The Way I Am Now (The Way I Used to Be, #2)

by Amber Smith

For us. For all of us—messy and imperfect—daring to wish, to hope, to heal.

Count five things you can see.

Four things you can feel.

Three sounds.

Two smells.

One taste.

“It is you,” I say stupidly. Her mouth opens, pausing for a second before she smiles. She doesn’t even say anything; she just steps forward, right into me, her head tucking perfectly under my chin as it always did.

But then I’m around her and I remember almost immediately that for all her darkness, she can be just as bright, too.

“I honestly keep forgetting the reason I was here to begin with. But I guess you kind of have that effect on me in general.” But he might be flirting.

realize the wild rattling of my heart isn’t because it’s shattering. It’s because this is the best, the strongest, my heart has felt in months.

“That’s not even—” I try to interrupt, but he interrupts me right back. “No, I’m serious. I feel like it’s only a matter of time before I’m

gonna lose you to someone just like him.”

“I think you love the person you knew back then, the person you believe I can become again one

day. But that’s not the same as loving me the way I am now.”

“No, even that, Steve. Edy. I don’t want to be called ‘Edy,’ and everybody calls me that anyway. But I’m not her.” I can’t hold back now; I can’t do this halfway. “I’m not her and I—I don’t think I can do this anymore.” “What are you saying?” he asks, biting his lip, like he’s afraid to let the words out. “Are you…? You’re not breaking up with me?” I nod, and he lets his head fall into his hands. I hate that this isn’t the first time I’ve made Steve cry. “I’m sorry.” I reach out but can’t quite make myself tou...

waterfalls. It reminds me of the pumpkin carriage from Cinderella, except

“You okay?” I shrug. “Ish.” “Okay-ish?” “Yeah,” I answer. “You?” “Well, other than apparently looking like shit, I’m okay-ish too.” I start laughing, and so does he. “Dude,” he says, taking a sip from the bottle. “We really put the ‘fun’ in dysfunctional, don’t we?”

“Well, it’s different. He knows I’m not going anywhere. We’re in this thing together. For better or worse, right? That’s what I vowed, and I’ll be damned, it looks like I’m sticking to it. But you?” She pokes my arm. “You made no such promise. I think he finally gets that.”

“Do you regret it?” I ask her, though I’m not sure I’m ready for the answer. “Sticking to your promise, I mean.” “No,” she responds. “Especially not lately.”

“Eden’s on her way back right now,” Parker says, a sly smile on her face as she hands me my phone. “And she wants to meet you at the fountain—whatever sinful place that is—at six tonight.”

get there early, and while I wait for her, I think about that day in the grass with the dandelions. I was watching her for a few minutes before I ever walked over, sitting there all quiet and intense. It was like she was the only thing

in color to me, everything else in my life felt so gray. I don’t know how I convinced myself to go sit down next to her. She was unlike anyone I’d ever known, and I was so intimidated by her—but I liked her. I wanted to know her, wanted her to know me. It was that simple....