My Heart for Yours by Jolene Perry, Stephanie Campbell Page B

dare. Go to bed. I’m leaving. With my boyfriend. You go and sober up.” She’s leaving again.
     
    And this time, I have to let her go.
     

 

     

     
    WHAT IS SAFE?
     

     
    Is safe the hands that hold you no matter what?
     
    Or is safe someone hurting enough to fight?
     

     
    Is safe the one who is strong as a pillar?
     
    Or is safe who wants to use the strength of two, not one?
     

     
    Is love safe?
     
    Or is it better to find comfort?
     
    Can there be comfort without love?
     
    Can passion come from warmth?
     
    Or does it need to come from fire?
     

     

     

Fourteen Delia
     

     
    I rest my head against the cold window as I count the bright street lights on the way back to my house. I know exactly how many there are. Fifty-two between his house and mine. I know because the last time I drove away from Tobin’s house, concentrating on counting them was the only thing that kept me from crumbling. I’m in the car with Weston. It’s over. We’re gone, and Tobin’s hopefully sleeping it off. Damn him.
     
    Shit, I want to kiss you right now . What the hell!
     
    The scariest thing is that if Weston hadn’t been there…I might…no. Not Tobin. Too late. Way too late.
     
    It’s a relief to not be in that house anymore—weighed down with grief. There are too many memories, and too many of them good. How many times did I sit with him, his parents and Eamon playing cards at the kitchen table? How many pitchers of sweet tea did his mom and I share on the front porch while I waited for Tobin to get home from work? Too many to just forget, that’s for sure.
     
    I sigh and slump even lower in the seat. It feels like I had to call Weston to come rescue me, which sucks because that’s what he’s always done for me. I knew he wouldn’t be mad, because he loves the role. I did lie and tell him I got lost when I stumbled onto Tobin—like I could get lost in these woods.
     
    “ I’m sorry. I know this is totally awkward.” I let my eyes find Weston’s profile in the dim light of the car. There’s no way for me to not be completely embarrassed by Tobin’s outburst, and I’m wondering if Weston’s getting too good of a look at the little country girl making her way in D.C. Will he start to wonder who I am? ‘Cause that one’s hitting me right now. I’m waiting for some lecture, or for him to say how weird this is, or how totally inappropriate it was of me to help Tobin home.
     
    Weston’s hand reaches across the car to take mine. ”It is awkward, but I understand, at least a little.”
     
    I’m shocked. “You’re not mad?”
     
    “ The way he talked to you upset me, and I was a little surprised at how you answered.” He sounds a little like my dad, but I let it slide because I can’t believe that he isn’t pissed.
     
    “ But you’re not mad at me?” I realize as I ask that I almost want him to be. I want him to be mad that instead of sneaking into his room, I snuck outside. Tobin would have been pissed—well, because he’d have been hurt.
     
    “ Did you sneak out and plan to meet with him?” Even a corner of his mouth pulls up. He is actually, really, seriously, not mad.
     
    “ No.”
     
    “ Did you kiss him?”
     
    “ No.”
     
    “ He’s your friend, Delia. You have history. You helped him out. I’m not mad.” His thumb brushes the top of my hand, and his eyes are all sincerity.
     
    Grandma’s words slip into my head—make love with the same passion as you argue. But what if you don’t argue? Even over the big things? This seems pretty big.
     
    There’s more to Weston than I give him credit for. And it’s the stupidest thing in the world for me to feel split between a guy I still feel betrayed by, and Weston—who is sometimes exactly what I’d expect, and is sometimes so much more. I have to do something to thank him.
     
    “ Stop the car.”
     
    “ What?” he asks.
     
    “ Pull over.” I let the corner of my mouth turn up. If I can get Weston to