7 Minutes in Heaven
Page 24
“Is that what you’re asking?”
“I’m practically insisting. We have so much tutoring to do.”
“Hmm,” I hum pensively. “I am really bad at math.”
Mica leans toward me, smiling devilishly. “You’re terrible.”
“I need so much help.”
“I’d love to give you the help you need.”
“With math,” I clarify.
He nods. His mouth is only inches away. “Of course. And maybe French. I’m good at French.”
“I know you are.”
“And Biology.”
“Mica?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“Just kiss me already.”
He smiles. He kisses me. It feels good. It feels warm and soft, the way a kiss should feel. The only trouble with it is my stomach.
Pas de papillons.
No butterflies.
There never are anymore.
chapter forty
The dream starts the same way it always does; underwater.
It’s different this time, though. I can feel it from the very start. I’m not falling through the water. I’m floating. I’m buoyant, bobbing just below the surface. There’s no struggle. My lungs aren’t screaming for air. My hand isn’t bleeding like a black river through the icy water. I don’t feel anything, really. No pain. No cold. No fear. I’m calm in a way I’ve never been before.
Above me the ice shifts. It moves across my view without hurry, like it has all the time in the world. The clock has stopped. The world is on pause tonight.
Suddenly, a hand breaks through the chunky surface. The ice parts for it, welcoming it. Without trying, I reach up. I grab for the hand. Our fingers touch.
I’m alive.
His hand takes hold of mine. I’m rising. I’m lifting through the water on a current that sends me straight up out of the ice.
Into the light.
***
My phone rings silently on my desk. I see it light up like sunrise, bathing the dark room in an unearthly glow. I grab it quickly before the ring kicks in and wakes the entire apartment.
“Hello?” I whisper, glancing at the clock.
It’s three in the morning.
“Grace.”
My heart stops dead. It freezes in an ice block before exploding, fracturing into a million tiny pieces that are sharp as razors. I have to tread carefully or they’ll cut me clean through, bleeding me dry.
“Kyle,” I answer softly.
“How are you?” he asks, his voice so, so deep that it vibrates in my bones.
“Good. How are you?”
“Not so good,” he replies tiredly. “I’m at the hospital. It’s my mom.”
I sit up straight, feeling fully awake. “What happened?”
“She was in a car accident.”
“Oh my God.” I close my eyes tightly. “Kyle, I’m so sorry. Is she okay?”
“I don’t know yet. She’s in surgery. They said she hit her head pretty hard and she had a massive gash in her leg. It nicked an artery. They’ve got it closed up but she lost a lot of blood.”
“She’ll be alright, Kyle,” I promise him, even though I have no right. No knowledge. Just hope. “They’ll take good care of her.”
“I know, I just . . . I had to call you,” he says quietly. Unapologetically. “I know I probably shouldn’t, but you’re my go-to, Grace. I can’t help that. When something huge happens, you’re the first person I want to call.”
I feel strange. Light and leaden at the same time. “You can always call me, Kyle.”
“I wish you were here with me.”
My heart hiccups in my chest. “I do too.”
“But you can’t be.”
“I want to be.”
He’s smart. He hears me. Kyle understands that what I want to do and what I can do are not the same things right now.
“I’m sorry,” I drop into his silence.
“Don’t be sorry, Grace,” he tells me solidly. “You don’t ever have to be sorry for anything with me. I’m lucky you’re even talking to me.”
“You’re not lucky, Kyle. We’re friends. Of course we can talk.”
“I shouldn’t be bothering you.”
“You’re not. I’m glad you called.” I smile into the darkness, imagining his eyes. “It’s good to hear your voice.”
Kyle is quiet for a long time. I wish I could reach into the ether and pull the words back, but then suddenly he says, “I miss you every day.”
“I miss you too,” I whisper, my throat tightening painfully.
“It’s hard, Gracey. It’s all so messed up. Everything. It’s been a year and I still feel like I’m trying to figure it out.”
“I know. Me too.”
“How do I make it right?” he asks miserably. “There’s no way, is there? I can’t fix us.”
“Kyle, it’s not—”
“You know what, I’m sorry. I didn’t . . . I wasn’t going to do this. I told myself that if I called, I wasn’t going to make it hard for you. It’s selfish. I’m—never mind.” He clears his throat roughly. “How’s school? How’s Nevada treating you?”
“It’s hot here.”
“Oh yeah?” he asks, trying to sound excited. “That’s what you dreamed of, right?”
“Every day.”
“I’m glad it finally came true. How’s Ash?” His voice is quiet, like he’s settling in. I can picture him in the hospital waiting room, sitting in those uncomfortable metal chairs with his left ankle resting over his right knee. He’ll sit casually, one arm over the back of the seat next to him. He’ll be stunning. Painfully so. “Is she using her Christmas present?”
“All the time,” I confirm with a smile.
Last Christmas Makena and I saw Scott and Kyle as they were leaving the movie theater during his visit. I was surprised, excited, and terrified when he smiled down at me. We only talked for a minute but before he left he handed me a small, badly wrapped present and told me it was for Ashley. It was a bottle of metallic purple nail polish. It was a small gift but it meant so much to her.
