by Hannah Gray
The doorbell rings, and everyone looks around at each other, puzzled.
“Who could that be?” Andy stands and touches his wife’s shoulder. “I’ll just go see.”
I hear the door open and then excited voices, and moments later, Henley and her red-haired friend walk around the corner. Making my heart stop beating in my chest.
She came.
She’s wearing a gray sweater dress that clings to her body. Her dark blonde hair now isn’t dark at all. It’s a lighter-colored blonde at the ends and the front. She looks sexy. But she also looks skinnier than ever, and that pisses me off.
“Oh my God!” Allison squeals, jumping out of her seat. “You sneaky girl! You came!”
She hugs her mom, her eyes finding mine. “Of course I did.”
I look at Dane to find his eyes solely on the redhead. She nervously shifts on her feet, as if she doesn’t know if she should actually be here.
Allison puts those fears to bed real quick by jumping up and down in front of her. “I am so glad you came! Yay!” She envelops her in a hug. “Sit, eat! There’s so much food.”
“And green bean casserole,” Henley says excitedly, her eyes landing on the plate. “My fave.”
“Yes, of course. Couldn’t have Thanksgiving without that.” Her mom smiles and goes to the cabinet, grabbing two more plates. “Ang made it this year.”
I have to force myself not to laugh as Henley tries to maintain her excitement after finding out my mother made it. It’s been an inside joke for years between all of us—well, except my mother—that she sucks at cooking. I’m pretty sure that nasty shit is the easiest dish on this table. So, maybe, just maybe, she didn’t mess it up.
I keep glaring at Dane. Watching to see if he’s staring at her ass or tits. But luckily, he seems completely entranced with the girl I remember is Layla. She gives him a few looks too. My fucked up brain wonders if Henley would be jealous if they hooked up. I hope not. That would mean she had actual touchy-feely fucking feelings for him.
Henley’s collarbone sticks out more than it used to, and I wonder how the hell she’s still breaking her own records and continuing to place so well at her meets if she isn’t eating anything.
Yeah … I still stalk her occasionally. It’s fucking fine.
I hope my gut is wrong. But something tells me she isn’t doing so good.
I’ll tie her ass to a chair and make her eat three solid meals a day, if need be. After all, I did change my choice in colleges just to make sure she didn’t get drunk and taken advantage of at a party. It seems now, she might have other problems. I wonder if her parents notice it. They have to. It’s not hard to tell she’s dropped some pounds.
Yeah, and it’s your fucking fault, dickface.
She tried to warn me she’d done something unforgivable, but I kept ignoring the fucking red flags. Hell, I think I smiled at them. Waved my dick around, making her touch it.
The shitshow this has all become is my fault too.
I waited so long for her. Too long, to the point where I ignored any sign of trouble. Just needing and wanting her so badly that I couldn’t see anything else. I needed Henley as desperately as she needed salvation. She needed a savior, a safe place. Instead, I wrecked her.
And I did it without even looking back.
“Weston?” my dad says.
I look up and gaze around to find the entire table watching me. Henley included. Well, until my eyes move to her and she looks anywhere and everywhere else.
“Sorry, what?” I take a sip of my water. “I didn’t hear you.”
He looks concerned. “Yeah … I noticed.” Wiping his mouth with his napkin, he sets it on the table. “I said, the season’s looking better and better, for you and Dane both.” He nods toward my brother. “Might be you two facing off at the championship.”
“Might just be,” Dane says in an entertained voice. His eyes sparkle with humor. “Wouldn’t that be something, huh?”
“Oh yeah. Fucking magical.” I shake my head, ignoring my mom’s hiss. “You are going up against University of New England next week. They’re pretty good.” I smirk. “Undefeated actually.”
“I’m not worried.” He says the words, but I don’t buy it.
UNE is a solid team. I was worried when we played them. Luckily, we were a well-oiled machine that night and got the job done. Not to mention, Knox had the game of his life.
