by Mindy Hayes
I can’t be here for one more second. Racing around the room, I snatch up my clothes, anything I can find and pull out the duffle from under my bed. Then I grab my phone from my nightstand.
Me: Where are you?
I fling open drawers and empty their contents. I yank clothing off hangers and grab my sandals from the floor. I sweep my arm across my vanity and swipe my makeup into my makeup bag. Anything and everything ends up in my duffle in a jumbled mess of material and cosmetics.
Brodee: Walking back to the house.
Me: Let’s go. Please. I need to get out of here now.
I think he might tell me no, but within seconds I get his response.
Brodee: Okay.
BRODEE AND I drove all night. The majority of our drive was in silence. I read while he drove, or rather pretended to read while all I saw was black ink on cream paper. The only topic of conversation was food, gas, and bathroom breaks. It took us eight hours, but we made it back a little after midnight.
My mom isn’t home, and I don’t know when she’ll show up. I don’t want to be at home when she does, so Brodee lets me stay at their house for the night. Being neighbors has its perks. I’ll know when she gets home—more precisely when it’s safe to go home and when to stay away.
Tatum and Carter are already at the Fisher’s, as we figured they would be. Carter’s room was cleared out when Brodee and I left the beach house, and Nick’s car was gone as was my mom’s. My guess is she let Nick take it to go after Tate, but he obviously didn’t get very far. Tatum has locked herself in her bedroom, and it’s unlikely we’ll see her before morning. Nick is MIA, and I hope he stays that way. If Brodee has any power, he’ll make sure Nick stays far away from their house.
The house is still as we walk up the carpeted stairwell to Brodee’s room. We pass Carter’s closed bedroom door and peer down at his parents’ closed door at the end of the hall. Tatum’s pain practically leaks from beneath the door, soaking into the house.
I drop my duffle at the foot of his bed and sit down on the edge. The mattress squeaks as I sink into it. When we used to have sleepovers, Brodee would let me have his bed, and he’d take the floor. I hated sleeping on the floor. He’d get a sleeping bag and tell me he didn’t mind, that it was cool because it felt like he was camping. I learned later on Brodee hates camping.
The mattress squeaks again as Brodee sits beside me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him run his hand down his face and rest his elbows on his knees as he leans forward. I can tell he’s exhausted—physically and emotionally. I napped earlier and was able to sleep in the car, too. I’m not sure if he’s gotten much sleep since we fell asleep on the beach. It all seems like a lifetime away. Hatteras. Happiness. Hope in the future.
“Tonight, can we forget about it? Can we pretend that nothing has changed?” he asks desperately, watching me from the corner of his eyes. “When we wake up, we can let reality set in, but tonight I just want to hold you.”
It will only hurt more in the morning, but the pain is inevitable whether we prolong our time together or not. I want him to hold me, too. I nod. I don’t say anything. We crawl up his bed and lie on our sides, my back toward him. Brodee curls behind me. His arm wraps around my torso, tugging me snugly to his body.
I ask, “Do you remember my eleventh birthday when all I wanted was a telescope?”
“And the subtle hints you left for your parents.” I can hear the smile in his voice.
I softly laugh, recalling the magazine telescope clippings I’d left all around the house. One on my dad’s pillows, one under a magnet on the fridge, one laying on his nightstand, one slipped under his laptop in his office so it peeked out just enough from beneath it.
“I remember you making me cut out every telescope we could find from any magazine you could get your hands on.”
“And I was so mad when, on my birthday, I woke up to a new surfboard and not a telescope.” I chuckle before I pause. “Do you know why I was so upset?”
“Because you really wanted a telescope?”
“Because the telescope was something you and I could do together, star gaze the right way. You didn’t know how to surf yet, and I was so mad at my parents for getting me something I couldn’t share with you.”
Brodee holds me tighter. “Why do you think the very next weekend I asked your dad to teach me how to surf?” he asks.
“It wasn’t because you wanted to learn how?”
“I wanted to learn how so I could do it with you.”
I twist my face to look at him. “Really?”
“Don’t you get it, Peyton? Every obstacle that we’ve faced, threatening to distance us, has lost. More than friends or not, we’ve never let anything stand in our way before,” he whispers.
Until now, I think and turn away, hiding the tears in my eyes.
He buries his face in my hair and exhales. “I love you so much.”
A tear falls and wets my hair on the pillow. “I know,” I say, because saying it back will only make this more difficult when we wake. I tuck one arm under my head and tangle my other with his over my stomach, settling further into him to savor every last touch. I breathe out. I love you, too.
THE SUN WAKES me. It takes a second before I realize I’m in Brodee’s room, not my bedroom in Hatteras. Everything from yesterday crashes into me like an asteroid. I don’t feel Brodee around me, so I look to the left side of the bed. He’s gone. Stretching, I get up and let myself out of his room in search of him and some breakfast. I forgot to charge my phone, so I don’t even know what time it is. It could be lunchtime for all I know.
When I get to the end of the hallway I hear him and Tatum talking downstairs, so I pause. Not because I want to spy, but so I don’t interrupt their conversation. And maybe to listen for a little bit.
