Page 149 of Make Me Laugh

“I don’t want to intru⁠—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” West interrupts.

Pulling back far enough to meet his gaze, my nerves settle the second our eyes connect. “Seriously, though. It’s your first Thanksgiving with your family in how long?” I ask, sliding my cold hands underneath his hoodie, trying to get as close as I can without putting my icicle fingers against his bare skin.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it—” I start, but West’s hands are on both sides of my cheeks again, forcing me to look and listen.

“No, it doesn’t. Stop. I want you to stay. Can’t that be enough?” His question stops my hands from traveling up his sides.

West waits for me to say something, his eyes darting between mine.

I bring one hand out from underneath the warmth of his clothing and place it over one of his cupping my cheek. “You are enough.” I can’t help myself. I push up on my toes and plant a quick kiss on his lips. This is only delaying our goodbye, but I can’t find it in me to care. Not right now.

I need more time with West.

Movement across the street at a bar catches my attention as a group of drunk patrons stumble out.

It reminds me we’re out in the open, and anyone could have seen us making out under the big West Parker sign.

I swallow and peel West’s hand from my face, stepping back to let his other fall to the side. “There’s a 5:00 a.m. flight Friday morning.”

West nods, shoving his hands into his Carhartt pockets. “Book it.”

The clock with less than twenty-four hours spins back, adding just over two days to our countdown.

The last forty-eight hours begins now.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

THE ONE WITH THE EMPTY HANGER

WestParkerComedy: Traverse City, let’s do this thing one more time. My mom’s gonna be there though, so make sure you tell her what a good boy I’ve been

HexedHeroine: Prettyyyy sure she knows better than to believe anyone who says that!

Comment reply: you say that like you know her?

I follow West to the parking lot behind the theater after we grab my bags out of the camper one last time.

We stop behind an old Bronco in mint condition. The dark blue paint is shiny, like it’d been washed today, and there’s probably not a single scratch on the whole thing. I don’t know anything about cars, but I can imagine this one’s worth a pretty penny. West pops the back open, tossing our bags inside.

He pulls a set of keys out of his pocket and opens the passenger door for me first. I toss my backpack on the floorboard and hop in before West closes the door. The inside of the Bronco is just as clean as the outside.

West gets in and puts his phone on the dash, turning the key in the ignition. I buckle my seatbelt and watch as he looks around, hands on the steering wheel. He flexes his fingers and takes a breath before putting his seatbelt on too. He glances over at me, hands resting in his lap. “This was Micah’s. He and my dad rebuilt it together.” The engine hums smoothly, warming up quicker than I would have expected for its age. “He was driving my car the night of the accident.” West stares out the windshield. “This is the first time I’ve been inside it since he died.”

West keeps allowing me to be the person he shares these memories with, and it makes me feel like I’m important enough to let in, but I’m sure it’s easier to talk about Micah with someone who didn’t know him.

It’s not possible to rid West of his dark memories, but I can hopefully help them become a little less painful. “What kind of music did Micah like to listen to?” I ask, leaning forward to grab West’s phone off the dashboard.

He doesn’t stop me as I open it up, knowing the password within twenty-four hours of meeting him. West’s never once given me the feeling that he’s trying to hide anything from me.

I connect his phone to the upgraded Bluetooth sound system, looking back to him when I’m done.

West stares, all the hard edges of his face softening when our eyes meet. “There’s a Micah playlist on my Spotify,” he says.

It makes me smile to find it in his pinned playlists. He might not have been openly talking about his brother, but he hadn’t stopped spending time with him in the ways he could.