My One Night: An On My Own Novel by Carrie Ryan (life books to read .txt) 📕

a little invisible point. “Or you’re just fixing the decision that you made before. Your teachers have given you the rest of the semester off so you don’t have to worry about school, but you already finished your coursework, so that’s no problem. You have time before the winter break. Before he goes home.”

“He lives in that house, Mom. His family is from Denver. They own the brewery, remember?”

My mom nodded. “I was just making sure that he was still going to be here for the break. Because I want to meet him.”

“Mom,” I said, laughing again, surprising myself. I was still crying off and on, but this was a conversation I had always wanted to have. Maybe not about Dillon per se, but feeling so open.

I only hated that it had taken losing my best friend for us to do this. Maybe we would have been able to do this without that, but I wasn’t sure. I could still hate the process that had brought us to the outcome.

“You should go see him.”

“Right now?” my dad asked. “Shouldn’t we run a background check first?”

I narrowed my eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

“I know people.”

“Are you in the mob now?” I asked.

“As I said, I know people.” He snorted and shook his head. “Do you know if he’s at home?

I looked down at my phone, checked the time. “He should be. If not, I don’t know. But you’re right. I need to fix this, figure out what I want.”

“You can always text him.”

I shook my head at my mom’s words. “As I said, he likes the sound of my voice, so he deserves to hear it when I grovel and apologize for being so mean to him at the wake.”

“If he’s any sort of man, he’s not going to blame you for hurting at your best friend’s funeral,” my dad growled.

“Just because I was hurting doesn’t mean I’m allowed to hurt others.”

“Maybe,” my mother added. “But perhaps you two should just talk.” She looked over at Dad. “Look at us, honey, we’re being so adult about this whole thing. Our daughter’s dating. In a serious relationship, it sounds like. We’re growing.”

“Growth has its advantages.”

I didn’t know if this bubble of peace in tragedy would stick, but I leaned into it. The relief that slid through me at the fact that I felt like I could come to my parents again was worth its weight in gold.

I missed Corinne so damn much.

I sat with my family for another hour as we talked about nothing because we could. Because Corinne didn’t have that option.

Suddenly, I found myself in my car, headed towards the guys’ house.

I missed them all so much. They’d all come to the funeral—even their families. They were there for us, and I knew from Nessa that the girls were staying at the house on college row. Mostly because we weren’t sure if we could go back to living in the home where we had lost someone we loved. Nessa and Natalie had mentioned something about our landlord, and I felt like if we ended up roommates again, we would likely be living elsewhere. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stay in the place we had lived with Corinne. Maybe not wanting to be there made me a horrible person. I would never be able to walk into that living room again without seeing Corinne there, death in her eyes and a small ghost of a smile on her face. The last one she’d ever have.

I sniffed, annoyed with myself for crying. I was here to see Dillon and apologize. I didn’t need to be a puffy mess. I pulled into the back of the home since street parking was hard to come by, then rolled my shoulders back.

I didn’t see his truck, but he could still be here. Sometimes, he parked on the street when they were saving a spot thanks to the snow.

I slid out of the car and zipped up my coat as a cold breeze hit. I knew a storm was coming. If I weren’t careful, I’d be snowed in here.

That might be comforting, but it could also be another achingly horrible thing to add to the day.

I took a few steps, heard a crunch behind me, and turned.

I saw a shadow, and then something hit me upside the head.

I fell.

And then there was nothing.

Chapter 19

Dillon

“All done, then?”

I looked up as Pacey walked towards me, his bag slung over his shoulder.

“Yeah. The semester’s over. Let the holiday season commence.”

I knew I sounded exhausted, and not just from school, but Pacey didn’t say anything about it.

“You mind giving me a ride back?”

I frowned. “You didn’t drive yourself here?” I asked, looking around the parking lot on campus as if expecting to see his car amongst the dozen or so there.

“I rode in with Miles. I didn’t feel like remembering what side of the road I should be on.”

I snorted. “Yes, because after so many years of driving in America, you’re suddenly going to drive on the wrong side of the road.”

“Excuse me. You treasonists are driving on the wrong side of the road.”

“You’re half treasonist if you’re going by that logic.”

“Fine,” Pacey grumbled, his lips crooking into a smile. “I suppose you have me there.”

I smiled, feeling lighter than I had in days, though I knew it wouldn’t last long. “Of course, I do. And come on, my truck’s over here.”

“Are you ever going to buy a new one?” Pacey asked, looking at my older-model truck that had probably seen better days. It reminded me of Dave’s pickup for some reason, and I held back a shudder. That guy’s vehicle had been older, hadn’t been taken care of, and was full of rust. Mine was just older. Not antique or classic, but one that had a lot of miles on it and would probably need to be put to pasture soon if I didn’t overhaul the engine.

“Maybe, but I’m going to have to wait on a