The apple tree had been strung with lights, making it look as though it were heavy with brilliant, luminescent apples. Anne spotted her friends standing beneath the tree, and they all looked up, openmouthed, as Anne approached them with Rick by her side. He stopped, the grass rustling beneath his feet.
“I’m gonna go,” he said. “Do you need anything else?”
“No, thank you.”
“Nothing else?” he prodded.
She looked up and shook her head. He turned and walked away as she ran to her friends, holding up the glass pane.
“Oh, no fair,” she said, pointing to Fanny’s jar of sand. But no one responded as they all stared at her, clutching their items in their hands—except for Emma, who wore her crown on her head.
“I’m just gonna say it,” Emma said. “We’re all thinking it.”
Lizzie said, “I’m never thinking what you’re thinking.”
“Anne, you need to go after Rick.”
“Go after Rick for what?”
“For what?” Emma sputtered. “For…for him! You need to go after him.”
Anne blinked in surprise. “You’re the one who spent spring break trying to set me up with someone else!”
“Well, I can be wrong—”
The girls all gasped.
“But only temporarily,” Emma said. “You’ve been waiting for Rick to come around, maybe sweep you off your feet? Maybe declare his mad, undying love for you?”
“It would be nice,” Anne mumbled.
“But Anne, you’re the one who wronged him. Have you ever said you’re sorry?”
Anne turned the glass pane over in her hands as she considered the question. She had felt sorry. But had she said it? “He must know.”
“She doesn’t have to say she’s sorry,” Lizzie said. “She didn’t do anything wrong. It was years ago and he did move across the country.”
“She does have to apologize,” Emma said stubbornly. “If the situation were reversed, if Rick had broken up with her, he would need to come crawling back over fire before we let her go back to him.”
“It is nice to hear an I’m sorry,” Ellie added.
“What if he tells her it’s too late or it doesn’t matter or he doesn’t care?” Fanny asked. “That would be so terrible.”
“And embarrassing,” Kat said.
“Do you think he’ll forgive me?” Anne asked.
“He will,” Emma said.
“That doesn’t mean he’ll want to be with her,” Lizzie said. “Guys are just different from us. They don’t dwell. They don’t pine.”
“Of course they do,” Ellie said.
“No, she’s right.” Anne sighed. “We’re the ones who love harder, who love longer. We’re the ones who love even when there’s no reason to.” Anne looked to Emma, waiting for her to disagree or say that of course Rick must still love her.
Emma only looked at her sympathetically. “I don’t know what Rick will do or what he’ll want. Oh, don’t all gasp like that—I don’t know everything, you know. But I know that you hurt him, Anne. There’s a part of you that feels bad for yourself, and you’ll continue to feel that way until you’ve made amends.”
Anne let Emma’s words wash over her and lifted her head with determination. “You’re right.”
“Usually am.”
Lizzie sighed. “Don’t encourage her.”
Anne had never apologized to Rick, mostly because she didn’t think she deserved forgiveness and didn’t think she would get it. But that was a selfish decision, as well, because she hadn’t wanted to risk being rejected. Which was partially why she had broken up with him to begin with.
She was tired of thinking it out so much. She wanted Rick. She would go after him. Without a word, she dropped the glass plane to the ground and ran back into the auditorium.
Rick was standing by the punch bowl. He gulped back a small cup and threw it away. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and scanned the floor until his eyes came to rest on her. She knew she was looking at him with longing, that all the feelings she usually kept bottled up inside were finally showing through. A questioning look crossed his features, and he scanned her up and down.
She walked toward him, through circles of dancers, and with each sweep of light she came closer until she was finally standing half a foot away. He swallowed uncertainly.
Through all their interactions over the past year, the politeness, the kindness, she’d felt a distance between them that she had no intention of keeping any longer. Even if it meant her heartbreak, even if it meant he finally and truly rejected her, at least there would be honesty between them.
“Did you want to dance?” he asked when enough silence had passed.
“I want to talk,” she said. “Alone.”
He stood up straighter, his lips pursed tight, then he nodded and gestured for her to lead the way. Her hands shook as she turned and led him out of the auditorium. She rubbed her hot palms together and blew through the open doors. Heads turned to stare as she passed, which is how she knew Rick was behind her.
The night breeze caressed her face, a relief. She realized she didn’t know where to take him. Not back to the tree—too many prying eyes. Not to her room—too personal and suggestive. She came to a stop. He brushed up against her back, a stilling hand on her shoulder, before he stepped back. She turned, but there were spectators looking on from the entrance to the gymnasium. He followed her gaze, then took her hand.
He began walking, and within a few feet she knew he was heading for the meteor field. It was dark, but a full moon and a sky full of stars lit the way for them. She savored the feeling of his warm palm against her own. She expected him to let go, but he kept a firm grasp. His thumb rubbed the back of her hand absentmindedly. She knew it wasn’t a deliberate move; he was always fidgeting. Before they had broken up, they had laughed about how he’d never be able to keep still long enough to make it through the military academy.
“Your shoes?” he said as she navigated the uneven surface more carefully than usual.
