by Hannah Gray
“Me too, brother. Me too.”
His face grows serious. “Uh … speaking of brothers. Did you talk to your brother today?”
“Nah. Shit’s gotten worse. You remember the girl I told you about. Well … her name is Henley. And I finally found out the truth. She and my brother hooked up, and it got real complicated. So, no, I haven’t talked to him—or her for that matter. It’s actually her birthday today too.” I look up and see he looks shocked. I’m done talking about this, and I really don’t want to tell him about the baby.
I want to change the subject, so I give him a weak smile and jerk my head toward the truck. “Let’s get out of here. I’m wiped.”
He eyes me cautiously but nods. I’m thankful for him and really fucking glad he didn’t ask me any more questions about my brother. Or Henley. But as we walk to the truck, I think of her and wonder how her birthday was or how she spent it. I also remember why I didn’t keep the fish to begin with.
“That ain’t anything special, West.” Dane’s voice was laced with jealousy.
Usually, he caught more fish when we went fishing. Which really wasn’t too often. That day though, I had caught the first one.
“I want to show Dad!” I hollered out. At eleven, I had never caught a fish all by myself without him baiting the hook and basically holding my hand through it.
“It’ll die before you find him and show him.” Henley pouted. “We don’t know if this fish has a family. Or a wife.” She looked between the fish and me. “I have an idea. Hold him in the water for a second. I’ll be right back.”
She took off running toward my house, and I did what I had been told. Afraid if I didn’t and she came back to a dead fish, she’d kick me in the nuts. I didn’t want that.
“You’re so whipped.” Dane shook his head. “It’s a friggin’ fish. Who cares?”
I glared up at him as the fish fought in my hand. “She does. That’s all that matters.”
Was it stupid to care whether the fish died or not? Maybe. But she cared. And I would do anything for her. So, if me making sure I didn’t hurt that fish made her happy, that was what I was going to do.
Moments later, she ran out with my mom’s phone in her hand, my mom right behind her.
“Dad isn’t home, but Henley said she needed my camera.”
I held my hand out of the water, showing her the fish. “I caught it. Without Dad!”
“Weston, that’s incredible! I didn’t even know you knew how to bait the whatever it’s called.”
“Quick! Look at me.” Henley held the phone up, and I stood in front of it with my fish. “Got it! Your dad will be so excited.” She handed the phone to my mom and came next to me. “For the love of God though, put Frank back! Before he dies and goes to fishy heaven.”
Slowly, with shaky hands, I pulled the barb back through his lip and leaned down to release him. “Frank?” I said as I stood up. “Frank the fish?”
She nodded, watching him swim away. “Frank the fish shall live another day!” She pumped her tiny fist into the air. “And we, the people, made sure of it!”
Dane grumbled something and walked toward the house. He didn’t get it. Why I did everything I did to make her happy. He thought he loved her too. I knew he did. But he didn’t love her the way I did. I loved her so much that I cared far more about what she wanted over what I did. He just saw that she was pretty and was like one of the guys and thought she was cool. He didn’t feel the way I felt. She was mine. Not his. I planned to marry her one day and wanted her to have my babies. Hopefully, we’d raise them right on this lake. Just like our parents did.
She side-hugged me, and the smell of strawberries hit my nose. She always smelled like that. I’d asked her once why, and she’d said it was her shampoo. I’d always hated the taste of strawberries, but I loved the way Henley smelled.
“Thank you, West. I know you wanted to keep him. I’m sorry I’m a crazy animal freak.” She sighed. “I’m a weirdo, I know.”
“It’s okay.” I brushed her hair from her cheek. “Mom is making pizza tonight anyway. Pizza beats fish, right?”
“For sure.” She turned her ball cap backward and released me, walking off the dock and toward the house. “Oh, look!”
She grabbed a dandelion from the lawn, holding it up. “Usually, you give these to me. Guess this time, I found one for you.” When I got to her, she held it in front of my lips. “Make your wish, fish slayer.”
