by Leigh, Tara
Nothing will keep me from seeing Gavin again. I don’t know what the future holds for us. Maybe just a long-distance friendship, with the possibility of something more down the line.
Or maybe nothing.
My chest squeezes at the thought. No. After all this time, surely we deserve something. Gavin was my best friend. My only friend. And so much more.
I can’t lose him again. I won’t.
Before heading upstairs to my dorm room, I throw myself into Gavin’s arms one last time. And it’s even better than it was before. It’s electrifying.
Everywhere Gavin is touching me, or I am pressed up against him, feels awakened somehow. Like the forest coming alive after a long winter, embracing the warmth of the sun and the kiss of the rain.
As we start to pull apart, there is a moment when Gavin and I are still so close that our mouths are barely an inch apart. His breath ghosts across my lips, that same minty warmth I remember so well, and the urge to kiss him, to be kissed by him, is nearly overwhelming.
At the last second, I fight his gravitational pull and avert my face, stepping back. Not because of Tucker—we’ve never discussed being exclusive. For all I know, he’s hanging out with other girls when he’s not with me.
I step away from Gavin because our first kiss after too-fucking-long should be special. It should mean something. And because if anyone would want that too, it would be Gavin.
He smiles crookedly, as if he understands. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“See you tomorrow,” I agree. Happiness trickles through me like rain as I jog up the stairs, becoming a full-blown storm by the time I get to my door. A storm just as powerful as the nor’easter that ripped through Sackett the night Gavin left. Elation expands in my chest like mist, excitement pulsing though my nerve endings like white-hot bolts of lightning. My heart is racing, my breath coming in fast, shallow gasps.
Gavin came back to me. Finally.
It’s only when my phone buzzes inside my hand as I’m unlocking my door that I remember the missed calls from Sadie.
I answer, fighting off the tug of irritation at her insistence. Of course, Sadie would demand my attention now, when all I want to do is celebrate Gavin’s return and think about our future. Together.
How had I ever thought that what we had—what we have—could be washed away in a flood, forgotten by time?
We are us.
Then and now.
Always.
“Hey, S—” I dispense with the greeting when I hear her crying. Not the kind of sappy, mournful, I-just-finished-a-Nicholas-Sparks-novel weeping that I’ve heard from her a million times. This is full on choking, guttural, something is very, very, wrong sobbing.
My fingers tighten around my phone in a death grip. “Sadie, please,” I beg. “I can’t understand you right now. Take a breath and tell me what’s wrong.”
Several seconds pass as she gasps for air. Seconds where I imagine her lying in a hospital bed, all alone, naked beneath a thin sheet. Sadie, tell me what’s happened. I’ll make it better, I promise. I’ll take care of you, just like always.
Finally, she is able to enunciate actual words, and they slam into me like bullets. “It’s mom. She was arrested. And now the lawyer says, because she was arrested once before, like—forever ago, she’s going to jail. Jail! For a long time. Years.”
I slump onto my bed. “What… I don’t understand. Start at the beginning. Mom was arrested?”
“Yeah. She didn’t come home last week, and—”
“No. Go back further. The arrest from forever ago.”
“It was from ten years ago, I think. While we were in DCF custody. She got busted in some stash house. I don’t know the details.”
“Jesus,” I groan. “Okay, tell me about this one.”
“Well, I had no idea what happened until she didn’t come home—”
“What do you mean she didn’t come home? Where was she?”
“Mom’s entitled to have a life, Poppy. And she does that sometimes, stays away for a night or two. But she always comes back. I thought she’d finally met someone, you know.”
“Yeah, like a dealer. For God’s sake, Sadie—how could you let this happen?”
“You’re gone and I can’t watch her every second!”
I know I’m being unreasonable. And blaming Sadie isn’t going to get us anywhere. “You’re right. Sorry. She disappeared, then what?”
“Then she calls—from jail. Saying she’s been arrested.” Sadie takes a breath and I steel myself against what’s coming next. “For possession, with intent to distribute.”
My heartbeat stutters, jumping around erratically inside my chest. “That’s… that’s…”
“A big fucking deal,” she finishes.
I was going to say a felony, but her description is just as accurate. “So, what do we do? How can we fight this?”
“It’s done. Her public defender said her best bet was to plead guilty in return for less time. The arraignment is tomorrow.”
“That’s it? You’re telling me all this now, and there’s nothing we can do?”
“I only found out yesterday,” Sadie says. “And she didn’t want me to tell you until everything was settled.”
“Settled?” I slap my hand over my eyes and fall back against the mattress. “There has to be some way we can help her, Sadie.”
“I’m all ears, sis.”
The knock on my door startles me. I tell Sadie to hang on, wiping my wet cheeks as I cross the room. Seeing Tucker, I only vaguely note the darkly furious expression on his face before I collapse into the same puddle of tears and anguish Sadie was drowning in when she called.
Extracting my phone from my hand, he leads me back to my bed as he talks to Sadie. Asking for details like the name of my mom’s arresting officer and her lawyer. The date of her arrest and exactly where she’s being held. He sits down at my desk, taking notes on a sheet of loose leaf paper.
