That was her idea?
I’m still stroking her hair when she begins to cry. She presses her face into her pillow. I hate that whatever happened between them is making her feel this guilty. “He obviously loves you, Clara. Don’t cry.”
She shakes her head. “That’s not why I’m crying.” She lifts her head from the pillow and looks at me. “I’m crying because it was my fault. It’s my fault they died, and I try not to think about it, but that’s all I think about when my head is on this pillow. Every single night. Except one time I fell asleep wondering why teddy bears are made to be cuddly, when real bears are so mean, but besides that one night, all I can think about is how it’s my fault they had the wreck.”
“What are you talking about?”
She drops her face back into her pillow. “Go away, Mom.” Before I even move, she lifts her head again and says, “No, wait. I want you to stay.” She scoots over, patting the bed next to her. “Sing me that song you used to sing to me when I was little.”
I’m still trying to catch up to what she said about the wreck being her fault. Why would she think that? I want to ask her about it, but she’s too drunk to hold a real conversation right now, so I just climb into bed with her and appease her. “What song?”
“You know, that song you used to sing to me when I was little.”
“I sang you a lot of songs. I don’t think we had any one particular song.”
“Sing something else, then. Do you know any Twenty One Pilots songs? We both like them.”
I laugh and pull her against my chest.
“Sing the song about the gold house,” she says.
I run my hand soothingly over her head and start to sing quietly.
She’s nodding as I sing, letting me know that’s the right song.
I continue singing the song, stroking her hair, until the song is over and she’s finally asleep.
I gently slip out of her bed and stare down at her. Drunk Clara is kind of funny. I’d prefer to have seen it for the first time when she was twenty-one, but at least it happened here, where I’m the one who gets to make sure she’s taken care of.
I tuck her blanket around her and then kiss her good night. “You’re driving me crazy right now, Clara . . . but my God, I love you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CLARA
Never in my life have I felt this terrible.
I probably shouldn’t have driven to school, because my head hurts so bad I can barely keep my eyes open. But my mother took my phone last night, and I wanted to talk to Miller. I need to talk to him. I don’t really recall much that happened after Lexie arrived, but I certainly remember everything that happened with Miller before he left. And I regret all of it.
When I see his truck pull into the parking lot, I get out of my car and walk over to it. He turns it off and then unlocks the passenger door. I have no idea if he’s still mad at me, so the first thing I do when I’m in his truck is scoot across the seat and wrap my arms around him. “I’m sorry I’m crazy.”
Miller hugs me back. “You aren’t crazy.”
He pushes me away, but only so he can readjust our position. He scoots toward the middle of the seat and pulls me onto his lap so that I’m straddling him and can look him in the eyes. “I felt bad after I left your house, but I was upset. I’ve wanted to be with you for a while now, but I want our time together to be meaningful to us and not related to or in spite of anyone else.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I feel terrible.”
Miller pulls me against his chest and rubs a soothing hand over my back. “I don’t want you to feel terrible. I get it. You’ve been through a lot, Clara. I don’t want you to stress out even more because of me or us. I just want to be part of everything that makes your life better.”
God, I feel like such an asshole. I’m relieved and lucky that he’s as understanding as he is. I kiss him on the cheek and look at him. “Does that mean you don’t want to break up with me anymore?”
He smiles. “I never did. I was just upset.”
“Good.” I kiss the inside of his palm. “Because it’s really gonna hurt when it happens someday. Just thinking you were breaking up with me for two seconds hurt like hell.”
“Maybe we’ll never break up,” he says, his voice hopeful.
“Sadly, the odds aren’t in our favor.”
He drags a thumb across my bottom lip. “That’s a bummer. I sure will miss kissing you.”
I nod. “Yeah. I’m a great kisser. The best you’ll ever have.”
He laughs, and I drop my head to his shoulder. “What do you think will be the cause of our future breakup?”
“I don’t know,” he says, entertaining my distracting thoughts. “But it’ll have to be way more dramatic than last night because we’re in too deep.”
“It will be,” I say. “It’ll be extremely dramatic. You’ll probably become a famous musician, and you’ll fall in love with the fame and leave me behind.”
“I don’t even play an instrument, and I can’t sing for shit.”
“I’ll probably become a famous actress, then. And I’ll introduce you to one of my costars who is more famous than me, and you’ll find her more attractive, and you’ll want to touch all her Academy Awards.”
“Not possible. That kind of person doesn’t exist.”
I sit up so I can see his face. “Maybe they’ll colonize Mars, and I’ll want to move there and you won’t.”
He shakes his head. “I’ll still love you from a different planet.”
I pause.
He said, “I’ll still love you.” I know he didn’t mean it that way, but I grin teasingly. “Did you just admit that you’re in love with me?”
He shrugs, and then his lips spread apart in a shy smile. “Sometimes I feel like I am. I’m sure it’s not all that deep yet. We haven’t been together that long. We argue a lot more than I’d like. But I feel it. Right below the surface. Tingling. Keeps me awake at night.”
“That could just be restless leg syndrome.”
He smiles with a slow shake of his head. “Nope.”
“This could be the cause of our dramatic breakup. You telling me you might be falling in love with me way too soon.”
“You think it’s too soon? I kind of thought it was the perfect moment.” He leans forward and kisses me softly on the cheek. “I’ve waited three years to be with you. If falling in love with you too soon will ruin that, then I don’t even like you. In fact, I hate you.”
I smile. “I hate you too.”
He threads our fingers together and smiles. “Seriously, maybe we really won’t break up. Ever.”
“But heartache builds character. Remember?”
“So does being in love,” he says.
What a great point. It’s such a good point I kiss him for it. I only give him a peck, though, because I don’t think he wants his tongue in my mouth after last night.
“Me and Lexie got drunk after you left. I’m pretty hungover, so I think I’m just gonna go back home. I have a headache the size of Rhode Island.”