Page 144 of Keeping Score

But to me? It was my favorite one. Because it was real. I wanted to reach out and grab his hand, hold it in my own. The urge was so strong I had to stretch out my fingers to shake it off.

“Let me see your playlist,” I said, grabbing his phone out of the center console.

He raced me to it, but I got there first, grabbing his phone before he had the chance to—

I stared down at the lock screen. Still a photo of us. One that Cassie had taken of us, with my head leaning on his shoulder, hugging his arm to my body. Him looking down at me, the way he always did.

He stared at me as I looked down at it, neither of us saying a word. I didn’t want to hear an explanation or have him hurry to say he would change it soon—and I really didn’t want to tell him how the sight of it caused hope to bloom in my chest.

So, I ignored it, going to the home page because his phone still recognized my Face ID and opened up for me. I pressed the Spotify logo, looking at the most recent playlists.

sad boy winter.

I clicked it open, scrolling through—

“The Scientist. Dancing On My Own. Skinny Love. Brody, these songs are depressing as hell.”

“Don’t judge.” He pulled the phone from my hands. “Sometimes the deep cuts hit the spot.”

“I’m not judging.” I said. “I think it’s good for you to acknowledge your emotions. Process them.”

Even if I’m not processing mine. Even if we’re both hiding from our apartment, living in a delusional fantasy land where we’ve put all our issues on pause in order to just keep living.

“So, let’s see what Maggie Brynn has been listening to, huh?” He grabbed my phone from me.

In a similar motion, he looked down at my phone, stunned as if it were a bomb about to go off, when he noticed my screensaver similarly unchanged.

“Mags, what does this—” and then I took the phone, opening up my playlists before tossing it back onto his lap.

“Gracie Abrams?” He said, glancing briefly down at the phone as he drove. “A lot of Gracie Abrams. Oh, look. A playlist with the same song repeated thirty times.”

“That’s enough of that,” I said, grabbing the phone back. “Eyes on the road.”

But then I noticed where we actually were at seemingly the same moment he did.

“Shit, sorry.” He said as we drove through our neighborhood. “I guess I wasn’t thinking about where I was going and—”

Forgot what was happening here? Me too.

“It’s okay.” I said. “Actually, I need to grab a few more things. Let’s go back h—to the apartment.”

He smiled and pulled down our street.

How could something feel so wrong and right at the same time?

This place. This is where we were supposed to be. But this wasn’t supposed to be how we were—with this space between us and words left unsaid.

Maybe if I just laid it all out there, told him how I’d let fear ruin our lives, he’d forgive me. Maybe he’d take me back.

But the thought gnawed at me: how could I have fixed myself in the short amount of time that had passed from then and now?

I wanted to be with him. More than anything. But I also wanted him to know and believe that I wouldn’t sabotage it again.

If I tried too early, he might shut me down.

“What are you thinking about, Maggie?” he said, taking a step closer to me.

He reached behind me to pull a lamp string. Beside the faint glow, only what little light streamed in from the city illuminated the space. I felt protected in the darkness.