I looked at her and back to the ugly dead flower. I blew out a breath, sending the tiny pieces all around her face and making her sneeze the smallest sneeze.
“Done.” I smiled.
“Hope it was somethin’ good.” She threw the stem on the ground. “Can’t be wasting wishes.”
“I can’t tell ya. Or it won’t come true.”
Henley
“It’s your birthday, and you chose to see a movie with me.” Layla takes a bite of popcorn as we wait for the movie to start. “I gotta say, I’m sort of flattered.”
“What else would I be doing? Besides, you know I love anything with The Rock in it.” I fan myself with my hand. “He’s my man.”
“I like him as an actor, but … he’s not hot. He’s too … gigantic.” Layla sets her popcorn down and moves on to her Buncha Crunch container. “Not like that pure perfection you got to hook up with.”
“Weston?” I say his name, and it sends a pain through my body. “Oh … you mean, Dane. I’d prefer we not mention my hook-up with him. Makes me feel dirty.”
“You are dirty,” she deadpans. “A dirty, dirty girl.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m kidding. But anyway, yes. Dane. I mean, don’t get me wrong. Weston is … yeah, he’s perfection too. And the way his shirt hugs his muscles.” She pretends to pant. “Hot damn. But back to Dane. He sort of intrigued me.”
“I have his number.” I hold my phone up. “Hit him up.”
Her eyes widen, and she shoves me. “I could not! That reeks of desperation. He obviously wasn’t interested or else he would have tried to talk to me alone. Or get my number.”
“Um … hate to break it to you, Dick Tracy, but he stared at you the entire dinner. He was basically undressing you with his eyes.” I drop my voice. “Talk about me being dirty. You two eye-fucked each other over a damn turkey.”
“I know.” She looks embarrassed. “I dropped potatoes down my shirt when he was looking at me. It was uncomfortable. And awkward. And humiliating.”
“You always spill stuff on yourself.” I giggle. “You’re a mess.”
“Yeah, but this time, the potatoes had gravy on it.” She grimaces. “And a little cranberry sauce.”
“You know, today is Dane’s birthday too. Send him a message.”
Her mouth hangs open, and she cranes her neck to look at me. “Wait. Hold the phone. You, Dane, and Weston … who have all seen each other’s penises and your vagina, also share a birthday? As in … the day you were born? All three of you? Together?”
I nod. “Yep. Most years, we’d do a combined birthday too.”
“This just gets weirder and weirder,” she says under her breath just as the movie starts.
And, yeah … I suppose it does.
thirty-five
Henley
Confetti falls down on the team, a moment each of them will surely remember for the rest of their lives. Teammates leap into the air and smash into each other. It’s momentous. And beautiful.
And it’s also sad. And heartbreaking. Because as happy as Weston is today, my heart aches that I’m unable to share the joy with him. Or tell him how incredibly proud I am of him. I can’t hug him or go down onto the field and leap into his arms. The way that Cole Storms’s girlfriend did.
My eyes shift to them, watching Cole lift her into the air and twirl her around. An undeniable chemistry between them could be seen from any bystander. She’s happy because he’s happy. She’s emotional because this is a big day for him. And she’s there, right next to him.<
br />
I messed up, and now, I can’t do that with Weston.
My eyes float back to him.
Weston stops between everyone. His parents run down to him on the field, as do my own. Part of me would like to, but I don’t. Because this day belongs to him, and he’s made it clear that these big moments don’t belong to me anymore. I’m no longer a part of his life.
“I’m sure he’d love to see you,” Layla says, nudging me lightly. “To hear you say congratulations.”
“No …” I stand, smoothing my jeans. “This is his day. I’m going to let him have it.”
She gives me a disappointed look, but eventually, she stands too, following me to the exit.
And when we almost make it there, I see the girl who was dating Knox Carter. I think her name is Sloane. Even in her baggy Brooks U hoodie, she’s breathtaking.
