I lean back against the wall, my eyes opening. “Twister? Was that Tristan’s idea?” I loathe that I sound jealous, but I can’t help how I feel. That I wish I were the one living with her, playing games where I get to tangle our bodies together in awkward positions.

“No, it was actually Lea’s,” she says, and I distinctively hear a door close. “She said she was bored and that she needed to do something other than sit on the couch and watch reruns of Vampire Diaries.”

“And Twister was that thing?”

“Yeah, it was the only game we had in the closet, and just in case you’re wondering, it did belong to Tristan.”

“I knew he had something to do with it.” I remember all the times he wanted me to hook up with girls. Tristan always wanted to hook up with any girl he came across. God, it feels like years ago when it was only months. A whole different world, full of cracks, temptations, and unsteady footsteps. That’s what life feels like when you’ve been on drugs for years and then suddenly you’re sober.

“Yeah, I guess he’s kind of a perv, isn’t he?”

“Sometimes,” I say, then decide I need a subject change because talking about Tristan’s pervertedness isn’t helping me calm down. “So I was thinking that you could put on the song first tonight and then we could talk.”

“Yeah, I could do that.” She sounds confused. “But can I ask you why?”

“I’m just having a rough day,” I tell her, being more honest than I usually am. “And waiting to hear what song you’re going to pick out for me always cheers me up.”

“Okay, what kind of song do you want tonight?” There’s cheeriness in her tone and I can feel my heart rate calming from it.

“How about a hopeful one?” I ask, unsure if she’ll get what I mean.

But I quickly learn that I should never question Nova when it comes to music, because a few minutes later “Rise” by Eddie Vedder comes on. It’s probably not what most people would have picked for a hopeful song, but leave it to Nova to pick something different that still gets the point across. She found me a song that’s not talking about rainbows and sunshine, but that gives enough hope that it makes me feel better.

“So what do you think?” she wonders, getting back on the phone with the music playing in the background.

“I think it’s good.” I relax in my bed and shut my eyes. Breathing seems a little bit easier, just like thinking. In fact, everything seems easier at the moment.

“Does it give you hope?” she asks, and I can hear the expectation in her voice.

I keep my eyes shut, but a trace of a smile graces my lips. “You know what? It does. It really, really does.” I pause, knowing that what I say next is going to be huge for me, but for some reason I want to do it, want to talk with her, because it always seems to make life just the tiniest bit easier. “Can I talk to you about why I was upset tonight?”

“Of course,” she says, although she does seem nervous. “I told you that you can talk to me about anything.”

I take a deep breath, then another, preparing myself to crack open a door. “It’s about my future and how much it scares me.”

“I get that,” she says, and my eyelids flutter open. “But I promise that it’ll get better—that moving forward will get better.”

“I know.” I stare at a photo of Lexi on the wall. She’s laughing at something… I honestly can’t even remember what it was. Something I said, I think. She looks so happy. So alive. Eyes bright. Heart beating. Happy. “But it’s hard to think about a future when it feels like every time I do, I’m leaving someone behind.”

I hear her breath hitch in her throat, but Nova being Nova, she sounds calm when she speaks. “I actually get that really well. That’s the way I felt about Landon.”

I swallow hard. “Did you love him?”

“Yes,” she utters softly. “He was actually my friend for a few years before we got together, but that helped me get to know him more.” She sucks in a breath and releases it gradually, like she’s on the brink of tears. “I thought I was going to marry him.”

I can feel tears prickling at my eyes as I realize what I’m about to say. “I thought I was going to marry Lexi, too… although I’m not sure she was on the same page as me. She was cryptic like that. And restless. And she didn’t like the idea of settling down.” And when she died, I saw our future together slipping away, but I was okay with it because I was dying, too, but then I came back without her and that future was gone forever.

“Landon didn’t like talking about the future at all,” Nova says sorrowfully. “Sometimes I think it’s because he knew he was… well, you know… and he either didn’t let himself talk about it, didn’t want to make any empty promises to me, or just didn’t ever think about it.”

