by Hannah Gray
Dane: I know that things are so fucked up now and we will all never get back into a good place. But I hope at least you guys do. My brother can be a dick, but … he deserves to be happy.
Me: And you? What about you?
Dane: I’m working on it. I’m just being a freshman in college, living my life. But I’ll be honest. I miss my brother. And I miss you as a friend. Fucking sucks.
Me: Me too, Dane. Me too.
Dane: Take care. And if you need me today, call. Please. You don’t have to go through this day alone.
Me: Neither do you.
He doesn’t respond, so I lay my phone down on my nightstand and pull the blankets over my head. I wish I could get drunk. Or high. Or be with Weston. He numbs all the feelings that I have inside my body.
What would one day of drinking hurt?
I’ll do my laps tonight. I’ll go hard after today. Today just sucks. And I need a way out of it. I can’t stand these feelings. Snaking their way inside of my body and overtaking every single cell. It’s stifling. And I’m too weak to manage it alone.
“Another,” I grumble to the dude behind the bar.
I pulled out my fake ID for the first time in a while. And I came to this bar alone. Is that odd? Probably. But I never claimed to be normal.
The bartender’s hair is spiked, and he’s wearing a shirt with a weird dragon thingy on it. I don’t get it. But maybe I’m not supposed to.
“I don’t know …” He eyes me cautiously. “You look sort of rough.”
“Who’s the customerrr?” I slur and point to my messy self. “Pour it, Spikyyyy.”
“Did you just call me Spiky?” His eyes narrow as he leans over the bar and wags his finger. “Rude.”
“S-sorry.” I run my hands down my hair. “I’m mean. That was meeeean.”
“I’ve been called worse.” He pours another shot and slides it to me. “What’s your story anyway, Harriet?”
My head snaps up in confusion, but then I remember the name on my ID reads Harriet Marshal.
“Um … nothing spectacular.” I down the shot, not skipping a beat. “What about you, Spi—” I obnoxiously giggle into my hand. “What’s your real name? Since it is clearly not Spiky.”
He leans down again, propping his elbows on the bar and holding his chin in his hand. “Nothing spectacular either. I’m twenty-one. I moved here after a bad breakup.” He rolls his eyes. “He cheated on me.”
“That bastard.” I widen my eyes. “You’re better off.”
“Thanks, love.” He winks. “So, I moved here. Transferred to Brooks. And … yeah, it’s been good.”
“Brooks.” I nod. “Nice.”
The shot I took is hitting me harder than I’d expected. And before I know it, I’m slumped over the bar, looking like a real asshole.
Weston
“And that right there, my friends, is how it’s done.” Knox sinks another shot in at the arcade.
“Dude, you only beat me by one basket.” I point to the scoreboard. “Double or nothing.”
“He beat me by eight.” Cole shakes his head. “Basketball was never my sport.”
I finish putting the quarters in when my phone vibrates. “Hang on.” I hold my finger up to Knox when I see who’s calling. “I gotta take this. Cole, take my spot.”
“Fuuuck.” He groans in annoyance. “I literally just said I suck at this sport. If Knox wins, we’ll have to hear about it all night.”
Ignoring them, I walk outside.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
“Oh, Weston.” Allison sounds worried. “I’m so sorry to do this. But I didn’t know who else to call. I tried Layla, but I didn’t get through. It’s Henley.”
My heart sinks, and I feel like I’m going to puke. Or faint. One or the other.
“What? What is it? What the hell happened?” I blurt out.
“Some guy called me. I guess she’s at some bar just off campus. She’s in rough shape, and he dialed the first person he saw in her call log.” She pauses. “It’s called Club—”
“Club 83,” I say, finishing her sentence. “I’ll be right there. We’re just down the road.”
“Call me when you have her,” she says and hangs up.
Thank fuck I have my own truck here tonight. Knox and I came here first, and then Cole showed up later. I type a message to them, letting them know I had a family thing come up, and then I run to my truck and head straight to Club 83.
