by Leigh, Tara
He nods, then tilts his head further back to look up at the sky. I’d been avoiding evidence of the day pulling away from us. “We should probably go soon.”
“Yeah.” My stomach clenches with reluctance as I agree. “I just wish…” I let my voice trail off, feeling dumb. I’ve made plenty of wishes. On fallen eyelashes, holding a tiny black hair on the tip on my finger and blowing it into the wind. On birthday candles, if anyone remembered to mark the occasion. Even on a four-leaf clover I found once.
“What, Poppy? What do you wish?”
I turn to find Gavin regarding me with intense interest, as if my wishes are the most important thing in the world. And suddenly, I don’t need verbal confirmation of the connection between us. I feel it in my bones.
“I wish we could live here. That this was our home.”
A faint smile crosses his face, and I notice a yellowish tinge around his left eye. The remnants of a fading bruise. But then Gavin sees me looking and he gives a little shake of his head, his hair sliding forward. “That’d be nice,” he says, softly. “Real nice.”
Chapter 3
Sackett, Connecticut
Summer, Freshman Year, High School
“I can’t believe we start high school tomorrow.” I practically groan the words.
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m looking forward to it,” Gavin says, his tone much lighter than mine. “Homework, tests, hanging out with people whose names don’t start with P and end in Oppy.”
I give him a not-so-playful shove. “Hey!”
At my faux outrage, Gavin tips his head back and laughs. A low, rolling, entirely endearing laugh that sends goose bumps scattering across my skin. I take advantage of the opportunity to step a little closer, pulling the scent of him into my lungs. As always, Gavin smells like pinecones and clean laundry, but now layered with sunscreen and bug repellant—a necessity until we hit sweater weather.
I let out a little sigh of pleasure. At his laugh, at his scent, at his proximity. I’ve missed you.
Gavin and I have barely seen each other this entire summer. I’ve been working as a counselor for the local camp organized by Sackett’s parks and rec department. It runs every week of summer break, from eight in the morning until six at night. And he’s spent nearly every day pumping gas and stocking shelves at the gas station and convenience store his foster dad manages.
The thought is still pulsing inside my mind when Gavin nudges me with his elbow, pointing at something outside the cave. “Look.”
I look over just in time to see a red fox scurrying through the underbrush. Two baby fox kits, not much bigger than squirrels, trail behind, their tiny legs racing to keep up.
“A family,” I whisper softly, watching until they disappear from sight.
In an odd way, I am struck by the similarity to my own. My sister and I, chasing after our mother, sticking as close as we can in the hopes that she won’t lose us, leave us behind.
I’m certain that’s why Sadie has never followed me into the woods. She’s afraid that if she leaves the house too, my mother won’t be home when we return. In the beginning, those first few weeks we’d lived in Sackett, I’d been a little put off that Sadie refused to join me in exploring our new neighborhood. But everything changed the day I met Gavin. Now I’m glad she’s content to stay at home. And I’m glad I don’t have to share my best friend with anyone, even my sister.
“You think the dad’s around here somewhere?” I ask. “Or did he lose interest after the fun part of making babies?”
Gavin’s shoulders lift in an unconcerned shrug. “I’m not exactly up to speed on the mating habits of foxes. But they look fine to me.”
“Better one parent who gives a shit than two who don’t, I guess.”
The second the words leave my mouth, I feel him tense up beside me. “That’s for sure.”
Shit. I want to race after my thoughtless remark and stuff it back down my throat.
Before I can apologize, or think of a way to wipe the sad look off Gavin’s face, he asks, “You ever see your dad, Poppy?”
I shake my head. “N— No. Not since I was little. I barely remember him.”
“Does it bother you that he’s not around?”
“Not really.” I release a sigh and lean back on my palms. “It’s hard to miss something you’ve never had, I guess.”
