Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-One

Henry

"I'M SO SORRY TO call you this late."

"Henry," Ellie says sleepily, "literally shut up. This is what best friends are supposed to do. What happened, baby?"

I sigh into the phone. I'm on the couch where Alex and I watched (sort of watched) that stupid movie. We just put the pizza in the refrigerator and said goodbye. He probably hasn't even made it back to his parents' place yet, and I'm already tempted to go cry into my pillow until I fall asleep. The weight on my heart is too heavy. I had to call Ellie for moral support.

"And now he's gone," I finish.

I told her everything, absolutely everything, the entire tale, starting from that fateful day I saw him at the café a little over two weeks ago. It's been a whirlwind since then. I've summarized as best as I can, but I'm sure some of the story came out jumbled.

Ellie is quiet for a few seconds. Then she says, "Henry, you love him."

I groan. "What the hell, Ellie? You aren't supposed to say that. I haven't even known him that long."

"You knew him in high school, didn't you?"

"Kind of, but not like this."

"Well, duh, he wasn't out."

"He's not out now," I remind her.

"Okay, that is tricky. Fair enough. I guess he'll probably go back to San Francisco and forget about this."

"I assume."

"You assume?" she says, suspicion dripping from her voice. "You didn't ask?"

"Of course I didn't ask," I say. "I can't ask him to stay here for me. He hates it here. You've seen how his parents were at that bar. That's the tip of the iceberg, I promise you."

"I get it," Ellie says, "but you're forgetting that I also saw you two that night. I saw how you are around each other. It's pathetic, Henry. You're both pathetic."

"You were helping," I protest.

"I wasn't, though. I basically just got out of your way. It was obvious what was going to happen the second I did."

I have no retort. I sit hunched over on the couch, wishing her words made less sense.

"Henry, I think he likes you," Ellie says. "I think you have been making each other really, really happy, and that that's something worth holding onto."

"But it's impossible," I say. "He's going to the airport tomorrow. I have work. By the time I close the café, he'll be back in San Francisco, back to his normal life. He'll probably have forgotten about me. Can we please get a lot of ice cream and deal with this that way?"

"Normally, I'd be so happy to say yes to that, but I can't in good conscience let you walk away from this," Ellie says. "It's too important to you."

"What if it's not important to him, though?" I say, my voice getting small.

"Oh, Henry, do you really believe that? Be honest with yourself."

The past two-plus weeks flash through my mind, the hiking, the movies, the making out, the … more than making out. I relive it all in a few frantic heartbeats. It felt like it was important at the time. It felt like Alex was totally there with me, like he was every bit as invested as me, but maybe I'm being overly hopeful, seeing what I want to see, projecting my feelings onto him. He was straight not that long ago.

"I don't know," I say. "I'm being honest. I don't know. It was all such a blur. Maybe what I felt in the moment wasn't real."

"You won't know for sure if you don't go find out before he's gone."

"We can text. We can call."

"You can, but will you?" Ellie says. "Or will you tell yourself you don't want to bother him and let him drift away?"

She knows me too well. I cringe from her words, from the burn of truth behind them.

"Then what am I supposed to do?"

"You're supposed to go get your man, dummy."

"Wait, like, at the airport? Like something out of a movie?"

I can imagine Ellie rolling her eyes at me.

"It won't be like a movie," she says. "For one thing, you can't get through TSA. I don't think they take love confessions in place of tickets. All those movies are from the nineties. No, you have to catch him at the curb, before he gets inside."

"And do what?"

THIS. APPARENTLY.

I'm breathless by the time I finally bang on the correct window. Someone is blowing a whistle at me. Cars are honking. We're holding up all of SeaTac International Airport, but I've finally found him. And just in time.

I drove here in a rush, debating the decision right up until the last second. I had to speed down I-5, then park on the shoulder in the arrival queue. Someone is probably towing my car, but I'll deal with it later. For now, all that matters to me is reaching him, telling him one last time how I feel. Ellie was right when I spoke with her last night: I can't leave this unsaid. I can't let him disappear without telling him exactly how much this meant to me. It probably won't matter in the end, but that's okay.

He startles when I smack the window beside him. "Alex, can we talk?"

His eyes are wide. There's a woman in the car with him, his sister, I assume. She looks a lot like him, even if her hair is longer and her build far slimmer. For a second, I worry she's going to be like her parents and tell me to shove off, but then a coy smile curls her mouth.

"Alex, he's waiting for you. Go talk to him," she says.

"Carly, I'm supposed to—"

"So get your bag out of the backseat and talk to him. I'll go pull into the cellphone lot. This asshole with the whistle is going to repossess my car if I don't get out of here."

