Page 23 of When We Had Forever
“You asked why I’ve never left the country,” I say. “And why my mother’s so protective.”
He stills. “I did.”
The truth wells up. This time, it’s easy. The easiest thing I’ve ever done. “It’s because my brother died. On the day I was born. In Ireland.”
Michael’s breathing sharpens. “What?”
“Yeah. My mom was seven months pregnant with me. My brother, Jasper, was two. She and my dad had taken him to Europe, thinking they’d have one last big trip together before I was born. But Jasper got sick. Just fever and vomiting, at first, which my parents thought was food poisoning. But then he got worse. They finally took him to a clinic, but the doctor said it was a stomach bug and sent them away. Except Jasper just got sicker, and by the time everyone realized it was something more, his appendix had ruptured. They rushed him to the hospital, but...too late.”
Michael’s gaze bores into mine.
I swallow hard. “I guess it’s rare for that to happen in kids that young, but my mom’s convinced if we’d been here, the doctors would’ve caught it right away. Obviously, there’s no way to tell. But who knows. Maybe she’s right.”
Michael’s thumb circles my elbow, encouraging.
“My parents never really talk about the rest, but I’m guessing my mom went into shock, because I was born later that night. In the same hospital Jasper died in. The doctors say that’s part of why I’m so small, because I was nine weeks premature. I was in the NICU for two months before my parents could finally bring me home. And ever since...”
His mouth tightens. “They’ve been terrified to leave the country? To letyouleave the country?”
“Yeah.” I blink away the sting in my eyes. I don’t know if I’ve ever spoken about this so openly. “For a long time, I thought they’d get over it, but in tenth grade, one of my best friends did a foreign exchange program in Costa Rica and didn’t come back. She was doing one of those rainforest zip line things and didn’t clip her harness in the right way. She fell.”
He does a slow, horrified blink.
“For my parents, that was absolute proof. Their terror come to life. And so I’ve never gone anywhere. I’ve just spent my life... Spent it...”
The corners of his mouth edge downward. “Shackled by other people’s fear?”
Something twists inside my chest. “Yes. That. Exactly that.”
“So you’re a nomad at heart. But static by necessity.”
I can’t help it—I have to touch him. It’s like something is pulling at me, commanding me to press a hand to his shirtfront. The thud of his heartbeat against my fingers feels like coming home, only to a house I’ve never set foot in before.
It’s the weirdest thing, a brand of magic I’ve seen in movies but never thought actually existed. People don’t feel this magnetic pull toward complete strangers.
But I do, and it’s taking me by the hand, tugging me somewhere dangerous and lush and beautiful. As I stare into those turquoise depths, I decide I’m going to plunge headfirst into this ocean, if Michael lets me. At least until I figure out a way to get to Greece.
“Thank you,” he says. “For trusting me with that.”
I nod, marveling at just how superior that response is to the one I gave him.
His fingers come up to feather against my jaw. “I want to take you somewhere. Right now. Would you let me?”
Hesitation doesn’t so much as stir. “Anywhere. Take me to the freaking moon.”
His touch lingers, the silence more eloquent than any words. When we finally finish making some kind of pact with our eyes, Michael tosses my bag into the Audi again. We slide back into the air-conditioned safety of the car.
“Are you sure you don’t want that plane ticket?” he says. “Because your entire life could change at eleven eleven tonight.”
It’s funny. An undercurrent of doubt has tainted most everything I’ve ever done, but now, it’s gone quiet. Fallen asleep while I bared my secrets. “I hope it does. I’m just not sure I actually need to get on a plane for that to happen.”
To my amazement, color sneaks into his cheeks.
Wow. He’s blushing. I made Adonis blush.
“Okay, then.” He clears his throat. “This is going to take a while, so we might not get back ’til late. But we can figure out what to do with you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I laugh softly as a brand-new warmth unspools in my veins. “Haven’t you heard? There’s no such thing.”
