Don’t go, I suddenly want to cry. Please, please don’t go. Do anything but go.

‘You’re not making it easy.’ He chuckles, but he’s biting back tears, too. The typical storminess in his eyes is glassy now, his strong, barely stubbled jaw ticking as he tries to hold it in. ‘Can you tell why I avoided you when I left in high school?’

‘Oh.’ The sound is one I didn’t know myself to be capable of. Helpless, broken, guilty. ‘I’m not makin’ it easy. Am I?’

He shakes his head, the idiot, using a palm to push a tear away, and that does me in. ‘Come here. Come here, Colt.’

And in that dingy Charleston closet, tears rolling down our faces, we just hold each other like we are one another’s life preservers. I clutch Colt so tightly that my hands fist the fabric of his shirt. I hug that man as if he’s the sole island in the middle of a deserted ocean.

For real this time.

Chapter Forty-One

Wheels Up

Colt

‘And I talked to my parents. You’re welcome to stay until the house is—’

‘I know, Colt.’

May, clearly pushing away her emotions, stands with fists planted on her hips, in her trusty denim shorts and Riders T-shirt combo, the shirt with a jagged hem that curls up, product of a DIY crop-top job. Her hair, thrown into two low space buns at the back of her head, reflects the setting Oklahoma sun, glowing a brown-red as she steps forward, pointing to the truck. ‘Go on.’

I cough awkwardly. She’s seen me in pretty much every form of broken at this point: physical, mental, emotional.

‘May—’

‘Do you want me to call your parents up so I can tell them their son’s stalling?’ She raises an eyebrow, deadpan.

‘Please don’t,’ I say way too quickly.

‘That’s what I thought.’ She crosses one leg over the other, leaning against my truck. ‘Gonna get a move on, then?’

‘I guess I have to.’ I drag a hand through my hair, glancing up at the clear blue sky. God. Clear blue sky. Huge family dinners. May and I walking to class together. Constellations like you never see in New England that are perfectly visible at night.

I have missed home.

She opens the door to the driver’s side of the cab. ‘I’ve put a can of Red Bull in your bag. Drink it before you get to TSA. But wait a minute, actually.’

May turns back to the house, and she bolts so fast I think she’s going to lose a sandal. She’s back within the minute, with a big gift bag. ‘May, I can’t take this.’

‘You can. Here.’ She shoves the bag into my arms. ‘If you’re going to take for ever to leave like this, you might as well open it now.’