June First

June, age 19

“It’s a good day to save someone, Peach.”

Joyous disbelief washes over me when his voice meets my ears, and my head pops up as I sit cross-legged in a golden field. It’s littered with tall grass and wildflowers, while fluffy white clouds dance overhead.

There he stands.

Backlit from the bright sun, illuminating his head like a halo.

Like an angel.

“Theo!” Leaping to my feet, I race over to him with outstretched arms and a wildly beating heart. “You came.”

“You think I’d pass up an opportunity to dump my semi-passable advice on you? Hell no,” he grins, hefting me up in the air when I land in his arms. “You’re way overdue.”

Warmth encases me as I hold onto him, and all I want to do is soak up his sunshine, storing it inside all of my empty holes and pockets, so I never grow cold—so he’s always near. “I miss you so much,” I murmur into his shirt collar. “I hate that you left me.”

“I didn’t leave you, Peach. I’m here, aren’t I?”

I let out a huff as I pull back, gazing into his steely blue eyes. They twinkle with a galaxy of stars. “You’re just a manifestation of my subconscious.”

He scratches the nape of his neck with an admittable shrug. “I didn’t realize they made subconsciouses this witty and charming.” Swiping his hair back, a small mirror appears in his hand as he gazes into it with a smile. “Wickedly handsome, too.”

A tearful laugh spills out of me. “Where are we?” I wonder as I let him go, memorizing the way his sandy freckles decorate his cheekbones.

“You tell me. This is your brain,” he replies, quirking a smile.

I look around.

The sunlit field appears endless, and the tepid breeze kisses my face just right. A rainbow arches overhead, playing peekaboo with silly-shaped clouds. They look like Super Mario characters. I smile. “I guess it doesn’t matter, as long as you’re here.”

When I glance back at Theo, he’s sprawled out on a bright blue couch with a video game controller in his hand. His thumbs tap away at the buttons while he stares at a television that appeared out of nowhere. A grin curls in my direction. “Rainbow Road,” he says. “My favorite level.”

Mario Kart lights up the screen. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the Find ɴøᴠel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

I saunter toward him, collapsing at his side and resting my head atop his shoulder. Sighing heavily, I murmur, “Everything is a mess. I’m lost without you.”

“You’re not lost,” he counters. “You’re finding your way—there’s a difference.”

“How do I know which way is right?”

He cocks his head as the game flickers across from us. “There’s no right way, Peach, and there’s no wrong way. There’s only the way you choose and what you decide to make of that choice.”

“That sounds terribly vague,” I groan.

“I told you my advice was only semi-passable.”

My muffled laugh meets his shoulder as I shift beside him. The sky starts to dim, the sun dipping behind a downy cloud, causing me to snuggle closer to Theo. “Mom and Dad are so angry right now. They’re angry at me; they’re angry at Brant. And Brant is angry with himself,” I ponder miserably, picking at the fringe on my Technicolored romper. “And the only thing I’m angry about is that everyone is so damn angry.”

“Anger is nothing but misplaced passion.”

My eyes narrow with thought. “Passion is trouble. Passion only leads to heartache.”

“Passion is meaning, and it would be a hell of an empty life without it.”

Quiet reflection passes through me as I internalize those words. I think back to all of life’s heartaches, all of life’s most trying moments, and I know exactly what sits at the root of them all.

Love.

So much love.

And for as heartbreaking as those trying moments are, I would never, in a million years, forfeit the love that spurred them.

I wouldn’t give up knowing Theo to spare myself the pain of his loss. I wouldn’t give up meeting Brant to prevent the fallout of our love story.

Yes.

Passion is meaning.

Passion is purpose.

And tragedy is simply the risk we take in order to experience it.

Swallowing, I nod my head, reaching for Theo’s hand and squeezing. “I’m faced with a choice, Theo. Do I pursue my lifelong dream, or do I stay right here with the man I love?”

