Chaser

by Staci Hart

My phone buzzed on the table next to me again, and I scooped it up, the hope flashing through me as it did every time my screen lit up. But it was just West again.

  You can’t stay home forever. Let’s hit the court.

  I messaged him back. It’s raining.

  When has that ever stopped us?

  Right now.

  Come on, man.

  I set my phone down again.

  Time. Space. Distance. Things that she needed. Things I had to give her. Because the only way to fight for her was to not fight at all. I had to let her go and hope to God she came back to me.

  But letting her go was killing me.

  I thought about her back home, wondered if Jimmy had tried to see her. He’d already reached out to her and said he wanted her back. I thought of him coming to her, telling her he was sorry, pictured her in his arms. Emotion rolled through me like a storm, lightning and rain, a gust of wind. And then it would burn down again, and I’d stare south at Midtown, my eyes on the skyline, though they didn’t see a single thing.

  It went so much deeper than just Maggie. I’d been hiding almost my whole life, hiding pieces of myself from everyone. But I hid nothing from Maggie — it was her superpower. She saw straight through me. And when I lost her, I lost the direction she’d given me, the feeling that I belonged. She was my compass. True North. Without her, the needle spun around and around, searching for that stopping point.

  But she was gone.

  Someone knocked on my door, and I looked over my shoulder, confused as I stood and walked over. When I opened it, I found West and Patrick in workout clothes with duffle bags slung across their chests. West pressed a basketball into my chest.

  “Come on. We’re playing.”

  I shook my head and pushed it back at him. “How many times do I have to say no?”

  He brushed past me and into the apartment with a smile. “Apparently more than you already did. Get dressed.”

  Patrick smirked. “You should probably just do what he says.”

  I scowled and turned to find West spinning the basketball on his finger. “What the fuck, man. I said I don’t feel like it. What do you want from me?” I closed the door.

  “I want you to quit sitting around here licking your wounds. It’s not doin’ you any good.”

  “And you think me playing basketball will make everything better?”

  “No, but at least you’ll have a reason to shower.”

  I shook my head.

  “Come on.” He smiled. “It’ll just be for a little while and then you can come back here and get back to puppy dogging.”

  Anger flashed through me. “This isn’t a fucking joke. It’s not a crush, West. You know that.”

  He met my eyes, smile falling. “I know. But there’s nothing you can do about it right now, is there?”

  “No. Not one fucking thing.” My throat closed up, and I swallowed hard.

  “Then what’s the harm in coming to the courts with us and not thinking about it for a few hours?”

  “What if I don’t want to forget about it?”

  He propped the ball on his hip. “You want to wallow. I get it. Just come on for a little while, and then I swear I’ll leave you alone.”

  My jaw flexed. “Swear?”

  He held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

  “Fine.” The word was flat. It would be good to work, to sweat, to forget for a minute, at least. I turned and headed to my bedroom.

  West turned to Patrick. “See? Told you I could get him to go.”

  I rolled my eyes and walked into my closet to change into a tank and basketball shorts, grabbing my shoes on the way out. West looked pleased with himself as I sat down and pulled one on.

  “Don’t look so smug.” I tied my laces.

  “Why not? You’ll feel better.”

  “Maybe I want to be miserable.” I shoved my foot into the other shoe.

  “Yeah, well, it’s kind of pathetic.”

  I pulled the knot tight. “Thanks.”

  “I’m just sayin’. Mopey Cooper is pretty fucking boring.”

  “Sorry I can’t be the clown right now, but you’re a great second-string.” I grabbed my bag out of the hall closet and switched out the towel.

  “I aim to please.”

  I made my way through the kitchen, packing water and a protein bar. “Have you talked to her?” I asked quietly.

  He didn’t answer right away. “Yeah.”

  I zipped up my bag with my eyes down. “Is she all right?”

  “She will be.”

  I finally looked at him. “You’re not going to tell me anything?”

  “I don’t know all that much, and if I did, do you really want to know?”

  “I don’t know. Do I?”

  West shook his head. “Why torture yourself?”

  “I just want to know what’s going on with her.”

  “She’s at home, and she’s trying to get her head together. That’s really all I can say.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Did she tell you not to talk to me?”

  He put up a hand. “No. I mean that’s all I know.”

  I rubbed my face, pressed my fingers into my eye sockets. “I’m sorry. I just … it’s driving me crazy. I don’t know what to do.”

  “I think getting out of the house is step one.”

  I almost smiled. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “Oh, I’m definitely right. Can we go now? Because my whole plan revolved around us not talking about your feelings.”