“I’m fine.” They made quick work of their walk. While the forest had changed, they took the same path as always. Over a fallen tree trunk, around a bush. They reached the open field, and he finally released her hand and turned toward her, his back to the white tree. Her gaze shifted to the scratched surface that hid their initials.
He’d tried to erase the evidence of his feelings, just as she had. She could only hope it wasn’t too late.
“What did you want to talk about?” he asked.
She craned her neck back to look at him and fought with which words to choose. She should have thought this out better. Should have written something down. It was only the love of her life, after all. “I… I…” Her throat closed.
A dark look crossed his features as he waited.
“Wait, please.” She rested her hands against her stomach and took in a breath. “I’m not good at this. At big speeches and declarations.”
He tilted his head and smiled sadly. “I know.”
She returned his smile with one of her own. “You used to know everything about me. That’s what it felt like. Until…” This was hard.
“Until you broke us up,” he finished, a hard edge to his voice.
“I wish I had fought for us. I wish I hadn’t listened to my mother. I wish we had spent the last couple of years together instead of apart. I’ve never told you how I felt because I assumed you knew. You’ve always known how I felt about everything, without me having to say it. So I thought you would know that I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But even if you did know, you deserved to hear it from me.”
He’d been staring at her and was now blinking rapidly. He wiped at the corners of his eyes with his fists.
“That’s not all,” she said, courage building. “I still have feelings for you. I’m sure you know. I’ve been so obvious. But you deserve to hear me say it, too. I want to say it.” She took a long breath, having bared her heart. Anne had always thought of her relatives as the best examples of courage. They were intrepid travelers and rule breakers. She’d always felt meek by comparison. Until now. “You don’t have to say anything,” she said. “But I wish you would.”
“You have no idea, do you?” He gave a small laugh and bent over to rest his hands on his knees. Then he straightened and glanced at the night sky. His expression transformed from bewilderment to laughter. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”
Her hands shook. He smiled at her, finally friendly, but as much as she wanted to take comfort in what he’d said, she couldn’t help but notice it was nothing close to I love you.
“So, I guess that’s it,” she said.
He grinned.
That was it? He was just going to take her apology and smile? Just acknowledge her years of suffering and laugh?
“Did you want to say something else?” he asked. “You look a little… riled up.”
“Um…” She swallowed her thoughts. But no—that was what had gotten her into this mess in the first place. She wasn’t going to stand by and let this happen without a fight. She’d been congratulating herself on her courage a moment ago and now it was time to put that courage to the test. “Yes, I have something else to say. I was wrong when I broke up with you. I shouldn’t have been so stupid. But you! You left. You never tried to contact me. Then you came back to Merrywood and were so distant. As if we were strangers. As if our relationship didn’t matter. Are you laughing?” She set her hands on her hips.
His shoulders shook with mirth, and he rested his hands over hers and drew them to her waist. “I know. We’ve always been so alike. Right down to how stubborn and stupid we can be.”
She cocked her head to the side and glanced up at him uncertainly. “So did you miss me?”
“Every day.”
Two words that tugged at her heart but still left questions for her. “Why didn’t you try to call or text or send a dumb carrier pigeon? Anything?”
He moved his palms up and down her sides tentatively. “I was mad, then sad, then mad again. Then scared you wouldn’t care. Even when I came back here, every time I thought about reaching out, there would be something, someone, to make me think I shouldn’t. I was as wrong as you were, over and over again.”
“We’re both so stupid,” she said.
“Dumb enough to deserve each other.” He pulled her closer as his thumbs dug into her hips to anchor her against him.
“So you’re saying you do have feelings for me?”
“You want to find out?” He dipped his head. “Get over here.”
His lips were as warm and soft as she remembered, but more insistent. His arms tightened around her, and he angled her so her back pressed up against the tree trunk. His hands traveled up her arms to her neck and cupped her face.
She felt his lips curve into a smile as he kissed her, then kissed her again. His thumbs stroked her earlobes. His mouth slanted against her, harder than before. He stepped in closer, pressing her between himself and the tree until he was kissing her faster than she could breathe.
She pressed a gentle, stilling hand against his chest.
He pulled away with a harsh breath and rested his forehead on hers. “I’m worried you’re going to disappear.”
“After a kiss like that, I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured.
* * *
It was eight kisses later before they walked back to the courtyard apple tree. Josh and the rest of the guys had joined the girls in the tree and half of them were sitting on branches with their legs dangling in the air.
“You told the girls everything, I’m guessing?” Rick asked.
Anne nodded.
Rick held up their joined hands, and everyone clapped and whistled. Anne brought their hands back down with a jerk, still feeling a little shy. She made her way up the tree and could feel Rick behind her. He scooted next to her on the branch and wrapped his arm around her waist.
He felt different. Bigger, of course. He smelled better, too, she thought with a chuckle.
Even now, with all her friends, and as happy as she was, it was impossible to push off thoughts of the future. They would graduate, and the school would be demolished.
They had fought so hard for the Academy because they’d assumed it was their safe haven. But the school was just bricks and stone and glass. Their real haven was in each other.
They would disperse to every corner of the world, a distance that she used to think was a barrier. Not anymore. She was sad, of course, but within that sadness was hope.
People might change. Families might move. Hearts might break.
But their bond would live on.