too cold. My teeth were chattering.

Adam took my hand and flinched. He felt like toasty heaven, so I added my other hand and let him lead us to a big red barn a few hundred feet from his house.

“Do you have cows and pigs and stuff?” I asked in a chill-laced voice.

“No, it’s empty. Come on.”

“You realize that your house looks like a Norman Rockwell painting whereas mine looks like it could be the film set of a Real Housewives series.”

The barn was moderately warmer than outside. I couldn’t see our breath anymore, but I didn’t have time to think about that before Adam took off his coat, still heated from his body, and wrapped it around me.

“Better?”

“Mmm,” I said, snuggling into the warmth.

There were only a couple windows set high above a loft on one end so I could only make out his outline as he moved away from me and knelt in a corner. A second later strings of crisscrossing lights glowed to life in the rafters above us.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathed.

“Greg’s version of night-lights for the animals,” he explained. I heard his teeth chatter and I laughed.

“You’re going to freeze in just those pj’s, which by the way, you look great in.”

There was enough light to make out his blush.

“Be right back.” Then he jogged back into the cold and returned a few minutes later wearing another coat. There were a few boxes and a trunk in one corner next to an entire wall of cages in various sizes, and that was where we sat. He shook his head and smiled while he watched me start to thaw. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“You did sort of set the bar with your midnight call and promises for my next birthday. The least I could do was wish you a happy birthday in person.”

He was looking at me like I was the best thing he’d ever seen, and my heart started racing. It was so intense that it took everything I had not to look away. “So...happy birthday.” I didn’t think there was anything special about the way that I said that, but Adam swallowed and dropped his gaze to his hands.

“How do you keep doing this to me?”

“Um,” I said. “This is the first birthday where I’ve shown up at your house in the middle of the night, so either you’re still half-asleep, or you’re confusing me with some other girl. In which case, ow.”

Adam didn’t even crack a smile. “This wasn’t supposed to be a good year for me. My parents split up, and my brother and I can barely have a conversation without one of us hitting the other. Greg’s been gone two years, and when I think about him sometimes, I still can’t breathe. I’ve been so mad at...everyone for so long, because if I’m not mad...” His voice went whisper soft. “If I’m not mad all the time, then I have to be something else, something I don’t want to be, because if I start, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop.”

I should have felt uncomfortable, watching him peel back the innermost layers of his heart, and while I did wish I could help him stop hurting, I didn’t want to make him stop talking.

“I’m realizing that I’m even mad at my mom. I tried not to be, because she’s so broken that if I let myself be angry at her, I’ll end up hating myself more, but I am. I’m angry that she let my dad go. I’m angry that she won’t let us all miss Greg together. I’m angry that, because of her, we can’t miss all the parts of him. We can’t let ourselves remember him without going back to the night he died. I thought if I could just be mad at my dad, then I wouldn’t have to be mad at her, but I’ve been just as stuck as she is and I—”

He finally looked up at me, with that same too-intense expression on his face. “I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to be stuck. I don’t want to be mad, not even at my dad.”

I didn’t understand everything he was trying to say, but if he was telling me he wanted to let go of all his anger, then I was glad, and I told him so as I reached for his hand.

“Jo.” He smiled as he watched our fingers intertwine. “How can you still not know?”