Theo turns to look at me, the video game controller vanishing from his grip. We’re both lying on our backs now, grass blades tickling our skin as we stare up at the rainbow-spun sky. Shoulder to shoulder. Heart to heart. “Maybe it’s not a matter of choosing one or the other,” he tells me. “It’s just a matter of which one comes first.”

I don’t hesitate. “Brant will always come first. But… how do I know what’s best for him?” Tears wet my eyes, and my chest aches with conflict. “Oh, Theo, this is so hard. This is impossible.”

“When you wake up, you’ll know,” he says gently. “You’ll have your answer.”

Our fingers interlace between us in the grass, and when I glance at him, he’s a young boy again. Small but mighty. My fierce protector.

My big brother.

His freckles spread and scatter as he sends me a lopsided grin, his eyes glinting with gallantry. “Don’t worry, Peach… I’ll save you.”

And in a flash, he sits up with a wink, lifting his hand filled with sparkling pixie dust, and blows it right into my face.

I inhale a sharp breath.

My eyes ping open.

Thunderous heartbeats reverberate through me, and my skin feels damp and clammy as I sit up straight in bed.

Blinking, I grip the front of my nightshirt, fisting the cotton between shaky fingers while new daylight spills in between cracked drapes. And when my eyes adjust from the sleep fog and the dream haze, my sights land on the far wall, fixing to the canvas perched above my dresser.

The painting of a fearless bluebird with rainbow wings, soaring skyward, daring to dream.

The one Theo bought for me.

“You’re going places, Peach, you really are. And I’ll be cheering you along, all the way to the top.”

I cup a hand over my mouth as emotion sluices me. As awareness flows through me. As my vivid dream with Theo both guts me and pieces me back together.

I feel him with me.

Right here, right now.

I feel him.

Whipping off the bed covers, I slip into a pair of shorts and throw my hair up into a sloppy ponytail, then look around for my shoes and purse.

I race out the front door of my apartment, already knowing Brant isn’t sleeping in the room beside mine. He hasn’t come home yet. It’s been four days since my emotional showdown with Mom and Dad, and I haven’t seen Brant since I left in a tear-filled rush that morning.

No phone calls. No checking in.

Only a single text message that first night:

Brant: I need to clear my head. Kip is letting me sleep on his couch for a few days. I’m sorry, Junebug. I’m sorry I’m not strong enough right now. I’m sorry I let you down, and I’m sorry for loving you in the worst possible way. I failed to protect you, and it’s killing me. I need to figure out what’s best for us—for you. I just need some time.

I cried myself to sleep that night, and then again the next night.

And not out of anger. Not out of resentment that Brant allowed me to deal with the fallout with my parents all on my own. I didn’t cry because of him.

I cried for him.

He shut down.

He’s hating himself right now, and I can’t think of a sadder thing.

Tugging at my ponytail, I traipse through the parking lot and hop into my car, pausing to pull out my cell phone before I start driving. I shoot a quick text to Brant as I fend off tears.

Me: We need to talk. Today. It’s important. Meet me at the apartment when you get off work. I hope you’re okay… I love you. <3 Junebug

He reads it right away, but he doesn’t reply.

And fifteen minutes later, after I pull into the familiar parking lot and exit the car, he still hasn’t replied.

A hard lump stings the back of my throat as I shove the phone into my pocket and trek through the maze of graves and headstones. I fit in here. I’m as haunted as these sacred grounds.

But I’m setting myself free.

I make a beeline to the headstone I know all too well—the one that steals my breath every time I see it.

The one I spent every Saturday night with for months.

The one that listened to me vent, sing, cry, and purge as I sprawled out across the gravesite.

Theo.

Dropping to my knees beside the stone, my lips tremble as I read over the familiar tribute.

Son. Brother. Friend.

Saver.

My chest hurts. It hurts so bad.

“I had a dream about you last night,” I say, wiping away tears with the back of my wrist. “I dream about you a lot, but this one felt so real. It’s like you were really speaking to me, from wherever you are. Over the rainbow, up in the sky, maybe even on the moon…” Pressing a hand to my heart, I smile, “Or from right here.”