She watches the field, not even realizing anyone else is around. But when we almost make it to where she’s at, she sees us and offers a small smile before turning to leave.
I wonder why she isn’t on that field. Or if, like me, she wishes she could be. I wonder if her heart aches the way mine does. Or if she feels as alone as I do right now. Something in her eyes tells me that she’s got a kind soul. I hope everything works out for her.
I hope it does for me too.
Weston
We did it. We really fucking did it. We are the champions. Cue the iconic song.
I know she’s here. All of Brooks is. And even though I can’t see her, I can feel her.
I see Knox. He stares at the crowd, his eyes locked on one spot. And when I follow his line of vision, I see Sloane. But more importantly, I see Henley and the redhead just behind her, headed toward the exit.
Sloane eventually turns and leaves, but his eyes remain on her. For Knox, Sloane is the one who got away. She is sweet, nice, and beautiful. And she tamed the wild in Knox.
“You all right, man?” I stand next to him, running a hand through my soaked hair.
I love games, but I can never wait to take a damn shower after. We all fucking smell.
“Yeah.” He keeps his voice low and turns toward me slightly, giving me a small grin. “I’m good. We won the championship. Best day ever, right?”
“Right,” I mimic. “Like a dream.”
We both know we’re lying. No doubt, it’s a good day. I mean, for fuck’s sake, as freshman, we just won the damn championship. But Knox’s eyes hold that same vacant look that mine do. And even though we’re happy, we’re both struggling too.
“What’s this shit I heard secondhand about you transferring after this year anyway?” Knox grows serious. “You really would do that to us?”
“What do you mean, to us?”
“To me and Cole. Your boys. You’d leave us?” His eyes narrow. “We’re supposed to be ride or die type of shit. The fuck you going to mess that up for? You’d really take off and leave me alone with Cole’s moody ass?”
I laugh, and he scowls at me.
“This isn’t funny, dick.”
“I’m sorry. It’s not.” I control the urge to laugh again. “I’m not going anywhere. Brooks is my home now.”
I didn’t know I was staying until the second we won this game. And as we came together as a team, jumping into each other … it was huge. And I realized this is where I need to be. Aside from Henley and Coach, I hadn’t told anyone I was even considering it. But after I talked to Coach, I found Dex eavesdropping around the corner when I walked out. Dex being Dex had taken it upon himself to open his big fucking mouth and told everyone else.
Knox’s mouth turns into a huge smile, and he throws his arm around my shoulders. “I knew I’d convince you to stay. I knew you’d see my side.”
He starts to walk away, and I say, “Well, I mean … you didn’t really con—”
“Yeah, I did. Don’t lie.” And off he goes.
And because I love that goofy son of a bitch like a brother, I don’t argue with him. Because if it makes him feel better to think he’s the reason I’m staying, so be it. Because honestly, part of my reason for staying is him.
Even though it’s hard to be so close to someone I love and not be able to touch her … Brooks is still the place I want to be. My friends are here. Guys who I’ve grown closer to than those who are my own blood. Coach has become like family. And if I want to drive home, I can. A little over three hours one way isn’t that bad.
I know I let her go and hoped and prayed she’d be all right on her own, but a part of me wonders if, one day, I’ll need to be there again, waiting in the shadows for something bad to happen. I can still be there for her, just from a distance. And without her knowing.
So … basically like a stalker.
I haven’t given up on her. It just looks like that to everyone else. Including her.
“Woohoo!” My mother runs to me from out of nowhere and throws herself against me. “You won! You won!”
I hug her and laugh. “Damn straight.” I let go of her and look at my dad, who pulls me in for a hug.
“So proud of you, Weston. So proud.” He pats my back. “I can’t wait to see what you do in the future. I think you’re well on your way to what you’ve always wanted. All your dreams are going to come true, son.”
Allison’s stare catches my eye, and she gives me a sympathetic smile before taking her turn to hug me. “I hope you know how proud she is.” She pats my shoulder. “She watched the whole thing. Never took her eyes off you.”
