But then the alert I set on my phone goes off and she breaks the kiss.

"Ignore that," I say into her mouth, kissing her again. She lets my tongue swipe hers a couple of times before she breaks it off again. "Don't you have to get that?"

"It's my alarm. Don't worry about it." I kiss her again.

She breaks it again. "Alarm for what?"

With a moan, I say, "To let me know it's time to go."

She starts to pull away, but I hold her tighter. "No." I tuck her head beneath my chin and close my eyes. "I wish I could take you with me."

"Yeah. I'm sure your coach would love that," she says into my neck. "You'll be back soon. And then..." she sighs. "You're gonna be busier than ever with school and practice and games. You'll forget I even exist." She laughs, but it doesn't sound like she's joking.

Taking her face in my hands, I look directly into her green eyes. "I could never forget you exist. Ever."

She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes.

"I'm serious, Rose. During these past two months, you've come to mean so much to me. Even before that. The first time I saw you, sitting in that wheelchair, as silent as-" I pause to find the perfect a.n.a.logy "-the midnight sky in the dead of winter...I knew I needed to meet you. Know you."

Her smile is still so sad.

"Nothing was going to stop me from getting close to you, Rose..." I'm suddenly at a loss for words, so I kiss her. Again. I don't want to stop. And this time, she doesn't pull away. I do. Because my face is wet. And when I look at her, there are tears all over her face. "Rose. What's the matter?" She's crying so hard that I'm thinking, Is she really gonna miss me that much?

"Nothing, nothing it's just so cold out here. My eyes always tear so bad," she says it all in one breath.

"Oh." I wipe the tears with my thumbs, but her cheeks are so wet, I pull my sweater sleeve out from my jacket cuff and wipe her face with it. "Then let's get you inside."

She nods.

Back inside her house, I give her one last hug and one really long kiss goodbye. I can still taste the salt from her tears on my tongue. When we're finished, I don't say the words, I just let the kiss say goodbye for me.

The drive home is ridiculously solemn. I don't even turn on the radio.

After my CAT Scan on Monday, the first thing I do is call Rose. I want to Facetime her, but she won't have anything to do with that. I had asked her why once, but she said she doesn't like the camera and would rather stay away from it. She could have fooled me about the camera, considering her house is filled with photographs her mother took of her. Rose on the farm. Rose on her horse. Rose on the stage in her dance costumes.

But then again, they're all photos from before. And that makes me sad all over again.

As much as she's loosened up around me since my birthday, she's still struggling with the effects of her accident. She doesn't talk about it either. EVER. Even when I come right out and ask her about it. Eventually, I stop asking. I'm afraid I'll ask one too many times and she'll just stop talking again. I don't want that to happen. I always wondered how she could willingly stop talking in the first place. And why?

So I'm not going to ask any more questions. If she wants to talk about it when she's ready, she knows I'll listen.

I have to see Rose one last time before I leave for Florida. I can't help myself. So on Christmas Eve morning, I call her and ask if it's okay to come up.

"Of course it's okay," she says over the phone. "I'd love to see you. But you don't mind driving all that way? Isn't it, like, almost three hours away?"

"Not quite, but it doesn't matter. I'd really like to see you."

"Okay," she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

"Good. I'm leaving in about five minutes. See you about twelve thirty?"

"Yup. See you then."

27.

ROSE.

He never showed up. Twelve thirty went by. One thirty. Two. By two thirty, I had a feeling it was more than traffic. Especially since he didn't respond to my text asking him if everything was all right. I don't know his home phone number. I don't even know his home address. Something had to have happened. He wouldn't just not show up. He's the one who asked me if he could come up.

I text him again.

ME: Ben. Just let me know you're okay. It doesn't matter you didn't come. Please. Thanks.

My stomach hurts. I can't settle down. I want to go downstairs to dance, but everyone's home. Even Terri. Dancing is how I relieve stress, and right now, I can't dance, and as awkward as I am now, I still need it as an outlet.

"Rosebud, what's going on? You've been jumping around like a bean all day."

"I don't jump, Daddy."

He's watching me from the kitchen table. Decorating cookies with my mom and Beth all day is usually one of my favorite things to do on Christmas Eve, but today...it's just not happening.

"You know what I mean, Bud. You're jittery."

"I'm fine," I snap at my father.

"What's going on?" Beth asks, more quietly than my father had.