“She hasn’t entered her plea yet, right?” Tucker asks. Then, “Okay, let me make a call. My uncle was the DA for a few years, but now he’s a partner at a big law firm. Maybe he can help.”
Gratitude rushes through me. Of course, Tucker has powerful relatives. That’s the way his world works. If Tucker’s mother got in trouble, she wouldn’t throw herself on the mercy of the court. She would make a few calls. Or her husband would. Or her brother or sister or any of her friends in high places.
Tucker gets his uncle on the phone. “My girlfriend’s mom is in trouble. I need your help.”
I’m a little taken aback by the girlfriend comment, but I chalk it up to standard shorthand. What else would he say—the mom of a girl I’m kinda-sorta seeing?
He relays the details he got from Sadie and hangs up. “He said he knows the prosecutor on your mom’s case. He’ll call me back as soon as they talk.”
I exhale a huge sigh. “Thank you, Tucker. I really… I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
He joins me on my bed. “I haven’t done anything yet.”
But he will. Just like when I lost my scholarship. People like Tucker have a way of making things work out.
“So, while we wait to hear back, why don’t you tell me about the guy I saw you with today.”
I give him a blank look, my mind still focused on my mom.
“The guy you were hugging as if your life depended on it.”
The furious expression on Tucker’s face when I first opened the door—it was because he saw me with Gavin. “He’s—He’s just an old friend.” The edge to Tucker’s voice makes me downplay my feelings.
“That’s all? Because it looked like more.”
I decide against outright lying. I’ve done nothing wrong. “His name is Gavin. He is—” I correct myself, “was my boyfriend before coming here.”
“He’s the one who gave you that necklace.”
I nod, keeping my expression neutral.
But Tucker is scowling. “You said he would come back on
e day. Is that what you’re telling me—that he’s back?”
I ignore the instinctive lurch of hope, of happiness, that pulses through me at the thought. “What? No. I mean… Gavin lives in Michigan now. He—”
Tucker tosses his phone up with one hand and catches it with the other, drawing my attention to it. Reminding me of the call he’s just made and the one we’re waiting for. “I’m doing this because you’re important to me, Poppy. But I guess I should probably ask… am I important to you?”
That’s when I see it, the inherent quid pro quo in this conversation, in this relationship—whatever its label—between Tucker and me. “Of course, you are,” I say. Which is true. Tucker is important to me.
Important for now.
Until this moment, I’ve never considered the possibility of a future with Tucker. We come from completely separate worlds. Even if I move to Manhattan after school, Tucker and I still won’t travel in the same circles. He is oysters and caviar and penthouse parties with DJs flown in from London. I am…
Frankly, I don’t have a clue what my life will be like in Manhattan. Just that it won’t be anything like Tucker’s.
I’m saved from answering when Tucker’s uncle calls back. He says that my mom’s deal will be amended. She can either go to prison… or rehab.
For a second, I allow myself to celebrate, until I realize that rehab isn’t free. And if my mom couldn’t make bail, there’s no way she can pay for rehab. “We can’t afford—”
Tucker silences me with a gentle kiss. “Don’t worry, Poppy. I’ll handle it.”
“But—”
He runs his fingers through my hair in long, soothing strokes. “Sh. I’m not letting you visit anyone in jail, even your mother. Let me take care of you.”
The feminist in me wants to protest his not letting me comment. But the part of me that was denied a childhood because no one ever looked out for me is just too damn tired. If Tucker wants to take care of me, of my mom—what’s the harm in letting him?
Chapter 27
Worthington University
Fall Semester, Senior Year
“Happy Birthday.”
A smile tugs at my lips as I look at Tucker, silhouetted in my doorway. A smile I struggle to keep on my face when I notice the shopping bag dangling from his hand.
For my last birthday, Tucker bought me a necklace. A gold P that dangles from a thin chain. It’s elegant and beautiful. Every time I feel it against my neck I’m reminded of the moonstone pendant I lost.
And the man I turned my back on.
I haven’t seen Gavin since the afternoon we spent together under the elm tree. Although we were supposed to meet the following morning, I canceled on him in the middle of the night, explaining the situation with my mother and that I couldn’t see him. He said he understood, and that he would come back again as soon as he could.
But as dawn eased gently through the windowpane, illuminating Tucker’s sleep-softened face, I knew I could never meet up with Gavin. Not when my feelings for Gavin were so strong, and my debt to Tucker so big.
That morning, Tucker drove me to my mother’s arraignment. Afterward, we’d brought her to a rehab facility where she spent the next six months. She’s back at home now, with Sadie.
But Gavin hasn’t given up on me. Yet.
Like the video he’d sent at precisely 12:01 this morning, singing happy birthday. I’ve already played it a dozen times.
Sometimes he’ll call with updates about his classes and projects and even his running times. I’ve saved all of his videos and voice mails and texts. And I’ve lost count of how many hours I’ve spent, just listening to Gavin’s voice, reading through his messages.
But I don’t answer his calls. I never respond to his messages. I can’t.
