by Jenna Scott
A sour laugh comes out of me. “I’ve been hearing a lot of that lately.”
“So get better, then. And if you can’t do it for her, do it for yourself.”
Ortega walks away, and I sit there, stunned, unable to believe I got a scolding from him. But he’s right. Milla deserves better than this. She makes me want to be better than this.
And I want to be better, too. Not just for her, but for Harrison.
For myself.
Milla was right when she said this isn’t who I am. But if I show up in front of her now, it’ll just be more empty words from me, with no actions to back them. Apologizing won’t cut it—I have to prove to her that I’m working through my shit. For real. And stop treating her like a rehab, like she said. Just because she’s always been there to help me through the bad stuff, it doesn’t mean it’s her job to put what’s left of me back together after I’m done burning every bridge on an impulse.
And she was right about another thing: I’m more than who my parents are. My path in life, the person I am, those things don’t depend on my mom’s shitty past choices or whose DNA I share. I never measured Milla by her mother’s worth, so why am I doing the same to myself? What matters most are the choices I make, the actions I take, the people I love. The people who love me back. Harrison. Milla.
I have to fix things with her.
Before it’s too late.
But first, I’m going to meet with Coach. I’m going to ask him for help. Then I’ll go straight to the health center or the peer counseling offices if I have to.
I’m going to get myself back on track, one step at a time. I’ll go to every class, turn in all my late assignments, study my ass off for final exams. Get back in the pool twice a day. Call my brother and tell him how much I miss him.
I’m going to show up for myself. Show Milla I’m better.
And then I’m going to give her the surprise of a lifetime.
Chapter Forty-One
Camilla
After I told him to see himself out of my life, Hunter called me several times a day, for several days on end. Never once did I pick up.
As much as I was dying to hear what he might have to say to me, I knew I couldn’t give in. To pick up would mean it didn’t matter what he’d done, that there were no consequences for him to face, and that I’d forgive him no matter what. And I can’t. I won’t. My life is already complicated enough as it is—I don’t need a boyfriend with an alcohol abuse problem and avoidant tendencies to add to my grief.
A week passes, and I think he’s made good on his promise to destroy himself. But when next Monday comes, I see him on campus. He still looks like shit, but at least he’s going to class, or at least, he shows up for the History class we have together. I catch him actually taking notes, and he even asks questions and raises his hand a few times with correct answers for Professor Harmon.
Over the next few days, I keep spotting Hunter here or there. It seems he’s started hanging around at the coffee shop where Emmett works, because every time I pass by, I see Hunter at a corner table on the patio surrounded by schoolwork and clutching a huge to-go cup of coffee.
But he doesn’t try to approach me.
The duffel bag with his swim gear swings from his shoulder every so often, so I know he’s gone back to the team. I’m glad they let him, if anything, because even though Hunter complains about the early hours and the endless work, I know he loves it. It gives him purpose. I’m sure the team is glad to have him around, too.
Even though we’re not together anymore, seeing him improve one day at a time makes my heart lift with happiness. I still want what’s best for him. In fact, maybe leaving him to face his demons alone was the most helpful thing I could have done.
Emmett and Isabel have been really great to me, Emmett especially, and Olivia does her best to distract me when we’re both at the dorm together. I’m working hard on my TA stuff for Professor Laurens, hitting the books extra hard in preparation for finals, and having more regular FaceTime calls with Isabel. All my waking hours are as packed as possible in my efforts to avoid a relapse of Hunteritis.
And what’s more? I’ve officially changed my major. I’m now double-majoring in psychology and English. It’ll be a lot of work, but after talking it over in detail with Laurens, I know I can manage it. I’ve never been so excited about school before.
I’m just popping into the café between classes to visit Emmett and grab a lemon blueberry muffin when I catch Hunter looking my way. Though I don’t stop walking, our eyes lock onto each other for a hot moment before he turns his head, but it’s already too late. The damage is done. My pulse is pounding, all of my nerve endings gone haywire. My body wants nothing more than to go to him, to wrap my arms around him, to kiss him.
