Everything That Makes You(46)

"What mistake?"

"Not thinking your life through. Not planning."

"What didn't you plan?"

"I didn't plan on having kids when I was twenty-four," she said. "I didn't plan on always being just a mom."

Fi's expression must have shown the surprise, because her mom quickly added, "Not that I'm not happy. Not that I'd change it."

"It kind of sounds like you would."

Her mom shook her head. "No. You know, I was working for an interior  designer when we found out about Ryan. We hadn't planned on starting a  family so early, but we were thrilled. Still, I wanted to get my  master's degree. Your dad and I figured I could do that while he was a  baby. I was six months pregnant when I started the program. But once he  was born I was tired all the time, and then we found out you were  coming. My plans were put on hold, just for now." She shrugged. "One  thing led to another, and now never came."

"You could have gone back," Fi said. "You still can."

"I know," she said. "Maybe I will." Her mother nudged her with her shoulder. "See, you're not the only one who's lost her way."

Even with the explanation, Fi couldn't think of her mother as lost, at least not like she was. Her mother did lost so prettily.

"I'm still scared," Fi admitted. "It's going to be hard."

"You have never been afraid of hard."

Fi cast her a dubious look. "You've spent the last four years complaining that I am."

"I may have mentioned the times you avoid hard. Once or twice." Her  mother gave a small sideways smile. "But you're also the fiercest person  I know. The things you're passionate about, you'll bleed for."

Fi pictured herself on the ground, gripping a broken ankle and cussing  with fluency. That single moment, a little more than two years ago, had  changed her life. Blood had soaked through everything that day.

Given the choice, she wouldn't change it.

She'd paid for this now in bone and skin. In love and tears. In blood. She'd earned this now.

Leaning into her mother, Fi murmured, "You're right."

Fi curled on the bed, Panda tucked in his rightful place under her arm.  Tonight would be her last night in her own bed, her own room. She was  having trouble wrapping her head around the very unclear future just  ahead of her. She might be back in a month-or she might not be back  until Christmas.

At the knock, she glanced at her overstuffed bags and hoped her mother  hadn't stumbled upon some as-yet-undiscovered insulating layer. "Come  in."

The door creaked open, and Trent peeked his head through. "You're not naked, are you?"

Fi shot upright. She hadn't seen Trent since the Ole Miss debacle. She'd  texted a few times; they'd had some tense conversations. When she heard  from Starnes, her first call was to Trent. She'd left a voice mail, and  he'd called right back. He was all polite and encouraging, without a  trace of sarcasm.                       
       
           



       

It hadn't felt right-not at all.

"No, fully dressed," she said.

"Damn." He shook his head, coming in. "Long shot, I guess."

Even taking his current scruffy state into account-his long lacrosse  shorts, worn gray T-shirt, and stubbly cheeks-there was no denying that  college agreed with Trent McKinnon. Solid muscles held him up while  sun-darkened skin held him in. But something else, a hard-to-define  Trentness, pulled it all together.

"Big day tomorrow." Trent sat beside her on the bed, nodding his head toward the bags. "Think you've got enough?"

She looked at the bags, too, since looking at Trent was starting to feel  awkward. She hated that it felt awkward. "I think I packed everything I  own."

He reached across her, plucking Panda from her lap. "Not him."

"He goes in the morning. He'll suffocate overnight."

He laughed just a little, turning Panda in his hands. "He's kind of battered, isn't he?"

"Rough work living with me." Fi regarded Panda sadly at this revelation. Poor guy.

Trent raised a single eyebrow and handed the stuffed bear back.  Gesturing at the bags again, he said, "It's like you're never planning  on coming back."

She caught his eyes but couldn't figure out what they said. "I could be  back after camp. We won't know till we know." She did this last bit in  her best Bruce Doyle voice, who'd said it over and over the past few  weeks.

"Nah. You'll stay." He tapped the side of his head. "I've got a feeling."

"That's what Mom said."

"Smart lady. And scary hot for a mom."

Fiona shoved him with her foot. He caught it and shoved it back at her. "Man, you're slow. Like, turtle-in-cold-syrup slow."

She tried to kick him once more. He dodged. Shoving and pent-up laughter  followed-until, slightly out of breath, they ended their spontaneous  wrestling match, lying side by side on their backs. They stared at the  ceiling from on top of Fi's messed-up bed.

"So you're not mad anymore?" Fi asked as Trent breathed beside her.

She could feel him shake his head. "Can't stay mad at my Fi-Fi long."

Still on her back, she moved her head sideways to get a good look at  him. She didn't recall having quite this perspective before-seeing those  tiny specks of green sprinkled throughout his pale blue eyes. "You're  the only one who calls me that."

"Intentional." He pivoted his head, too. "A little bit of you that belongs only to me."

Fi blinked slowly. "Is there a part of you that belongs only to me?"

"Absolutely."

They stared at each other for a while. Fi didn't know how to  say-explain-all the conflicts she felt. Here she was, lying beside her  best friend, having distinctly inappropriate best-friend thoughts. But  Jackson's words echoed in her head. Don't get involved. It sucks to lose  your best friend. She'd hated him a little for that advice.

"Trent-" she began.

He shifted to his side, propping his head on his hand. Interrupting her,  his voice came out low and husky. Uncharacteristically serious. "You  remember when I said you're the reason I evolved past the fart joke?"

Fi nodded at this unexpected change of subject.

Trent closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead for a moment. Finally, he  opened his eyes and focused on her. "You know, sometimes I get freaking  terrified of the past. How the slightest thing could have changed how I  got here. Like-what if Ryan got put on another team or your mom signed  you up for ballet and you didn't come to the practices? What if my  parents bought a different house? They were looking at another one, you  know-three blocks east. I'd have gone to a different school, played on a  different team.

"There are so many ways this life might not have happened." Trent's gaze  sharpened on her. He scooted down to lie fully on his side. With a  quieter voice-he was just inches from her-he continued. "If you didn't  pick up that stick and try to murder me with it in your backyard, if you  weren't my best friend, if I was left to become me without you-God, Fi,  I have no idea who I'd be. Even though it all did happen, even though  we're right here . . . how fragile all this is? It scares the hell out  of me."

Trent's hand came up to Fi's cheek. He used one finger to trace her  jawline, then her cheekbone, and then her brow. Eventually, his eyes  traveled to hers. "This scares me, too. Your leaving."                       
       
           



       

Under his fingers, her nerve endings felt everything-like they'd been  turned all the way up. Her muscles had tightened to the point of  shattering.

She wanted this from him. And then she didn't. Staying in the dark,  ignoring this track they'd been on for a while-it would make the  Northwestern choice easier. She could pursue the dream without second  guesses or what-ifs trailing right behind her.

Trent shook his head sadly, like he could read her mind. "I'm not asking  you to stay. I don't want you to stay. You need to do this. I can't  force your life into what works for me, anyway. But at least I can tell  you, make sure you understand-like, really understand. About me. And how  I feel about you."

Mirroring him, Fi rolled to her side, lining up their faces. She lifted  her hand and began to trace along Trent's jawline, just as he was doing  to her. His eyes fluttered closed at the touch. "How do you feel about  me?" she whispered.

"You know that girl I described? My type?" He opened his eyes and smiled. "I was describing you. She's you."

Fi wondered if he could hear her heart through her tank top. Not sure  why she was protesting when every part of her wanted to just kiss him  already, wanted to open this door that may or may not lead anywhere and  walk right on through.