It wasn’t until later that I realized Makena and Scott must have made that ‘chance’ meeting happen between us. Why else would he be carrying that present in his pocket? And at a movie theater? We hate movie theaters. I wonder even now if Kyle asked them to arrange it. I want to ask but I’m worried what the answer will do to me, so I don’t.
“Mom hates it,” I add.
“That’s the kind of gift you’re supposed to get a girl her age, isn’t it?”
“I think so. That was sweet of you.”
“I’ll always be good to the Murray girls. Always.”
I sigh at the sound of that word.
Forever and always.
How many times did he tell me that? That he’d love me that long? Does he still? Can he feel how much I love him in the sound of my voice?
“I heard you had a great season with Villanova,” I say conversationally, but the truth is I just want him to keep talking. I lay down on my bed with my phone on my ear. I close my eyes as I listen to the lovely, rumbling sound of his voice.
“It was good. Yeah. I’m glad to be done, though.”
“Why?”
“I’m ready for the NBA. I’m sick of school.”
“I hear you,” I admit quietly.
“Really?” He sounds surprised. “Scott says you’ve been loving it.”
“It’s alright, but it’s school, you know? I never loved school.”
“No. Me neither.”
“I think I was so excited to not live in Jackson anymore, I confused getting out with loving school. A year later and I’m realizing they are not the same thing.”
“Love is confusing,” he agrees softly.
I take a deep breath, sidestepping that landmine. “The Draft is in a few months. Who do you think you’ll go to?”
“There’s no way of knowing. They’re saying I’ll be a top pick but I won’t be number one.”
/>
“Who gets the number one pick?”
“Phoenix. They sucked this year.”
I smile at the venom in his voice. “You hate the Suns anyway. Who are you hoping for? Are the Nicks still the dream?”
“Nah. I’m praying for the Lakers.”
“You want that ocean view,” I muse, remembering all the times we talked about it. Dreamed about it. Together.
“You don’t?”
“I do,” I admit. “I would love to live in L.A.”
“I would love to see you there.”
“Maybe you will. I’ve flown out there a few times. Flights from Vegas to L.A. are cheap.”
“Have you been to the beach yet?”
I smile at the memory. “Yeah. I have.”
“What’d you think?” he asks eagerly.
“I loved it.”
He practically sighs with relief. “I knew you would.”
“It was everything I hoped it would be.”
“I would have given anything to be there with you,” he replies heavily.
My heart trips in my chest. “I wish you were. I wish I was with you now.”
“You are, Grace. You always will be.”
I feel breathless. I feel airy and light and dizzy.
I feel butterflies swarming in my stomach.
“The doctor is coming,” he says suddenly. “I gotta go. Sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” I scold him weakly.
“I can’t help it. I can’t apologize to you enough.”
“You never did anything wrong.”
“Aside from nearly killing you a few dozen times,” he replies blandly. “Successfully once.”
I close my eyes, remembering the cold. My fingers tingle painfully. “That wasn’t you. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Then why is it this wall between us?”
“You’re not responsible for what your dad did to me. I’ve never blamed you for that.”
“You’re scared of me for other reasons.”
“Yes.”
“Because I’m ‘too much’.”
“Yes.”
“Will there ever be a day when I’m just enough?”
My chest feels tight. My heart feels thick with something more than my blood, and I know what it is. It’s my love for him. It’s always with me, forever a part of me. I can’t live without it.
“I hope so,” I whisper despite myself. I sniff sharply, clearing my throat. “Keep me posted on your mom, okay?”
He’s quiet for too long before he says, “Yeah,” in that rough way that tells me he has so much more to say but no idea how to say it. “I’ll talk to you later, Grace.”
“Goodbye, Kyle.”
four months later
chapter forty-one
I’ve finished my first year of college but it felt like a million. I feel like time is slowing down, torturing me. I wonder sometimes if I ever woke up, or have I entered another minute? Am I living in purgatory now? That’s what college feels like to me—hell. I can’t stand the idea of doing another three years of this, so I won’t. Instead, I’ve decided to go to the police academy. I want to live my passion and become a detective. Put all those hours of research watching crime dramas to work. When you look at it that way, I’m not quitting on college after only one year. I’m following up on ten years of training.
My parents don’t like it. Not because they don’t want me to be a detective; they love the idea. They agree that it’s my calling. The part they don’t like is where I’m doing it—Los Angeles. They want me to come back to Jackson and ride around in a patrol car with the four other cops in town solving the case of who stole the package off Mrs. Murdock’s porch. Real salacious stuff, but it’s not for me. Jackson is where I was born but it’s not my home anymore. I’m still searching for that. For the feeling like I belong. I have a hunch that I’ll find it near the ocean.
“Maybe Kyle will go to the Lakers tonight,” Makena says excitedly. “You guys could finally get back together!”
I shift the strap on my bag from one shoulder to the other. I’m rushing so quickly, I nearly trip over my own feet. Why can’t I ever seem to get to the airport on time for a flight? “I don’t think that’s going to happen, Kena.”