Still, Alex hesitates, mouth hanging open as he looks between me and his sister. I have never met this woman, but I feel like I owe her my life. I hope the smile I direct toward her conveys even an ounce of my gratitude. She nods her head at me, so maybe she does understand.

"Alex, get the hell out of my car," she says.

"Carly, this is insane. I'll miss my flight."

"Your flight back to San Francisco? How much do you actually want to go back there? Be honest."

Alex says nothing, and I wonder what in the world they talked about during the drive here. It seems like Carly has hit on something Alex doesn't want to talk about, something that strikes a nerve. Does he not want to go home? I assumed he was eager to get out of Tripp Lake. What is going on here?

I'm still fumbling and confused as Alex finally exits the car. I back away so he can get his duffel bag out of the backseat and sling it across his chest. Then his sister drives away and it's just us, standing still amid a sea of annoyed passengers rushing to the check-in counters inside.

"Henry," Alex says, "you're here."

"Yeah. I, um, I'm parked somewhere back there. If they haven't towed me."

Alex shakes his head. "What are you doing here? I thought you didn't want to see me again after last night."

"I thought I didn't either. I thought it would hurt too much."

Alex flinches. "I didn't mean to do that to you."

"I know. Really, I know. It's mostly my own fault. I should have known better than to … to fall so hard so quickly."

Alex sucks in a quiet breath. I almost miss it. If I wasn't fixated on his lips, I would have.

I make myself look away. I need to meet his eyes if I'm going to do this. If I let attraction derail me, this will ring false. I didn't come all this way because Alex is hot. He is, but that's not a good enough reason to do something this desperate. I came here because he's so much more than that, and it's been an honor to learn more about him in these past couple weeks.

"But that doesn't matter," I say. "I mean, it does matter. If it didn't matter I wouldn't be here, but—"

Alex grabs me by the shoulders to stop my rambling. "Henry," he says, "why did you come here?"

I freeze up, all the words I rehearsed in the car on the way over abandoning me. I don't know how to say this without it being too much. Despite Ellie's insistence, I'm suddenly sure this was a terrible idea and I'm going to scare him away forever, that I've made some tragic mistake.

Alex's grip softens. His thumbs rub against my shoulders. When he says my name again, it's closer to a plea than a question.

I gather my courage. I'm not seeing things. When I look at him and find a request in his face, when he says my name like a wish, that's not in my head. I'm here right now and I know what I'm seeing and hearing. Ellie was right. I have to try.

"I'm here because I couldn't watch you disappear," I say. "I'm here because I couldn't let this end. I'm here because…" I swallow hard enough that he can probably see my throat working. "Because I couldn't let you leave before I told you how I feel."

Alex waits, breathless. My heart beats so fast I can't feel it anymore. It's like my chest is an empty hole.

"I…" I say, "I love you, Alex. I love you, and this can't be the end."

Feeling rushes back into my body. The empty hole of my chest fills with sparking anxiety. It bites at my skin like a fire cracker going off inside of me, my whole body buzzing with the anticipation of waiting for his response.

Shock opens Alex's face, leaves everything wide and soft. "I … I have a life in San Francisco. A job."

"I know," I say. "I'm not asking you for anything. I simply couldn't let you slip away before you knew the truth. That's how I really feel, Alex. If you need to leave, then fine, but I wanted you to go knowing exactly how I feel."

"Henry…"

His phone buzzes. We both startle. Alex answers it mechanically.

"Carly?" he says.

"What happened? What did he say? What did you say?" She's on speakerphone, her voice urgent.

"He said…"

"I said I love him," I speak up.

Carly gasps.

"My job," Alex says weakly.

"Your job you don't even like?" Carly says. "You're not fooling anyone, Alex."

"I can't talk to you about this right now," Alex says. "Why are you snooping?"

"You answered the phone."

"Goodbye, Carly," Alex says harshly before hanging up on her.

I want to laugh, but this doesn't seem like the right moment. Alex hasn't run yet, but he might.

"Is it true?" I say. "Do you not like your job? I noticed you always frown when you talk about it. I thought maybe it was normal stress."

Alex shakes his head. He looks at the ground when he says, "I fucking hate it. I hate it. It makes me feel disgusting. I help destroy everything I love."

I take a daring step forward and set my hands on his chest. "Then why don't you make a selfish choice for once?"

He raises his eyes to meet mine. We stand amid the foot traffic outside the airport, staring into each other's eyes, the minutes sliding away from us. We can't stay here forever. He needs to choose — soon. Me or that flight he's increasingly late for. He can't have both.

"Henry…" he says, and I hold my breath.