I’ve been close to that place where taking my life seemed like the way I was going to go. Being there, I didn’t really think about my future, but I don’t want to tell her that because she deserves a better answer. “I’m sure he thought about it,” I say. “Even though he might have never said anything, he had to think about it a little. Being with you forever.”

“You think so?” she asks hopefully.

“I know so.” It’s a lie, but for a good cause. She deserves it—deserves the world and more.

“Quinton?”

“Yeah.” I’m getting choked up and even one word conveys all the grief, agony, regret, and sorrow surfacing inside me.

“I know it’s really hard to think about the future and everything,” she says. “But I have this really good feeling that yours is going to turn out a lot better than you think it is.”

“I hope you’re right,” I reply, massaging my hand over my aching chest, the scar across it a permanent reminder of what happened that tragic night. “But I don’t even know what I’m going to do in the future. I keep thinking about where I could possibly be a few years from now…”

“And what do you see?”

“I don’t know… nothing, really, at the moment.”

“Well, what do you hope to see one day?”

I roll on my back and glance at another picture of Lexi, one where I have my arms around her in a tight embrace. She’s in a red prom dress and I’m wearing a black tux. It was taken only a few weeks before the accident. “I hate seeing anything, because it makes me feel guilty that I’m… not having a future… with her…” I get really unnerved as the topic drifts toward Lexi. In a way it makes me feel like I’m almost cheating on Lexi by talking to Nova about her, yet I feel guilty talking to Nova about my old girlfriend because I’m sure she doesn’t really want to hear about her. It’s very confusing.

“Do you think she’d want you to have a future still?” she asks in a tentative voice.

That wasn’t what I was expecting. “I’m not sure…” My thoughts wander to that night she died and begged me not to forget her. “There’s actually something that happened… that night of the accident that makes me think she might not have wanted me to.”

“What was that?” she asks, then quickly adds, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

I’ve been asked by my therapists several times to talk about that night. What happened. How I felt. I always refused to give details, but with Nova, I feel like I can finally talk about it. Maybe because I know she’s seen things like I have. Death. Or maybe it’s that over the last couple of months I’ve come to trust her.

“She asked me to promise her that I wouldn’t ever forget her… when she was dying… and I did…” My voice is so strained and so quiet I’m not certain Nova even hears me. I wish I couldn’t hear me, because as soon as I say it, I want to take it back. But I can’t. It’s as permanent as the scar on my chest.

Nova is silent, probably trying to figure out how to respond to such an alarming statement. I feel bad for putting her in such a position, letting horrible secrets like that slip out that no one wants to hear about. I’m about to tell her that I should probably go, when she finally speaks.

“You don’t have to forget her to move forward in your life,” she says. “You can still remember her. And I’m sure you will, without even trying. In fact, I think it’s impossible to forget about someone that you loved once. They always stay with you.”

“But you know what happened with me… you know that I was the one driving during the accident.” I’ve never wanted a hit more badly than I do right now. The idea of sniffing, injecting, hell I’d go for inhaling, anything that could distance me from my emotions, sounds amazing right now.

“I know what I read from the newspaper.” Her voice is so soothing that it’s making my heart stay steady despite how much it wants to speed up. “But it doesn’t mean I understand what happened. I know from experience that hearing about stuff is way different from the actual experience.”

I think she’s trying to press me to tell her, but I can’t. There’s no way I can tell her the details of that night. What went on. How responsible I am for the lives lost that night. What exactly happened. Knowing Nova, she’ll definitely tell me that it wasn’t my fault when she hears everything, but that’s not what I need from her right now. I just need her. The sound of her voice. The image of her in my head.

“I can’t,” I whisper, feeling strangled. “It’s too hard to talk about.”

Her soft breathing flows from the other end and I match my own to the rhythm because it helps me to breathe through the weight bearing down on every inch of my body, helps keep me afloat even though I feel like I’m on the verge of drowning.

“Do you know what Landon and I were doing the night he took his life?” she asks. “We were lying in his backyard stargazing. And it seemed like such a perfect night, except for one thing… something Landon said to me that just didn’t sit right with me, yet I wouldn’t press him to talk about it.”