Truth is, Dane is good. Really good. But my team is stronger. That’s just a simple fact. You can watch game tapes and see it. With a group of guys who work together the way we do, we’re unstoppable. Dane is a hell of a quarterback, right up there with Storm. But at the end of the day, he doesn’t have the team this year. Next year, I fear he will.
“And, Miss Henley!” my mother gushes. “You’ve been setting that dang pool on fire. You’re the talk of the town.”
Henley blushes, hating the attention on her. Luckily, her friend steps in.
“Yeah, I’ve been letting her win to make her feel good about herself.” She pretends to crack her hands. “But those days are over, Hayes. Now, you’re going down.”
Henley laughs and shakes her head. It looks like she’s used to her friend’s sense of humor. “Whatever you say, Lovejoy.”
“Layla, dear, you’ve had an impressive season as well.” Allison scoops herself some mashed potatoes. “Both you ladies should be darn proud of yourselves.”
“Thanks.” Layla smiles sweetly. “We have fun. That’s what matters.”
I don’t speak to Henley. I just look at her every now and then, never finding her eyes on me. Her hair goes behind her shoulders, showing off her sexy neck, and all I want to do is kiss it. Her dress hugs against her perfect tits. And even though she’s always said they aren’t much, they’re flawless, and the sight of them alone sends a jolt straight to my dick.
I wonder if she remembers the way it felt when I buried myself inside of her, bringing her so close to the edge that she couldn’t stand it. I hope she still knows what it was like to be kissed on the mouth but feel it in every single fiber of her being. I remember all of it. Every kiss, when she sucked my dick and looked up at me with those big blue eyes, when she straddled me, eagerly taking in every inch of me she could. I’ll always remember all of it. It’ll haunt my fucking dreams.
Relief fills my body to see her eating. But her eyes … they look so lost and empty.
She’s perfectly broken. And even though I know I can’t, I wish I could be the one to tape her back together.
But I’m part of the reason why she’s shredded in the first place. I played a role in her demise.
Henley
Hives. I’m certain I have them. All from his stupid, sexy eyes on me. I can’t stand it. I want to claw my own skin off.
I eat everything on my plate. And then I even have a piece of pumpkin pie and a piece of chocolate cream pie. My appetite has been crap lately. I’m glad to see it’s made its return today.
There was a small part of me that worried Weston would bring someone to Thanksgiving. Like … a date. I secretly imagined clawing her eyes out and shoving a turkey leg down her throat. But instead of doing that, I’d sit there politely, keeping to myself.
Thank the Lord he’s alone. But in my brain, I had it all mapped out. I imagined her having bleach-blonde hair. Way blonder than my new hair color that I’ve learned they call a balayage. I assumed she’d have a lot of lip gloss on and definitely thick, false lashes. Her boobs would unquestionably be huge, and I thought her name would be Vanessa. I’m not sure why. It sounded sexy and sultry, and it was just what was in my brain.
So, I’m ecstatic that he’s alone. But he looks better than ever. And I’m like a plate that was broken and now is superglued together—you never know when it’s going to crack and then, bam, it shatters, making a huge-ass mess that everyone stops to stare at.
Dinner is uncomfortable at times, but I limp through, thankful that it’s almost over. I see Dane’s eyes on Layla more than onc
e, and that makes me smile. Both of them are good people. I’d love it if they hit it off. She seems to be a little bewitched by him too. She laughs at his shitty jokes and smiles extra hard when he looks her way. It’s sort of adorable.
When I glance up the next time, Weston is watching me intently. His eyes burrow into mine, and I remember a much simpler time.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Henley.” Weston kissed my cheek as we sat on my balcony, watching for shooting stars.
“Thanks.” I smiled. “You too.” I rubbed my belly. “I ate way too much.”
“Me too.” He laughed. “Henley, know what I’m most thankful for?”
I turned my head toward him and pulled the blanket we were sharing higher on my neck. “What’s that, West?”