It’s only five in the afternoon. What the fuck is she doing, hammered at this time of the day?
I was worried about her working her body too hard and not eating enough. I guess I should have been worried about other things.
I pull the door open with force, not seeing Henley anywhere.
“Where is she?” I say to the kid behind the bar. “Henley Hayes. Where the fuck is she?”
He comes around the bar and begins walking, jerking his thumb toward another room. “She’s in here. Come on.” He eyes me over again. “But I thought her name was Harriet.”
“It’s Henley,” I say shortly. “Henley Hayes.”
“Wow,” he huffs. “Let me guess. She’s underage.”
“She’s nineteen.” I know I’m blowing her cover, but honestly, I don’t give a fuck. This shit is irresponsible and should have consequences. But then I remember the swim team. And her future. “Look, man, can you just … keep this between us?”
He opens the door, and I see her sleeping on a cushioned bench. Her hair covers her face, and one arm is thrown over her head.
“Yeah. Just get her out of here. Now.” He looks around. “I don’t want to get in trouble for this.”
I bend down and push the hair away from her face. “Henley? Wake up.”
Nothing.
Groaning, I scoop her up into my arms, tucking her head to my chest to shield it from anyone at the bar. I don’t know why I feel the need to protect her spot on the swim team or in the sorority. I just do.
She smells like liquor, though I can still smell the hint of strawberries too. And when the wind hits her face outside, she stirs slightly but doesn’t wake.
Maneuvering with her in my arms, I open the passenger door and gently slide her in. Buckling her seat belt, I stop and look at her. She’s still thinner than she was, but she doesn’t look like she’s lost any more weight, which makes me feel better.
“What are you doing, Henley?” I press my forehead to hers, and she yawns. “You were doing so good.” Well, in some ways.
She doesn’t answer. And I know that she’s not going to. I don’t want to take her back to my place this way. But I have an idea.
Reaching into her pocket, I grab her phone. Scrolling through her Contacts, I hit Layla’s name. Hoping like hell she’ll answer.
“You little bitch! I’ve been calling you all day. You said you were sick. I thought you were dead and—”
“It’s Weston. I need your help.”
“Wh—oh … okay.” She pauses. “Is Henley all right?”
“Yeah. She will be.” I look down at her. Her face has a pained expression on it. “She’s drunk. I need to get her to her room. But without every fucking eyeball in her house seeing.”
“Claire had a dinner scheduled for tonight anyway. We’re all leaving the house in five minutes.”
I sigh in relief.
“I’ll tell her Henley is still sick, okay? And then I’ll stay back to take care of her.”
“Thank you.” I step back and shut the door, heading to the driver’s side. “I’ll wait ten minutes, just to be safe.”
As I end the call, a message comes through. Even though I’d never want to go through her shit, the message pops up on the screen, and it’s hard to ignore. And it instantly makes me want to drop her off and never look back.
“Oh, Henley.” Layla tucks her under the blankets and runs her hand over the top of her head. “What have you done?” She turns to me and looks down. “She skipped practice today. Wouldn’t even come to the do
or to talk to me. I should have known something was wrong. I just … I should have known. She never misses swim.”
I see the guilt on her face. I’ve been there. Blaming myself for Henley’s bad days. But it’s not Layla’s fault. It isn’t mine either.
“Look, Layla.” I turn to Henley, and it looks like her pillow is uncomfortable under her neck. Fixing it, I stand back up. “She does this sometimes. Not for a while. But it’s how she is.”
“What do you mean, how she is?” Her eyes narrow.
“She pushes away people she loves when she’s hurting. She’s been doing this shit for a long time. Don’t blame yourself.” Like I blame myself. “It’s nothing to do with you. And there isn’t a thing you can do. The more you try to help, the more she’ll push you away.”
“That isn’t true.” She folds her arms over her chest. “Henley is not some wild, untamable animal. She has bad days.” A small, sad laugh bubbles from her. “Hell, we all have bad days. And if you’re claiming you don’t, then you, sir, are a liar.”
