Begin Again(48)

“No,” says Milo, a bit of apology in the hardness of it. “I want to hear it.”

He watches me from the passenger seat, waiting. I let a few beats pass, half certain he’ll deflect like he has before. When he doesn’t, I say carefully, “I mean—you’re still hurting. It’s going to take time.”

Milo is unmoving as a statue, still watching.

“But at some point . . . you’ll have to resolve it, right?” I say. “You can’t just avoid him and the rest of your family forever.”

“I’m not avoiding the rest of my family.”

“You just did,” I say gently. “You said Harley knew you’d be home. Maybe it wasn’t an ambush. I think maybe he wanted to talk.”

I only catch the edge of Milo’s deepening scowl before he directs his face away from me.

“And whatever happened—I think when it comes to grief, the more you can process it together, the easier it’ll probably be to heal.”

It’s my dad I’m thinking of then. The way he fell out of orbit more and more with each passing year. How there were pieces of myself that would have been a lot easier to put back together with him there to make sense of them.

“The thing is,” I say, pushing past my own hurt, “family is forever. But this thing with Nora . . . I think you’ll get over it eventually.”

“You think so?”

The directness of the question catches me off guard. “I mean—I hope so.”

“Would you if it were Connor?”

I purse my lips. “Milo, we’re talking about you.”

“Yeah?” says Milo. “Because it seems like you’re telling me to get over my ex when you can’t get over a guy you’ve been running around for all semester, who can’t even be bothered to text you on Valentine’s Day.”

He flinches before I do, more surprised to have said it than I am to hear it.

“That was uncalled for,” I say anyway.

“I’m sorry,” says Milo, all the anger punctured out of him. He runs a hand through his hair, and even in the periphery I can see the slight shake of it. “Shit. I’m just . . .”

“I know.”

We drive the rest of the way in silence, me with my eyes on the road, Milo fiddling with the zipper on his coat and sneaking glances at me. I’m coolly composed, a neutral version of the syndicated-talk-show smile. Only then do I realize that the awkwardness I was anticipating this morning—the tension I thought we’d been dancing around since that moment in the snow—it’s here now, thick in the air between us. Like it was only waiting for a catalyst, for one of us to brush up against the other too close.

“Really, Andie—I’m sorry,” says Milo, as I ease the car into a parking spot.

I hand him the keys to Stella. “I’m here if you ever want to actually talk about it, okay?”

His hand grazes mine when he takes it back, and then lingers for a moment, like he’s going to say something else. I look up and see something in his face start to crack open, something honest and miserable and real.

“Andie!”

We both tear our eyes away so fast that the sound of my name might as well be the sound of a car backfiring.

“Connor?”





Chapter Fifteen


There he is, like some kind of golden-haired, broad-smiled apparition, stepping out of his car in his Little Fells varsity soccer jacket with a handful of pink roses, my absolute favorite. He turns to set them on the seat of his car before I even start to run, knowing full well I am coming at him like a small projectile.

“Oof,” he jokes when I slam into him, easily absorbing the impact and sweeping my feet off the ground. “Hey, you.”

“Hi hi hi hi hi,” I say into his ear, so giddy I feel like someone just injected a Fourth of July fireworks show straight into my veins. I squeeze him hard and he squeezes back, and for a moment time is at a total standstill. There’s just me and the crush of Connor’s body against mine and the steady, thrilling thump thump thump of our hearts beating in rhythm.

“How are you here?”

“My dad gave me the day off. And I just got in the car, and . . .” We pull apart, arms still intertwined, his eyes shining. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

I knock my head into his chest, breathing in the grassy, familiar scent of him. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you more.”

I doubt that, but right now it doesn’t matter. I can’t see anything beyond the familiar shape of him, the overwhelming rush of relief.

He presses his thumb just under my eye. “But what’s wrong, Andie?” he asks, the rumble of his voice pressing into my chest. “You looked upset.”

“I . . .”

His eyes edge toward Milo, who already has his back turned to us and is walking into Cardinal.

“Who is that?” Connor asks.

“Just my RA,” I say. It’s easier than explaining that we weren’t just in an argument between friends, but one Connor made a cameo in not five minutes ago. “It’s been a long day, is all.”

“Did something happen with your dad?” says Connor lowly.

I hesitate. Technically yes, even if it’s not what has me worked up right now.