“You.” He sounded so serious. In the fourteen years I had known him, he was usually joking around. “Mostly just you. You’re the best thing in my life. You make it all better.”
I nuzzled against him, suddenly feeling whole. “I’m thankful for you too, West. You’re my best friend.”
“And we always will be, right?” He put his arm around me and tucked me closer. “I don’t ever want to be apart.”
“Course we will.” I smiled into the night, feeling my cheeks ache. “Me neither.”
I wash the dishes off before putting them in the dishwasher. I told everyone to watch the movie, like we normally do, but I wanted to get a start on cleaning up. My mom worked on this meal all day, so the least I can do is pick up.
Layla tried to help, but I told her no. I want her to have a nice Thanksgiving for once. And truthfully, after that flashback … I needed time alone.
Harold snorts in his sleep at my feet, and before reaching for another plate, I give his head a quick pat.
“You’ve lost weight.” Weston’s deep voice stops me, sending me straight up.
I take him in as he carelessly leans against the doorway. His black shirt and blue jeans fit him as if they were made strictly for his body. Everything he wears looks that way. He looks more delicious than the pie I just devoured.
Probably tastes as yummy too.
I press my back to the counter. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, I fold my arms over my chest. “Swim is hard work. I’m in shape.”
“You’re sick.” He takes a step closer, and every hair on my body stands up as I suck in a breath.
“I’m not sick,” I snarl. “I’m busy. And stressed.” I wave a hand at him. “And … yeah, I went through a rough patch, and my appetite wasn’t full force. But I’m fine now. Not like you even care.”
He stops on the other side of the island, leaning over it on his hands. “All I ever did was care, Henley.” He looks away. “I still fucking care.”
“Hell of a way of showing it.” I snort bitterly.
His eyes stare into mine, burning like a fire as it rips through thousands of acres of woods. Uncontrollably and unapologetically.
“I’ll always fucking care.” He stands up and walks around, crowding me against the counter. “And I know you will too. Even if you’re seeing that fuckface Cam Hardy.”
My head rears back. “What are you talking about?”
“You and Hardy. You two are hanging out, I’ve heard.” I can hear the rage in his voice.
“Um, no,” I retort. “The last time I even saw that guy was when he came to the pool and you showed up right after, acting like a caveman.” I narrow my eyes. “But either way, it’s not your business, Weston.”
His eyes flick down to my lips, and I feel like I’m going to combust. “You haunt me every day, Henley. I can’t escape you.” His forehead falls slightly, touching mine. “I need you to do one thing for me. Please, just take care of yourself. I spend my days wondering if you’re going to be okay. It’s fucking exhausting.”
Something inside me snaps, and I look up at him. Tears of frustration threaten to spill out. “What the hell do you think I’ve been doing for years now, Weston? Who else has been taking care of me?”
He grips my wrist, and his eyes darken slightly. “Me, damn it. I have been for a long fucking time. You’ve let yourself crumble. You’re going to fucking break.”
“You broke me,” I hiss. “I was fine until you came back to me.”
“You were drinking yourself stupid.” He says the words, and I hear the hurt and fear behind them. “I was fucking scared.” His hands move to my waist, and he digs his fingertips into my dress. “Now, this? You’ve lost all this weight. I’m still fucking scared, Henley. I’ll always be scared.”
“You don’t have to be scared anymore.” I gently cup his face and watch as tears form in his eyes. “You’re free.” A single tear falls down my cheek, emotion thick in my voice. “You’re free now, Weston. I promise, I’m going to be all right.”
He looks down at me, and his nostrils flare before he grabs my face and brings his lips to mine, kissing me hard. It’s rough, and it’s sad. And it ends as fast as it started.
He steps back suddenly. “Good-bye, Henley. Please, just take care of yourself.”
Now, tears flow uncontrollably as it hits me that this kiss wasn’t a new beginning. It was just the final nail in the coffin that is Henley and Weston.