It would be so easy to hurl myself off the cliff, straight into Gavin’s arms. So easy to let myself fall. Except… I don’t know that he could catch me. Not with all my damn baggage anyway. We’d all get hurt.
I can’t let myself get too close to the edge. I have to keep my distance.
And so now I step aside, motioning for Tucker to come in my room. “You’ve already done so much for me, Tucker. You shouldn’t have bought me a gift, too.”
“If it makes you feel any better, it’s an entirely practical present. You have interviews coming up and I wanted to get you something suitable.”
A nervous flutter rises up in my stomach. Interviews, right. Unlike a lot of other seniors, I haven’t sought out internship opportunities that might lead to a post-graduation job offer because it would have meant cutting back on my TeenCharter responsibilities. But if I want to live in Manhattan, I need to land a well-paying job to afford rent. I’ll be a fixture at the campus career counseling center in another month or so.
Tucker closes the door behind him and follows me to the bed I’ve pushed beneath the room’s only window, arranging the pillows so it looks like a couch. I still live on campus, but I have a single room in a dorm reserved for upperclassmen.
I sit down, curling my legs beneath me. He pulls a box out of the bag and sets it on my lap. “Thank you, Tucker. This is so thoughtful.”
“Don’t thank me until you see what’s inside.” Tucker aims his chocolate eyes my way and I feel a familiar rush of gratitude toward him. He is always looking out for me, thinking ahead.
We’ve come a long way since that night. There is our work with the TeenCharter kids, of course. And since that first New Year’s Eve we spent together, there have been dinners and football games, all-night study sessions and long nights in his bed or mine.
In a strange way, Tucker is the only one who understands me. While it’s no secret I was taken from his room on a stretcher and rushed to the hospital in an ambulance our freshman year, Tucker is the only person who knows the extent of what happened that night. I am a different girl than I once was, certainly different than the other girls at Worthington. Even the way they walk around campus—with a carefree kind of recklessness to their step—is foreign to me.
Tucker knows what it’s like to stand in front of the WUJA board, feeling embarrassed and ashamed. His penalties weren’t as harsh as mine, but he had to do community service and attend an alcohol education class aimed at scaring you into a life of sobriety. We both had to deal with strange looks and judgmental whispers behind our backs.
That we became a couple felt almost like rebellion.
It’s an illusion though. A lie I tell myself to feel strong and in control.
If I was really brave, I would have walked away from Tucker. I would have figured out another way to help my mom, another way to stay at school.
I wouldn’t have turned my back on Gavin.
But I did. I chose Tucker over Gavin. And I have to live with my decision.
What would bravery have gotten me, anyway? Embroiled in a scandal at school. My name dragged through mud just like the girl who was raped behind the bleachers of her high school and then verbally assaulted, over and over again, in the court of public opinion. Moving back home to Sackett, attending community college with Sadie.
There is strength in forgiveness, too. Strength in standing my ground. Staying at Worthington hasn’t been easy. Giving Tucker another chance hasn’t been easy. Running away from him, running away from what happened here at school, would have been much easier.
It’s for the best. Gavin’s best, as much as mine. The starry-eyed girl he knew was idealistic and naïve. She believed in fairy tales and soul mates. When he left, Gavin took a piece of me with him.
And that night with Tucker, our mistake—shattered what was left.
Sometimes my coursework even twisted the knife. I had to white-knuckle my way through an English professor’s infatuation with British romantic poetry. According to Albert Lord Tennyson, ’Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
But, is it really? Who had Tennyson lost? As far as I can tell, when he wrote that line in 1850, he was talking about the death of his
best friend, his college buddy. Tennyson hadn’t yet lost two of his three children. Had his college friend been more than just a friend?
Either way, I think it’s probably bullshit. Poetic mansplaining.
Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe losing someone to death is different than losing them to a twist of fate.
Because knowing Gavin is a thousand miles away, eating and sleeping and maybe even loving someone else, someone who is not me, is like living with razor blades stuck between my ribs. Every breath delivers oxygen to my brain, but never relief to my heart.
And yet, as hard as losing Gavin—again—is, I know loving him would be worse. We’re not like the couple in the magazine, unscathed by pain and misfortune.
I am strong, but I’m not a fighter. And if I’m not willing to fight for Gavin, to rebel against the way the world works, I don’t deserve him. And he wouldn’t like the person I’ve become. She’s brittle and suspicious. She understands that the Stocktons and Knowles of the world play by a different set of rules than the rest of us, and the odds are stacked in their favor.
That’s why I accepted a Stockton Family Foundation scholarship. That’s why, when Tucker insisted on taking care of me, I didn’t refuse. I said “thank you.”
I understand why Gavin left me back in high school. Why he couldn’t contact me. Of course, he had to protect his mother. And he had no way of knowing I wouldn’t receive his letter and phone because the cave flooded.
I understand why the implosion of his family made him feel isolated, and why he needed time to process what happened before reaching out to me. And even why he chose to enroll at Michigan and enlist in the military.
I love Gavin. I will always love Gavin. But he purposely left me out of every important decision and moment in his life for almost three years. And he wasn’t there for me when I needed him the most.
How can I be sure Gavin won’t disappear on me again in the future?
