That snaps her out of whatever reverie she’s in and now June closes her eyes, gives her head one more quick shake, opens them.
Smiling. She’s smiling.
June is smiling at me and in this moment, right now, the whole trip becomes worth it.
“You’re super backlit,” she says, nodding at the streetlamp, one hand pressed to her chest. “And I had no reason at all to think you’d be in South Dakota.”
I glance over my shoulder at the streetlight, my hands shoved into the pockets of my coat, then back at her.
“Fair enough,” I say. “To be honest I thought you’d be harder to—”
June reaches out and touches my cheek with her fingertips, brow furrowing, the tip of her nose pink and her lips red with cold, her eyes slightly glassy and a little too bright. I stop talking.
Then she pulls her hand back, takes off a glove, touches the swollen bridge of my nose and my left cheekbone with the cold pads of her fingers. The frown deepens.
“Levi,” she says, and then she takes me by the elbow and turns me so I’m facing the streetlight that had backlit me before, and she touches my face again and I close my eyes.
“You told Silas,” she says.
It’s not a question.
“I did,” I say. “I stopped by his house at five this morning to tell him that we’ve been seeing each other and also that I’m moving to South Dakota.”
She stops again, her fingers on my face, and now I take her hand, fold her cold fingers in mine, press her knuckles to my lips.
June looks at me like I’m an alien, then looks around, like she’s expecting to see something.
“Here?” she says.
“Here,” I tell her. “I’m touring a place on East Sweetwater Road tomorrow morning, and then one on West—"
“You can’t move here,” she says.
I squeeze her hand harder.
“Why?” I ask.
June looks away, the cords in her neck standing out. The wind picks up again, blows her dark hair in front of her face, so I tuck it behind her ear.
“You have a job,” she says, still looking away. “And you have a house, and you have your brothers and your mom and your niece, and Silas, and Hedwig, and… everything is in Sprucevale, you can’t just leave it.”
She looks back at me, and I raise my eyebrows, can’t help but smile.
It’s contagious and she gives me a look that’s half smile, half question mark.
“What?” she says.
“You know what I’m about to say.”
“That you can move wherever you want?”
“That not everything is in Sprucevale,” I tell her.
My heart thuds in my chest and I slide my fingers into the spaces between her knuckles, like if I can fit my body to hers just right, I’ll know what to say.
But I don’t. I’ve never known what to say. Knowing what to do has always been easy for me, but words fail me more often than not, and none of the thousand things I practiced while I was in transit are coming to mind right now.
I wing it.
“It wound up being a question of numbers,” I start. “I imagined all those things that you mentioned, and I put them on a scale and weighed them, and then on the other side—”
What the hell am I talking about?
I look into her eyes for a long moment, take a deep breath.
“I wanted to be with you more than I wanted anything else,” I say. “That’s all.”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I should have told you about the interview sooner. I should have told you when I found out, you were right there, but I didn’t. And then I didn’t tell you the next day and also the next day, and then suddenly I had this secret and I had to tell you about the interview and also admit that I hadn’t told you yet, and… I don’t know. I fucked up, Levi. I’m sorry.”
I open my hand against hers, and she slides her fingers between mine, cold as icicles.
“I understand,” I tell her.
“There was a part of me that felt like if I just didn’t tell you it wouldn’t be real,” she goes on. “And I wanted the job, but I also wanted to stay with you. And I didn’t want to pick, so I avoided it and it all exploded in my face.”
I kiss her fingers slowly, thoughtfully, one by one.
“Are we fixed?” she whispers.
“I think so,” I say. “So long as you’ll let me share in your problems.”
“If you’ll let me share in yours,” she says, her eyes on my face again, on the spot where I can feel my blood pulse through my swollen nose and black eye. “I wish you’d let me tell Silas.”
“It seemed like the wrong time to keep a secret,” I say.
“He wouldn’t have punched me,” she points out. “And your pretty face wouldn’t be all fucked up right now.”