“I will,” I barely whisper. “I’ll always love you. Please, don’t forget me.”
“I couldn’t.” He turns and walks out of the kitchen but stops. “I can’t forget the bad things. But I’ll always love you anyway.”
And moments later, I hear the front door open and close.
He loves me despite my ugly. But he can’t forget enough to be with me again.
And that right there sucks.
Weston
The ride back to Brooks is one big blur. One filled with headlights, music that I don’t hear, and thoughts that don’t ever fully connect.
I could have stayed the night. I don’t have practice until tomorrow afternoon. But I didn’t want to. A three-hour haul in my truck alone is much healthier than spending another fucking second in a house anywhere near Henley.
A part of me wanted to bow at her feet and beg for her to take me back. But another part of me couldn’t stand to look at her anymore, remembering her betrayal.
When I’m anywhere near her, I’m completely entranced. I don’t see anything else other than her angelic face or her plump lips. And when she speaks, it overpowers every other sound in the room. I’m a stupid son of a bitch when it comes to that girl. And I’ll admit it.
We’re so close to a championship. If I blink now, I’ll fuck it up. Since I told her good-bye, I’ve dumped every ounce of myself into the game. A game that’s shown how loyal it is when everyone else falls away.
I know she has done the same in that damn pool. It’s who we are. Athletes, wanting to go to the highest level. That’s what my dreams are made of. Getting a phone call, telling me I’ve made it into the NFL. I’m so close. I know it.
The thing is though, when I think of making it there, I realize there’s nobody I want standing next to me.
Nobody but her anyway.
She’s so close that I can practically taste her. And I can still feel her on my skin. But I can’t physically touch her because I can’t get over the shit from the past.
I’m my own worst enemy. And I know she’s her own too.
But one thing I won’t sabotage is this season for myself or my teammates. We’ve all worked too hard, and we want it too badly. She’s a distraction for me, and that’s something I can’t afford.
So, tonight … well, tonight was good-bye. Not a bitter one either. A real touchy-feely good-bye. One that had me crying like a little bitch when I walked out. That’s what she does to me. The song “Maneater” should belong to her.
thirty-three
Henley
Five Weeks Later
The lyrics to “my worst” by blackbear play on repeat in my ears as I run as hard and as fast as I can on the treadmill. Something I do every time on workout days. Somehow, it cleanses my soul. For about five minutes any
way. The second I leave this gym, I’ll be back in a slump. But for now, I get a high off of training.
I’m in the best shape I ever have been, I think. I know everyone is a little worried about my weight. Coach, my parents, Layla, Weston. But honestly, I’m just working hard. I’m doing what feels best, and unfortunately for them, that usually doesn’t involve gorging myself on food most days.
Christmas was last week, and I went home, but luckily, my parents seemed to sense something was off between Weston and me and did a separate Christmas from the Wades. I did, however, see him take a load of trash out for his mother and work on his truck with his dad. I crept behind the shades, like a madwoman.
His hair was a little longer in the front, and I caught myself standing there, wondering what it would feel like to tug on it. That was, until my mother caught me being a creeper and gave me a sympathetic look.
I ended up opening up to her, giving her just the gist of what had happened. If you’re wondering, no, I didn’t tell my mother I’d slept with his brother. Instead, I just said that Weston and I loved each other, but love wasn’t the only thing needed in a relationship. In our case, trust is needed too. And that’s something we don’t have. I’ve watched my parents enough over the years to know that without that one main ingredient, you’re screwed. That’s a dead-end road that’s full of crappy potholes. So, I suppose it’s good that Weston cut things off before we got any more serious.
I push the stop button on the treadmill and climb off, chugging some of my water and then popping out my earbuds.
Coach strolls in, wearing normal clothes. It’s always odd to not see him in his Brooks U coaching attire.
“Morning, everyone. As most of you know, the football team won their game last night and have made the championship.”
