Page 37 of Passing Notes

“What word? Talk?”

“That’s the one. I don’t think I can do this with you. It hurts too much. This thing between us feels too big, and I can’t let myself get hurt that way again. I just can’t do it.” She reached over and pushed the button to start up the truck. “Take me home. I’m sorry.”

“What if I don’t want to give up on you? What if we never talk about it and just start over?”

She looked at me, her doubt clear on her face. “Do you really think that will work?”

“Why not?”

“Sure, Nick. Not talking has solved so many problems in my life.” Her laugh was bitter, and I decided to let it go—for now.

“I’ll take you home. Expect me to stop by in the morning. I’ll bring you breakfast and a hangover smoothie.”

“You don’t have to do that?—”

“I’ll drop it off and leave, if that’s what you want.”

“Okay, I appreciate it and will return the favor somehow. Thank you.”

The bubble of nostalgia was gone now, and we were back to... whatever we had become after I moved in next door.

Pushing for something as big as a second chance would have to wait until I got to know her again. There was too much history between us to force the issue.

CHAPTER 12

CLARA

I can’t wait to tell everyone how much I love you. Graduation is soon, then we’ll be free. - Nick

What made him change his mind?

Why couldn’t he talk to me about his concerns?

The questions that had haunted me in the past and wouldn’t let me be with him now were the ones I was terrified to ask, because deep down, I already knew the answer to both:

I wasn’t good enough.

Maybe things would be different now, like he’d said. We’d grown up, after all. We were on our own, no longer bound to the rules of our mothers. Their opinions held no weight now; we were free. I’d made something out of myself and so had he. If we had another chance to be together out in the open, without all the secrecy, would that really make a difference?

I turned, burying my face in my pillow. Sleep was out of the question when I was being bombarded with all these out-of-control thoughts.

Sunlight streamed through my window, and I pulled my covers over my face with a groan.

It will never work with him. We’d hurt each other too much to ever move past it.

The feeling of being small and powerless, the knowledge that I would never truly be accepted for who I was and where I had come from, was at the core of all my problems and, intentional or not, he had been a huge part of creating them. It was the wound that would not heal, no matter how many bandages I covered it with.

I was a broken girl from a broken home who had clawed her way up to make herself seem better than she was. The way I had been treated ever since childhood was part of me, ingrained in me, and no matter what I did—the years of therapy, my job as an attorney, my house, my money—nothing completely got rid of it.

What if he found out how I’d put myself through college?

What would he think of me then?

How would he explain to his sweet, beautiful, innocent children that he was dating a woman who stripped to pay her way through college and law school? He wouldn’t, he couldn’t, and I refused to consider letting him, no matter what he said if he ever found out the truth. He was a good guy. He’d say all the right things and I’d be so tempted to take what I wanted without a care.

A knock at my door had me frozen in my bed.

Shit.