“I know that,” I sigh, frustrated. “But Henley has shit rooted deeper than you know. And unfortunately for us, when these bad days happen … there’s only one person she wants.” I grind my back teeth together in disgust. “And sadly, we aren’t him.”
She gives me a sympathetic look. “You need to let that go.” She walks toward the door. “I’ll give you a minute.”
I don’t need a minute. I don’t need anything from this girl anymore.
The message from my brother said, Wish we could have just done something together today. It would have made it better.
Well, fuck that. And fuck them.
“March,” she groans and pulls the covers over her face. “March 10. I hate this … day.”
She’ll never remember this tomorrow. She’s too far gone. So, I might as well be here with her in this moment.
“Why, baby?” I sit down on the bed next to her, pulling the blanket down under her mouth. “Why do you hate this day?”
She wiggles around slightly, keeping her eyes shut.
“My baby,” she cries. “Would have been one today.”
Her words send a chill down my spine. It’s not from jealousy. Or rage. Or spite. It’s just pain. Pain because I know she’s hurting.
And pain for knowing there’s nothing I can do.
“It’s my fault.” She sniffles. “I did th-this.”
I wipe her tears with my thumb. “What do you mean, it’s your fault?”
“I … didn’t kn-know about the baby. I would have stopped swim-swimming. But I-I didn’t know.” She moves to her side, making her hair fall in front of her face. “I went to parties. I drank. I didn’t know, Weston. I didn’t know.”
I wasn’t sure if she knew it was me here or not. I lie down on the side of the bed and let her nuzzle against my chest. She fists the fabric of my hoodie while she cries.
“I didn’t know.” She trembles. “I didn’t know.”
“Shh.” I kiss her head. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”
In this moment, I can’t hate her. I can hate what she did. But I can’t hate her. I love her too much for that.
So, for a little while longer, I hold her. Wiping her tears and quieting her thoughts of guilt.
Until lines start to get blurred and I forget why I had to say good-bye to begin with. And when that happens, she’s finally sound asleep. I tuck her in a little tighter, give her forehead one last kiss, and slip out the door. And when I see Layla in the hallway, I make her promise not to mention I was ever here.
Saying good-bye the first time was a kick in the balls. The second time just about killed me. I’m not sure I could handle another.
thirty-seven
Henley
Oh, my aching head. I groan. Wondering why I ever saw the appeal in something that could make you feel like dog poop the next day to begin with. Because I used to have a regimen of Tylenol and Pedialyte to not feel this way. Ah, yes. I forgot to be prepared with all that crap.
How in the world did I get home?
On the bright side, I’m fully clothed. So, that means I didn’t do anything stupid. Although, in my dreams, Weston did make an appearance. And he looked as beautiful as always.
I grab my phone and look at the time. Phew. My first class isn’t for another hour, and then practice is right after. I missed yesterday. I can’t do that again. I was late to the season to begin with. I don’t need to give Coach more reason not to trust me.
After practice, I need to do something I’ve been wanting to do. It’s something that’s been hanging over my head for a while now, and it’s time I faced my demons and shoved a broomstick up their asses and told them to piss off.
One by one, I will defeat them. And I’ll be better for it.
Waking up hungover, skipping practices, pushing friends away who care? It’s a cycle of mine. One that needs to stop.
It ends now.
So, this afternoon, I’ll get in my car, drive to my parents’ house, and tell them the truth. They need to know why I changed the way that I did. And I owe them an apology. A big one. And I’m not just telling them. I’m telling Wyatt and Angela too. Dane told them a long time ago that he had gotten someone pregnant. He just never told them it was me. Now … they’ll know the truth. And they’ll know why their beloved sons have grown distant. And they’ll also know that it’s all my fault.
There’s no better time than now to work toward the person they all think I am. And that starts by being honest.
“We came over right away,” Angela says, hugging me before sitting down at the table. “Is everything okay?”
