Turning sideways, he scooted up the bed and shifted onto his back. We were shoulder to shoulder. Hip to hip. The acute sense of awareness that always accompanied this kind of closeness was there. A shivery wave that rippled over my skin. It didn’t... It didn’t feel right. That aware feeling. Like I shouldn’t feel those things after what had happened. It wasn’t right.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Getting comfortable,” he replied, grinning at me. “I plan on being here awhile.”
My mouth dropped open. “Not sure if you realize this or not, but I tire out really easily right now. Supposed to be resting—”
“Do you remember when you were eleven and had mono?” he asked suddenly.
I frowned. Of course I remembered. The fever had been the worst part for me. I’d felt like my head was going to explode. I was pretty sure I’d caught it from Dary.
“Our parents wanted us to stay away from each other. Dad was afraid I’d catch it and I’d miss Little League practice.” He laughed quietly. “Anyway, you were upset because you were lonely and being all kinds of whiny about it—”
“I wasn’t being whiny,” I argued. “I was stuck in my bedroom by myself for days, and if I wasn’t sleeping, I was bored.”
“You were sick and you didn’t want to be alone.” He paused, waiting for me to look at him. “You wanted me.”
My brows lifted as heat hit my face. Was he on drugs? “I didn’t want you, per se. I just wanted someone—”
“You’ve always wanted me.” He cut me off, his gaze meeting mine. “Not just anyone, but me.”
Lips parting, I could only stare at him for several seconds. The night of the party came back. Us by the pool. Me thinking he was going to kiss me. Us arguing that night. And I thought about the Monday before that night, at the lake. I’d kissed him, but I hadn’t allowed myself to think about any of that, because it didn’t seem fair.
“So, you not wanting me here has nothing to do with you being tired. I know why you don’t. Or at least I think I understand part of it, and we’ll talk about the you-wanting-me part later,” he replied, loosely folding his arms across his chest. “But for right now, I want to know how things went with Abbi and Dary.”
We were going to talk about the me-wanting-him part later? That was a later I was going to make sure I wasn’t around to see.
“I’m not leaving.” He nudged my knee with his. “Get talking.”
After a few moments, I shifted my gaze to the TV. Deep down, I knew I could make him leave. If I told him I really didn’t want him here, he would go. He wouldn’t be happy about it, but he’d leave. But as I stared at the TV, I knew I didn’t want him to leave. I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted my friends.
I wanted him.
“It was good seeing them,” I admitted, voice hoarse. “How did you find out they were here? Were you watching the house?”
“Maybe.” He chuckled again. “No, they told me today at school that they were coming over and forcing their way in if necessary. They’ve really missed you, Lena. This past week has been really hard on them.”
“I know.”
He was quiet for only a moment. “Megan was their friend, too.”
Guilt was a snake twisting up my insides. “I know that, too.”
“I know you do, but something is going on in your head.”
Running my hand over the comforter, feeling like there was so much I wanted to say but didn’t know how to. “There’s a lot of stuff in my head right now.”
“Understandable,” he murmured. “There’s a lot going on in my head right now. It’s weird. Like I’ll wake up thinking about something Cody had said to me. Or some dumbass ignorant thing I said to him.”
I closed my eyes, feeling my throat burn.
“In class today, someone said something hilarious, and my first thought was I couldn’t wait to tell Phillip. That he’d get a kick out of the joke. Then I remembered I couldn’t tell him,” Sebastian said. “I walked into the lunchroom yesterday looking for you.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“I miss them, Lena.” His shoulder pressed lightly into mine. “I miss you.”
Opening my eyes, I let myself lean into him. “I’m here, though.”
“Are you really?”
I blinked. “Yeah.”
Sebastian was quiet for a long moment. “It’s good to talk about them, you know? At least that’s what the grief counselors have been saying.”
Talking about Megan and the guys hurt like a gunshot blast to the chest, so I couldn’t imagine how it felt good.
When I didn’t answer, he asked the same question Abbi had: “Do you remember the accident?”
I gave the same answer I’d given the girls. “Only bits and pieces.”
He nodded slowly. “Do you... Do you know why you left with them without coming to me?”
A sixth sense told me he wanted to talk to me about something...about something I’d been super avoiding. I wasn’t sure how to answer that question. The reasoning now seemed so stupid. So incredibly dumb. But I was tired of saying “I don’t know” and exhausted with telling half truths and lies. “You were with Skylar and I...I just didn’t want to bother you.” When I peeked over at him, he was looking at me like he had no idea what I was talking about. “I didn’t see you after she showed up. I didn’t want to come looking for you. I figured you guys wanted...private time or something.”
