We Are Us

Chapter 25 Worthington University

Fall Semester, Junior Year

“Let me guess, you need a little sugar fix today.”

I grin at Roz, the woman from the registrar’s office I met on my very first day at Worthington. There’s something about the warmth of her embrace and her drawer filled with butterscotch candies that I find comforting. “The hug doesn’t hurt either,” I tease.

There is a plaque on her desk that reads, I GIVE GOOD HUGS, so I have a feeling that I’m not the only student who swings by Roz’s desk for reasons that have nothing to do with school and everything to do with her.

Today though, I stopped by because I was meeting with my advisor and his office is right next to the main administration building. I feel… good. My grades are back up, I was approved for a scholarship through the Stockton Family Foundation, and our outreach program with TeenCharter is a success.

Tucker and I have continued hanging out, too.

I almost feel like a normal college girl these days. Of course, I’ll never be the same Poppy that came to campus, but I’m finally okay with that.

Roz squeezes my shoulders as she pulls away. “Look at you, Poppy. Is that a genuine smile I see?”

I laugh. “I think it is.”

She opens her top drawer but doesn’t pull out a candy. “I don’t know, I usually reserve these for kids that come in here with their heads hanging low.”

I force my lips into a frown and hunch my shoulders. “Will this do?”

Roz clucks her tongue and tosses me the cellophane-wrapped treat. “Don’t you dare. Happiness should never be hidden.”

After a quick chat and another hug I head back outside, jumping out of the way of a guy holding a Worthington campus map to his face. The door hasn’t quite closed yet when I hear, “I’m looking for a student.”

I know that voice. It rolls through me like thunder, shaking me to the core.

I would gasp, but the wind’s been knocked out of me. Surely, I’m mistaken. Because the man behind the map can’t be Gavin. Not now, after all this time. Not now that every thought of him, of us, isn’t a dull blade shredding my soul to bits.

Not after that night. Not after TeenCharter and New Year’s Eve and accepting Tucker’s help with my new scholarship.

Gavin abandoned me. Tucker took advantage of me.

But I’ve forgiven them both. And I’ve forgiven myself.

I might not be healed, though I’m definitely healing. I’ve stopped looking back, mourning what I’ve lost. I’m focused on the future now. My future.

The door opens behind me, and I hear Roz yell, “If you hurry, you might catch her.”

I am caught.

“Poppy.” Gavin says my name and it explodes inside my brain like a bomb. Anger, hot and thick, pollutes my veins as I spin around. I want to shove him away. I want to scream. I want to bombard him with questions. I want to hold him close and never let go. What the hell are you doing here? and Where have you been? and Why now?

But the words shrivel into black, bitter soot that coats my throat. Gavin.

It’s him. It’s really him.

Gavin is here, standing right in front of me. My eyes frantically rove over every inch of him. His gorgeous tawny hair is gone—not shaved, but certainly shorn—which only makes the blue of his eyes stand out more dramatically. Blues, actually. How had I forgotten how many shades existed inside the deep vortex of Gavin’s eyes? The pale aquamarine of sea glass, the seductive blue of the autumn sky an hour past sunset, the rich brightness of larkspur springing up from the forest floor like festive blue spires.

I devour Gavin’s broad, high forehead, his strong, straight nose, the sharp jut of his cheekbones. There is a scar on his face that wasn’t there before, a silvery groove etched into the skin between his chin and lower lip.

I press my own lips together, swallowing the urge to ask about it, to kiss it, and quickly drop my gaze to the broad expanse of his shoulders, the biceps bulging from his shirt. Gavin is taller and wider and stronger than he was the last time I saw him. Muscles bulging in places that were previously flat.

“It’s you,” I finally whisper, something inside me unlocking. I take a step toward him. He does the same and we meet in the middle, crashing into each other.

Gavin.

Holy shit. Nothing against Roz, but hugging Gavin… it has to be the best feeling in the world. And the worst. It’s everything. Every emotion. In his arms, I am lifted by my highest hopes, crushed by my deepest disappointments. Swallowed by our shared dreams and his broken promises.

It’s too much.

It’s not nearly enough.

I must have pushed at Gavin’s chest, or maybe he felt it too. The tiny crack that splintered us apart.

Invisible.

Excruciating.

“You’re still perfect,” Gavin says, and I can practically hear the unspoken, for me that accompanies his words.

I bite down on the tender skin inside my cheek until the coppery taste of my own blood coats my tongue. I’m not perfect for you, Gavin. Not anymore.

Our arms drop and we each take a step back. A small one, but it feels like a chasm has opened up between us. “And you.” I gesture at him, realizing with a shock that he’s wearing military fatigues. My eyes again travel the length of Gavin’s body—God, his body—before returning to his face. He is still so damn beautiful. “You’re a GI Joe action hero come to life.”

An echo of memory cuts into me, hard and fast and deep.

Promise me one thing.

What’s that?

Never forget that you were my hero first, okay?

He reaches up to run a hand through his hair. What’s left of it, anyway. The last time we were together, he would have tugged at his unruly mane, curls flying every which way. “Well, you know I had to leave to—”

“Know?” I want to sound strong and self-assured but my voice is barely a squeak. “How would I know?”

He frowns. “The letter I left for you in our cave. I told you I had to disappear, that my mom finally decided to leave my father and needed my help. My foster dad understood the situation, and he told me to leave my phone behind, giving me a few burner phones from the gas station. I left one for you, with my new number programmed in it. But you never called. I thought—”

I don’t realize I’m crying until I taste salt on my lips. “There was a storm. A nor’easter. Our cave was flooded. I never got your letter, or the…” I pause, remembering. “I did find a phone in the mud, about a week later. But I never even considered that it might be from you.”

Gavin’s eyes burn into me, and I can see this is a possibly he never considered. “When I didn’t hear from you, I figured I had programmed in my number wrong. I cursed myself for not having simply called your phone from mine, then saved the number so there would be no chance of an error.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I still had my phone.”

Gavin looks away and shakes his head. “Fuck, Poppy.” A student approaches us, obviously heading into the administration building. I step aside, motioning for Gavin to follow me to a gnarled elm tree, the one I’d sat beneath for the first month or so of school, feeling comforted by the reminder of home.

I haven’t found comfort in this tree for a very long time.

Gavin continues talking as we sit beneath the unfurled green canopy, the grayish-brown bark rough at my back. “I didn’t call because I couldn’t take the chance that my father would somehow find you. He showed up at my foster family’s house, looking for me and my mom. When they wouldn’t tell him, he broke Bill’s nose and knocked Mary into a wall.”