“I know that’s not what you’re trying to do. It doesn’t matter what we were trying and not trying to do, really. It matters what happens. I can’t ever let myself get lost in this again.”

“I’m sorry, Hutch. I wasn’t trying to start anything … I just like being around you. The feeling I have when I’m with you.” I sank into myself, frustrated.

“I know.”

“When you left Birdie’s party that night, I thought about how you’re this mirror to me, this person who shows me who I was—the me I really liked. You’re more than that, of course. But that, too.”

“There are just some people that can only be who they are in your life. No one else can be that person. That’s you. But I just needed to say how easy it would be to ruin everything. And I want to be careful about that. You understand, right?”

“Me too. I don’t want to destroy anything.” I paused. “Yes, I do understand.”

Hutch sat down next to me again, and my heart ached with an old bruise.

When we returned home, good-byes were said as Birdie took Babs inside the house for a tour. Hutch walked me to the door and we stood facing each other for a long moment before he spoke. “Thank you so much for helping me with this exhibit.”

“You could have done this without me.”

He smiled and dropped his forehead onto mine, whispering words that tickled my skin. “But I didn’t want to do it without you.”

“I’m going home tomorrow,” I said with my eyes closed, as if this could hide me from the truth.

“Well, I hope you come to the exhibit opening in the spring.”

“Of course.” I opened my eyes to look into his.

“Okay. Bye, you.”

“Bye, you.”

He then kissed me, softly. We rested there, our skin finding its familiar place. He stepped back and released me, but I wasn’t ready to let go. I pulled him forward, placing my head on his chest. We swayed back and forth as if cicadas were an orchestra, as if water were music in the background. Then he moved away, placing his hand on the side of my face.

“Ellie …” His voice was warmer than the air, more humid than leftover rain. “That was a nice kiss good-bye, but it was good-bye.”

And he was gone.

Yes, I understood—when you ruin a friendship, when you destroy a heart, you can’t walk back into it as if the damage were never done. I’d said “sorry,” but even that word wasn’t enough. Sometimes there aren’t any words that are enough to heal what’s been broken.

As I prepared for bed, exhausted more in spirit than in bone, I knew it was time to go home. To Rusty.