"Nothing." I'd tell Beth, but my father's still watching and my mother hears everything. Not that it'd hurt anything for them to know I'm worried about Ben, but it'd be just one more thing they'd question me about relentlessly.

Beth nods. "Okay."

But later on in my room, I tell her why I'm nervous.

"Did you try calling him?"

"No. I texted him though. Twice."

"Can't hurt to try and call."

I guess it can't hurt, but I just shrug to Beth.

"He's a really nice guy, Rose. There's gotta be a reason he didn't show up."

I nod. She's right. I know she's right. And that's what has me so worried.

With Beth still in the room, I pick up my cell and call Ben. It goes directly to voice mail. "Hi. It's Rose. Just making sure you're okay. Let me know. Bye."

To Beth, I say, "Went straight to voice mail. Was that okay? I didn't sound desperate or anything, did I?"

"No. Not at all. Just concerned." She pats me on the knee. "Don't worry about it, Rose. I'm sure he's fine and there's a reasonable explanation."

I nod, but I don't agree with her. How many months did it take Holly to find out about me? All because my mother didn't have her phone number, nor did she even know much about my college friends to know who to call.

"Listen, Rose, it's Christmas. He's probably doing some family thing. He's Italian. Don't they do some big fish thing? His mother probably made him go. You know how parents are. His phone probably died and he didn't memorize your number to call."

"You got it all worked out, don't you?" I laugh, because she's probably right. It does sound feasible.

But in the morning, I still don't get a text or a call. So I spend Christmas day preoccupied with my own thoughts. It doesn't go unnoticed, I can tell by the looks I'm getting from everyone. Fortunately, after I ignore Terri's badgering, no one else bugs me with questions.

To stop myself from worrying if Ben was in a horrific accident like I was, I go through dance moves in my head - the last routine I did before being asked to perform on Broadway.

Later on that night, I hear my mother whispering to my father in the hallway. "She's gonna stop talking again. I know it. She was doing so well too."

"She was not doing well, Sam," my father says, his voice not so capable of whispering. "She's just going through the motions of living. She hasn't even mentioned going back to school. And...does she even use that leg you bought her?"

"The one for dancing?"

"Yeah."

"No."

"Dancing was her life, Samantha. Now she wants nothing to do with it?"

"It's hard for her." My mother chokes on her words. It sounds like she's crying.

"She can do it, Sam. She just doesn't want to try."

I am trying. They just don't know it.

"She doesn't want to do farm work the rest of her life. This life was never for her and you know it."

"She needs time, Bruce."

"She waits any longer, it's never gonna happen."

This is when I walk away. I can't listen to it anymore. If they saw me down in that studio, they wouldn't be urging me to get back to dancing. When I turn to go up the stairs, Patti is standing there.

"You know he's right."

Don't talk to me, Patti.

I don't say that to her though. I don't have the energy.

Christmas break goes by way too slowly - the days are long and the nights are unbearable. I don't spend any time in the studio, because Patti and Terri don't have school this week so they're up at all hours of the night watching movies or having friends over. I could go down there anyway, but then they would know, tell my mother, and she'd go and get her hopes up. I can't afford her to get her hopes up, because my dancing isn't getting any better. My moves are clumsy and jerky, and I'm embarra.s.sed to even call it dancing. I'm never going to come close to where I was.

On New Year's Eve morning, tired of picking up s.h.i.t and feeding chickens, I visit Cloud. "Hey, buddy, miss me?"

Cloud whinnies.

"I miss you too." I run my hands along his side and realize how much I've missed taking him out.

"Think you can be gentle?" I ask him.

Another whinny.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, boy."

I lift my saddle off its hook and grab Cloud's rump rug. I dress him up, take him outside, and lift myself up onto him from his right side.

"Be gentle, Cloud. Please, boy."

We start off slow, and once I get my bearings back, we pick up and settle into a fairly steady pace. It feels good to be back up on Cloud. I'm too uneasy to let my mind wander like I used to, but it's freeing just the same. The cold air on my face. The feeling that I'm flying. There's nothing like it. And for the first time since I hung up with Ben on Christmas Eve morning, I'm smiling.

28.

BEN.

Be careful what you wish for.

Isn't that how the saying goes?

Maybe it's because it gets the wish all f.u.c.king wrong.

I didn't go to Florida. But not because of Rose. I haven't even seen her this week. Or talked to her. She probably hates me now. Only a.s.sholes say they're going to be somewhere and then not show up. I've officially made it to a.s.shole status.

But I can't make it up to her.