“I don’t know where he is, Brodee.”
“Does Carter know? He was standing outside of his bedroom door when we walked upstairs. He had to have heard something. You guys weren’t exactly quiet.”
“He knows we got into a big fight, and that’s all he has to know for now. I didn’t tell him more than that. Your father can do that.”
There’s a pause.
“Mom…” Brodee utters. It sounds like he has tears in his voice. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did, broke the news like that.”
“Brodee, son, you have nothing to apologize for. If you hadn’t, I don’t know how much longer it would’ve gone on without me knowing.”
“But I feel so awful. I hate to see you hurting. I should’ve told you in private. Or talked to Dad and made him tell you himself. That’s what I should have done.”
“Oh, sweetie, this is not something I want you to beat yourself up over. Crap happens. It wouldn’t have mattered how I found out. You did nothing wrong. Okay? You hear me?”
“Yeah.” He’s unconvinced. It’s my fault he feels so guilty. I opened my big mouth in the heat of the moment when I wasn’t thinking straight. If I were in his shoes and I walked in on them, I would’ve snapped too. But I wouldn’t have been able to wait. I’d have yelled at them right then and there. Or maybe I would’ve done exactly as he’d done and kept it to myself, trying to process it.
“Okay?” she asks more adamantly, but I can hear that she’s tearful.
“Okay,” he concedes.
“This should never have involved you in the first place. I’m sorry that you had to find out first.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for either, Mom. I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”
I decide this break in conversation is the best time to go downstairs before I get caught eavesdropping. As I walk, I can see them talking at the kitchen counter. Tatum is wrapped in a bathrobe, her hair damp and hanging over her shoulders. Brodee looks just as disheveled as he did last night, wearing the same rumpled T-shirt and jeans he slept in. Their heads turn to me when they hear me coming down the steps.
Tatum’s the first one to move. She glides across th
e hardwood floors to meet me at the bottom of the steps and pulls me into her arms. “Oh, Peyton.”
I’m so caught off guard it takes me a moment to reciprocate. Why is she hugging me? Shouldn’t I be consoling her?
She pulls back and kisses me on the cheek. “Did we wake you? You look so tired, honey. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Why is she asking me? “Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” she assures. It’s a lie. We both know it.
I bite my lip. “Tate, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry she did this to you.”
“Why are you and Brodee apologizing for things you can’t control, for things you shouldn’t even be worrying about? This is not your fault.”
“Because she’s my mom, and she hurt you. You’re my family too, Tate.”
“Oh, baby.” She pulls me back in, hugging me closely. “Yes, we are. We’re going to get through this. We’re going to be just fine.”
I catch Brodee’s sad eyes over her shoulder. He shrugs and offers a small close-lipped smile. Apparently he doesn’t agree, but he’s going to smile because there’s nothing else he can do.
I STAYED AT the Fisher’s again last night. Tatum said I could have one more night, and then I would have to go home. My mom hasn’t stopped texting and calling me. I acknowledged her to let her know I was safe, and that was it. She’s too much of a coward to come and get me herself.
Nick has yet to show his face. I’m not even sure if he wants to. And if he does, Tatum must be turning him away because we haven’t heard anything from him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s staying at my house with my mom, which makes me want to stay away that much longer. It’s made it easier for Brodee and me to continue pretending for another day. Or avoiding it. However you want to look at it. But now it’s time to go back to reality.
I stand on my front door step, staring at the handle like it’s a poisonous snake. I don’t want to touch it. Brodee must be watching me because my cell phone sounds off from inside my pocket.
Brodee: You’ve got this.
I turn toward his house and see him standing in the center of his front porch. He nods encouragingly. I know he gets it. He wants to see his dad about as much as I want to see my mom. I nod back and head inside.
My mom is sitting on the couch in the family room with her head down when I round the corner. She lifts her gaze. Her eyes are bloodshot, and her face is all blotchy. It looks like she hasn’t stopped crying in days.
“Why did it have to be Nick?” I ask from where I stand. She remains seated. “I get you may be ready to move on—trying to date—but Nick? Why did it have to be Nick?” I don’t want to cry, but I can’t help it.
She stands. “Peyton, I know it’s hard, but I didn’t do this to hurt you.” She reaches out to me, but I shy away. I’m not ready for her to touch me. She settles back on the couch. “I never wanted to hurt any of you. Any of you. It just happened.”
“That’s a horrible explanation,” I say.
“I can’t explain why. You wouldn’t understand.”
“No, I don’t understand.” I take a bold step forward. “I don’t understand how you could be so callous, to hurt your best friend like this.” And another. “I don’t understand how you could disrespect Dad by sleeping with his best friend.” My voice quivers with pain. “I don’t understand how you could destroy the only family we have left!”
“I know.” She cries. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t fix this, Mom. Why Hatteras? The one place that’s sacred to us. You took that away from me. From all of us. Everything Hatteras was will be tainted by your unfaithfulness.”
She sniffles. “Honey, I’m sorry. We knew what this would do, that everything would change. We were going to come clean when we got home. We waited so you and Brodee could enjoy this last summer together.”