But I don’t let myself do it.
I made it clear that he has to be the one to approach me again. It doesn’t matter how much it hurts to be in the same room as him and not touch him, or that it’s pure torture to listen to his voice in class. The ball is in his court.
Another week goes by. Besides studying and sharing Lit TA tutoring shifts with Abby, I go to a few parties with Olivia and Emmett, and end up having some fun. Hunter’s not at any of them, so either he’s at different ones, or he’s staying home. I hope it’s the latter—I’ve noticed he never looks hungover when I spot him in the halls.
The semester is zipping by, and we finally get our grades back for the group paper we did on Hamilton for History all those weeks ago. Hunter turned in his portion late, but he handled his share of the work and made sure Harmon knew the rest of us weren’t to blame. I was strangely proud of him for that. We all got an A; Hunter was given a B+ for lateness.
When I find out there’s a competition scheduled for the school’s swim team, I decide to show up and invisibly offer my support. Even though Hunter didn’t invite me, I’m hoping he won’t be able to spot me in the bleachers. Olivia goes with me for emotional support, and I elbow her when I see Hunter messing around with his teammates off to the side of the pool. The rival team is from UC Berkeley, and I’m surprised to see Matt Mason from Oak Academy on the team. He and Hunter give each other bro-hugs, and both of them are smiling.
The first race is about to start, and when the swimmers get on their marks, I realize how foolish I’ve been in my hopes to not be noticed. Hunter’s gravity field still works, stronger than ever before, and as soon as he’s in position, his eyes go to the bleachers and land right on me.
Skin flushing, I hold his stare. There’s considerable distance between us, but I can read him nonetheless. He’s confused, at first. But he’s happy. He tries not to show it, but his lips are curling up, and he drinks me in like I’m water to a parched throat.
My chest tightens, and the noise around me fades to a distant droning. The rest of the world falls away, piece by piece, person by person, until all that remains is the two of us. And then the whistle blows, the swimmers dive into the pool, and he’s gliding through the water so fast he’s just a blur.
He ends up winning with the fastest time, and pride swells in my chest.
But I don’t wait around after the meet for him. I know he’ll come to me when—if—he’s ready.
Chapter Forty-Two
Camilla
In the blink of an eye, finals are over and I suddenly have a few weeks of vacation in front of me. But winter break also comes without any contact from Hunter. To have his silence when he’s been doing better makes me feel all sorts of complicated things, so I try not to dwell on it and just focus on myself.
Roble Hall is emptying out and going silent, already a victim to the holiday exodus. Olivia helped me put up some twinkly lights yesterday morning and then left to spend Christmas with her family in Arizona. Not having her here makes the small space a lot emptier of life and energy, but I’m still videochatting with Isabel almost every day, so I won’t be completely lonely.
I know I could have gone back to La Jolla for the break. Both Emmett and
Isabel invited me to join their families for Christmas and Hannukah, and at least I wouldn’t be alone during the holidays…but I can’t go down there and not spend time with my mom. The guilt would eat me alive, even if she didn’t know I was in town.
Still, I wish Mom wasn’t going to be spending Christmas by herself. If only I knew she’d be decent to be around, I’d be happy to spend the holiday with her. But we’ve barely spoken since she got kicked out of Hunter’s house, and when we have, she’s been drunk and mean. She told me she had to move into a shitty studio apartment and find a new job, and it sounds like it’s been a miserable time.
If I go home to all of that, Mom will be unbearable. She’ll take all her troubles out on me. No thanks. Been there, done that. I’d rather be alone than spend Christmas feeling shitty because of my mom. It wouldn’t be the first holiday she’s ruined.
I guess it helps my guilt that she didn’t officially invite me to come down for Christmas, anyway. The last time she called, it was to ask me for money. Apparently, my Stanford scholarship means I don’t actually need the funds I spent the last four years saving for college, and therefore she’s entitled to some of it… Right.
