Never Ever

47| Merry frickin' Christmas

My eyes stay fixed on the window as the captain's voice crackles overhead, announcing we're about forty-five minutes from landing. It feels like I've spent the entire flight holding my breath, waiting to wake up from a nightmare, but I haven't, and I won't, because this is real life.

Even if I wish it weren't.

I haven't checked my phone since boarding. I already know most of the messages will be from Addy, trying to convince me to change my mind and come to Cabo. But the thought of being there with Noah while knowing he wants nothing to do with me was too much for me to handle. So the night before we were supposed to leave, I let her know I was heading home for Christmas and turned off my phone.

I'll admit it was a shitty thing to do, and when I finally pull out my phone to read the messages, I expect several of them to tell me how much she hates me for ditching them last-minute. But instead, there's just one voicemail that says:

Okay, first things first. I need you to message me the second you land so that I know you're safe and alive, okay? Secondly, I know exactly what will be going on in your overthinking brain, and I want you to know I'm not mad at you for bailing on Cabo, even though you're totally going to miss out on all my cute Cabo outfits. I get why you couldn't come, Ever. And I'm sorry this is happening. And I love you. That is all. Bye!

The urge to cry suddenly overwhelms me. I have no idea what the hell I did to deserve a friend like Addy, but I've never felt more grateful for having her than I do now. I return to the homescreen, about to put my phone back in my pocket, when I scan my missed calls for his name. But it's not there. We haven't spoken since that night on the rooftop.

God, I miss him. I still have the instinct to reach out and message him like everything's fine. Some days, I even start typing a message before I remember I'm not allowed to, and suddenly it's like I can't breathe all over again.

I don't even want to think about him in Cabo. He's single now, so he can do whatever he wants. And with Natalia there, who knows what might happen? The thought alone makes me feel sick. But the worst part? I don't hate him. I wish I did. I want to be angry and blame him for hurting me. But I can't, because I understand. Maybe more than anyone. Just like me, he needs to hit rock bottom before he can figure out how to swim back to the surface.

I turn back to the window, blinking hard against the pressure behind my eyes and trying to ignore the tight knot of anxiety in my stomach. It's strange. Sometimes I still can't believe how much my life has changed since I first boarded that plane for college.

When I first left Massachusetts, I was a shadow of myself, too afraid to get back in the pool and still convinced I was a terrible person. But now I'm back on a swim team. I have friends again. Things I'd started to believe were out of reach after the accident somehow found their way back to me, and a lot of that is because of Noah.

He was the one who reminded me that life doesn't end after one mistake. He taught me how to keep swimming through the fear and panic attacks and self-doubt. He let me lean on him like my own personal lifeline during the times I couldn't float. If it weren't for him encouraging me every step of the way, I'm not sure I would have found the courage to pull myself out of the deep end. That's why, regardless of what happens between us now, I'll never give up on him.

He never gave up on me.

***

Three hours later, I step out of the taxi and into the chilly air, my boots crunching softly against our snow-covered drive. The house looks exactly the same. Same red-brick facade, same French-latticed windows on either side of the white porch. The same maple trees line the circular driveway, their bare branches now draped with twinkling fairy lights, courtesy of my mother. And yet, something feels different about it. Or maybe it's me who's different.