  That one got me. I cracked a smile. “All right, fine. And get ready, Stretch, because I’ve got the fire in my belly to beat you on the court.”

  Patrick snorted. “As if that’s enough to take down the giant.”

  I felt a little better as we left the building, though the weight of everything pressed down on me like the clouds that hung over us, the air heavy, charged with the smell of rain. I focused my thoughts on the walk to the courts, the laughter of my friends, our feet against the damp pavement.

  We set down our bags at the bench, and West and I went first. I was sweating within minutes, my mind devoid of any thoughts outside of the game. The thump of the ball against the pavement. The shuffle of our feet. Our huffing breath. I shot and missed. I shot and made it. I juked and dribbled around West, my focus tight.

  The rain began to fall just hard enough to make things interesting, and I tightened my concentration so I could hang on to the ball, hang on to my footing.

  I shot again and made it, and West hung his hands on his hips, huffing.

  “Your game, Coop.”

  I dribbled and shook my head, not even realizing the game was over. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d beaten West. I barely cared. Just dribbled between my legs, not wanting to lose the focus that I’d found, like I’d mainlined willpower. I shot the ball, and it passed through the hoop without touching the rim.

  West and Patrick shared a look.

  “No gloating?” West asked. “You even find a way to gloat when you lose.”

  I grabbed the ball and dribbled some more. “Tricky, you’re up.”

  West watched me as he took the bench and Tricky took his place. I tossed him the ball, and he checked it back to me. And then, I took off.

  I was up and down the court, silent as we played. I could feel their worry, the expectations pressing on me from them. From Maggie. The public. My parents. From myself. And somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized that expectation had been crushing me for my whole life.

  I’d built my own cage by believing the expectations were my truth, by giving them power. And I realized that I held the power to break free. I realized I had the strength to let go.

  Patrick was all over me, the game more intense with every beat of the ball. I body checked him and spun away to shoot. I made it.

  Patrick panted. “Game.”

  My lungs burned, chest heaving as sweat and rain rolled down my face. I bent, hands on my knees, staring a
t the blacktop before closing my eyes.

  “Coop …” It was West, and I looked up to find him and Patrick in front of me with their eyes full of sorrow.

  I shook my head and looked back at the ground. I’d burned the fog down, and I could see my future. I understood for the first time what it all meant, and I knew exactly what to do.

  There were two things I realized in that moment of clarity.

  I had to find a way to let Maggie go, and I needed to do everything I could to be the man she deserved. And I could do it. I could be everything for her, if she came back to me.

  If she didn’t, if she couldn’t fix herself, I would fix myself in the hopes that maybe, someday, I would get another chance.

  SPLIT

  Maggie

  IT WAS JUST AFTER DUSK, and the sky was bathed in purples and indigo as the sun slipped away. The lights were off in my room, and I sat curled up in my window seat with my eyes on the big maple tree just beyond. I’d watched the tree grow from a sapling to a behemoth, climbed its branches as a girl, kissed Jimmy goodbye under them when I grew up.

  I’d spent my Monday working on plans for Susan, and based on her response, I knew I’d need to make a decision soon about what I was going to do.

  It was the question everyone wanted the answer to, one of the many I didn’t have.

  I felt split in two, and the parts of me hadn’t yet mended together. No, it wasn’t even that. When Old Maggie and New Maggie smashed into each other, New Maggie was obliterated. Gone. And Old Maggie was left fractured from the impact. But every day I felt a little more together. A little bit closer. I just didn’t know what I was getting closer to.

  Closure, I supposed, that magical land I’d find when I was whole again.

  It didn’t help that my days were long and quiet, filled with reading and Netflix and my thoughts. Brooke was really the only person I’d seen besides Courtney — I’d avoided going out in public at all costs after I saw her, even though I was glad I did. If every day was a step toward closure, seeing Courtney was a long jump.

  Every time I picked up my phone, I thought about calling Cooper. Texting him. Anything. I wanted to know if he was out there and missing me like I was missing him.

  I sighed and pulled my blanket up a little higher.

  I heard the rumble of his car before I saw it — it was a sound I didn’t even realize I knew. But every nerve fired at once in a shock that sent ice down my spine.

  Jimmy pulled into the driveway, and when he stepped out of his car, when I saw him — the angle of his jaw, the curve of his shoulders — I couldn’t breathe. When he looked up at my window and our eyes met, I felt like I’d been shot.

  My heart kickstarted in a jolt, and I spun out of my room and down the stairs. Dad was already opening the door, and I stopped dead.