“Thanks, Mama Hayes.” I give her a squeeze. “It’s okay though.”
“What is?” she asks, pulling back.
“Everything.” I nod. “Thank you, guys, for coming.”
“You’re family, Weston. Family will always be there. No matter what,” Allison says softly.
No matter what. I think I’ve failed at that part already.
thirty-six
Henley
Eight Weeks Later
I look at the date, and I instantly feel sick. It shouldn’t matter.
Why does it matter? I don’t know. I’ll never know.
But it does. It really does.
A knock at my door startles me, and even though I should, I can’t bring myself to answer it. I’m frozen. And all I want is to not feel like this.
“Henley?” Layla’s fist connects with the door again. “We have practice soon. Are we riding together?”
Crap. Practice. I can’t … I can’t go. And as much as I don’t want to talk to Layla, I know that isn’t fair. Not at all.
“I’m feeling really bad,” I say as loud as my exhausted body will allow me. “Please tell Coach I’ll make my laps up independently. When my stomach calms down.”
She’s quiet for a moment before she says, “All right.” I can hear the questions in her voice. And the concern. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Must have eaten something that didn’t agree with me.”
“Well, if you need anything, call me,” she says, still sounding unconvinced.
I hear the wooden floor shift as she walks away. I feel like a jerk, lying to my one and only friend. But sometimes, saying what’s really going on is awkward—not to mention, uncomfortable. I couldn’t do it.
My phone dings, and I fully expect it to be Layla, calling my bluff. But it isn’t. It’s Dane.
Dane: You all right? I know today sucks. Really bad.
I think about my response for a minute. I didn’t expect him to even remember. Let alone text me. I feel a twang of guilt that I didn’t think to message him. After all, he had a loss too.
Me: I never understand the pain on this day. It isn’t like we wanted that for ourselves. But … I don’t know. It’s confusing.
Me: I’m sure I sound crazy.
Dane: Nothing about what you said is crazy. I feel the same way. I think of how awful my life would have been … to have a baby that young, but I still wish they could have been okay and that I could have met them.
Dane’s never this open and honest. He
usually doesn’t say much. Even when we were in the hospital, he didn’t say anything. He just held me, trying to make it okay. Same with weeks and even months after. But he never let his feelings out. And I’m sure that’s been hurting him inside.
Me: I always feel like it was my fault. I feel like I did something wrong because I didn’t know. And then he or she didn’t make it.
Dane: These things happen, Hen. You couldn’t have stopped it.
Me: I didn’t know I was … you know. And I swam hard. I drank a few times at parties. I jumped off the diving board and hit the water hard. You can’t tell me those things are good for an unborn child.
He doesn’t answer right away, and I panic. He must have never thought of how this was my fault. Now, he has. Now, he sees it too. And I look even more like a monster.
Dane: Drug addicts do drugs for nine months and still have babies, runners run marathons, swimmers swim, and athletes still work out. It wasn’t your fault. I hope you’ll understand that one day and let go of the guilt you carry.
Dane: My mom has always said, all things that happen, happen for a reason. I have to believe this happened because we were two kids who didn’t know what we were doing and we weren’t ready. I would have sucked as a dad, Henley. I know I would have.
Tears fill my eyes, and I can no longer see the screen. I wouldn’t have been able to be the mother I would be when I was a bit older either. I’d be wiser. I’d understand more. But at the age of seventeen, I wasn’t ready. Still, it hurts. An unfathomable type of hurt. And one that’s indescribable to someone who hasn’t walked in these same shoes.
Because, today, my baby would have been turning one year old. And that right there is surreal. And it also makes me wish that when the doctor told us we’d lost a baby we hadn’t known we were having that he hadn’t even told us what the due date would have been. It makes this day hell.
Me: Thank you. And … I’m sorry.
Dane: Me too.
Dane: And I’m sorry for the shit I pulled at dinner that night with Weston. I saw him at Christmas. He’s struggling. Hard.
