I force my gaze off his car, feeling so aware of what I’m going to say. “The boy I love should know these things don’t matter.”
Kale’s smile turns into something else—a side of him I’ve only seen a handful of times. Every one of those times being the moments before he’s kissed me. It’s a side of him I’ve grown to love.
“Do you remember when we first met?” he asks. “When you were covered in mud and said we had something in common because we both had weird names?”
“It was on the back porch.”
Kale nods slowly. “There hasn’t been a day since then when I haven’t thought about you. Not even when you were gone all these years.” He steps closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “I can’t think straight when you’re around, because you’re all I’m ever thinking about. And I don’t think I would be here if it wasn’t for you. You’re my anchor in a timeless world, Harper. I felt it the moment I met you, and I feel it even more with you looking so … unbelievingly beautiful.”
I let a smile creep onto my lips, never wanting to kiss him so much. “You want to know what I feel when I look at you?”
He leans in closer. “So much.”
“Something I’ve never felt around anyone else.”
“Is that a promise?”
I stop inches from his lips and whisper, “It’s the truth.”
Kale might not be a superhero or someone who will change the world, but he’s the only one to ever make my heart pound like it does.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
47.
Kale
The sun is low, and yet sweat beads down my temples and neck.
My arms hang heavy. Tired. But the pain I feel every time I throw another ball, through my shoulders and down my back, is better than feeling nothing.
I’m alive out here.
Something I’m feeling more and more every day.
I still wake in the night, my voice hoarse and my skin damp, but now Dad is there when I need him the most. When I’m haunted by something I’ll never go back to. But also something I can never forget.
I haven’t time-traveled for two weeks. Before that, it was a week. But never back to WWII. Always somewhere else, sometimes with a purpose of helping someone and sometimes not. Soon, I might even be able to control where I go.
It’s getting better.
This is where I want to be, now and forever.
Under the sun, breathing in the air of summer. Standing in the field I used to know so well. When I dig the toe of my shoe into the dirt, the wind carries the dust away. Over the tall grass and farther until I can’t see it at all.
I bend down and take another ball from the bucket. I turn it over in my hands, my fingers tracing the stitches.
I take a deep breath and bring it to my chest, my leg coming up in a motion I could do in my sleep. My arm comes back and then the ball flies. It hits the net.
Thump. Thump. Over and over.
The bucket of balls is slowly dwindling to none. It’s the first week all summer Miles couldn’t make it. Grace’s name came up, and I didn’t ask more than that.
From over the long, seeding grass, the sound of the screen door slams shut, its hinges screaming for oil.
I don’t turn to see whose footsteps are coming my way. Now that everyone in the house is gone—until Libby gets back—it can only be one person. Even still, I’m a little surprised.
It’s been a long time since he’s been out here.
Now that I know he’s behind me, I’m conscious about my throw.
I miss the mark. About a foot high.
“Do it again. Relax your shoulders,” he says.
I can picture him behind me—arms crossed over his chest, brow firm with judgment. I used to see that face at every game I played. Dad being competitive enough for both of us.
Taking a deep breath, I turn the ball over in my hand again, readying myself. I throw, not taking my eyes off the mark.
After it hits dead center, joining the others on the dusty ground, I turn to see him smiling.
“It’s good,” he says. “Have you been practicing?”
I nod. “I haven’t stopped. I meet Miles down at the school once in a while.”
“Well, they don’t know what they’re missing out on.”
I only nod and turn away, getting ready to throw again, still feeling like I had a whole chunk of my life torn away.
But even though I’m on a different path now, it doesn’t mean it’s a bad one. If anything, it’s the opposite.
“Maybe I can still go to tryouts in the spring,” I say.
He smiles at that, giving me a hope I haven’t had in so long.
I throw my last ball.
“I miss coming out here,” Dad says behind me.
So I take a chance on something I wouldn’t have a couple months ago. “Do you want to play?” I ask, turning around. “Tossing the ball around helps my shoulders loosen up.” I shrug like I don’t care, but really, I’m afraid he’ll say no.
But he smiles and gives me the only answer I hoped for.
“I would love to.”
So while the sun slowly sets, we play catch and lose balls in the tall grass when we try to fake each other out.
But then later, after our shoulders are sore and our backs wet with sweat, Dad goes into the barn and starts up the tractor.
I sit on the back steps and watch him mow the grass until its short. Like it was all those years ago. Back when nothing was complicated.
I’ve wanted to be normal my entire life.
And it wasn’t until I embraced who I was that I realized I never would be.
I might be a time-traveler and a dropout. Someone who never thought they would go to college or have a job.
But I would rather be no one else.
I’m a boy who keeps his promises.
Even when history tells me otherwise.
Acknowledgments
Not many people read the acknowledgments, but I think it’s the most important part. Because without these people, this book never would have been made.
First and foremost, I have to thank God for giving me this gift to write and create stories to share with countless others. I might not be good at math or school in general, but I can write books and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
To my amazing agent, Rachel Brooks. Thank you for being by my side through everything, especially that stuff we never thought we’d have to deal with. Without you picking my book from the slush pile, I wouldn’t be here. In addition, thank you for Brenda Drake for hosting Pitch Madness, and Summer Heacock for choosing Cold Summer for #TeamFizzy—those were the first steps to putting me on this path.
Big thanks to my editor, Nicole Frail, for shaping this book into what it is now, and to the whole Sky Pony team for what you do behind the scenes to make this book possible. Special thanks to Sammy Yuen for creating such a beautiful cover.