An emotion I couldn’t quite decipher flickered on his face, and he turned his head. A muscle along his jaw flexed. “Hell,” he muttered, thrusting his fingers through his hair. His fingers scrunched. “I don’t know why you think Skylar and I needed private time, but I would’ve appreciated the interruption. I thought you were just having fun.”
Under the covers, I crossed my ankles. “Okay.”
“No. Seriously.” He dropped his hand and his hair flopped back onto his forehead. “Skylar wanted to talk to me about...about getting back together. I spent that entire time with her trying to explain that getting back together wasn’t going to happen. She was really upset. Crying and everything.”
Surprise shot through me. “You’re not back with Skylar?”
“No.” He laughed. “When we broke up in the spring, it was over. Done. Not going back there. Nothing against her, I still care about her, but that’s just not going to happen.”
There was the part of me, the old part, that wanted to dissect every single word he’d just said. Everything he had been saying. That old part of me wanted to figure out if he was telling the truth or downplaying what was happening so he didn’t hurt my feelings.
The new part of me didn’t do that now.
Sebastian had no reason to lie about this.
“When I was talking to her, I got a text message from Abbi, when she was looking for you and Megan.” This time, he scrubbed his hand over his jaw. “Some of the people leaving the party had seen the accident, recognized Chris’s SUV and came back to the party, since the road was blocked. That’s when I knew something had happened. I tried calling you. Texting you.”
The missed calls and texts sat unread and unchecked on my phone.
He exhaled roughly. Several heartbeats passed. “How are you really doing?”
That simple question cut straight through me, wrecked into the walls, opening up a tiny crack. “I don’t want to go to school next week,” I whispered. “I don’t know if I can see everyone when I’m...”
“When you’re what?”
When I’m responsible for my friends’ deaths.
Thinking those words caused my heart to jump a beat and my throat closed up. I wasn’t ready to go back to school. And I wasn’t ready to talk about the agony and the pain, and all the guilt. I wasn’t ready to put those messy, bitter emotions to words. I didn’t know how to admit to my friends that I loved, to the boy that I’d been in love with all this time, that I could’ve stopped what had happened. That I could’ve done better.
“All ri
ght,” he said. “We don’t have to talk anymore.”
A knot formed. “Thank you.”
“Things will eventually be better.” Reaching between us, he found my left hand and carefully threaded his fingers through mine. “You know how I know?”
“How?” My eyes were getting too heavy to keep open.
He squeezed my fingers. “You left the balcony door unlocked.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Tuesday afternoon I sat in the middle of my bed, staring at my phone. Mom was downstairs, attempting to handle the few accounts she was able to access from home. She’d told me this morning that she had talked to Dad. It was the first time she’d brought him up since he’d been at the hospital.
She’d told me that he was going to make an effort to be more present, whatever the hell that meant.
I wasn’t expecting anything to be different. Dad would sporadically call and I wouldn’t answer. Nearly dying changed a lot of things, but not that.
Glancing at the space on the bed beside me, I thought about last night. I had no idea what time Sebastian had left, because I’d fallen asleep by then. All I knew was that when I woke up this morning, he was gone.
Things will eventually be better.
Would they? When I first woke up this morning, before the fog of sleep completely cleared, I could almost believe that they would. Until I shifted and pain shot across my chest.
I’d thought that maybe things were better, until I remembered that my friends were dead.
Until I remembered that I could’ve kept them alive.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I winced as a burning sensation arced across my ribs. I swallowed hard, growing uneasy and restless.
Coach Rogers had called this morning. I hadn’t known it was him until Mom brought the phone to me, and at that point there was no way I could turn the call down.
I had taken it with a trembling hand, my stomach knotted in dread. Coach was strict. Girls had been kicked off the team for far less than what I’d been involved in.
I rubbed my hand over my forehead. Coach had asked how I was feeling and I told him I was getting better. He’d asked about my arm, and I said that it could be several weeks before I got the cast removed.
He was up front about my position, and I was surprised when he told me that he expected to see me at the practices and at the games. I was shocked when he said I still had a spot on the team.
That was not how I’d expected the call to go.
Coach was going to move in one of the girls from the junior team and play it by ear. I thought I might’ve said okay.
He didn’t ask about Megan or the guys.
Part of me wondered if my mom had said something to him, because how could he not bring up Megan? She was such an important part of the team, better than our captain. Megan would land a spot on a college team.
