: Part 8 – Chapter 40

I pace my room as the clock turns over to midnight, my message on the namesake app still unread.

ThunderStruck: June, are you okay? Where are you?

I heard their apartment door slam several hours ago, right at the culmination of June’s heated conversation with Avery that I couldn’t quite make out through the wall, and I’ve been worrying about June ever since.

Her room is silent, and Avery plays loud, angry music meant, I know, to make a point to me.

Antsy, I send another message.

ThunderStruck: I’m worried about you. I know you’re not home. Please, I need to know you’re safe.

When the wheel spins to indicate she’s typing, I stand up straighter, my heart in my throat.

ElizaBeth: I’m safe. But please, I need you to leave me alone.

ThunderStruck: I don’t think I can do that.

ElizaBeth: If you can’t, I’m going to have to do it for you. This isn’t a good idea, and I’m sorry I was the one who started it. I ruined everything.

ThunderStuck: Don’t say that. Avery is going to get over it.

ElizaBeth Ended the Chat

My phone beeps, and everything we’ve ever said to each other inside Midnight disappears. Months of conversations, gone in an instant.

I swallow thickly and sit down on my bed, my phone in my hands and my mind adrift.

Is there really a chance this is over? It can’t be. I don’t want it to end.

But fuck, what if I don’t get a choice?

My parents’ driveway is empty as I pull into it and put my car in park. Dark circles hollow the skin under my eyes, last night’s lack of sleep on full display.

Holiday décor and jingles greet me as I get out of the car, and I groan, the spirit of Christmas Day not touching me in the ways it normally would.

I still don’t know where June is, and Avery won’t open her door to talk to me either. Normally, we’d all head to my parents’ house for Christmas brunch, but it’s clear by the “I’m not fucking going” message I got from Avery when I attempted to text her an olive branch in the form of offering a ride to our parents’ that nothing about today is normal.

I know what June and I did wasn’t right, and I know Avery has every right to be pissed. And if there’s anything I need right now more than ever—besides June, that is—it’s a voice of clarity to tell me like it is.

Thankfully, my mom Diane is the unequivocal best at that task.

I push the doorbell at the side of the arched entryway, staring at my shoes while I wait for someone to come to the door. Linda is there pretty quickly, and upon seeing my face, she smiles sympathetically. She witnessed the whole sordid chase of June running after a screaming and crying Avery and me running after a distraught and crying June.

We created quite the scene, and I have a feeling the next time I see our grandparents, I’m going to get a passive-aggressive earful about proper etiquette and all that.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Banks,” Linda says. “Your parents are on the back patio.”

I nod gratefully. “Thanks, Linda.”

“Of course, hun.”

The house is quiet, emptied of both last night’s Christmas cheer and the unexpected drama that occurred before Chef Stone even served dinner. Just as Linda said, my parents are on the patio, holding hands while my dad reads the newspaper and my mom drinks from a coffee mug.

I hold my breath for a moment, offering up a silent prayer that my dad doesn’t read me the riot act, and force myself to face them both head on.

“Hey, guys,” I say simply, lifting both of their gazes. They exchange a look with each other, my dad’s face pinched with disappointment, and my mom pats him on the arm.

“Why don’t you go on in and make some more coffee, sweetie? I’ll talk to Beau.”

Neil nods and stands, walking past me without a clap to the shoulder or a massive hug like usual, and my confidence that everything about this is going to turn out okay crumbles even further.

I didn’t want to hurt my family. I didn’t want this. But I do want June.

“Come on, honey,” my mom says, patting the gray-cushioned patio chair right beside her. “Come sit down.”

I do as she says, taking my dad’s spot and sinking my head into my hands. She reaches up and rubs my shoulder, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like a little kid.

“I don’t know what to do now, Mom. I didn’t mean for it to get so messed up.”

She hums. “Why don’t you start with the important parts?”

“The important parts?”

Her smile is soft but stern. “What is going on with you and June? Is it serious? Because if you willfully got involved with her knowing it wasn’t going anywhere, I’m going to be disappointed.”

“It’s not nothing,” I hedge immediately. “It’s something. It’s… Mom, I’m in love with her.”

She smiles gently, a hint of something else settling into her knowledgeable green eyes. “Does she know that?”

I shake my head. “I haven’t told her.”

She sits back in her chair, a distant look of fond memories hazing the intensity of her gaze. “You know, I remember the first time Juniper Perry caught sight of you. Avery had just convinced her to come over after school, and you were on your way in from surfing out back. You smiled at her and said hello, always my polite, charming boy, and her whole world spun upside down.”

“Wait… You knew all this time?” I question. “You knew June was into me?”

“Into you?” My mom laughs. “Oh, honey. She’s been in love with you since that first moment she saw you. The only people who didn’t know June was in love with you were you and Avery.”

Memories of June and being with June and loving June fill my head, and the cold realization that there’s a stark possibility I might never be able to hold her or touch her or kiss her again makes my face break into a clammy sweat.

“I don’t know how to fix any of this,” I say, my voice just barely above a whisper. “How to make any of it right.”

“Is June okay?” my mom asks, and I look down at my hands, worry bowing my shoulders forward.

“I don’t even know where she is.”

“Oh, sweetie,” my mom whispers, rubbing my shoulder. “She just needs time. And so does Avery. It sounds like the two of you love each other, and I can tell you from experience that love is a very powerful thing.”

I glance inside at my dad as she does. “I want what you guys have. I want the family. The love. I want it with her.”

My mom’s gaze is steady and poignant. “Then you need to tell her.”

“How do I tell her if she won’t even talk to me?”

“Oh, Beau,” she says, reaching out to pat my hand. “You’ll find a way. I know you will. You always do.”

I have to find a way. There’s no other option for me but June.