Chapter 70

"Hey. Can we talk?"

I glance up at Jeremy from where I sit on the edge of the blanket we'd spread out, keyboard resting over my lap where I idly play with it, my fingers fluttering gently over the keys.

He worries at the strands of silvery-white hair that have fallen messily over his brow, pointedly avoiding my gaze. My pulse quickens, an odd sense of dread tugging at my gut. Why, I'm not sure, but until this moment—save for when we stood in front of his sister's grave earlier—he's been keeping his distance.

At this point, I've come to expect it, especially around the others. As far as they're aware though, it's only because of what I said and did in my room that night I relapsed—when I cupped his face and called him Izzy and begged her not to leave me.

And while they're not wrong, it's far from the whole story. It's just the jagged, rusty tip of the blade that feels as if it's been perpetually wedged between my ribs since.

Easing my keyboard off my lap, I say, "Yeah. Of course. Everything okay?" I keep my voice low, so it's only for him. Between Shawn and Waylon strumming on their guitars, and the quiet din of chatter and laughter amongst everyone, no one seems to be really paying us much attention.

Well, except for Will.

When I go to stand, our gazes meet across the blanket—plates and napkins with scraps of the sandwiches and chips we brought lay scattered about between us, weighed down by water bottles and soda cans so as not to fly away—something about his expression gives me pause.

His brows knit, mouth tightening at the corners. But then Waylon leans over and says something in his ear, and his gaze drops to his lap, lips curving with a smile. He finds Waylon's inked hand clutched on his thigh, and threads their fingers together.

Realizing I'm staring, I tear my attention away, shaking away the weird…feeling rising up in my chest as I climb to a stand, and glance over at Jeremy who stands there, staring intently at the ground. And I realize he never answered my question.

I approach him, and he must sense me, shaking out whatever's got him all up in his head.

He releases the hold his teeth have on his lip, and says. "Yeah." He clears his throat. "I just, uh, need to tell you something." He jacks a thumb behind him, gesturing for me to follow.

He leads me past the trees lining the back of this row of headstones, down a narrow cobbled path toward what looks like some kind of memorial bench, ensuring we're out of sight from the others.

There's no one else around today from what I've seen, so it's just the two of us now and the leaves brushing overhead, and the distant tittering of birds, and the sudden rushing feeling like whatever he's about to tell me is going to change everything.

Our gazes meet, his eyes lit up gold from the sun. Combined with his stark white hair, his smooth, creamy complexion, and soft, doe-like features, he looks almost…inhuman—angelic, standing there in a swatch of glittering sunlight coming in through the trees.

My throat tightens, and I swear the organ in my chest skips a beat.

"I don't really know how to start this, and I'm kind of shitting myself, so I'm just gonna?—"

"Jer, it's okay," I whisper. Shaking my head, I add, "Whatever you have to tell me. It's okay. We'll be okay. We'll always be okay."

I won't let it—us—be anything but okay.

If there's anything I've grown more certain of these last couple months, it's that.

Whatever it takes to get him to trust me again… I'll do it.

His eyes crease, growing red around the edges, and it brings me back to earlier, when I spun away from Izzy's grave—away from Waylon—knowing, just knowing deep in my gut that Jeremy needed me.

It was like someone threw a rope around my chest, and yanked. So hard my ribs splintered.

And when I saw the tears in his eyes…tears that moments later would spill over…

All I could do was vow to myself—then to Izzy, out loud, for everyone to hear?—

I've got him.

Of course I've got him, Iz.

We've got him…Waylon and I. Just like we always promised. All for one, and one for all.

He's as much a part of us as she was, and that will never change, with or without her. I just didn't see how much he needed to hear that—needed to feel it—until he was squished between us, anchored by us both, finally letting himself accept it. Feel her loss.

Her absence…and our bond sealing that divide, as best we could, finally.

The funeral Izzy should've had all along.

And one we all needed to move forward.

Now, Jeremy stands before me with the brightest of tears in his eyes as he smiles back at me. "I hope you're right. I hope one day it will be okay."

And just like that, something heavy drops in my gut. My knees weaken, and I shake my head.

What is he?—

"I love you."