A lazy breeze barely shakes the green canopy overhead, the leaves reflecting and amplifying the summer sun. Our cave offers a cool haven from the warm, humid air of the forest. Since discovering it last spring, we’ve turned it into our secret hideaway. I brought a camp light I unearthed at the Salvation Army and Gavin found some old, mismatched cushions that provide a buffer from the cold, damp cave floor.
Despite the direction of our conversation, I feel cozy and comfortable here with Gavin. More cozy and comfortable than I can ever remember being anywhere, or with anyone. And it occurs to me that, for all the time we’ve spent together—we haven’t shared very much about ourselves. Not the important things, anyway.
Strangely, it makes me want to be cozy and un-comfortable. To do more than just skirt the truth about why I wound up here, in Sackett. Why I don’t know my dad and don’t really trust my mom.
She likes to say, “two wrongs don’t make a right.” But, in this moment, I don’t believe her. What feels right is wanting to share all my wrongs with Gavin. And for him to do the same.
I clear my throat, pulling my hair free of its ponytail so it falls over my shoulders in a messy, windswept tumble. “My mom is a drug addict, Gavin. That’s why Sadie and I were taken from her.”
He turns to me in surprise, his eyes swirling with questions but devoid of judgment. I fill him in on my past, my tone matter-of-fact, eventually linking the initial strand of our conversation by saying, “Things are… okay now. I don’t know if my dad was the reason my mom got into drugs, but if seeing him again would make her self-medicate with anything stronger than a bottle of wine—” I pause, my thoughts turning inward as memories scroll through my mind like a slideshow. Memories I wish I knew how to erase.
Gavin pats my hand reassuringly and the urge to intertwine my fingers with his brings me back to the present. “Sorry, I got a little lost in my head for a minute.”
“It’s okay. I get it.” He offers a solemn nod, his gaze remaining warm and steady on mine. “Really.”
“How about you?” I ask tentatively, not at all sure Gavin will want to open up to me any more than he already has. “Do you miss your parents?”
Gavin is quiet for several beats, and my stomach gurgles with uneasiness and self-recrimination. What if my feelings are one-sided? What if Gavin isn’t interested in being uncomfortable—at least, not with me?
But then he rubs his palms on his knees, little brackets shaped like crescent moons appearing at the edges of his mouth as he presses his lips together. “Sometimes. But then I remember how things were and I’m glad to be away from them. I probably could have dealt with being my father’s punching bag. It was covering for him that was the worst. Lying to the nurse as she was stitching me up. Backing up my mom’s stories about falling down stairs or walking into cabinet doors.”
“Why did you?”
“Because my mom asked me to. And I thought I was doing the right thing.” He exhales a heavy breath. “I should have told the truth—I know that now. My dad’s a real piece of shit. But my mom accepted it. She loved him—even though he hurt her, hurt me. Sometimes, I swear she’d pick a fight just for the adrenaline rush of an argument, and the apologies and attention she’d get afterward.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, wishing I could come up with something better. “Do you think you’ll ever see them again?”
“Doubtful.” He blinks a few times, the outline of his iris deepening to a rich cobalt while the inside gets lighter, as pale as a robin’s egg. “I don’t know that I want to.”
He breaks our stare, rubbing at the frown crossing his forehead. “I wish I knew how my mom was doing though. If thin
gs are better for her without me around. I hope they are, anyway.”
When my mom chose drugs over Sadie and me, at least I could tell myself that her addiction was a disease, that she was sick.
But Gavin… what is the voice inside his head telling him?
Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not kind.
“Every once in a while, my mom would talk about running away. Going someplace he’d never find us. But in the end, it was me she ran away from.”
My heart breaks for Gavin as he confirms my suspicions—that he feels abandoned. “Maybe she stayed with your dad to keep you safe.”
He throws a dubious stare my way. “How do you figure?”
“Well, maybe your mom was worried he would come after her, after you both. Maybe leaving you was the best option to keep you safe.”
“I’m not a little kid anymore. If she left him, I’d protect her.” A vein pulses at Gavin’s neck, tension pulling his shoulders closer to his ears. “Whatever it took.”
