good. Probably even better than reality would have been. So there’s that.”
Barrett’s lips meet the inside of my wrist. He looks up at me with this wondrous expression on his face. Wondrous, yet serious. Sincere. “Have I told you I think you’re fucking incredible?”
My cheeks sting. My lips curve, all on their own. “I’m not,” I tell him honestly. “At all. In my position, being positive and moving forward was the only option that made sense.”
I cup my hand around his face. “I think you’re the same way. That’s the feeling that I’m getting, anyway.”
He pushes up on one elbow, resting his cheek in his palm. “What do you mean, Piglet?”
I smile at the name, then sober some and look into his eyes, so he can see the sincerity in mine. “It’s just this feeling that I get from you. That you’re really trying.” I smile down at him. “That, and one of my gardenia trees is shedding petals that end up in your pockets when I do laundry.”
He cuts his eyes away from mine and makes a funny kind of embarrassed duck face, which I have to struggle not to laugh at.
His eyes boomerang to mine. He’s smirking, but it really looks more like he’s struggling not to laugh. “You found those, huh? I need to get my own tree.”
“Just to pull its petals off?” I ruffle his hair.
“You make it sound bad.” He gives me a mock sad look.
“Mine can spare some petals. Only for you.”
He chuckles, looking a little embarrassed. “I’ve been…smelling them.”
“Exposure therapy.”
“Something like that.”
“And? How’s it going?”
“It’s working, I think.”
I beam. “That makes me really happy. Don’t be doing it for me, though. I can give those plants away.”
“Nah.”
“Have you ever thought of talking to someone? Like a PTSD type person? Tell me if you feel like I’m being pushy. Because I don’t want to be. I’m not.”
He takes a long breath and blows it out. “Those people help?”
“I think so. You’re doing amazing on your own,” I add. “Unless there’s something I’m missing, you’re not doing half the things a lot of other people do in your position.”
“Like what?” he asks, looking skeptical.
“Drinking. Drugs.” I shrug. I don’t want to sound like some kind of lame after school special, but it’s true: it is impressive that he’s held himself together so well.
I watch Barrett’s face, but there is nothing to be found on it. Maybe a vague haunted expression, which I could easily be imagining.
“No,” he finally says.
A grave look passes over his face: there and quickly gone.
He takes my right hand in his and turns it over, and I see his eyes fix on a scar that runs from the middle of my forearm up to my elbow. It’s more white than pink now, not easy to see.
“The accident?” he murmurs, looking into my eyes.
I nod. “They thought maybe it was from…the windshield.”
His jaw tightens. “You remember anything?”
I shake my head. He lowers our hands, his fingers stroking mine. I shut my eyes for half a second, just to focus on that feeling—and not getting anxious. This is not something I usually talk about except with Helga. “Nothing from the night at all,” I confess.
He swallows, eyes fixed on me. I can feel his words—unsaid. So long unsaid, I have to ask: “What are you thinking?”
He swallows again, and shakes his head.
“You were alone,” he says in a soft monotone. His eyes are on the rock below us.
“How’d you know about it?”
“Internet.” His eyes on mine are hard. They soften—almost sad—as I touch his shoulder.
“I could barely stand it,” he says thickly.
“That’s…” I shake my head. It makes my throat tighten and my eyes sting, just seeing the look on his face.
He sits up and covers my knees with his big hands, stroking softly as he speaks. “You’ll never be alone like that again. I swear.” He looks emphatic—almost angry.
Barrett wraps his arms around me, pulling me onto his lap and hugging me so tightly I nearly can’t breathe.
“How long were you out there?” he asks hoarsely.
It takes me a minute to put together what he’s asking. How long was I on the ground…
“Around three hours.” His grip on me loosens, so I’m able to pull back a little and look up into his eyes. “I was kind of…like, my head was kind of down… A little off the road and on the shoulder. I was so cold,” I say, hoarse despite trying to sound impassive. “That’s part of why they were able