Time stops. The universe rattling, quivering, set to implode?—

"And before you tell me you love me too, or misconstrue what I'm saying, I mean…I love you…Mason. I'm in love with you."

On the outside, I'm utterly still. I don't so much as blink. All I can do is stare at him, wondering if perhaps I'm dreaming, and that's why he looks so inhumanly beautiful right now, as impossibilities spill from his lips.

Because surely—surely—Jeremy Montgomery, the boy I've known since I was six, my anchor through all these years, the boy I once made my mission to protect and keep happy…isn't confessing that he's in love with me.

Me…

The selfish asshole who's put him through the ringer these last few years.

The guy who drunkenly, messily kissed him in this goddamn cemetery…then again, sober and impulsively, on a deserted sidewalk, with nothing in mind but my need to satiate some itch—some curiosity—one I'd had for years, and was finally no longer able to deny, after having finally gotten a taste. A muddled one at that, a kiss I had to rectify, to be certain…

Me, the least deserving fucker out there to be loved by him…

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Shaking my head, I press my lips tightly together.

He can't mean it…he can't.

Because if he does…

If he does…

The implications are terrifying.

This changes everything.

He has to know that, right?

"It's okay," he says, nodding, giving me a watery smile, and fuck if it doesn't break me wide open. "I'm not expecting you to say it back. I'm not under any illusion that what I feel is returned."

My pulse races—a protest sitting right on my lips.

"I'm only telling you because…" He lifts his shoulders. "Because I can't carry it in me anymore. I'm tired, Mase." His voice cracks on my name. "I'm tired, and I'm in love with you, and I know it's wrong—so fucking wrong—but I meant what I said in that text months ago—I'm terrified of losing you.

"You've been my best friend since the second you stepped in front of Clay and his friends, like a superhero from my comics come to life, right off the pages. For years, you were my only friend. And—" He quickly cuts himself off, shaking his head and dropping his gaze. Wetting his lips, he says shakily, "It hurts. It hurts so fucking much, loving you, and knowing I can never have you."

"Jer," I croak, shaking my head.

He holds up a hand. "Just…let me get this out, okay? This isn't easy for me."

I nod, because I know.

In all the years I've known him, Jeremy's not once cracked himself open for me like this. I mean, sure he's confided in me before, but there's something…different about this time. It's like I can finally see through that wall he keeps around himself. The one I've gotten so used to being there, that at some point over the years, I stopped wondering what hides behind it.

And it makes me wonder…

How long? How fucking long have I been such a clueless idiot? How did I not see this?

Moments flash behind my eyes.

All the times I've crawled into his bed, seeking comfort in his arms. His orbit…

Us dancing at prom…the promises I made him.

Him visiting me in the hospital when I overdosed…

"Did you even, for one fucking second, think about what this would do to me?"

"I can't lose you too…"

The way he kissed me back…like he was starved. I remember that now. I remember his desperation. I remember mine.

And then outside the diner…

How he shoved me and screamed at me.

"You called me by her name!"

"It's always about her…Mason and Izzy…"

"I'm so fucking sick of being in the middle of it. I didn't ask for this!"

Bile races up my throat.

Oh God.

What have I done?

"And you're probably wondering why now, today of all days, and here of all places, and…and I guess it's because I realized that, I can only move forward—from Izzy—heal…if I let you go too. Set you free."

My breath hitches painfully, tears flooding my eyes. I clamp down on my molars to keep from letting out so much as a whimper.

"I don't wanna lose you forever, but I don't know how to keep you right now. In any capacity. I can't just be friends. Not anymore, not after?—"

"I kissed you," I whisper, the words wrenching out of me, broken and raw.

His expression tightens, and he nods.

Heart pounding, I don't think. I just speak. "Maybe…maybe we?—"

"Don't."

I frown. "You don't even know what I was going to say."

He huffs a soft, bitter laugh. "You forget how well I know you, Mason. But this is something that's beyond your fixing. I know you've been…confused. I know everything's gotten all twisted up between us—hell, sometimes even I wonder if this truly is love I feel for you, or if I am just clinging to the past."

Sucking in my cheeks, I lower my gaze to some spot on his chest. The urge to tell him he's wrong is there, sitting right on my tongue. But…

Is he wrong?

