Golden Boys (Golden Boys, #1)(19)

“Thank you,” I say. But I hope he sees the double meaning here, the hidden layer that says what I mean:

I love you.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

SAL

It’s late by the time Heath drops us off at Gabe’s place. Despite my demands that we have only fun during our final Tour-de-Gracemont, everything feels weird.

It’s hard to capture the emotion of this moment. We all leave tomorrow, and I think we’ve all accepted it. I get the nagging thought that something like this shouldn’t feel so momentous, but it is.

Growing up in the Village of Gracemont is a blessing and a curse. At the end of the day, everyone wants what’s best for you, but it’s always so clear that no one knows what is “best” at any given time. You watch your classmates grow up saying they want to be doctors and astronauts in elementary school, and by middle school they’ve been told they can’t so many times they start to believe it.

And really, it’s true. Mom’s always gotten by with strong benefits and a savings account, but Heath’s parents have always been one disaster or one medical bill away from losing their house. We don’t have AP classes at Gracemont High, so last year’s valedictorian couldn’t even get wait-listed at Duke.

Heath has had his heart set on Vanderbilt for years. Reese might apply to an Ivy, just to see what they say. Gabriel seems set on a state school. And me? I don’t know. I’ve worked so hard to defy my circumstances, but I’m the most privileged one of the bunch. I have connections; I get to take chances that no one else does. And I still don’t know if it’s enough.

I want to go into politics, but it seems so unfair that I need to drop a hundred grand and waste away four years of my life to even have a chance.

I lean against my car, and the other boys form a semicircle around me.

“This is it, isn’t it?” I say.

Gabe sighs. “This feels like a series finale.”

“A season finale,” Reese corrects.

“We’ll be back,” Heath says, a note of finality in his voice.

Gabe and I give hugs to the other boys, and somehow we’re all wrapped into a group hug. It’s a heavy goodbye, but I feel some hope, and maybe the others do too. There are no tears as we break apart, but I’m still struck with a very clear absence of warmth when Heath and Reese climb into the truck and slowly back out of the driveway.

It’s just me and Gabe, and I realize this goodbye is going to be much harder. I wish I could sneak inside and spend the night with him, but we both leave so early tomorrow there’s no chance we could get away with it.

I remind myself this is good for us, because I really need the reminder right now.

“Take the bus up and see me,” Gabe says. “Give me a month, and I promise, I’ll be a Boston pro. I’ll give you a proper tour of the city, and you can stay with me whenever.”

I smile, and nod slightly.

“We’re really doing this,” I say. I feel a little empowered, and I hope this energy carries me through the next three months.

“I’ll save the world, then you can lead it.”

“All in a summer’s work,” I reply. “Seems doable.”

He laughs, then closes the distance between us. I place my hand on his hip as he presses himself into me, just lightly, just enough for our bodies to become one.

I kiss him. Slowly, at first, then with deepening intensity. This isn’t some messy make-out session; this is targeted. It’s clear. It’s with such intention that there’s a moment when I wonder if I will ever be able to make myself stop.

Gabe pulls his lips away, and mine burn from brushing against his stubble. He leans his head into a particularly tender spot between my neck and shoulder.

“I can’t believe I have to say goodbye to you,” he says.

“It’s only for three months,” I say. “We’ll be back together before you know it.”

He looks into my eyes for one, two, three seconds, then he slightly shakes his head. “Something tells me this won’t be the same after we’ve seen the world. After we’ve gotten a taste of what’s coming after graduation.”

I don’t respond.

I can’t, because I somehow agree.





? Golden Boys ?

GABRIEL + HEATH + REESE + SAL





CHAPTER NINETEEN

HEATH

My notifications light up as soon as I send the text, with Gabriel and Reese snapping at me for texting while driving. I give their concerned texts a thumbs-up, but otherwise ignore them. They don’t seem to understand that the last hour or so of this journey is in fully standstill traffic. But hey, at least they care.

It was a largely uneventful trip, even though I’m fucking beat. The road from Gracemont to Daytona is an almost perfectly straight line from the top of the country to the bottom. Ohio was a snoozefest. West Virginia, Virginia, and the Carolinas featured some winding roads and rolling hills, which was a little more interesting.

I’ve been in Florida for what feels like hours. After Jacksonville, it’s a straight shot down the coast to Daytona Beach. I flew down the highway for a while, but then it abruptly turned into this. Standstill traffic with the sun so hot it causes little waves off the pavement and off the hood of my truck. Beachfront shops dot the street, along with some run-down gas stations, auto parts stores, tobacco shops, liquor stores, and fast food. There’s even a Cincinnati-style chili place here.