“Well, that’s probably—”
“I get what you’re trying to do, Poppy. And thanks. But it’s fine. I’m fine,” Gavin insists.
“I’m not—”
“If my mom showed up one day, wanting help to get away from my dad—I’d drop everything to go with her, to keep her safe. But it’s never going to happen.”
“It might. Never say never.”
He releases a humorless half-laugh. “Your mom fought her demons and won—and that’s awesome. But she’s the exception, not the rule.”
I know when I’m beat. Even if the theory I proposed just to give Gavin an alternate narrative to consider is true—I have no way of knowing, or proving, that it is. “I think, at least in my mom’s case… I think every day is another fight. Addiction is a battle you never really win. And maybe that’s why my dad didn’t stick around.”
“She’s clean now though, right?”
The sharp cry of a hawk makes me think about the mama fox and her babies, and I hope they’re all safe. “She still drinks, but she doesn’t do any of that other stuff. And she doesn’t have guys over anymore.”
Noticing the shudder I can’t quite suppress, Gavin frowns. “Did someone—”
I shake my head, hurrying to reassure him. “No. It wasn’t like that.”
I don’t tell Gavin how close it came. Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night to find my mother in my bed, slurring apologies about what she put us through. During the day though, she pretends like none of it happened at all.
He sighs. “There are some really shitty people in the world.”
“Yeah. But luckily, there are some really good ones, too.” I am drawn back into the intense vortex of Gavin’s stare and I feel myself leaning into him, inch by inch, until his breath is a welcome caress against my lips. I stop myself from kissing him just in time, swallowing hard.
“So…” I search for something else to say, anything else, and decide to broach a subject I attempted once before, the day a rough branch had ripped Gavin’s shirt, exposing a dark blue bruise that stained the skin over his ribcage. He’d rebuffed me then, but I sense an opening now. “Have you considered telling your foster parents about—”
Gavin’s brows pull together over the bridge of his nose in a fierce scowl and he moves away from me. “No.”
“Why? He’s not your mom, you don’t have to protect him.”
“I’m not protecting him.”
“Then why not say something? He’s hurting you.”
“I only let Doug get a punch in every once in a while so he won’t do worse, like convince his parents to send me back. And they love him. Do you really think they’d keep me around if I tell them their kid is a dick?”
“But—”
“No. I can’t take the chance.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Leaving here would mean leaving you, Poppy.”
The sweetness of Gavin’s admission is almost lost as the truth behind it slaps me in the face. For the first time, it occurs to me how tenuous our relationship is.
We might be hunkered down inside this cave, shielded by thick walls, but our relationship is hardly invulnerable. Like a spider’s web, the connection Gavin and I have forged is intricate and beautiful. And so very, very fragile.
“For now, it’s enough that you know the truth,” he continues. “And when the time is right, he’ll get what’s coming to him.” His voice lowers to a gritted rasp. “They all will.”
A breath of chilled air wafts across the back of my neck, skating across taut nerves and sending a tremor down my spine.
Gavin glances at me with concern. “Cold?”
I blink dully, ignoring the question. I’m not sure what I am right now. Knowing what Gavin is dealing with, just to stay here, just to be with me, is a lot to take in. And so is knowing that, all the while, his resentment is brewing. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.” I mean it as a lighthearted joke, but it doesn’t come out that way.
Gavin pins me in place with a broody stare, stilling the breath in my chest. And then his face breaks into a grin, as bright as the sun sliding out from behind a cloud. What he says is just as blinding, taking me completely by surprise. “I think it’s impossible for anyone to have a bad side around you, Poppy. You’re kind and funny and smart. And I’m pretty sure it’s contagious, because when I’m with you, that’s how you make me feel too.”
A tangled knot of gratitude laced with fear expands inside my chest. Gratitude at the confirmation that my feelings aren’t entirely one-sided. Gavin likes me, too.
Thank God, because I can’t even imagine my life without him in it.
