Only the Good Die Young

Chapter Sixteen

It takes not a minute for Peter to remove the lock and open the door. “It gets dark, be careful,” he says, letting the door shut once we were inside.

I reach my hand out to find him again. I touch his cheek, then slide my hand down to his shoulder and his arm and finally, his hand.

“Why’d you come?” He asks, as if it didn’t have the most obvious answer.

“You.” Short, but sweet.

“I’m done with the whole leading both of us on thing. It’s either me or Eric. I left so the choice would be easier for you.” There’s pain in his voice that breaks my heart.

“Well, you were right.”

“Oh… Should we go back inside?” He pulls his hand from my mine.

“No. I didn’t mean that I picked Eric. I picked you. You’re the one who helped me get over Simon the most. And I was rarely upset when I was with you. You made it easy. Eric’s leaving, anyway. It makes perfect sense that I want you.” I stop, unsure of what else to say.

“What are we going to do?” Peter asks after a minute of silence.

“I was hoping that you'd come back, but I see how happy your grandmother is with you around, and how happy you are to walk around freely. I don’t want you to give that up for me. Especially after I strung you along for months.”

“You got that last part right,” he says, laughing. “But here’s a trick question for you. What’s more important to me, your happiness or mine?”

“Uhh… Hint please?”

“You being happy makes me happy. If you plan on living in Sourdough for the next few years, consider me already there. I’ll just have to break the news to my grandma. I haven’t even been here for a week!”

“Peter, I love you.”

“I love you, too, Ryleigh. But just because you picked me doesn’t mean you get me as easily as you may wish.”

Peter kisses my chin. Giggling, I say, “You missed! I’m not that short.”

This time, he didn’t miss. And it felt pretty darn good to know that I have Peter, and only Peter. We didn’t leave the shed for what felt like an hour. My guess wasn’t far off, since Michelle and Eric were done eating when we came back inside.

Peter and Eric nod at each other as I sit down next to Michelle. I don’t know what it means, but I think they’re getting along, at least.

“Well, the house is clean, and I don’t think there are any chores left to do, aside from groceries. After you pick up some food, you four can do whatever you please, as long as you stay out of trouble,” Fran says, laying a towel across the counter to dry.

“Need to add anything to the list?” Peter asks, tearing off the top sheet of a notepad magnetically attached to the fridge. A little pencil sits on top of the notepad, almost falling.

“Just make sure apples are on there, since I’m making pie later. Thank you, Peter,” Fran replies, kissing his cheek and sending him in the direction of the door to the garage. We follow behind, not bothering to grab phones or sweaters. Peter grabs his keys and a card, although I don’t know if it’s credit or debit.

Peter’s stick shift car sits in the garage. Michelle calls shotgun, her defense being that she had to ride in the back the entire way here. Eric and I climb in back with no argument.

This is the second time I’ve ridden in a vehicle while Peter drives. Now, it’s broad daylight. The clock on the dash read 10:17, meaning we’ve been at the house for almost two hours.