Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t.
Katie melted that ice within me twice. When she was young and I was a different person, and now. I wish she were here. I wish she were by my side, smiling and asking for a corn dog or maybe some cotton candy, a funnel cake. Something we could share. Maybe she’d tell me she wanted to ride the roller coaster or the merry-go-round. This place isn’t so bad. I have a lot of fond memories of coming here when I was a kid, despite my shitty dad and my shitty circumstances.
We could create new memories, Katie and I. Banish those old ones once and for all and remember only the good times here. Good times we create together.
But I guess it isn’t meant to be.
I stop at a concession stand to buy a soda and immediately regret it, wishing I’d picked up a coffee when I had the chance. It’s damn cold outside, the wind has started to pick up, and I walk around the park aimlessly, along with an assorted lot of other aimless people, all of them not seeming to fit in. Fit together. Where are the families, the kids? Most of the kids are in school. There are teenagers here, and they all remind me of myself, when I was their age. They look like trouble.
Like me.
I also see quite a few tired-looking mothers pushing strollers full of loud, bratty toddlers, looking for a distraction, and I feel for them.
I’m in need of a distraction, too—from Katie. From my fucked-up, confused feelings for her.
Heading toward the Sky Gliders line, I see that it’s short and I’m thankful. I’ll hop on a glider and it’ll take me across most of the park, dumping me off not too far from where I parked. Then I can get the hell out of here and head home, away from the memories of Katie.
Back to nothing but loneliness.
At first I don’t believe it when I hear my name being called. I feel like it’s all in my head, that I’m losing my mind, which I wouldn’t doubt. The shit I’ve been through over the years . . . I think people would understand if I went crazy. Hell, I should’ve gone crazy long ago.
But I hear my name again. And again. Until I finally turn around at about the fifth Ethan and my jaw drops open in shock when I see who’s standing there.
Katie.
She’s frozen, her eyes wide, her hand falling at her side, like she was trying to wave me down. We stare at each other and all the sounds, the scents, the people, everything seems to fade until it’s just me and her standing in this park. The both of us too scared to approach the other first.
I spot a garbage can nearby and dump the half-full soda inside, wiping my damp hands against my jeans as I start to walk toward her. She still doesn’t move. She looks scared and I ache to take away her fear. Offer her comfort. Tell her I’m sorry.
Tell her who I really am and hope like hell she can forgive me.
“Ethan,” she breathes when I’m finally close enough to hear her. “I found you.”
“What are you doing here?” I stop just in front of her, wanting so badly to reach out and grab her I have to curl my hands into fists to prevent them from doing so.
“I came to meet you just like you asked, and . . . chickened out at the last minute.” She drops her head so I can’t see her face anymore. “I don’t know what compelled me to come to the park.”
“I did the same thing.” When she lifts her head and her gaze meets mine, I continue. “You didn’t show and I was . . . mad. I started walking, wishing you were with me. Next thing I knew, I was here.”
Her lips part, her eyes full of sadness. “I don’t know what we’re doing anymore,” she whispers.
I step closer, grabbing hold of one of her hands. Her fingers are cold and I interlace them with mine, squeezing her tight. “I don’t either.”
She tilts her head back, her pretty, dark blue gaze meeting mine. Her eyes are full of pain and confusion and the tiniest flicker of hope. “You know what really happened to me, don’t you.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I shake my head. I don’t want to talk about the past. I want the here and now. I want to be with Katie. “Come home with me.”
Her eyes widen, I swear she’s about to jerk her hand out of my grip, but I tighten my hold on her, not wanting to let her go. If I had my way, I’d never let her go. The connection we share, the one we formed when we were just kids, it hasn’t gone away. If anything it’s become stronger and I’m sick of fighting it, sick of fighting my feelings for her.