He said it himself outside the diner that night—I'd only just accepted that Izzy was never coming back. Not to mention what else he threw at me that night:

"You didn't want me. You wanted her."

"You and I both know that if she were here, I wouldn't even be an option."

At the time, it stung, sure. For more reasons than one.

But knowing now, how he feels, what must've been going through his head at the time…

"I'm so tired."

"I can't carry this inside me anymore."

And here I thought he was only so mad at me for kissing him because it forced him to betray his sister. Not because I was…leading him on, rubbing his feeling in his face or whatever—albeit unintentionally. All because I couldn't think beyond just what I wanted in that moment, paying no care to what it might do to him.

Two things can be true at once.

I frown at my therapist's voice ringing out in my head.

"I won't let you use me."

At that, I startle to attention.

"And you can tell yourself all you want that that's not what it is, but let's face facts here, Mase." And just like that night outside the diner, he says, "If given the choice, you'd choose her. And I know that's not fair to you. But it's true. We both know it's true deep down."

Is it though?

I swallow tightly, already knowing the truth…

But also knowing, to my core, he won't believe me. Not today. Not yet. My word means nothing in the wake of my actions…in the face of our history.

"Yeah, for a little while, maybe we could pretend," he says. "Trust me, it's not like I haven't considered it these last couple months, seeing as kissing a guy isn't a hard limit for you." He laughs and it's a raw, rusty thing. "Giving in, encouraging it…knowing you'd probably cave, if for no other reason than to channel all your helpless feelings and pain over losing her into making me happy. Into filling the void she left behind in both of us." He shakes his head. "As tempting as it is, I do have some shred of self-preservation. Of dignity when it comes to you."

"Jeremy…"

"I see two paths, as far as I can tell," he says over me, his voice determined, "and trust me, I've run through every scenario there is." He pauses meaningfully. "I either give up that little bit of pride I still have, and let you use me to fill that void left by her. Or I cut the cord. Do something drastic, so that someday we can be friends. Because if I take the first option…"

I wipe a hand over my mouth, blinking rapidly as I nod. "If it doesn't work out, we lose our friendship."

He makes a face at that, gaze unreadable. "When…it doesn't work out, you mean."

I stare at him.

He looks away. "Like I said, I've played it through my head, probably more times than is healthy. It'd feel good for a while, yeah. No doubt about that." His cheeks pink, and he mutters something under his breath. "Clearly, I got ahead of myself."

I frown, not sure I understand. And then it hits me?—

Oh.

Heat shoots down my spine, and I shift on my feet.

Obviously, it wouldn't just be kissing.

I haven't really let myself think about that. Seeing as I never thought there was an actual chance here to begin with…

"Anyway, yeah, it'll work. For a while. I'd get to know what it feels like to be loved by none other than Mason Wyatt." Again, his voice breaks on my name, and it just…

It fucking boggles my mind. One big what the fuck in my head.

The way he says it…like being loved by me is something special. Something to be coveted.

When all I've done is drag him down with me in my misery…for years…

"And you'd get to…I don't know, take all those feelings left behind from my sister, and give them somewhere to go."

Jesus.

"Jeremy." I shake my head. This time I don't let him silence me. "I wouldn't…That's not… Fuck, I'd never use you as some kind of…stand-in for her."

He can't seriously think that…

"Never," I vow fiercely.

And yet by his expression, it's exactly what he thinks. What he believes, and?—

Fuck, I hate this.

He really can't see it.

He won't let himself.

He's…protecting himself.

From me.

He smiles, and it's a sad, hopeless, yet knowing thing. "You wouldn't mean to. I know you'd never hurt me like that intentionally," he says gently.

Sniffing, I say, "No. I wouldn't."

"Which is exactly why we can never go down this path. Because, like I said, it'd feel good for a while, so long as we continue to lie to ourselves, pretending it's something more. But eventually…" He lifts a shoulder, letting his words trail off, the implication settling heavily over us.

I swallow tight, unsure what to even say to that.

I wish I could tell him he's wrong, but I just…I don't know. I can't predict the future. I can't promise that what I've been feeling these last few months—hell, years—is nothing more than exactly what he thinks it is. I wish I could, but if there's anything I learned these last couple years, it's that…

I'm an addict.

I've got the mind of an addict.

