Page 24 of A Thousand Second Chances

I doubt she means anything by the comment, but it still rubs me the wrong way. An image of Percy’s panicked expression on the ferry flashes through my head, and I ball my hands into fists. After what I sacrificed to come out, I’ll never hide that part of myself again.

“Well, kids shouldn’t be a problem for me since I’m gay,” I say with a bit more bite than I’d intended.

Ms. Lindman shrugs, not seeming particularly taken aback. “Don’t let that stop you if it’s what you want. Plenty of people adopt or use surrogates.”

The look she gives me is full of kindness. It’s the sort of look I wish my mom had given me when I’d come out to her—one that says she sees and accepts who I am without any caveats. And this from a woman who barely knows me when no one else in my life except Quinn has been able to offer the same.

My throat tightens. “T-thanks for the chat, Ms. Lindman,” I stammer. “I’m going to head up to bed now. Have a great night!”

“Good night yourself, Chris,” she calls after me as I hurry up the stairs. “Feel free to come back here anytime you like. Mackinac Island is beautiful in the spring when all the flowers are in bloom.”

I nod without looking back, leaving her sitting there alone with whatever pain she has to bear. I’ve got plenty of my own to handle right now, and as I collapse into bed, a wave of crippling loneliness washes over me. Today royally sucked, but at least it’s almost over. Tomorrow, I’ll apologize to Quinn and do my best to avoid Percy so there’s no more fallout. Then, this stupid vacation can end, and we can all return to our regularly scheduled lives.

If only the thought didn’t leave me feeling quite so hollow.

twelve

Percy

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I groan, dragging a pillow over my ears. I’d have thought I’d feel better rested today after crawling into bed right after dinner last night, but my eyes are as tired and grainy as they were yesterday. I guess one too many late-night gaming sessions finally caught up to me. Or maybe that argument with Chris left methatdrained.

The memory of his face twisted with disdain has me burrowing even deeper under my covers. God, he’d let me have it at dinner. I mean, I know I’d screwed up. I’m the reason things ended the way they did between us. I’d completely withdrawn from him (and pretty much everything else) after learning about my mom’s diagnosis. Flash forward two years later, and I’mstillstruggling to piece my life back together.

So yeah, I get why he’s pissed at me. But I’d hoped things would’ve been better for him. Just becausemylife had sucked didn’t mean I’d wanted him to suffer too. The thought that Imight’ve ruined his college experience as much as I had my own wrecks me. He’d deserved so much more than I could have given him. That’s part of why I’d pulled away in the first place. After all, when it had mattered most, I’d proven how weak I really am.

In hindsight, reaching out had been a mistake. Maybe it’s for the best he shut me down before I could tell him about my mom. What’s the point of picking the scabs off old wounds? Now that our ill-fated trip together is drawing to a close, we’ll return to our old lives, graduate, and never see each other again. No harm, no foul.

That thought doesn’t comfort me nearly as much as it should.

My alarm goes off again, and I uncurl myself from the sheets enough to blearily check it, blinking in surprise when I see it’s only 8:05 AM. Our ferry doesn’t leave until noon, and there’s nothing official planned for Sunday morning. What had I been thinking when I set the alarm so early? I must have beenreallyout of it last night.

Discarding my phone on the nightstand, I grab a quick shower and get dressed. I consider packing now so I won’t have to do it later, but my stomach rumbles, making the decision for me. Clothes can wait until after breakfast.

I’m surprised when I find other students already up and about. I mean, I know eight AM isn’t that bad for most people, but what self-respecting college student wouldchooseto get up this early? Especially when many of them had likely visited the bars downtown last night.

Whatever. To each their own, I guess.I’mup at this ungodly hour, so it’s not like I have any room to judge. I take the stairs down, turn toward the entrance to the cafe, and collide with someone.

Déjà vu, I think, stumbling back. That feeling only intensifies when I see it’s Susie. She’s wearing the same dress and athletictights as yesterday, her hair pulled up. Maybe she’s going for a morning run?

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” she stammers. “I guess I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

I smile at her, rubbing my eyes tiredly. “Morning, Susie. We need to stop running into each other like this.”

Rather than laughing it off like I expect, she frowns, studying me. “Do I know you? I don’t recognize you from any of my classes.”

My smile falters. “It’s me. Percy?” Her blank expression doesn’t change, so I add, “We met yesterday. Right here, in fact.”

There’s still no recognition on her face. Could she have forgotten already? She scrunches her brows in thought, then shakes her head. “Sorry, I don’t think so. Devon and I went out last night after we got in. I don’t think I was ever at the cafe.”

“Not in the evening. In the morning. For breakfast.”

Her eyes widen, and she takes a step back. The way her shoulders tense and her gaze darts from side to side makes it clear she’s trying to escape the conversation. “I…don’t think that’s possible. Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

What the hell did I say wrong? I rub my eyes again, peering at the girl. It’s definitely Susie. But other than a brief smile here or there, I don’t think we interacted at all yesterday after our morning collision. I must not have left much of an impression.

Unsure what else to do, I mumble, “Sorry. My mistake.” Best to cut my losses and end the conversation before I embarrass myself further.