My answer had been a resounding sorry, but no. I haven’t heard from her since.
So, here I am. Kicking around the dorm by myself.
After I get ready for the day, I’m thinking of going out to get myself a little tree and ornaments. Spend some time decorating it, maybe buy myself a small present so I have something to open tomorrow morning. I’ll also swing by the grocery store on campus so I can cook myself something special—as soon as I settle on which internet recipe to try. I’m definitely leaning toward extra cheesy potatoes au gratin and homemade orange-cranberry sauce with pecans, but that’s all I’ve picked out so far.
This will be a Christmas I’ve made just for myself. Mine and only mine. If I think about it that way, I won’t be sad. I won’t be missing my friends, or Hunter. Maybe I can even get Emmett and Isabel to Zoom with me so we can do a little virtual hangout around my tiny tree.
I’m just Googling for the nearest hardware store where I can go pick up a Christmas tree when a knock on the door jolts me from my planning. I’m sure it’s just the RA, being a good dorm mother and making sure I know she’s around if I need anything. But when I look through the peephole, I see Hunter standing in the hall.
“Hunter,” I whisper, holding on to the door for support, unsure of what to do.
He knocks again, and I’m frozen. I don’t know whether to fling the door open and smile at him, or tiptoe back into my bedroom and pretend I’m not here. My heart is pounding a million miles an hour, and I realize I’m still wearing my candy cane pajama bottoms and a hoodie. Should I even answer the door dressed like this?
I see him turn and start to walk away, and suddenly I know I can’t let him go.
“Hunter!” I say, tumbling into the hall. “Wait.”
“Hey,” he says, coming back toward me. “Nice pants. Very festive.”
“Yeah.”
Neither of us speaks after that, and we stand there for a few moments in awkward silence. I want to step into his arms and hold him so badly it feels like my body is going to break.
“So, um, what are you doing here?” I finally blurt out.
He looks away, scratching the back of his head nervously, and then tentatively says, “I was just wondering…do you have plans for Christmas?”
My heart jumps, but I try not to get my hopes up. “I was actually planning on staying in. I’m about to run out to get a tree and pick up some groceries.”
“Cool…” Hunter makes a motion to step closer, but decides against it. “Would you maybe want to come with me instead?”
I want to say yes, but part of me hesitates. “Come with you where?”
The beginnings of a smile form in the corners of his mouth. “That will have to remain a surprise.”
Drinking in his smile, I tilt my head appraisingly. “What kind of surprise?”
“A good one, I hope.”
Should I go with him, or would it be a huge mistake? He seems earnest enough, and he has cleaned up. Who am I kidding, he looks fucking amazing. His eyes are clear, he’s clean shaven, and I can smell his cologne. To add insult to injury, it’s suspenders day for him and fuck me, he should be banned from wearing those, along with vests.
I have no reason not to give him a chance. And if I don’t like where things are going, I can always beg off and Uber my way back to the dorms.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll go with you. Just give me a few minutes to get dressed. You can wait out here in the hall.”
He nods, and I head inside to get ready.
I rifle through my closet, debating going into Olivia’s room and borrowing some kind of flouncy little dress, but in the end, I decide to go with something casual: dark jeans, a green blouse, and a vintage leather bomber jacket handed down to me by Isabel. I don’t want to overdo it, but I can’t help adding a swipe of mascara and a little blush.
When I go back out to the hallway, Hunter gives me a smile.
“Do I look okay?” I ask. I still have no idea where we’re going.
“You look…perfect,” he says.
We make our way across campus to one of the student parking lots, our elbows brushing a few times, making small talk about how our final exams went. He doesn’t bring up the swim meet I went to, and neither do I. By the time we reach his BMW, I’m shivering and grateful for the seat warmers.
