My eyes meet Jake’s as everyone backs away to give us privacy.
“Thank you,” I mouth to my friend. He offers a quick wink and puts his arm around Gemma, leading her to his car.
It’s strange to be in here with Elle alone all of a sudden, but I don’t let it change a single thing about our path. We dance through a dozen songs without stopping. All of them slow, and when the fast ones come, we treat them like slow ones too. I memorize her scent, and draw a million lines with my lips along the curve of her neck.
“I love you, Jonah Wydner,” she says.
And I know she means it.
I spin her around, her feet leaving the ground just long enough to pull the world’s best laughter from her chest, and under the spell of joy, I make the same promise to her.
“I love you, too, Eleanor Trombley.”
Epilogue
Eleanor Trombley
I’m sure leaving my childhood home forever would have left a mark no matter when the time came, but the circumstances I ended up with were devastatingly spectacular. I never expected to fall in love so completely. I never expected to lose my sister. More than that, though, I never expected to be so strong.
I danced with Jonah until the sun was close to coming up. At some point, we ran out of music. It didn’t matter. That garage—his garage—was our tiny little bubble where time stood still. Neither of us were going to do a thing to burst that precious capsule until life forced us to.
Maybe we were both all cried out. Or maybe we both knew it would be okay. Whatever the reason, I didn’t shed a single tear when we left. And neither did Jonah. At least, he says he didn’t.
I left with hope.
I left with a letter.
The same one I’ve read a thousand times over the last five and half months. Gemma keeps begging me to read it to her, but I refuse. Jonah’s note, written in the most perfect handwriting I’ve ever seen, was only meant for me.
That letter contains instructions for goal number one. That goal comes due today. To get here, we both had to commit to actual face-to-face video chats once a week. We had to write something—even if it was only a joke—to the other person once a day. We had to listen when the other person needed understanding ears. And we had to believe that when this day came, we would both show up at the same time ready to set a new goal, and another one after that, all the way until we’ve strung together a future where we’re finally together in the same place, maybe even with the same last name.
But life is short and precious and unpredictable. So his letter, it only asks for us to both have faith for things one at a time. I do, and so does he.
I’ve read this note so much the paper has wrinkled. I had to retrace the map he drew for me with an ink pen to make sure I wouldn’t get lost. It’s taken me this far though. A blue line drawn from a star for Austin, Texas to this spot—Little Rock, Arkansas. It’s not quite halfway. My trip was shorter, and his was longer. He gave himself more to do, as Jonah would.
“Of course I’ll drive more,” he said.
Of course he would.
Even through keeping our promises, there’s still a giddy sense of uncertainty sending tingles all over my body. I haven’t seen him in person in months. People are different when you can touch them, kiss them.
I intend to do both.
I see the Bronco turn from the highway in the distance along the flat horizon. I parked right under the FREE CUP OF COFFEE sign for Olga’s Diner, like he said to do. It’s not my old Volkswagen I’m in, but I probably wouldn’t have made it in that thing anyhow. Dad insisted I have a good, reliable form of transportation to get to and from college in the fall. He expects me to visit home often. I think he also knows there will be many trips to Arkansas.
The Bronco tires kick up clouds of dust as Jonah pulls into the parking lot, and my heart skips two beats when he comes to a stop right in front of me. I feel deliciously faint, and I can hardly feel my hands or feet. I force them to work, though, and open my door and step out of my car as he does the same. I wore the yellow sweatshirt just like he asked, and he’s wearing his gray button-down, this time no long-sleeved shirt underneath. It’s a little warmer than I expected, so I push my sleeves up as I step closer to him, my palms shaking while I hold on to my own arms.
“Hi, Eleanor,” he says, his voice like velvet home.
I bite my lip and grin in relief. Sometimes, life carries on as you want it to.
“Hi, Jonah,” I say, holding out for a single second before leaping into his ready arms and remembering what his kiss feels like.
Two weeks exploring Arkansas, and then we’ll make a new plan and pick a new date. And I believe we will always pull through.
Because Jonah and I are. And we always will be.
THE END
Acknowledgments
Holy moly, this book was a joy. Don’t get me wrong, it wrung out my soul a little, but wow! It felt good. I have so many people to thank for this story, and it starts with my heart and home—my boys, Tim and Carter. The family theme is strong in Candy Colored Sky, and I owe that to them. We
