Page 95 of A Thousand Second Chances

He chuckles in a self-deprecating way I don’t like, and I frown. “It’s my fault, isn’t it? If I hadn’t abandoned you at Christmas—”

“No!I mean, okay, yeah, that probably didn’t help. But I think this is something I’ve always done. Like how I never told you about my writing.” He hesitates, and by instinct, I reach out to grab his hand, relieved when he doesn’t pull away. “My parents always pushed me so much. They’re not likeyourparents. Nothing I did ever satisfied my mom, and my dad was barely there.” His grip on my hand tightens until it’s almost painful. “I think, deep down, I’ve always worried I’m not good enough. Not for them. Not for my friends. Not foryou…”

His voice cracks on the last few words, and I can’t hold back from hugging him any longer. I relish the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath my arms—the way his head slots into my shoulder, like the space was sculpted just for him. The soft brush of his hair tickles my cheek.

“Don’teverlet anyone tell you you’re not worth it,” I whisper fiercely. “Because you are. You’ve always been worth it to me. And I’m so, so sorry if I ever made you feel like you weren’t.”

Chris clings to me for a long time, his tensed muscles gradually relaxing. I’m starting to wonder if maybe he’s drifted off to sleep when he murmurs, “I talked to my parents today.”

I stroke his hair.That’s a thing friends do…right?“Oh, yeah?”

He nods against me. “I kinda went off on my mom about how she treats me. I told her she had to let me make my own decisions, live my own life…or else.” He barks a faintly incredulous laugh. “It…well, I don’t know if I’d say it wentwell,but it definitely could’ve gone worse. She said we’d talk about it later.” He snorts. “Not thatlaterwill ever come. Guess I’ll have to have that conversation again if we break free.”

“When,” I insist. “When we break free. And if you did it once, you can do it again. I’m proud of you for standing up for what you want.”

Even if I can’t do the same.

“Thanks,” he croaks, his voice husky. Then, clearing his throat, he pushes back from me. For a moment, I worry he’s about to make some excuse to leave just when it feels like we’re reconnecting, but he simply shifts to prop himself up on the wall, keeping his side pressed against me. “So,” he says, a bit sheepishly. “I guess we should probably talk about what’s happened since we, uh, parted ways. You know, compare notes and stuff.”

I nod, settling back beside him. I tentatively rest my hand on his thigh, my heart fluttering when he sets his hand with mine. “I suppose so. Want to go first?”

“If I have to. Though I’ll warn you upfront, it’s pretty depressing. I haven’t been in the healthiest headspace.”

My fingers entwine with his, and I give him a gentle smile. “That’s okay. Neither have I. But I’ve got a feeling that things are about to get better.”

He gives me my favorite crooked grin in response. “You think?”

And yeah, I really do.

We spend the next couple hours chatting, the tight ball of regret I’ve been carrying gradually unclenching in my chest. Whatever ends up happening between us, at least we’ll have each other. Because even if I can never be the person Chris needs, I know I want him in my life, no matter how many time loops we have to face together before we get there.

thirty-nine

Chris

I could literally stareat Percy for hours. I hadn’t realized you could be starved for the sight of someone, but that’s how I feel—like Percy is a vital sip of water, and I’ve been dying of thirst without him. Things are still nowhere near perfect between us. Our shared confessions and apologies don’t mean we’ll end up together or even that this return to friendship will last. But for now, it’s enough to be talking to him again as we rehash our time apart these past few cycles.

It turns out neither of us has made any more headway on solving the time loop. Not that I’m surprised. I’m becoming more and more convinced that the anomaly is out of our control and beyond our ability to understand. Maybe it’s tied to the Northern Lights we saw or something physical in our world—maybe not. But either way, I have a feeling it’ll end whenit’sready, not when we want it to or think it would be convenient.

At least with Percy by my side once more, we can pass that time together. Even though we’re barely touching, this momentfeels more intimate than any we’ve spent wrapped in each other’s arms. Perhaps it’s because we’ve aired the last of our dirty laundry. Or maybe it’s simply thatIam finally ready to open myself up in ways I couldn’t before.

I don’t want this night to ever end, but eventually, my eyes start to droop. “If I stay here much longer, I think I’ll fall asleep,” I grumble.

Percy offers me a soft smile. “Then, I guess we’d better get you back to your bed.” He helps pull me to my feet, and any faint disappointment I feel over his lack of an offer to spend the night fades when he leans in and presses a tender kiss to my cheek. “After all,” he murmurs, “the sooner we get to sleep, the sooner we can wake up to another bright and beautiful Saturday. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Warmth floods me, and I smile at him. “Yeah. I guess we do.”

In the past, the uncertainty over where exactly we stand—Friends? Something more?—would’ve driven me insane and plagued me with self-doubt, stoking my anxiety until I lashed out. But he’s right. There’s no need to rush anything. Whatever happens, happens. At this point, the only thing holding us back is ourselves.

I start toward the door, then hesitate. It’s pretty late, but I’m not quite ready to head to my room yet. “Want to get a drink with me? We’ve still got a couple of hours until this cycle resets, and I know a place…or a dozen.”

I’m worried Percy might scoff at the suggestion or else politely decline, but to my relief, he beams at me. “I’d love to.”

We grab our coats and head downstairs. It’s late enough now that most of the Royal Lilac’s lights are dimmed, the hall quiet. We reach the entryway, and Percy starts for the door. I move to follow him but then catch a flicker of movement behind me.

Ms. Lindman. She’s in her usual spot by the fire, her Kindle in her lap. I catch Percy’s eye and gesture toward her, raising aneyebrow in question. He gives me a bright smile and nods, so we make our way over. Somehow, this seems more appropriate than going out to get drunk in a bar. We’d spent the night comforting each other—maybe we can pass on the favor.

Ms. Lindman looks up at us in surprise as we enter. “What are you boys doing here? Shouldn’t you be out on the town, enjoying yourselves?”