I'm driven by impulse, and this constant chase for moremoremore.

Be it drugs. Be it music. Be it clinging to every fucking person I care about, because I don't know how to function without giving my entire being to something—someone…

Just like with Izzy as kids.

Sure we were young. Who's to say we would've worked out?

But I loved her as fiercely as I was capable of back then. Gave my entire heart to her, and vowed forever the second she demanded it. With barely even a second thought. And why? For what purpose other than to?—

Be reassured.

"Fuck," I murmur. I screw my eyes shut, and pinch the corners of my eyes as my sessions with Cleo back in rehab, run through my head. What I said, what she implied…

Overcompensated.

And suddenly I'm no longer standing in a cemetery, or even in my therapist's office. But instead I'm lying in my childhood bed, with Mom wrapped around me, staring up at my Avengers poster, "You Get What You Give" by The New Radicals playing through my headphones.

I'll be good.

I'll be better.

I won't give up, and he'll come back…

And he'll stay.

Oh fuck.

"Mason?"

I clear my throat roughly, and lower my hand, moving my jaw around to ward off the emotion suddenly barreling through me. I nod jerkily. "I'm fine. Sorry, just…" I rub my forehead.

Jeremy doesn't say anything right away, but I feel his penetrating gaze, and I hate that like always, I've steered the attention onto my issues.

This isn't fucking about me.

With that reminder, I shake out my arms, and nod. "So what's our other option?"

Jeremy's brows are knitted with a deep frown when I settle my eyes on his face.

"You're right," I tell him. "We can't go that route. We can't risk it."

The words taste like ash in my mouth.

I can't lose him…fuck, I can't lose him.

His lips thin into a white line and he nods. I don't miss the fracture of something in his gaze, but he quickly recovers, burying it so fast, I can't be sure I didn't just imagine it.

"There's a study abroad program my school announced a couple weeks ago," he says, and my brow furrows at the unexpected subject change. "It's for art students. It's in Europe. It's for next semester."

"Okay…"

"And I…I think I'm gonna take it." His carriage rises with his inhale, and he stands a little taller, lifting his chin. "I didn't even consider it at first because…because, well, it would mean there'd be a whole ocean separating us if something happened. If you…if you needed me, if you relapsed, and?—"

"Go."

The word wrenches out of me before I've even really processed what he's saying.

Jeremy's lips press together tightly once more, and he holds himself stock-still.

"Go," I choke out, forcing the word out. Despite how much it pains me to do so.

Forehead creasing, he slowly shakes his head, and says, "I don't need your permission."

A broken sound leaves me, half-laugh, half-sob. So fucking stubborn.

But he's also not wrong.

"This isn't me giving it to you. This is me telling you. Go." I bore my eyes into his, ensuring he sees just how serious I am. Serious and desperate for him to do this—to leave—if only so he'll one day come back.

His face bunches, hurt shining in his eyes, and I realize what he's probably thinking. What it sounds like. And before I can help myself, I step forward, and clutch his shoulders.

He sucks in a startled breath.

"It's okay. I'll be okay," I tell him thickly. I force a smile, my vision blurring. And I give him a small nod. "You need to do this. I see that now. Just like when you went to college."

His jaw quivers.

"You should've never fucking stayed here to begin with, and I'm so sorry if I ever made you feel trapped. Like you had to keep coming back, when we both know how much you hate this place."

"Mase…"

"And I'm not saying that to, like, dump…guilt or regret on you, or anything like that. I just…I hate that I?—"

"It was my choice, Mason," he interrupts softly, his gaze fierce, yet somehow gentle. "I played with fire, knowing I'd get burned. And then I kept playing, even when the flames were consuming me whole. At any point here, I could've walked away. But I didn't."

I chew the corner of my lip, my fingers flexing against his shoulder. The urge to pull him into my arms, hold him to me, washes over me strong and forceful. But I resist. That thing inside me…the part of me that wants to hang onto him and beg him not to go…

If ever it was imperative that I shut it out, it's now. My abandonment issues are what caused this mess. It fucked everything up to the point I can't trust myself—what I feel…

Jeremy's suffered enough.

"And for as much torture as it was…" he goes on, "when I imagine the alternative—you pulling away from me after Izzy, rather than clinging to me like you did…"

I'm shaking my head, unable to imagine that being even remotely in the realm of reality.