And fear, for exactly the same reason. What if Gavin’s mom returns for him? Or Doug succeeds in getting his parents to send Gavin away? “Promise me we’ll always be friends, okay?”
“Always,” he says.
Maybe because I know it’s a promise he might not be able to keep, I lift my hand, pinkie extended.
Gavin laughs. “You’re going to make me pinkie swear?”
“I am.”
And he does, locking fingers with me and giving me a little tug forward. “Poppy?”
“Yes?”
“What if I want to be more than friends?”
My throat is suddenly dry, my voice quivering from an excess of emotions I’m not quite sure I can contain. “Do you?”
“Yeah. I do.”
A gust of wind suddenly whips through the trees, sending leaves fluttering to the ground like confetti. “I think… I think I’d like that.” Talk about an understatement.
“Okay.”
“Okay,” I repeat. Gavin’s grip on my finger loosens, his hand sliding over my wrist and along my forearm until it curves around the back of my shoulder and I’m floating inside the ocean of his eyes, my heart thudding with the knowledge that this moment—this very moment—is exactly what I’ve been waiting for.
My wish is actually coming true.
I’ve never been kissed. And I’ve wanted to be kissed by Gavin for almost as long as I’ve known him.
It’s a yearning I’ve grown accustomed to, like the tug on my heart every time our eyes connect, or the way his smile warms me to my core. I’ve dreamed about this moment, fantasized about it so many times. And now that it’s finally here, I realize I don’t quite know what to do.
Gavin’s fingers push through my hair to cradle my head. We are so close, I can see flecks of black and gold around Gavin’s pupils, and the way each iris is made up of layered, interlocking rings of blue, from pale morning sky to deepest midnight—like the circular growth rings of a tree. His eyes are the doors to a world that calls to me. A future we’ll share, together.
At first, Gavin’s mouth merely hovers over mine. I’m not at all sure he’ll actually kiss me. Maybe his breath is all I’ll get.
But, after a moment, I feel the soft press of Gavin’s lips on mine. It’s enough, more than enough, for the thrill of possession to weave through me, for the spark of infatuation to burst
into a more enduring flame, for me to be forever marked by my first kiss.
Initially, we’re both clumsy and stiff, my neck cocked at a strange angle and his fingertips digging into my ribs. But eagerness and enthusiasm win out.
Our mouths open, our tongues tentatively sliding together. His grip relaxes, and I loop my wrists over his shoulders.
And that’s when I feel it. Something so powerful it doesn’t have a name. A certainty.
A certainty that we are meant to be together. Today. Tomorrow. All the tomorrows to come.
That this kiss, our first kiss, and the next one, and the one after that, and the thousands in between until our very last, is inevitable.
Chapter 4
Sackett, Connecticut
Spring, Freshman Year, High School
“What’s that?” I ask, glancing over Gavin’s shoulder as I sit down beside him. We don’t play cards as often as we used to. These days, we come into the woods with bulging backpacks. I like studying to the sound of Gavin’s pencil scratching on paper, the low hum he makes in the back of his throat when he’s concentrating, his satisfied grunt when he gets an answer right.
“Just a list of electives for next year. We have to put in our requests tomorrow.”
“We got ours, too.” I pull out a sheet of paper that looks nearly identical to Gavin’s.
As he reads mine, I say what we’re both thinking. “I wish they would just combine our schools already.”
Last year, a proposal to merge East Sackett and West Sackett into one school system was voted down. Local politicians had played up the fact that, with the cost savings generated by sharing facilities and overhead, there would be more money to spend on extracurriculars and special programming, not to mention a wider array of elective offerings.
But our town, like much of New England, is set in its ways.
Gavin sighs, and then circles Business Law. “Never going to happen. Most of the people who bother to vote grew up in Sackett, went to school in Sackett, and either stayed here or came back because they want the same for their kids. They’re not going to fix what they don’t think is broken. And they don’t think two high schools, two middle schools, and two elementary schools in one town is broken—because that’s how it’s always been.”