“Waiting wouldn’t have made a difference. The summer would have been tainted no matter what. There were still lies and secrecy and betrayal. Whether you told us during or after, you ruined everything!”
My mom grits her teeth. “I get that you’re upset. I don’t expect you to accept this right away, but everything isn’t ruined. It’s messy right now, but we’ll work through it.”
“Work through it?” I snort. “With or without Nick by your side?”
When she doesn’t respond right away I think I have my answer. “Are you going to get married?” Please say no. Please. I’m begging you.
“It’ll be quite some time before any of that is discussed.” She stands and comes closer to me. “We’ll take it slow. We understand what a shock this is.”
I scoff. Shock? Is that what this is called? Every part of my insides hurt. I’ve been dragged behind a horse on a desert road for miles. There isn’t a part of me that’s untouched by her deceit.
“You don’t get it, do you?” I shake my head, so disappointed in her. Our roles are suddenly reversed. I feel like the adult in this situation. “You’re so flippant about this, like you didn’t take one second to step back and think about what this would do to all of us. You wrecked it all, Mom! Brodee’s and my relationship will never be the same. Ever. I’ll never be able to look at Nick the same. Tate…Tate is devastated. Our families will never be the same. And it’s your fault. Because you and Nick couldn’t keep it in your pants!”
My mom shoots forward, her hand raised to smack me, but she stops herself. “You think this has been easy for me? Every day of the summer it’s weighed on me, and how it will affect every one of your lives. You don’t think I haven’t thought about how it will change the way you’ll look at me, how it’ll change you and me. What your father would think of me. You don’t think I regret what this will do to my relationship with Tate? It kills me, Peyton.” Her hands take my shoulders as the tears stream down her face. “It kills me,” she whispers.
“Am I supposed to feel bad for you?” My voice cracks.
“I’m not asking for your pity or your forgiveness. I’m asking for your understanding, for your acceptance.”
“I can’t give you that because I don’t understand this. I don’t understand how you could do this. I don’t understand why you thought he was more important than the rest of us.” Tears sting my eyes.
“He’ll never be more important than you, honey.” Her voice is desperate. “Never.”
“If you felt that way, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You’d never have started this or you’d stop it now. You’d get on your hands and knees to beg for forgiveness and never consider being with him for one more second.”
She swallows. “I can’t do that. It doesn’t change how we feel. I wish it happened differently, but I can’t change that now. Nick and I have thought long and hard about this. We love each other. And you’ll eventually have to accept that we’re going to move forward.”
I can almost hear her tack on in her head, “Whether you like it or not.” That’s essentially what she’s saying. She doesn’t truly care about how this is going to affect everyone. She knew it would destroy us, and she did it anyway.
I’ll never be able to look at my mom the same.
WHEN I WAKE up the next day, all I want to do is be near Brodee, and then I remember that I can’t run into his arms for comfort. I can’t waltz into his house like it’s my own or share cheesy pick-up lines with him. We can’t pretend anymore. We’re over.
I spend my day locked in my room, packing up everything I won’t need at USC. Moving day can’t come fast enough. There comes a point when I can’t stand being in the house any longer so I grab my board and head for the beach. I don’t check the surf report. Even if the waves are crap, they’ll be better than staying in that house with her. I just need to be in the ocean.
When I’ve spent a few hours away, I pull back into my driveway and see Brodee. He stands from the steps and waits for me on my front porch. He’s got a key to my house, so I’m not sure why he’s not inside.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi.” I amble t
oward him.
“Your mom is inside.”
Duh. There’s my answer. I haven’t gone to his house for the exact same reason. I can’t bear the thought of seeing Nick. The man who was supposed to be my loyal father figure. I was going to ask him to walk me down the aisle one day.
I nod. Brodee steps to the side, and we both sit down on the top stair, overlooking the street we grew up on.
We don’t say anything for a few minutes. We sit, resting our arms over our knees, studying our hands in our own laps.
“I’m leaving for Duke tomorrow morning,” Brodee quietly speaks up.
I nod. I hoped he’d change his mind. There’s no way I’ll be able to see him every day, knowing we can’t be together. He made the right choice, even though it hurts. It needs to happen this way.
“But I want you to know I’m not giving up on us.”
“Brodee…” I sigh.
“No,” he cuts me off. “Listen to me. This sucks now. Everything is messed up, but it’s not that much different than before. We weren’t going to do the long distance thing before anyway. We’ll work through this when the time comes.”
“Not that different?” I nearly choke on a laugh. “Don’t you get it? You and I will never be what we were. What we had is broken. It’s gone. There’s no way you and I can ever be together.”
“Our parents screwed up, Peyton. We didn’t.”
“Brodee.” I punctuate his name. “Our parents are in love. Do you realize that? This wasn’t just some heat of the moment affair that happened once. This has probably been going on a lot longer than we realize. Everything is different. We’d be some twisted form of stepbrother and sister. You might be okay with that, but I’m not.”
He runs his fingers roughly through his hair, standing it on end. “We made a pact. We weren’t supposed to change.”
