Waking Up to Love by Evan Purcell

die, and it’s all Scott McInney’s fault
.
    She landed with a thump in his strong, outstretched arms. He held her close, waiting for her to catch her breath.
    “See?” she said. “Falling wasn’t so bad after all.”
    “That’s because you had someone to catch you,” Scott said. “The only thing that caught me was a pine cone. And, um, you’re welcome, by the way.”
    She lay in his grip, feeling the hard surfaces of his chest and arms. She could’ve stayed there forever. She looked into his eyes, which were crinkled and narrowed onto hers.
    “I think my mom’s watching us from her window,” he said.
    “So what do you suppose we do about that?” she asked.
    In response, he leaned forward and kissed her. Or, at least, he tried to.
    And Ramona was certainly tempted.
    Even though his face was so close to hers, she couldn’t see him clearly. The sun was directly behind him. All she saw was the halo around him, the golden outline that framed every curve of his face. She felt the press of his lips even before it happened. She wanted to feel the press of his lips—
    But she couldn’t.
    At the last second, Ramona jumped out of his strong arms and tumbled onto the ground. “Sorry,” she said.
    “I’m sorry,” he countered. “I was just putting on a show. I should’ve asked.”
    “Yeah, you should’ve.” But Ramona didn’t really mean that. She liked the way he took charge; she liked a guy who could catch her when she fell. No, it wasn’t his fault that she pulled away; it was her own.
    Ramona glanced up at Debra’s window. The curtains were drawn. She was no longer watching them. They could actually be themselves now, whatever that meant.
    Scott stepped a few paces back, trying to get a full view of the treehouse looming above them. He smiled in a far-off kind of way.
    “You’re not mad at me?” she asked.
    Her words pulled him back to reality. “What? Uh, no. I was … just thinking about … everything. We had so many memories up there.”
    “I know,” Ramona said. “Remember how you’d tell those ghost stories? I never got scared, but Nessa …” The instant she mentioned her sister’s name, she wished she could take it back. They were having so much fun together—they were so
comfortable
together—and she’d just ruined it by mentioning the one person who’d messed up their lives.
    “Maybe we should go back inside,” Scott said. He turned toward the house without waiting for a response.
    Ramona wasn’t ready to go inside, though. Now that she’d mentioned Nessa’s name, she had to press the conversation. She just had to. No matter how much Scott hated talking about it, Ramona just had to know. They had gotten so much out in the open during their lunch conversation yesterday, but there was still one answer that Ramona needed. “Um, Scott?” she said.
    He didn’t turn around. He probably sensed where this conversation was headed.
    “About Nessa …”
    Scott turned to face her, slowly, calmly. His face was blank. “There’s nothing to say. I—”
    “Do you regret it?” she asked.
    “What?”
    “Do you regret marrying her?”
    He didn’t seem to have an answer, and for one tense moment, Ramona thought he was going to avoid the question.
Just say it,
she thought.
Please. Just tell me how you felt.
    She needed him to say something, anything.
    Finally, he looked her right in the eyes and said, “Sometimes.”
    “Do you love her?” she asked.
    “I did.”
    • • •
    In a way, it was good that Ramona didn’t dream, because if she had, she would’ve dreamed about Scott.
    Instead, she watched late-night infomercials and drank hot cocoa. Debra always told her that cocoa would keep her awake at night, but she was already awake. Wide awake. It couldn’t do any more damage. Besides, at least she got to learn about an amazing new vacuum cleaner that also doubled as a mop.
    The digital clock on the wall said three twenty-seven. She’d have to be up and ready for work in