“I know you are, Mason,” I say, forcing myself to be brave and look at him. When I do, the stabbing sensation is back, and talking becomes even harder. “I’m not angry at you. Don’t get me wrong, I was. And I wish like hell you let me handle Adam, but I know your heart was in the right place—with everything. And I know you didn’t mean to miss our date with Max. It was a mistake. A simple mistake—one that anyone in the world could have made.”

“But…” he says, knowing there is one.

“But I can’t make mistakes with Max,” I say, my breath shallow, and not reaching the depths of my lungs. “And as much as I want to be with you, Mason, I’m not the only one with something at stake. And I have a feeling your life is about to get a whole lot more complicated.”

He doesn’t respond, and I know it’s because I’m right. He just stands there, his eyes burning a hole through mine, his hands linked behind his neck while his arms flex. Finally, he tilts his head up and breathes out hard, letting his arms collapse to his sides before walking over to look at one of the reptiles. I give him a few minutes alone, and then I follow.

“He’s signing us to a Southwest tour,” he says, not looking at me while he speaks. I knew it was coming, but my stomach still hurts hearing it anyhow.

“That’s amazing, Mason,” I say.

“Is it?” he asks, turning to me, his hands shoved in his pockets, and his lips shut tightly.

“Yes, it is. This is your dream, Mason. And you have to see,” I say, knowing he does.

“What if I don’t go?” he asks, and the way he’s biting at the edge of his lip, I can tell he’s serious.

“You have to go. You’ll regret it,” I say, my insides kicking myself. But I also know a thing or two about regrets. Not that I regret a minute of my life with Max. But Adam—I regret him.

“But, would it make a difference?” he asks, this time reaching forward and holding my chin lightly with his thumb and forefinger. My lips tingle just wanting to kiss him, but I can’t.

“Probably not,” I lie. As soon as I speak, his hand drops from my face and his eyes close.

“Because of Adam and the letters?” he asks, looking at Max with his face pushed close to the glass of an exhibit.

“Because of a lot of things,” I say, promising myself I won’t cry now in front of him.

We follow Max through the entire dark room back out into the sun, and start the large loop that winds throughout the zoo. The desert animals are next, and I know he will spend a lot of time on these, so we walk slowly until Max is satisfied. Mason is quiet, and it starts to feel like we’re angry with one another the longer the silence goes on. By the time we reach the elephants, I’m frustrated with him, and I’m about to ask him why he even bothered to come, when I feel his fingers push through mine.

The touch of his hand startles me, and I let out the smallest cry, which only makes him squeeze me tighter. Neither of us looks at one another, but we keep our hands locked for the small walk that is left. I let Max sift through a few things in the gift shop, and he zeroes in on a resin paperweight with a scorpion sealed inside. We take it to the register, and before I can hand over my card, Mason gives a ten to the cashier.

“I used to have one of those when I was your age,” he says to Max, who isn’t really listening to him, but just looking at his new treasure, wondering how someone got the scorpion sealed inside.

Mason looks at me next, and smiles softly. I mouth “Thank you,” for giving Max the gift.

The ride home feels heavier. Mason reaches for the radio at one point, turning the music up a tick, looking at Max in the mirror to make sure it isn’t too loud. Max is busy with his scorpion though, completely lost in that world.

“My birthday is tomorrow. My mom is making dinner, and she wanted us to come,” he says, his head flat against the passenger window.

“I’d love to have dinner with you and your mom,” I say.

“Max, too,” he says.

“We’ll both be there,” I say, my words lingering with everything else I want to ask. We’re only a few miles from home, so I force myself to stay here, in this moment. “When do you leave?”

“Tuesday morning,” he says, and I can hear him swallow hard. “Avery, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

I reach over and put my hand on his knee, and he covers it with his hand, his eyes low, looking at our touch. I squeeze once to get his attention, and he turns to me. “You’re doing it. You have this tremendous opportunity. And we…we probably rushed into things a little.”