"You not needing me… not wanting anything to do with me…" He shrugs. "I don't know who or what we'd be now. If we wouldn't just be…strangers. So for that, I guess, thank you."

I smile sadly. "For torturing you?"

His lip twitches. "Yeah, I guess so. We've still got something to salvage here after all, right?"

A vice constricts my throat, and all I can do is nod to that.

He needs this.

We need this.

As much as it breaks my heart, I get it.

After a moment, when I find my voice again, I tell him honestly, "I don't know what happened here. Between us. How we got to this point… I still don't really even know how you could possibly have?—"

His mouth quirks sadly when my voice cuts off. "Fallen in love with you?"

Clenching my teeth, my eyes sear, the answer no doubt evident in their depths. No…no, I have no idea.

His gaze flits between mine, and he whispers, "I told you. You're Mason Wyatt. Of course, I fell in love with you."

He says it so simply—so effortlessly, despite the tears shining in his eyes, and the quiver in his lips. Like falling in love with me wasn't just an accident, but an inevitability. Like my mere existence is all it took for him to fall.

And if I thought I was mind blown before…

Well, now…now I don't know what to think other than I feel like my heart's been ground up in a meat grinder.

"I've treated you like shit."

He tilts his head with a soft sigh, his cheek brushing my knuckles where I still hold him. "Yeah…but to be fair, you didn't know what was going on in my head. And…despite it all, I'm still in love with you. Pretty sure that says more about me than you."

My swallow goes down with a hard, audible click.

His tongue pokes out, swiping over his lips, and the world around me sort of slants and shudders, right along with the feeling like I'm toppling over from within myself. On the outside, I stand tall. I'm still. Even my grip on his shoulders remains light—casual.

But on the inside, I'm fucking coming apart in ways I never have before.

And it's taking everything in me not to do something unforgivably stupid.

Like beg.

Like kiss him.

He'd stay if I asked him to…if I told him how badly I need him…

It's the one thing I know with certainty, even if he can't believe that I could ever want him in the way he wants me. Feel for him the way he feels for me.

And it would be for all the wrong reasons, if he stayed…

"I need time," he says quietly. "Space. I don't—I can't wait until I leave in the summer for…for things to change. I need out now."

Rolling my lips together, I nod. "So…no texting? Calling?"

He's shaking his head. "Nothing. I…I need to move on. And I can't exactly do that when every time I see your name appear on my screen, I'm pulled right back into your orbit." He pauses. "I won't be coming back to Shiloh?—"

"Ever?" I cut in, panic hitching my words. I already figured we wouldn't be seeing each other in person for a while. But I guess I hoped we could still somehow…keep in touch, here and there.

But the idea of him never coming back here…

Of him never letting us see each other again—because really, that's what I'm asking here.

It blinds me with fear. Desperation. All the things that make me spiral, and give into those vicious impulses. The ones that lead to stupid, unforgivable mistakes.

He straightens, his eyes widening at my harshly blurted interruption—at whatever he must see playing out across my face—but then they harden over with something akin to determination. Like he's steeling himself.

"Not for a while," he tells me firmly. "However long it takes. It's not just Izzy haunting every inch of this place anymore, Mase. Or even the bad memories from when I was a kid. It's…it's you. Us. Everything we've been through over the years. Everything that has made it impossible to move on while simultaneously keeping you in my life, even at arm's length."

Tears once more burn at the back of my eyes, slowly, surely obscuring my vision.

"I need to know what it's like to live without you. Just as I think you need to know what it's like to live without me." He takes a deep breath. "It's the only way."

Chewing my lip ring, I nod. "To save our friendship. To not lose each other completely."

"Yeah."

And staring into his glassy, amber eyes, open in a way I've never really seen them, but also carrying a fierce, driven quality to them that, well, reminds me of his sister…

I get it.

Why this is our only option.

"We've been going around in circles for months now, longer even, and all this spinning and spinning around…" His voice trails off on a whisper. "It'll only end in disaster if we keep this up."

Spinning…

Spinning.

A melody fills my head, clashing with the thundering of my heart.

