Page 87 of Meet Me Back Here

We keep going. One thought at a time until they don’t feel so overwhelming. I love Arizona. I also love Massachusetts. I don’t know if I can keep writing. Financial stability from writing is nearly nonexistent. I love writing when it does happen. Relocating might upset Jigsaw.

“Be serious,” Forrest says with a blank look on his face. “Jigsaw is an old man indoor cat. He will be fine. I’m not even dignifying that one by writing it down. Next?”

I take a deep breath, finally left with a thought I’ve been avoiding for several rounds now.

“You live in Massachusetts. Your life is in Massachusetts. Our life is in Massachusetts,” I say, looking down at where his hand still holds my arm.

We are connected. We’ve always been connected.

“Cam,” Forrest says softly. “Our life is wherever we are. If this is what you want, you should have it. So, let’s put this last thought aside for now because I promise we will figure things out no matter what you decide.”

I don’t see how. Phoenix is a city, but it’s no Boston. He has the exam and hours he has to complete for the license. He’s had connections to his company for years. He has a home and friends and industry contacts.

But Forrest Dane has never broken a promise.

CHAPTER FORTY

gone

SUMMER, 19 YEARS OLD

Ican’t.

Forrest has been talking nonstop about his internship and the future job and the house he wants us to have together. I think he dreams of mowing our lawn, and I dream of getting out of New England.

I turned down Professor Rupert’s offer for Arizona, and I’ve felt like the world around me has been shrinking ever since. It’s smothering and crushing and⁠—

I can’t.

While we were getting through finals, I kept my anxiety to myself so I wouldn’t start a fight while we were dealing with that and moving out of the dorms, but we need to talk now before I implode.

I’m driving to Forrest’s mom’s apartment, where he’s staying for the summer. I’m going to tell him we need to slow down. I’m going to make him hear me. I’m going to make him listen this time.

I park and take the stairs up to Mrs. Dane’s unit two at a time. I can only imagine what I look like with how she recoils when she opens the front door.

“Camilla,” she says. “Come in. Are you alright?”

“Thank you, Mrs. Dane. Is Forrest here?” I ask, breathless. My lack of air has nothing to do with running up the stairs. I just can’t breathe. I’m hot and sweating, and I feel like somebody is tightening their hands around my neck.

“Oh, sweetie. Please call me Leslie. No. He went out with some colleagues after work today.” She places a hand on my shoulder, and I realize I’d been looking around the room like a trapped animal needing escape. “Why don’t you go to his room. I’ll call him and let him know you’re here. Lie down.”

She nods encouragingly until I agree.

“Ok,” I say, gulping down air. “Ok thank you.”

Her eyebrows are drawn together, making her look so much like Forrest when he’s concerned for me. I haven’t seen that look in so long. It feels like he hasn’t seen that I’ve barely been holding it together. He’s always understood me, usually better than I understand myself, so why can’t he see?

I walk down the hallway to Forrest’s room and softly close the door behind me. But I can’t lie down. I can’t even sit. I start pacing in the small space, getting more and more uncomfortable each time I pivot. The walls are so damn close together.

I’m on fire. I place a hand on my chest and feel my hammering heart beneath my damp shirt. I need to change. I yank open one of Forrest’s drawers. Pajamas and boxers. I shove the boxers aside, looking for a T-shirt I can steal…

I find it instead.

I freeze.

Disguised as a small, black velvet box with rounded corners is a bomb about to decimate my life.

No.