Chapter 32 Never in my life have I felt this terrible. I probably shouldn't have driven to school, because my head hurts so bad I can barely keep my eyes open. But my mother took my phone last night, and I wanted to talk to Miller. I need to talk to him. I don't really recall much that happened after Lexie arrived, but I certainly remember everything that happened with Miller before he left. And I regret all of it. When I see his truck pull into the parking lot, I get out of my car and walk over to it. He turns it off and then unlocks the passenger door. I have no idea if he's still mad at me, so the first thing I do when I'm in his truck is scoot across the seat and wrap my arms around him. "I'm sorry I'm crazy." Miller hugs me back. "You aren't crazy." He pushes me away, but only so he can readjust our position. He scoots toward the middle of the seat and pulls me onto his lap so that I'm straddling him and can look him in the eyes. "I felt bad after I left your house, but I was upset. I've wanted to be with you for a while now, but I want our time together to be meaningful to us and not related to or in spite of anyone else." "I know. I'm sorry. I feel terrible." Miller pulls me against his chest and rubs a soothing hand over my back. "I don't want you to feel terrible. I get it. You've been through a lot, Clara. I don't want you to stress out even more because of me or us. I just want to be part of everything that makes your life better." God, I feel like such an asshole. I'm relieved and lucky that he's as understanding as he is. I kiss him on the cheek and look at him. "Does that mean you don't want to break up with me anymore?" He smiles. "I never did. I was just upset." "Good." I kiss the inside of his palm. "Because it's really gonna hurt when it happens someday. Just thinking you were breaking up with me for two seconds hurt like hell." "Maybe we'll never break up," he says, his voice hopeful. "Sadly, the odds aren't in our favor." He drags a thumb across my bottom lip. "That's a bummer. I sure will miss kissing you." I nod. "Yeah. I'm a great kisser. The best you'll ever have." He laughs, and I drop my head to his shoulder. "What do you think will be the cause of our future breakup?" "I don't know," he says, entertaining my distracting thoughts. "But it'll have to be way more dramatic than last night because we're in too deep." "It will be," I say. "It'll be extremely dramatic. You'll probably become a famous musician, and you'll fall in love with the fame and leave me behind." "I don't even play an instrument, and I can't sing for shit." "I'll probably become a famous actress, then. And I'll introduce you to one of my costars who is more famous than me, and you'll find her more attractive, and you'll want to touch all her Academy Awards." "Not possible. That kind of person doesn't exist." I sit up so I can see his face. "Maybe they'll colonize Mars, and I'll want to move there and you won't." He shakes his head. "I'll still love you from a different planet." I pause. He said, "I'll still love you." I know he didn't mean it that way, but I grin teasingly. "Did you just admit that you're in love with me?" He shrugs, and then his lips spread apart in a shy smile. "Sometimes I feel like I am. I'm sure it's not all that deep yet. We haven't been together that long. We argue a lot more than I'd like. But I feel it. Right below the surface. Tingling. Keeps me awake at night." "That could just be restless leg syndrome." He smiles with a slow shake of his head. "Nope." "This could be the cause of our dramatic breakup. You telling me you might be falling in love with me way too soon." "You think it's too soon? I kind of thought it was the perfect moment." He leans forward and kisses me softly on the cheek. "I've waited three years to be with you. If falling in love with you too soon will ruin that, then I don't even like you. In fact, I hate you." I smile. "I hate you too." He threads our fingers together and smiles. "Seriously, maybe we really won't break up. Ever." "But heartache builds character. Remember?" "So does being in love," he says. What a great point. It's such a good point I kiss him for it. I only give him a peck, though, because I don't think he wants his tongue in my mouth after last night. "Me and Lexie got drunk after you left. I'm pretty hungover, so I think I'm just gonna go back home. I have a headache the size of Rhode Island." "Rhode Island is actually pretty small," he says. "Nebraska, then." "Oh. Well, in that case, you should definitely go home and go back to bed." I kiss him again, on the cheek. "I'll give you a better kiss next time I see you. But I've been puking all night." "When will I see you next?" I shrug. "I'll be at school tomorrow, but I'm probably grounded for a really long time." Miller tucks my hair behind my ear, hugs me, and then says, "Thank you for coming to see me." "Thank you for putting up with me." When we get out of his truck, he gives me one final hug. It's comforting, and on the drive home I think about his hugs. My dad's hugs. Jonah's hugs. They're all great. But if I'm being honest, nothing really compares to my mother's hugs. Or her kisses. I don't really remember a lot about last night, but I do remember her helping me in the bathroom. And for some weird reason, I remember she was in my bed, singing me a random Twenty One Pilots song. And I remember her kissing me on the forehead, right before she told me she loved me. Even at seventeen years old, I still feel all the comforts of childhood when I'm sick and my mother takes care of me. I woke up with my blanket and my sequined pillow. It made me smile, even through the headache. Even through my anger. I wonder if I can somehow separate the anger from the love. I don't want her actions with Jonah to have an effect on the way I feel about her. She's my mother. I don't want to hate her. But what if I won't be able to forgive her? But how do I even know that Jenny and my dad aren't happy for my mom and Jonah? What if they somehow set this in motion from wherever they are? What if my anger is interfering with that somehow? I have a lot of questions. Most of them I know can't be answered. It's making my head hurt even more. When I finally walk into the house, my mother is awake. She's sitting on the couch with her laptop. Probably still applying for jobs. She glances up at me as I shut the door. "You okay?" I nod. "I thought I could do school, but I was wrong. I have a Nebraska headache." I point toward my room. "I'm gonna go back to bed."