"If there is any chance for us to find our way back to each other—as friends—and not as who we were, because those versions of us are gone. But to…form something new. Healthy…" He nods. "We gotta get off this ride. Reset."

"I've gotta lose you," I say with a near-unbearable thickness. It's a wonder he even understands me at all.

He smiles, making his eyes squint, and he nods. "Yeah, you do."

"But not forever. I refuse to let this be forever," I rush out quickly. "Even if…even if you're on the other side of the globe. I get that you need space right now, but?—"

"We'll play it by ear. See where these next few months take me…us. But you have to wait until I'm ready. You have to give me this."

Swallowing hard, I nod. "Okay," I whisper. "Of course. Anything."

Whatever it takes, I vow to myself.

He smiles faintly. "Okay then."

Realizing I've still got his shoulders clutched in my hands, I clear my throat and step back, giving him that space he so clearly needs from me. I don't think I realized until this very moment just how…blurred I've let the lines between us become.

Because when I think about my other friendships—like with Waylon and Shawn…

Well, obviously I refrain from getting into Shawn's space. But with Waylon…well, lately things have been different between us. We're closer than ever before. And I guess you could say I'm a physical guy. I'll catch myself mussing Waylon's hair, or throwing an arm around his neck…

It's as if that hug we shared outside his motel room months ago unlocked something in us both. Our friendship has never been as strong—as deep—as it is now.

But when I compare how I am with him, to how I am with Jeremy…

Not to mention when I consider the fact that Waylon's like a brother to me—always has been, in a way—despite how much closer I was with Jeremy than him when we were kids…

Jeremy never felt like my brother.

The realization tears itself through me. I nearly stumble from the force of it.

But before I can so much as dwell on this revelation—pick it the fuck apart—or even process just how empty I suddenly feel, now that I'm no longer touching Jeremy…

He blurts, "Wait."

My gaze springs up to his, my fingers stilling where I was anxiously running them through my hair. I release the gnawing hold I had on my lip ring, and just stare at him, waiting.

"I'm gonna…I'm gonna do something I probably shouldn't." His eyes ping between mine, furrowed with some undecipherable emotion, yet one that has my pulse quickening, and my neck prickling with awareness.

His body tenses, as if he's physically holding himself back.

And then he strides forward, quickly, determinedly closing the distance between us—this distance that just felt like an endless well stretching out above me, so vast and sudden, as if I was falling, falling, falling?—

My arms drop to my sides, just as warm, soft palms cup my jaw, yanking my head down. Wrenched back to the surface—to ground level; gravity finding me once more in the gentle pressure of his hands cradling my face.

Jeremy's lashes flutter as his eyes scour my face, cataloging every featuring, like he's engraving it into his memory.

We're chest to chest.

Nose to nose.

And everything's suddenly brighter.

Louder.

"Close your eyes."

So I do.

"It'll be whatever eventually," he mutters, "but for now…right now…"

I sense him lean up, stopping only a hairsbreadth away from my lips. His breaths are hot on my face, smelling of those cinnamon mints he loves so much and something sweeter—the Pepsi he was drinking before.

"Right now, I can't stand the thought of never kissing you again," he confesses softly.

And that crumbling feeling inside me is back, weakening my knees, sending my heart racing, like I'm suddenly eleven years old again, about to have my first kiss.

"And I know this is the worst place to do this—again—and probably?—"

"Jer."

He quiets.

"Just shut up and kiss me."

And in this breath of space—this little pocket of time carved out just for us—I'm suddenly no longer eleven… but fourteen. And we're not standing in a cemetery, but huddled on the floor in his basement, surrounded by kids from school. And I'm pretending like I'm not nervous as shit, crawling on my knees to the boy curled up against the wall, darting petrified looks all around the room.

He's not that scared boy now—the one I was relieved to be able to kiss, if only to prove something to him—to reassure him. Relieved it got to be me…

And yeah, it was wrong, so wrong—so wrong I wanted to pretend it never even happened after he stormed out.

The look in his eye…

He ignored me for a week after that.

I was so certain I ruined our friendship.

Not to mention, Izzy…

Izzy, Izzy, Izzy.

Fuck, I was furious with her.

"Forgive me," Jeremy whispers, and I know without a doubt, his words aren't for me…

But for the girl, who in a sense, has always been between us.

