But I Love Him by Amanda Grace Page A

and not live this.”
    I nod my head, but I don’t say anything. Sometimes the things he says … I don’t know how to answer him. I come from somewhere else. Somewhere with fancy cars and big birthday parties and Christmas sweaters and rose gardens and big screens. I’m not this.
    “I wish I would stop fucking everything up.” Connor still isn’t looking at me. He’s staring out the windows, as if the answer to all his problems lies somewhere in the grassy field next to my car.
    For a minute I’m not sure if I heard him correctly. But then he says it again.
    “I know there’s a point where I’m supposed to just stop fucking everything up and look myself in the mirror and like what I see, and be my own person, and not let him be anything to me. I just wish I knew how to do that.”
    “Yeah. That makes sense, I guess.” I stare at his hand in mine, run my finger up and down his, trying to resist the urge to trace the scars and remind him of their existence.
    Am I supposed to agree, or tell him not to worry about it? And if I do agree, like I want to, if I tell him to just get over it and move on, is that judgmental? Will I sound too much like my mom?
    The seat creaks a little as he turns to look at me, finally just look at me. His blue eyes are filled with such sad dejection mingled with a tiny piece of hope that it breaks my heart. “I just want … I want us to be … to just be. I don’t want him to affect everything. I don’t want to screw this up. You’re the first good thing that’s ever happened to me, and I don’t know what to do with it.” He’s having a hard time talking, like the words are too heavy or too hard to get his lips around.
    I stare straight into his eyes, and neither of us says a word for at least a full minute. These are the moments I fall deeper in love with him. When neither of us says anything, and we just … stare. There’s an understanding there that goes much deeper than words ever could. A connection so real I can’t speak, because words could never say the things I feel.
    “I just want you to know … I want you to know that despite everything … despite anything I might do or say, anything I’ve done before or might do in the future, I love you. More than life itself. And if some day something should happen and we’re not together anymore, I’ll still love you and I’ll still think of you.”
    “Nothing like that will happen,” I say. “I promise you, if you love me like I love you, nothing like that will happen.”
    “I know. We’ll be together forever,” he says. “I worship you. I love you. You’re everything.”
    “I love you too,” I say.
    “Promise?”
    I nod my head, slowly, solemnly. “Yes, I promise.”
    He kisses me, and I close my eyes and concentrate on the feeling of his lips, soft, against mine. It makes me dizzy, and I have to open my eyes.
    He squeezes my hand. I don’t move, just let the car idle where we sit, somewhere halfway to nowhere but not nearly far enough away from everything.
    “Sometimes I think I spent forever waiting for you,” he says. “My whole life, I’ve never had someone like you. Someone who doesn’t have to be there, but is anyway. Someone who wants to just … be with me because they want me. For me. Not because I’m your brother or your kid or anything, but because you choose me.”
    I grip his hand tighter. “I know. My mom … sometimes I think if she could undo me, she would. If I could just somehow disappear, you know? I think I remind her of my dad, and she hates me for it.”
    The seat creaks again as he leans over and kisses me on the cheek. “I wish I could make all these times slow-motion, and then whenever you leave for school or work, I could fast-forward until you’re back again.”
    And sometimes I wish that too. I wish I could control it all and fast-forward through the scary stuff.
    I just wish Connor was never a part of the scary stuff.
    February 13
    Five months, Fourteen days
    Today is