Birds chirp and chatter in a nearby tree, and I think about the bluebird painting.

“I just wanted to tell you that I won’t be coming back here for a while, but I promise to take you with me. I’m going to soar, Theo. I’m going to spread my wings and fly, and you’re going to cheer me along, all the way to the top. I know you will,” I sniffle, my hair floating around me as a breeze sweeps through. It’s warm and safe, and I pretend it’s Theo letting me know he’s listening. “I’m going to be brave like you. I’ve learned from the best, after all.” I squeeze my eyes shut, the tears trickling down my cheeks and landing in the precious soil. “It’s time.”

The birds stop singing, and the breeze goes still.

It’s just us.

It’s just me and Theo now.

“It’s a good day to save someone,” I whisper, my fingertips skimming along the carving of his name, “And I think, in the end… it might just save us both.”

My chin lifts, my tear-glazed eyes peering up at the sky full of clouds as I inhale a tattered breath. But that breath catches in my throat, manifesting into a startled gasp, and my tears fall harder, my heart galloping. Goosebumps prickle my skin as a knowing smile paints my lips.

I blink up at those clouds.

And I swear,

I swear…

The cloud that dances right above my head is shaped just like Mario’s hat.

The suitcases are heavy as I lift them off the ground, but not as heavy as the weight of my heart. That weight is backbreaking.

He didn’t show.

I try to force back the sob climbing its way up my throat as my fingers curl around the suitcase handles, but it pushes through anyway. Ugly and mean.

Devastating.

My arms start to shake, and I drop the suitcases back to the ground, dragging them across the floor as more awful cries pour out of me. Dad booked a one-way ticket to New York City the day I confronted them at the house, and I’d had no intention of stepping foot on that plane. I’m an adult, after all—just because my father wanted me to leave, didn’t mean I had to.

But I changed my mind.

And Brant has no idea. He has no clue that my father is driving me to the airport in an hour, and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.

I don’t know when I’ll ever see him again.

The pain is wretched. Truly excruciating. This decision was hard enough, but not having a chance to say goodbye to the boy I’ve loved since my heart learned how to beat?

Tears stream down my flushed cheeks. Aggie is tucked under my right arm while I pull the suitcases toward the front door.

And that’s when the key jiggles the lock, and I freeze.

The door pushes open.

Brant.

It’s Brant.

“Oh…” I’m not sure if it’s a word, or a sound, or simply pure relief. I drop the luggage and my stuffed elephant and dash into his arms, nearly knocking him off his feet. “God, Brant… I didn’t think you’d come. I almost couldn’t go through with it.”

Emotion seizes me. My arms cling, and my chest squeezes.

“Where are you going?” His voice is frayed and broken as he lifts his own arms to envelop me in a gentle embrace. “Your bags are packed.”

He sounds so distant and far away, like he’s already checked out. I draw back, my face a mess of grief. “I… I wanted to talk to you about that. You’re usually off at four on Wednesdays, and it’s almost seven. I don’t have much time.”

Brant swallows, drinking in my tears and packed suitcases. A frown mars his browline. “You’re moving out?”

My head shakes slightly. “I-I’m moving to New York. Indefinitely.” I watch his eyes flare with a mix of astoundment and dismay. “My flight leaves at ten-fifteen.”

Silence coils around us, thick and suffocating.

Brant just stares at me, as if he’s waiting for the punchline. His hands curl at his sides while his jaw tics, but he says nothing.

A panicked whimper tickles my throat. “Say something, Brant. Talk to me.”

He blinks, then refocuses his gaze to the left. His expression is pure heartbreak.

“Brant, please—”

“Okay,” he whispers softly, nodding his head as his eyes glaze over. “Okay.”

My breath hitches. “Okay?”

“Yes. It’s the right call.” He clenches his fists, staring off over my shoulder. “You should go.”

Tremors ripple through me, causing my limbs to tremble.

It’s so easy.

He’s letting me go so easily, like I’m nothing more than water in his palm.

