Boys Like You

The disembodied voice cut through my thoughts and I squeezed Nate’s hands. “That’s me.”

We stood up and I watched Gram hug Mom and Dad before turning to me. Her silver hair caught a beam of light from the w

indows, and for a second, I thought she looked like an angel.

An angel who dressed in pearls and linen like a real southern woman.

Nate let go of my fingers and I flew into her arms, fighting the knot of emotion that clogged my throat.

How could I express to my gram everything that I’d felt and experienced this summer? How could I tell her that I think she saved me? That she and Nathan had pretty much kept the crazy out of my head so that I could heal?

“You take care of yourself, you hear?” Gram hugged me fiercely. “I love you so much, my little girl.”

“I know.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, pulling away.

“What for?” I was barely able to get the words out.

“For being strong enough to let me in.” She tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear and whispered, for my ears only. “And for catching Nathan.”

“Monroe, we’ve got to board.”

I nodded at my mother and watched my dad shake Nathan’s hand. The two of them moved off a few paces, and I waited for Nathan to come to me.

“So,” he said huskily, “I guess this is it.”

I nodded. I couldn’t speak because I was too afraid that if I tried to, I would burst into tears and things would get messy real fast.

He gathered me into a hug, his mouth next to my ear. “We’ll talk every day.”

Again I nodded.

“Skype will be our best friend, right?”

I sniffled. And nodded.

“And when Trevor gets better, I’m bringing him to New York to meet you.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

“Monroe, we have to go.” My mom looked like she was going to cry, and I kissed Nathan, a soft, quick brush of my lips.

“I love you,” I said with a smile, my eyes watery and on the verge of leaking like Niagara Falls.

Nate blew out a long breath and gave me one final hug. Then he whispered, “See you soon.”

I didn’t look back at him as I followed my parents to the boarding desk. I didn’t even look back before heading down the tunnel that took us onto our plane.

I didn’t want to remember him standing in the airport lounge with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans and his long, sun-kissed hair touching the tops of his shoulders.

That, back there, was good-bye, and good-bye was no longer an option. Not in my world. I grinned. Not in my universe.

Nope. Good-bye didn’t exist.

***

A week before Christmas…