still analyzing every flutter of his eyelashes, but he certainly didn’t need to know that.
“Alright,” Connor said. “I guess I’ll… go, then?”
I nodded. “Probably for the best.”
“I’ll uh—I’ll let you know if I hear anything from Nora?” He stepped towards the door, but not through it, because the universe was not done torturing me yet, evidently.
“Right. Same.” I nodded again.
“And I guess I’ll see you at the vote?”
Even Roxie had moved out onto the porch by now, and seemed to be wondering what was taking him so long to leave. I’d never felt more kinship with her.
“Sure. Of course. Definitely.” If there were a gold medal in nodding, I’d have had it on lock.
“Alright.” Connor finally walked through the door, then started to turn back towards me. “I’ll guess I’ll see you?”
“Yep. Sounds good. Bye.”
I didn’t technically slam the door in his face, but only because years of childhood training had made that particular bad habit unthinkable. Still, it was a near thing.
I slumped against the door as soon as it was shut. Listened to the sound of Connor’s boots retreating on the floorboards of the porch and wanted to sink to the ground myself.
One more week. Less, actually. Five days until the vote.
What was it Connor had said, all those weeks ago? That he didn’t know how to be my friend and not want more? I understood all too well what he meant by that, now.
I was in love with Connor Murphy. And after five more days, I might never see him again.
23
Connor
I woke up on Saturday morning and for a second, I didn’t know where I was.
Not because I didn’t recognize the room. It was the same one I’d slept in as a kid. Even with my eyes closed, I’d know the scent of flowers in the air, the rough wooden boards under my feet, the way, if I listened hard enough, I’d swear I could still hear my parents’ voices on the breeze.
No, what was disorienting was that I knew exactly where I was, but instead of sorrow or anxiety or anger, I felt peace.
It had snuck up on me when I was sleeping. Like someone had come into the room at night and moved all the furniture two inches to the left. Everything was exactly what it had always been, but my perspective had shifted just enough to see it from a different angle.
We were still waiting for Nora’s article to come out in the Gazette. This was the last day it could run before the council vote. My stomach should have been in knots.
The vote was Monday, and win or lose, I had to decide what I was doing afterward. Taking Tom’s job offer, or heading back to Gatlinburg. The answer was there in my brain, but it felt misty. Insubstantial. Whenever I grabbed at it, it vanished.
I rolled over in bed and stared at the leaves of the laurel oak outside my window, unfolding their glorious summer green against the azure sky. I caught a whiff of jasmine from the vines that trailed up the side of the guest house and my heart ached.
Julian. Julian’s house had jasmine too, and for a moment, I wished I were waking up there. Was I crazy to feel like things were unfinished between us?
He’d practically thrown me out on Tuesday night—he had thrown me out—when I’d tried to tell him how I felt. But only hours before that, he’d hugged me. Held my shoulders. And I didn’t think I’d been imagining the connection that still hummed between us, anytime our eyes met.
I’d spent so long running from my feelings for him because they only reminded me of what I’d never have. But so much had shifted in the past week. Not just between Julian and Katie and their dad. Something had shifted in me, too.
When I was eighteen, Eleanor had asked if I thought it was fair to make Julian choose between his family and me. I’d thought the only way out was to leave. But what if all I’d ever needed to do was stay?
It was fear that had driven me, when you got down to it. Fear that no one loved me enough to want me around. But instead of giving anyone a chance to disprove that, I’d shut everyone out to keep myself safe.
I didn’t want to be that person anymore. And stay or go, I wanted to be honest with Julian about how I felt. Not to guilt him into coming out, or