When You Come Back to Me (Lost Boys 2)

“I love him.”

“I’m sure you do. He’s a great friend to you. I’m glad he was there—”

“No, Dad. I love him. I’m in love with him.”

My father’s face went blank. “I…I don’t understand.”

“It’s so easy and yet I’ve been making it so complicated my whole life. Boxing up how I felt and shoving it away. But I can’t do it anymore. I want to stay in Santa Cruz. I want to work in our shop, Dad, and expand it. It’s ready for that. I want to be here for you and Amelia. And Mom. Every hour she has left.” I swallowed hard. “And I want to be with Holden.”

Dad stared as if seeing me for the first time. Which I supposed was true. The first day of the life I was always meant to live.

My father stood up and paced the bedside, rubbing his lips with his hand. “I just…I don’t… You’re gay? Is that what you’re telling me? How is that possible?”

“You think it’s impossible? You think a jock can’t be gay?” I shook my head. “No one should be labeled and shoved in a box, Dad. And I can’t do it to myself. So yes, that’s what I’m telling you,” I said, feeling a hundred feet tall, even lying in a hospital bed. “I’m gay.”

A stunned silence fell, and I’d never felt so close to Holden than in that moment. He’d braved this experience with his own parents and had nearly died for it. I would’ve given anything for him to be here, holding my hand, helping me through these tense seconds in which I waited to hear if my father was still my father.

“Are you…okay?” I said, tears burning behind my eyes. “I really would love to hear that you’re okay with it, Dad. Because nothing’s changed. I’m still me.”

“I don’t know how I feel,” Dad said. “Except…I love you. I know that. I hate seeing you in here. I was scared to death. I thought I’d lose you. Can we start there?”

“Yeah,” I whispered. “We can start there.”

My father put his arms around me and then a sob that had been locked inside me for years burst free. The guilt and shame pouring out, breaking down the walls of my plastic life and letting the air in.

I clung to him, burying my face in his chest, my tears rolling over the nylon of his jacket. “I’m sorry I can’t give you that life. I wanted to. So badly.”

Dad stroked my hair. “Oh, River, my boy. You’re still here. There’s nothing more important than that.”

I was released from the hospital a few days later with my broken wrist in a cast and a sling to support my fractured clavicle. They gave me a prescription for pain meds and warned me that I could have headaches, dizziness, insomnia, and a host of other residual symptoms from the concussion.

I spent three days with Mom instead of school, making up for the time I was away from her. Because it was even more clear when I came back, that days were all she had left.

I sat with her, and when she slept—which was often—I called or texted Holden. No answer. Every day that went by without hearing from him scared me more. I knew him. I knew he blamed himself for my accident. Dad had told me how pale and terrified he’d been that night.

Don’t do this, I texted him. I’m okay. Please talk to me.

I wondered if he was drinking himself into oblivion.

I wondered if he’d already disappeared

With only one week of school left, Mom insisted I go back and enjoy the “last days of school” energy and spend time with my friends before college pulled everyone apart.

I agreed to one day and walked in to find the entire school whispering about me and Holden.

They’d watched me chase after him on Prom night, and then Frankie Dowd’s dad had been called to the scene of the accident. He’d given Frankie all the details, making sure to note how “distraught” Holden had been over me.

“Crying and puking, he was so scared,” Frankie said, snickering with some friends as I passed by that day at school. “Tsk tsk.” He shook his head at me. “You’re so mean to make your boyfriend worry like that, Whitmore.”

“Shut up, Frankie!” Violet McNamara shouted as she fell in step beside me, linking her arm in mine. “He’s an asshole. Ignore him.”

Violet had been the only person to visit me while I was in the hospital, despite her own pending heartbreak. Miller Stratton’s record deal was moving fast, and they wanted him in the studio recording. Their separation was days away too.

She looked up at me with her dark blue eyes. “How are you?”

“Since the last time you asked?” I said, smiling fondly.

“I’m going to be a doctor. I need to get my practice in.”