“She’ll get to it all in a moment.” My dad’s eyes stay on mine. “Whatever it is, it’s okay. We’re all here for you.”
I showed up unexpectantly. Told them to basically call this meeting, which seems like I’m in a court hearing. Perhaps Judge Judy. Though I’m not sure who would be Judy. The way Wyatt is looking at me, questions flowing from his eyes, I’m going to go ahead and say it’s him.
Once everyone sits down, I look down at my hands on the table. “I haven’t been honest with you.” I lift my eyes to Angela and Wyatt. “With any of you.”
Angela is the sweetest lady on the planet. And her eyes crinkle at the sides as she gives me a sympathetic look. It’s not that I think they’ll hate me. It’s just that I don’t want to disappoint them. And at the end of the day, the boys are their sons. Their own blood. Obviously, they’d side with them over me.
“I’m the reason why Dane and Weston hate each other.” I’m so ashamed by my own confession as I sink into my chair. “If it wasn’t for my actions, they’d be as close as they ever were. And for that, I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t understand.” Angela reaches across the table and pats my hand. “We talked about how they both love you. Or how Weston loves you and how Dane thinks he does. What more is there? Because honestly, Henley, I think they’re just feuding over you right now. It’ll pass.”
My face burns, and the tears prick the backs of my eyes. “When Weston left for football camp, I heard some things. And out of spite, I made a big mistake.” I lose control of a single tear, and it drips down my face. Leaving a path down my cheek. “And Dane did too. We, together … made a mistake.”
“Oh my …” my mother says under a hushed breath. “And … Weston was mad? Because …” She looks at Wyatt and Angela. “No offense, but you weren’t dating Weston. You were friends. So, frankly, I don’t see why he could be mad when he never spoke up. Shit or get off the pot.”
“We were never just friends,” I mutter. “We both knew it wasn’t like that.”
“Go on, sweetie,” my dad says softly. “What else?”
“Right before senior year started … like days before … you were out of town and … I—” I cry harder. “I started to bleed.” I look down again, unable to make eye contact with anybody in this room. “It turned out … I was pregnant. And I was losing the baby.”
They all gasp. And as I dare myself to peek around, I see them watching me. I see the sympathetic expressions on their faces. But absolutely no judgment whatsoever. Though my mother looks like she might faint.
“I called Dane, and he took me to the hospital. That’s where we found out I’d lost the baby.” I swallow hard. “Our baby.”
“You and Dane’s?” my mom says, but I don’t even think she realizes she said the words out loud. “You were pregnant. You had a miscarriage.” She starts to cry herself. “How could I have not known what was going on?”
“Mom … no.” I stop her. “Don’t blame yourself for anything that happened. I was … in a dark place. And I didn’t let anybody in.” Well … besides one person. “Besides Dane. And it wasn’t because I chose him. Because … you all know who I’d choose. Who I do choose.” I take a breath and push through. “But it was because, in that awful moment, we were all each other had. In some weird, sad, uncomfortable way … it bonded us together. Even if we never really talked about it again. Sometimes, I just needed him. And he’d come. No questions asked.”
“My sweet boy.” Angela wipes her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I wish we had known; we could have been supportive.”
“It makes sense now,” Wyatt says, gazing off. “I get it. I mean, I didn’t. And I’ll admit, it was damn aggravating, watching you and West tiptoe around each other the way that you did. But … it makes sense.”
“And Dane?” My mom wipes her eyes with her napkin. “How … how was he? With it all?”
“He saved me.” My heart aches for not only what I did to Weston, but for what I did to Dane too. “And he didn’t even realize it.”
“Do you love him?” Wyatt says thoughtfully. “Dane?”
I think before I speak. Because they are both his sons and he’d never want either to get hurt. “He was the best friend I could have asked for during that time. He was everything I needed him to be in our situation. But just because he was the perfect person in a time I needed him to be … that doesn’t mean he’s the perfect person for me.” I sniffle. “Because he isn’t. And I’m not right for him either. He deserves much more than I could ever give him even if I did love him.”