“That’s it, then?”

He still won’t look at me. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “I’ve been spinning my wheels, trying to figure out what’s best for you, June, and I keep coming back to the same conclusion,” he says. “And it’s not me.” Glancing down at his feet, his biceps twitch and flex, riddled with tension; like it’s taking all his effort to remain composed. “I just… I thought we’d have more time.”

“I’m sorry… I know it’s sudden, but Dad booked me—”

He closes his eyes with a sigh, dipping his head. “Don’t do that. You don’t need to justify something I already know is right.”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” I admit on an anguished breath.

Brant stands a few feet away, looking tortured beyond belief. His complexion is bloodless, his stance defeated. I want to hug him again, but I’m afraid I won’t ever let go. “There’s nothing left to say, Junebug. This is the way it needs to be, and anything else is just going to sound like… stay.” His voice cracks horribly, but he regroups. “And that’s the last thing you need to hear.”

That’s the only thing I want to hear, my mind screams.

He inhales a shuddering breath and glances up at me with eyes like a wounded soldier. “I stayed away because I’m completely defenseless when I’m around you, June. Logic flies out the window, and all I want to do is whisper pretty lies into your ear, telling you we’re going to be okay. I can’t be around you without touching you, and I can’t touch you without wanting to keep you.”

Touch me.

Keep me.

Never let me go, Brant.

My brain is a traitorous beast. I run shaky fingers through my hair and squeeze my fists. “This feels wrong. It feels awful.”

“It only feels wrong because I’m standing right in front of you, trying so damn hard not to break,” he murmurs. “When you’re on that plane and your head is clear, you’ll know it’s right.”

He’s right.

I need to go.

It’s for the best, June.

But I still can’t bring my feet to move.

“Go,” he chokes out. Brant spins away from me, linking his hands behind his head, as if it’s far too painful to watch me walk away. The muscles in his back ripple with agony. “Please.”

My head bobs through my tears as they continue to spill out of me, trailed by more heart-wrenching whimpers. Turning quickly, I place a hand over my mouth, and my long shirt sleeve dampens with sorrow. I trudge over to the discarded bags, bending over to grasp the handle of one.

With my hand still holding in my cry, I use the other to drag a bag as I move backward. It scrapes along the floor, mimicking the sound of my shredding heart.

That’s when I feel him.

That’s when he comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, burying his face into the crook of my neck. “I’m trying to be strong because I know this is what’s best for you,” he confesses, his voice cracking on every word. “But I’m not built for this, June. I’m not built for a life without you.”

My stifled sob falls out, and I spin around in his arms, collapsing against his chest. He holds me so tight, crying right along with me as we shake and mourn and grieve.

“You’ve always been here,” he says through gritted teeth, cradling the back of my head. “It’s always been you and me, and I’m going to be so fucking lost without your hugs, and the sound of your voice, and your sweet smiles.” He squeezes me in his steadfast arms. “But I’ve been selfish for too long. I need to let you fly.”

“Come with me,” I weep into his t-shirt. “Fly with me.”

“I can’t, Junebug. You know I can’t.” Brant twines his fingers through my loose hair, kissing the top of my head as he shudders against me. “You need this. You’ve lived your whole life in my shadow, and it’s time for you to find your place in the world.”

He’s right.

I hate it, but he’s right.

We’ve grown co-dependent. We’re addicted to each other. And until I learn how to live without him, I’ll never be able to live with him in a healthy way.

Sniffling, I murmur, “What if my place is with you?”

“Then I’m here. I’ll be waiting.”

A gasp leaves me as I press my cheek to his chest. “You mean it?”

“Of course, I mean it.”

I can’t stop crying. Even though I know in my heart that I need to do this, it’s the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make. I want to prove to my parents that this isn’t a temporary lapse in sanity, or a dirty little consequence of our tight-knit bond, and I can only do that through time and space.

This decision is about more than just dancing.

Our future depends on it.

