subject is math. I’ve finally decided to pursue an accounting degree.”
“You could do that here, at DU,” I suggest.
My heart beats fast as I wait for her answer.
Please, say yes.
“Nope, you know how I feel about going back to Denver. The nightmares stayed there…” her voice drifts. “Life is much better anywhere but there.”
Her words hit me right in the chest, collapsing my lungs.
“Are you ever coming back?” I grasp the phone as if it’s my lifeline.
She presses her lips together. Her gaze moves away from the phone. I stare at her gorgeous profile. That turned up little nose, her plump lips and the long curl of the lashes that frame her eyes. Abby’s olive skin is darker, and her long hair is fixed into tiny braids. She’s classically beautiful, has a confident grace as well as a giving heart that makes me want more than I can have.
There’s a need inside me begging me to jump on the next plane and fly to her side because I fucking miss her. I’m always fighting my attraction toward her, but it’s getting so hard. She’s my confidant, my best friend, and she is becoming my reason to breathe.
It fucking kills me that nothing can ever happen between us. I’m not good at relationships. Fuck, I’ve never had a long lasting one. And I don’t plan on making a move on Abby when I know beforehand that I could lose her.
If I lose her, I’d lose myself and my heart. I run a hand through my hair, trying to make sense of my thoughts and feelings for her. It’s useless to analyze them. But how do I set them aside and continue being just a friend?
“There’s no point in discussing that,” she finally answers. “I have three years to decide what to do with my life.”
“Two,” I protest.
“Nope.” She shakes her head. “The classes I took for the past year won’t count toward my degree. Technically, I’m going to start my sophomore year.”
Fuck, three more fucking years.
I groan. “That’s it, I’m moving to Berkeley with you.”
“Would you?” Her eyes narrow and her lips quirk a bit into a smile.
“Maybe I’ll quit and open my own company. You’re close to Silicon Valley,” I remind her. “It might work.”
“That’d be perfect,” she whispers. “I could see you every day.”
Chapter Five
Wes
This year, Mom decided to celebrate Abby’s birthday in Berkeley, at her apartment. I wasn’t a fan of her last-minute decision since I had other plans in mind to celebrate the occasion. They included bar hopping without my parents. I adore Mom, but some days she can be overbearing.
“We’re renting a house in Tahoe,” Mom announces while passing the bread to Abby.
“You don’t have to do that,” Abby hands me the basket and gives me a please help me glance.
Sorry, Abbs, this time I support this idea.
“Mom, Abby can’t eat wheat products,” I remind her.
“Sorry, dear,” she apologizes, handing her the bowl of salad instead.
Last year, after coming back from Costa Rica she was sick for almost a month. She could barely eat solid food. The doctor diagnosed her with gluten intolerance. Mom tries her best to pay attention to Abby’s new diet, but sometimes she forgets about it.
“You could use that money on something else,” Abby suggests.
“We spend summers together—always,” Mom insists.
It’s only been four summers, but I’m not going to argue with her. She’s set on keeping this as a tradition. Of course, Sterling isn’t part of it. Not if my father keeps criticizing his career. My little brother isn’t doing that bad for himself. He lived in France for a couple of years while doing an internship and just moved to London to work for a gallery. Dad thinks he’s just wasting his time and money traveling.
“I’ll be working,” Abby prompts.
“Yes, at a very nice lodge,” Dad who researched the place as soon as Abby announced her summer plans continues, “but if you want, you can work for me, dear.”
“Maybe next time?” she looks down at her food while she pushes it around her plate.
Abby isn’t ready to head back to Denver. Last December she came back to Colorado—to Aspen—for a couple of weeks. Every night, she woke me up in the middle of the night screaming for help. She told me that it was the first time in years that she’d had a nightmare. She made me swear I wouldn’t push her to come back home for the summer.
For a change of scenery, last February I invited her to Tahoe. It’s