Would have.
Megan would have landed a spot. The call ended with Coach telling me to take care of myself and that he expected to see me next week. When I hung up, Mom took the phone and I just sat, staring at my own phone, knowing there were unopened texts and unheard voice mails. But I couldn’t think about those—I could think only about what Coach had said.
He wanted me on the team, but I...I couldn’t picture myself doing it. Traveling with the team and sitting on the bench, pretending like I hadn’t started playing volleyball because of Megan. Pretending that it was okay that she was no longer there.
My gaze fell to the knee pads in my closet, and I knew right then.
I slipped off the bed and shuffled over to them. I braced my bad arm against my ribs as I bent down and snatched them off the floor. I tossed them into the back of the closet, beyond the books and the jeans. I closed the door and stepped back.
I wouldn’t need them again.
* * *
Saturday morning Lori sat on the kitchen table, her feet on the seat of a chair. If Mom was home, she’d be losing her mind, but she was out running a thousand errands. Normally Lori didn’t come home on the weekends, since it was quite the hike from Radford to Clearbrook, but Mom didn’t want me left alone, afraid my lungs would deflate or something.
Two weeks from sustaining a life-threatening injury and, for the most part, my body was starting to feel normal. I was winded easily and my ribs and arm ached nearly every second of the day, but the bruises on my face had faded and my jaw no longer hurt.
And I was alive.
I was currently walking circles around the kitchen table, partly because I was now supposed to be up and moving as much as possible and partly because I was having a problem staying seated. Walking jarred the ribs, but it was the kind of pain I was getting used to.
Lori was peeling an orange and the citrusy scent filled the kitchen. “So, did you know Dad is still in town?”
I stopped, halfway between the fridge and the sink. Mom had mentioned that she’d talked to him, not that he was still in town. I’d assumed he’d gone back to Seattle. “What?”
“Yep.” She dropped the peel on a paper towel beside her. “He’s staying at one of the hotels that have suites. You know, the kind for, like, extended stays or something.”
“How long is he staying?”
A shrug. “Don’t know. I’m meeting him for dinner tonight. You should come.”
I laughed and immediately regretted it. The laugh hurt. “I’ll pass. Thanks.”
Lori rolled her eyes as she carved out a slice. “That’s not nice.”
Walking again, I ignored that comment. “How does he afford to stay in a hotel? That’s got to get expensive.”
“He’s doing okay,” she replied. “And he’s been saving up money. You’d know that if you actually talked to him.”
“Oh, so he’s doing well enough to afford to stay in a hotel for an extended time?” Irritated, I stopped at the fridge and grabbed a soda. “That’s swell.”
Lori popped the final piece of orange in her mouth and looked at me. “And Mom isn’t doing that bad either.”
“It hasn’t been easy,” I shot back. “You know that.”
I walked into the living room and turned on the TV. Easing down on the couch, I started flipping through the channels. Lori followed me into the living room, but before she could sit, there was a knock on the front door.
“I’ll get it.” She pivoted and disappeared into the small foyer.
It couldn’t be Sebastian. He’d come over every night—Every. Night.—since Monday, but he should still be at football practice. Every. Night.
“She’s in here,” I heard Lori say.
A second later, Dary came through the archway into the living room. “Hey.” She waved. “I’m bored.”
My lips twitched into a small grin that felt weird, and I realized that I hadn’t smiled since...since that Saturday night. “So you decided to come over?”
“Yep.” She sat down in the armchair. “I’m so bored I thought I’d come over and—” she squinted at the TV “—watch the Battle of Antietam with you.”
Lori snorted as she sat down on the couch. “You’re gonna wish you stayed home.”
“Not likely.” Dary curled her legs under her. “Mom wants to organize closets. You might think I’m exaggerating, but no, I’m not. She was waiting with a list when I got home. So, I lied and told her that I had to help you with schoolwork. I walked over here, which, by the way, why is it so damn hot in September?”
“Global warming.” Lori picked up the remote and muted the TV. “Where’s Abbi?”
I winced. Abbi had stopped by only once since Monday, on Wednesday. She hadn’t stayed long, leaving Dary here. She hadn’t texted or called.
“She’s with her parents,” Dary said. “They’re doing something today.”
I said nothing to that because I knew it was a lie. Her mom always worked Saturdays at the hospital, and the way things had been going for her parents, I doubted they were having a family day.
The banana I ate earlier soured in my stomach. Abbi didn’t want t
o see me and there were so many reasons why she probably felt that
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