I stop breathing when I notice an envelope in the slot. My hand pulls at the ends of my hair, creating a little pain. It’s from Lincoln. It has to be. No one else mails me anything.

All of a sudden all the fear and insecurity I’ve fought over the past couple of days slams into me and my hands begin to shake. It could be good news. It could be...or it could be bad.

I unlock the small door and slip the letter out of the slot. It’s his handwriting. I stare at it. Deciding. Open it here or in my room? Here or in my room? Unable to wait, I slide my finger underneath the lid of the envelope, not caring about the stinging paper cut.

The envelope falls from my hand as I yank open the paper. I blink. Several times. And read the two words again: Turn Around.

I spin on my toes, the world rotating twice at the normal speed. My heart rockets up to my throat—it’s Lincoln.

With his hands shoved into his jeans pockets and his thumbs sticking out, Lincoln leans back against the opposite wall and flashes a small, unsure smile. Oh, my God...he’s here.

With three leaps, I throw myself at him, and because he’s made of solid steel, Lincoln catches me without stumbling back. He wraps his arms around me and lifts me off the floor. I giggle as my feet sway back and forth.

“Why didn’t you call?” I don’t bother pulling away when he sets me back on the floor. Instead I cuddle my head into the curve of his neck and inhale to smell his dark scent. He’s here, but then I flinch as if jolted with electricity. What if he’s not here to see me...? What if...?

“I wanted to tell you in person,” Lincoln says.

A little unsure, I draw back and hold on to him only because he holds on to me. Please don’t let go. Please, please don’t let go. I love you. “Tell me what?”

He lets me go and I wrap a hand around my stomach as nausea overcomes me. Lincoln withdraws a piece of paper from his back pocket and hands it to me. I stare at it and he motions with his chin for me to open it.

I do and the nausea takes a hike when I see the beautiful words addressed to Mr. Turner from the University of Florida. “You were accepted.”

Lincoln flashes this unbelievably beautiful smile. “I knew I’d spill if I talked to you before then. I got in. As of next semester, I’ll be here right beside you.”

He’s worked hard for this—spending an entire summer in school, then this semester in community college at home. With no scholarship, he worked a full-time second-shift job in a lumberyard to save money to pay Florida’s tuition.

I touch his cheek, and he reaches up and grabs my hand, keeping it pressed close to his skin. Yep, Lincoln’s running days are officially over, and as much as I hate that his path has been difficult, I’m sort of grateful. It taught him how to work toward a goal and it taught me how to stand on my own.

“I’m proud of you,” I say.

His grip on my waist tightens as he brings me closer to him. “I told you I’d never let you down again. I love you, Lila.”

“And I love you.”


Copyright © 2013 by Katie McGarry


Keep reading for an excerpt from CRASH INTO YOU by Katie McGarry.