Hunter drives us to a building in Palo Alto, just a few miles from campus—but it’s not his apartment on Forest Ave. This place is older and a lot smaller, a two-story Spanish-style duplex with wrought iron railings and lots of windows. It’s lovely.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“You’ll see,” Hunter says.
As soon as we get out of the car a gust of wind blows our way, and I hug myself against the cold. From the entryway comes a blur of motion, and it takes me half a second to recognize Harrison’s sweet little face.
“Milla! You’re here!”
I fall to one knee and open my arms as Harry tackles me. His grin is so wide it’s infectious.
I’m so happy I could cry.
Chapter Forty-Three
Camilla
“Hey, kiddo.” I get back on my feet and hug him to me tightly, realizing he’s grown taller over the past four months. He smells like baby shampoo and fresh laundry. My sweet boy. “I missed you.”
“Hunter told me you won a Mario Kart tournament!” Harrison’s voice is almost a breathless shriek with all the excitement. “Is it true? Was everyone else that bad?”
Turning my head, I narrow my eyes at Hunter. “You’ve been poisoning your brother against my skills.”
He holds up his hands. “I’ve done no such thing!”
Rolling my eyes, I look at Harrison again. “I did win, and everyone else was not that bad. I’m just that good.”
His brows crinkle in confusion. “Does that mean you let me win when we play?”
“What? No way!” I muss his hair. “You’re a champ at that game, Harry. No one can beat you—not even a pro.”
That seems to make him happy, and taking me by the hand, he leads me up the stairs to the porch where his mom is waiting. It might be the first time I’ve ever seen her with a genuine smile on her face. And without all the makeup, I realize just how young she is. Even in her late twenties, she could almost pass for a Stanford co-ed.
“Hello, Camilla,” Karleigh says.
“Hello, Mrs.…” I bite my lip, uncertain. I was about to call her Mrs. Beck. I’m worried she blames me in some way for what happened between her ex-husband and my mom, or that she won’t approve of me hanging around with Hunter—or Harrison.
“Karleigh’s fine,” she says warmly, smoothing Harry’s hair and kissing the top of his head. “It’s so good to see you. I’m glad you could make it.”
Make it? Does this mean Hunter told her I might be coming?
“It’s good to see you, too. You look great.” It’s not a lie. I’m sure the divorce (and Mr. Beck’s infidelity) is ripping her apart, but with her fresh face and her sweatpants and her ponytail, she exudes this vibe of…contentedness. She’d never been like this back at the Becks’ house. Maybe she’s starting a whole new chapter, too.
We go inside, the place warm and cozy from the fireplace in the room. There are hardwood floors, clean white walls, a couch fit for several kings, and what looks like the building’s original iron chandelier hanging over a modern blue and green patterned rug that Mr. Beck would have absolutely hated.
The Christmas decorations I see are minimal, but the tree itself is heavenly. It’s not the tallest, but it’s very full and fragrant, dripping with white lights and tinsel and tons of gold ornaments. A red candle burns on the coffee table, something like cinnamon and spice mixed together. The whole room smells like Christmas.
“This is such a gorgeous place,” I tell Karleigh, looking over the open space between the living room and the dining area. The small table on the other side is already loaded up with steaming dishes, a basket of rolls, and a spread of fancy cheeses.
“Thank you! I did decorate it a bit, although it’s not mine. It’s Hunter’s—he’s just letting me and Harrison live on the top floor.”
That’s incredibly generous of Hunter, but I’m not surprised, since Harrison’s involved. What I am surprised at is, “You…got a duplex?” I ask. “How’d that happen?”
Hunter shrugs. “I talked to my dad. About what my mom told me.”
My stomach drops. “Oh God. What’d he say?”
He glances at Harrison and then leads me toward a corner where we can have some privacy. “He said I’m his son, no matter how much I piss him off or what’s in my DNA. I never expected it to go that way. Not at all.”
Honestly, I didn’t either. Hunter’s dad has always been kind of a jerk. But underneath it all, regardless of the fighting, he must really love his sons. Both of them.
