Page 68 of Don’t Look Back

“Mm, how’s Charlie holding up? She seemed pretty messed up when I saw her.”

“She was,” I admitted. “But I think she’s doing okay now.” I combed through his curls, minding the still-healing scar in his scalp. “Get some more sleep. We can talk more in the morning.”

Ryan didn’t protest, easily slipping into a painkiller-induced sleep.

With my eyes shut, I simply enjoyed the feeling of him lying on my chest. I didn’t need to look at him—I’d memorized every inch of his body at that point. The image that I once fought to keep away became something I welcomed. If I decided not to go with him, everything he’d been through up to that point would have been pointless. On that note, I couldn’t bear to be without him. Going to work and leaving him behind was enough; being hundreds of miles away would kill me. I knew then what I had to do.

The next morning, I planted Ryan on the couch while I made breakfast. I hadn’t told him that I’d made a decision, but I bounced around the kitchen with a smile on my face, which tipped him off.

“What has gotten into you?” he laughed from his nest of blankets on the couch.

“You,” I answered honestly, handing him his plate.

I wasn’t hungry—I was too excited. Instead, I plopped myself down on the couch next to him.

“I have something to tell you,” I blurted.

Ryan stayed silent as he started putting food in his mouth.

“I’m—”

A knock at the door distracted me, and I groaned.

“Answer it,” he told me. “It’s okay.”

I opened the front door to see the mailman standing on the other side, clearly tired, but still wearing a smile on his face. He held a large white envelope in his hand. “Mornin’ Jason!” he bellowed.

“Hey, Mark. You’re early today. And since when do you come to the door?”

He handed the mail over. “This wouldn’t fit in the mailbox. Congratulations, by the way—large envelopes from schools usually mean something good.”

Schools?

Before I could ask questions Mark tipped his hat and walked away. I took the bigger piece of mail and returned to Ryan, who’d gone pale in the face. When I read the green writing on the front, my eyes widened.

“The Culinary Institute of America…” I muttered, not realizing I’d said anything out loud. Ryan’s voice came as a shock.

“I forgot about that.”

My head snapped up from my lap. “Forgot about what?”

Ryan hesitated, finishing off the last of his food and wincing as he set the plate aside. “I reapplied for you. Between your story about growing up with Celiac, and your chicken pot pie recipe, I reached out in the hopes they would reconsider your scholarship.”

“When did you do that?” I asked, unable to bring myself to open the letter.

“When we got back from Florida.” Ryan looked down at his lap. “When nothing showed up, I just assumed it wasn’t good news. But it looks like they just needed a little longer. Open it.”

The pitiful glue job gave way easily, the stack of papers falling to my lap. On top was a brochure and a colorful flier. Underneath that, was the letter.

Dear Mr. Coleman,

We’re pleased to inform you that you’ve been accepted…

Stunned, the letter fell to my lap.

“I… I got in,” I whispered. A sniffle caught my attention and when I looked up, Ryan was crying.

“I knew you would.” Wiping his eyes, he leaned forward for a kiss. “Congratulations, baby.”