“You’re killing me. Are you serious? Of course it’s going to happen. It’s fate. You guys are destined to be together.”
I smile at what a romantic she is. She just can’t help it. It’s especially worse now that she’s engaged.
Scott proposed last week. He did it at the cabin at sunrise as they sipped coffee after their first summer night spent out there. He says there are so many more to come and he wants to spend all of them with her. He wants their kids to grow up out there with all the same amazing memories he has. Makena accepted, of course, but on one condition—they put up a railing around the cliff’s edge.
“He’s pretty sure he’s going to the Suns or the Trailblazers,” I tell Makena. “Not the Lakers.”
“We’ll see,” she sings happily. “Have you talked to him today? Is he nervous?”
“Hasn’t Scott talked to him?”
“Yeah, but Kyle tells him he’s fine. I’m not sure I believe it. He and Scott are tight but Kyle doesn’t always tell him what he’s feeling. He gets vulnerable when he talks to you.”
“We talked on the phone last night.”
And practically every night this week. For hours.
Ever since the night he called me because his mom was in the hospital, we’ve been talking more. We text almost every day. We talk late at night. It happened slowly, but we’re bleeding into each other’s lives again. It feels good. It feels so right I can hardly think straight half the time. I’m consumed with thoughts of him and us, and it’s everything I was afraid of before. I love Kyle so much, it’s hard to remember to love myself too. He’s consuming without meaning to be, but I’m better than I was in high school. I’m not as afraid of loving him as I used to be. I know what I want and I know where I’m going, and I’m not willing to give up my dreams to be with him. But if my dream can merge with his, if we can find out a way to build our lives around each other, I would dive back into him in a heartbeat. I’d jump headfirst, no hesitation.
I just don’t know for sure that he wants that and I haven’t figured out a good way to ask yet. Deep down, despite all my self-discovery, I’m still a coward when it comes to pain, and the only thing more agonizing than walking away from Kyle would be finding out I can never have him back. I’d rather live in this in-between with him, never knowing but also never living without him.
“He seemed solid,” I tell Makena. “You know Kyle. He doesn’t sweat this stuff. He knows how good he is.”
“And if he ever forgets, he has his mom to remind him.”
“Constantly,” I agree heavily. “She’s in New York with him now.”
“Of course she is.
“Anyway, enough about Kyle. Tonight is about you. I’m so excited for you!”
“Me too! I can’t wait for you to get here! We have so much to do! Is your dad picking you up?”
“Yep. That’s the plan. I think Ash is coming with him.”
“Perfect. Okay.”
“Breathe, Kena,” I remind her calmly. “It’s just the engagement party. It’s not the wedding yet. Everything is going to be fine.”
“I can’t sit still! I keep pacing the floor. There’s so much to do.”
“The wedding’s not for another ten months. Chill.”
“I’m chill. I’m super chill.”
I snort. “You’ve never been super chill in your life.”
“I’m trying though.”
“And that’s what matters.” My phone beeps in my ear. “Hey, I’m getting a message. It might be my dad.”
“I’ll let you go,” she replies hurriedly.
“Breathe.”
“Get here immediately!”
“I’m on my way,” I laugh.
“Okay. I love you.”
When I hang up with Makena, I open my text messages. I have one, but it’s not from my dad. It’s from Kyle.
I feel stupid. Do I look stupid?
After the text, a picture pops up. It’s a selfie Kyle took in a hotel bathroom mirror. He’s in a dark suit with a bright red tie. His hair is shorter than I’ve ever seen it. Too short for it to fall over his forehead like it used to. He looks older somehow. More grown than one year should explain.
You look gorgeous, I reply. I quickly follow it up with three emojis with hearts for eyes.
My mom picked the suit. I feel like I’m going to a funeral.
If you get picked by the Suns, it may as well be.
God, I know it.
You look great. You’ll do great. You’ll go to the Rockets or something. Don’t worry!
I watch the typing bubble appear and hover for a long time. I actually stop in the middle of the walkway to watch it, waiting anxiously. He’s typing forever but when the message finally comes across, all it says is, I wish you were here.
I bite my lips together tightly before admitting, I always imagined I would be.
Me too. Maybe that’s why I don’t feel right.
It’s just nerves. You don’t need me, Kyle.
We both know that’s not true, Grace.
I’m stunned and breathless as I read that message. It’s loaded with so many strange and wonderful things. We’ve been talking so much lately, but we never say things like that. We’ve almost entered this place where I wondered if he was over me. I started to convince myself that he didn’t love me anymore, and that was okay. I told myself I needed to be okay with that. I could just be his friend. He’s a good guy. He was patient with me, but I waited too long. I told myself he was gone.
But now I’m reading those words and my heart is pounding in my chest, and I can’t think straight enough to answer. Everything I think of saying feels like too much for a text message and there’s not enough time for anything else. I have to board this flight and he has to go to the Draft. So I give him as much as we can manage right now.
Good luck tonight. I’ll be thinking of you.