“I can do that.”
I say good-bye to Matt, then sit in my driver’s seat, grip my steering wheel, and stare at a redbrick building.
I can’t give up now. I already let Kyle down once.
After I turned down his proposal, he dumped me, and I thought nothing could hurt worse than that. Mom kept encouraging me to ask old friends to hang out or to spend time with my brother and his friends, but all I did was curl up on the couch and watch reruns of Friends and Law & Order, anything to get my mind off him. Every time I saw him at school, his face looked ghost white, like Elmer’s glue, and I never saw him smile anymore. How could he stand it? I couldn’t even fall asleep at night.
A few weeks later, he skipped his mom’s Sunday family dinner and came to my trailer. “I wasn’t thinking. I made a mistake.”
“When you asked me to marry you?”
His deep chocolate eyes lit up. “No, that wasn’t a mistake. It was a mistake when I broke up with you.”
He promised not to propose again until I was ready, and we crawled under the covers and made up, showing how much we loved each other. The terrible feelings weighing my body down floated away as he kissed me everywhere. His mother would’ve flipped out if she’d known we were doing it during her weekly turkey dinner.
When we were finished, he pulled his polo shirt back on and zipped his jeans. “I have to go home before Mom sends out a search party.”
“You just want leftovers,” I teased.
“Damn straight.” He loved his mother’s cranberry sauce and mashed potatoes.
We kissed good-bye, and that was the last time I saw him.
If I hadn’t said no to his proposal, he never would’ve come to my house that Sunday evening to apologize. He wouldn’t have missed his mom’s dinner.
He would still be alive.
It’s my fault.
In the present, I forget to blink until my eyes start burning. Decide to call Jeremiah. He answers on the first ring.
“What’d the doctor say?”
“What you told me. That some knees aren’t made for long distances. That maybe I should quit.”
“What do you wanna do?” Jeremiah asks.
I sniffle and wipe my nose. There’s only one answer. “I need to finish this for Kyle.”
A long pause. “Then let’s get you there.”
PART III
A Beginning
MOVE-IN DAY
Two Months Until the Country Music Marathon
“He’ll be here.”
Mom glances down at her watch. “He’s five minutes late.”
“And he’s never been late before,” I reply. “I hope nothing’s wrong.”
Mom and Nick share a look.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” they say in unison.
“Can’t we just start moving your stuff inside?” Nick asks. “We’ll leave all the heavy boxes for Jere to carry.”
“Two more minutes.” I check the time on my phone and look to make sure he didn’t text. He didn’t. “Fine, let’s go.”
Nick leads the way through a busy courtyard up to the dorm where I’ll be living. It’s five stories high and made of brick. A group of smokers is lounging on benches. Kids are tossing a Frisbee. The courtyard is full of laughter. And yelling. And whooping.
Mom sees the smile on my face and wraps an arm around me. “I’m so, so proud of you.”
Hearing that makes me happy and sad at the same time—sad because now that we’re finally getting along, I’ll really miss her. A piece of me wants to stay home and commute to school, but I need some newness in my life. And some time apart might be good for us.
“Annie!”
We turn around to find Jeremiah sprinting up.
“I’m so sorry I’m late.” He swallows hard. “I misestimated how long it would take to walk here. I didn’t factor in welcome-back-to-school gridlock.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“It means that everyone and their mom stopped me to talk about nonsense. I barely escaped Gloria, the little old lady who runs the copy center at the library. They have a new high-volume color printer, by the way.”
Nick stares him down. “You’re carrying the heavy stuff, Brown.”
“You got it.”
After Jeremiah gives Mom and me quick hugs, we head inside my dorm and check in. The front desk guy makes me fill out an emergency-point-of-contact form and sign for keys to my room and mailbox. He also hands over a huge student-life policy package, complete with all the rules of dorm living.