With those two softly uttered words, thrown up at the heavens, he seals his lips to mine?—

And she is forgotten.

If only for this moment.

It's just Jeremy and me, and a lifetime of fear and regret and pushed back feelings colliding in a white-hot supernova that obliterates every other thought, every other sensation, but this.

Thisthisthis.

Ususus.

My arms come around him, pulling him up flat against me. His mouth stretches mine open, giving our tongues all the permission they need to tangle hotly together, like it's what they've been made to do.

A small, deep sound crawls up my throat, and he catches it with a gasp, deepening our kiss impossibly more.

My fingers dig into his back, and his blunt nails dig into my scalp.

Forget the kiss at fourteen—hell,forget the two kisses we shared months ago.

As far as I'm concerned, this is it—this is what it truly is like to kiss Jeremy Montgomery, my shy, stubborn boy with his fiercely protected heart; the boy who gave me back the stars…the angels…

The boy who held me even when it was likely killing him…

The boy who just ripped himself open for me.

"I'm in love with you, Mason."

Like this, trapped in his orbit. I can believe it. I feel it. How he hid this from me, I have no fucking idea. How I could even doubt him… No clue.

This kiss isn't just a goodbye—a last chance.

It's an affirmation.

A last-second battle cry into a war I didn't even know I was fighting.

A, hey there, look at me, do you get it now? Do you see? Are you listening?

And all I can think is?—

He's wrong.

He's so fucking wrong.

The sky is black, and so, so vast, and yet for once, I can see it all—see what's been hiding behind the stars I resented for years. Stars I let myself be blinded by.

When he rips his lips from mine, pulling himself away, I lurch forward, hands clawed at the space he just occupied, desperate to chase after them—to not lose this…this rush of realization slowly bubbling over, consuming me, pulling me down into its uncharted depths.

Wide owlish amber eyes meet mine, flaring even wider at whatever expression is on my face. I can only imagine how rabid I look right now, chest heaving, teeth bared, eyes pleading.

His cheeks are flushed, and his lips are red—swollen.

He licks them, and I find myself doing the same to mine.

"That's why," he whispers near-inaudibly, his lips hardly moving.

Frowning, I shake my head. What?—

His lip ticks up curiously, ruefully, and he says, "I can almost believe…"

It feels like a boulder drops on my chest. "Jer." His name croaks out of me.

He gives his head a little shake, warding me off with a hand. "Thank you," he says, forcing a small smile, like we weren't just attacking each other's mouths a second ago.

Thank you?

"We'll have today," he says. "And then I'm gone."

And with that, he turns on his heel, and heads back to join the others.

For a long moment, all I can do is stand there, staring at his retreating figure, wondering what the fuck just happened. And why I suddenly feel like…like I can't breathe, and not because I'm crashing from some adrenaline rush, on the verge of a panic attack?—

But because…

He is wrong. That kiss confirmed as much.

There is something here…something raw and fragile and foreign, yet…not. Like a forgotten memory, I just have to polish off. There has to be…I can't be so fucked in the head that I created all of this—all of that—out of nothing.

Out of a void.

He is the void.

Him.

Jeremy.

He's what's been missing all along…

What I've been chasing.

Right in front of my fucking face.

But it doesn't matter now, does it?

There's nothing I can do to convince him.

And frankly, I'm not sure I'm brave enough to risk it—not yet—not when the stakes have been spelled out, leaving no doubt as to where we must go from here. And that's not even taking into consideration what people would even say, if we did get together.

I'm fighting a losing battle here.

I rub my hands over my face, composing myself, and jog to catch up with him, reaching his side just as a break in the trees reveals our friends right where we left them.

His steps slow, and he cuts his gaze to me when I match his pace.

"We have today," I whisper.

And with that, I plaster a smile on my face, and pretend I'm not dying inside as I join the others. In my periphery, I don't miss Will sharing a quiet word with Jeremy when he plops down next to him.

Jeremy whispers something, nods, and his gaze flits to mine, tight and red with emotion. He gives me a small smile, and some of the tension in my chest loosens. Just enough to hold me in place, and keep me from crawling over there on my hands and knees to beg for a third option—one that allows me to keep him here with me, but doesn't risk our friendship. One that gives us…time—a chance to explore this—without potentially costing us everything.