Glancing at him with swollen, puffy eyes, I reach up and clasp his face between my palms. “I know we’ll be miles apart, but…” My lips quiver. My hands shake. “You’re still Brant… and I’m still June.”

His eyes close, and he says in a strangled breath, “That’s right.”

I pull up on my tiptoes to kiss him. “You told me one year on Christmas Eve that sometimes a lot of love can make you cry,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to the little freckle that dots his lower lip. “I didn’t understand it then. I didn’t even want it.” I kiss him again, lingering longer. “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, Brant. Loving you is worth every single tear.”

His forehead crashes against mine as a gut-wrenching sound passes through his lips. “A lot of love… is a good thing to have,” he says, his voice worn and raw, echoing his past words. “The downside is, the more love you have, the harder it is to lose it.”

“We’ll never lose it. I’ve been yours since the day I was born, and I’ll be yours until the day I die. Distance doesn’t change destiny.”

Brant scoops me into his arms as our mouths collide and our tongues seek. The kiss is desperate and frenzied, full of salt from our tears and mournful moans. I feel him breaking down the longer our mouths remain fused, the longer he touches me, longing to keep me. His grip tightens, his fingers fisting any place he can reach—my waist, my neck, my hair. He devours me, angling his mouth to taste new places, hoping to unlock one where we can both escape to.

His resolve is disintegrating.

He’s cracking.

And I’m on that frozen pond again, needing to make a choice that will change the course of my life.

With a strangled cry, I pull back, shaking my head, knowing I need to be the strong one now.

Brant has spent his entire life being the strong one.

He’s taken on my added weights, my heavy burdens, and he’s carried them with dignity. With pride. Brant has always gone out of his way to protect me, and now it’s my turn.

It’s my turn to be brave.

His mother’s last words to him filter through my mind, tightening my chest with sentiment. I heave in a rickety breath, taking a small step back. “I’ll always protect you.”

I watch him carefully as a beat passes.

As he absorbs my words.

His kissed lips part with a sharp inhale.

“Now… cover your ears,” I tell him gently.

Brant’s eyes flash with memory. With painful familiarity. A single tear makes a languid, agonizing descent from the corner of his eye, down his cheek.

But he does it.

He obeys.

His hands lift slowly as his eyes close tight, more tears pooling and falling, and he cups his ears, exhaling a long, tapered breath.

“I don’t want to leave,” I begin, placing my own hands over his, keeping my voice low. Tears pour down my face like a fractured dam. “I want to stay and build a life with you—a beautiful life I know we deserve. I want to marry you, Brant Elliott, and I want to make love to you every night beneath rainbows and stars. I want to have children with you. I want to raise them strong and brave, just like their father, and I want to sing them lullabies by the light of the moon.” My words clip with grief, and I take a moment to find my voice again. With a sorrow-filled sigh, I finish, “I don’t want to chase my dream because it’s not a dream without you in it.”

I stare at him.

Exposed, vulnerable, so beautiful and broken.

His palms are pressed against both ears as wetness streaks his face like sad, falling raindrops. His eyes are still squeezed shut as his body shivers with emotion.

I pull away, letting go of his hands and waiting.

A few heavy moments stretch between us before Brant’s eyes flutter open and his hands slowly drop from his ears. He licks away the tears at the corner of his mouth and whispers raggedly, “What did you say?”

Closing my eyes, I gather my courage.

And I lie to him.

“I said… this is for the best. It’s better this way,” I murmur, trying to keep my tone level. Strong and fearless. Then I step into him one more time, lift up, and place a final goodbye kiss to his lips. “Look for me over the rainbow, Brant. This Junebug will be flying high.”

She’s gone.

June is gone—and now, the only comfort I have left is the hope that all of her dreams come true.

I sit collapsed on the tile floor with my head in my hands, hating the sob that pours out of me. I don’t want to hear it.

I don’t want to hear my chest caving in because there’s no sound more painful than a breaking heart.

So, I cover my ears.

I cover my ears and let myself break.

A tragedy occurred, that much I know.

I just don’t know if the tragedy was in her leaving me,

or loving me.