Two things can be true at once…

Prompted by that reminder, my gaze swings over to the name etched in the headstone.

But something will always come along and tip the scales eventually.

The quiet strumming of a guitar takes shape into a melody I know, and I find my gaze swinging to where Waylon watches me, brow quirked as he easily slips into an acoustic version of "You Get What You Give."

Throat squeezing, I grab my keyboard, nod, and softly add piano to it.

It's one of the first songs I learned on here that wasn't classical, or some kid's song.

It's my favorite song after all. Well, one of them. I have two.

Jeremy groans from where he sits hunched next to Ivy, letting her paint his nails black. But it's quick to break off into a laugh as Waylon and I chuckle.

"Come on, JJ," I say, voice still raw from our conversation. "You know it's tradition."

He exhales sharply, and narrows his eyes my way, visibly fighting a smile.

I start singing when the first verse comes in, softly, remaining respectful of where we are. Not only that, but of the…gentleness of this moment.

When Jeremy told me he wanted to have his birthday here, to say I was…confused would be putting it lightly. But I get it now. Birth. Death. A cycle coming full-circle as we close the door on one book, to open the next.

He came home to say goodbye to all of this…to us…to Izzy…

My voice veers off-key the slightest bit, but it's buried under Waylon's voice as he harmonizes with me on the chorus. Phoebe drags Jeremy up to dance with her, paying no mind to the fresh coat of black polish Ivy just painted on his nails.

A moment later, Shawn comes in on his guitar, a flower crown drooping around his thick dark head of hair—compliments of my sister—easily picking up the song. We'd never played it before, but the guy's good. Not as quick of a learner as Waylon, but for someone also self-taught who's not a savant with a magic ear, Shawn sure does give him a run for his money.

When I reach the bridge, I let my voice finally carry, filling this would-be sad place with new life. Giving the souls who rest here a concert to remember. I'd like to think they appreciate it.

Waylon and Shawn strum harder, keeping the song going, and I set the keyboard to the side, pushing to a stand to join my sister and Jeremy in the grass. I grab their hands, and we jump and twirl around, belting out the lyrics we all know by heart.

Jeremy's gaze meets mine, twinkling in the afternoon sun, and for a brief moment, I'm thrown back to when we were kids. It was his and Izzy's tenth birthday, and when this song started playing, I confided in them and Waylon about how much I loved it and hated it.

"It makes me think of my dad."

And Waylon asked why I continue listening to it then.

And I told all three of them?—

"Because I love it too much."

And somehow, after that, it just became this…thing. Year after year on his and Izzy's birthday—on mine—on Waylon's…

We play this song, and we dance and we sing it as loud as we can. Infusing as much good and happy as we can, so as to never be hurt by this song again. They did that for me.

Just like they've been holding me up all these years, even before we lost Izzy. Taking me in like I was a part of them from the start.

It's been so long since we last did this. Not since we were seventeen.

My eyes fall shut, for just a beat, and when I open them, I let my head fall back, my eyes throbbing from the glare as I gaze up at the crystal-blue sky.

I can't see the stars—can't see the blackness beyond—and maybe it's for the best.

I don't think I'd be brave enough to risk the universe hearing the whispers thundering in my chest, as my heart thumps wishes against my ribcage, so loud, I don't know how anyone doesn't hear their incessant chant.

How no one sees it shining brightly from my eyes as I watch Jeremy turn his head, grinning at me as he sings the words, looking lighter and freer than he ever has in his life.

As if his earlier confession was all that remained of the shackles that kept him prisoner to this town…

To me.

This is a good thing, I think sadly, smiling as I sing about the world falling apart, and following your heart, and having each other's back and?—

Say you're mine.

Our fingers tangle, squeezing, and I wonder if he senses it. This creeping knowledge in the back of my head—this sudden desire to start over, start fresh, do things better.

I don't want to lose him…

But I know I can't keep him. Not now, not like this. I've kept him for long enough. And this boy deserves to fly free—to scream from hilltops haloed under lemon-yellow suns, his demons slain and scattered beneath his feet.

King Jeremy the Wicked, finally ruling his world.

And maybe, just maybe, one day he'll let me be part of it once more…