  Jimmy stood on the porch, tall and dark with his hair a little too long and a little too messy, eyes sad. A hundred memories with him flashed through my mind in a breath.

  “Is she here, Luke?”

  Dad’s jaw flexed, eyes narrowed, but he glanced back at me for approval. I nodded, and he moved out of the way. He looked down at me as I approached.

  “You just call if you need me.”

  “Thanks, Daddy.”

  He shot a last look at Jimmy, and when I stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind me, we were alone for the first time in a long time. I didn’t know what to say, standing so close to him after so much had happened. I could smell him, the familiar smell of the boy who I’d shared a thousand nights with. But he wasn’t the same. He was split in two, just like me. The boy I thought I knew and the man standing in front of me.

  He shifted, his eyes soft. “I … I’ve missed you.”

  I needed something to do with my hands and clasped them behind my back, squeezing them until they almost hurt. “What do you want, Jimmy?”

  “I heard you were back. I had to see for myself if it was true.”

  “Here I am,” I said simply.

  “Did you get my letter?”

  “I did.”

  He watched me. “There has to be a chance for us, Maggie.”

  “You ruined that chance on our wedding day.”

  “I’ve loved you ever since I knew what love was. There was a moment when I realized that I loved you, that I was meant to be with you. Did you know?” The words were gentle. He reached for my arm — my left arm — and I let go of my fingers. His big hand slipped down my forearm, to my wrist, and he held my fingers, his thumb running over the place where my ring had once been. “It was just after a game we’d won, the one against Cary, sophomore year. Do you remember?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “After they took out Ben, Coach put me in to quarterback the end of the game. I’d never been so scared in my life, never wanted to prove my worth so much. I threw that touchdown, and we won. And afterward, when I was standing at the sidelines, covered in sweat, you ran up to me, jumped into my arms. Kissed me and cried and told me you loved me. And I knew right then that I wanted you to be a part of every joy in my life.”

  “Jimmy—” The word seared my throat.

  “I’ve always loved you, Maggie. I just didn’t know what that meant until you left me.”

  I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry it took you so long to figure that out.”

  “So am I. You’ve always been a part of my life. Always. Without you here, I can’t find my footing. I don’t know who I am without you. I love you.”

  Tears burned the corners of my eyes. “But that’s not how love works. If you loved me, you never would have considered sleeping with someone else, never mind sleeping with everyone else. Love is about respect. It’s about acceptance and protection. Trust. But you disrespected me. You rejected me when you slept with every one of those girls, and that crushed me, ruined me. I will never trust you again.” My hand slipped out of his.

  “None of them meant anything to me. None of them compared to you.”

  “Then why? Why would you do this to me?”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. I don’t have any excuses to give, only apologies. Only the promise that I would never do it again.”

  “How could I ever trust you again? What you did can’t be undone.”

  “There has to be a way to prove it to you. To make you believe.”

  Cooper flashed through my mind, and I looked over the boy I used to love, thinking about the man who I left in New York, the differences between the two sharp and stark. They were nothing alike, that was all of a sudden so clear, it was blinding. “You shouldn’t have to prove anything, Jimmy. It should be undeniably clear in every action you take, in every choice you make. I should never even consider doubting you because the truth is plain and simple. And your truth is plain and simple, it’s just not the one you’d have me believe. You never loved me. You loved the idea of me. You got down on one knee and asked a specter to marry you.”

  His brow knit together, his eyes shining. “I’m sorry, Maggie. I’ll do anything.”

  “You already did enough. I don’t have anything left to give you. You took it all — took so much that you’ve left me empty. I have nothing left to give anyone because of you, because of what you’ve done. I should have seen it. I should have known. But I believed you, and you made a fool of me in front of everyone I’ve ever known.”

  “But there has to be a way for me to make it right.”

  The answer was clear. “There is. Let me go. Let me go, and leave me be. You can’t claim me. You say you’re sorry, that you don’t want to hurt me, but every time you do this, you hurt me all over again. Every single time I think I’m patched together, you come back along and blow me back up.”

  His jaw was set, face tight with emotion. “Change your mind,” he said softly.

  “I can’t. I won’t. I’m not yours anymore.”

  His eyes searched my face for a long moment, and I saw him recognize the truth in it. “I understand. Maggie, I was wrong, and I�
�m sorry.”

  It was goodbye. Relief and sadness washed over me, and when he reached for me, I stepped into his arms, curled into his chest, felt my heart let go of him.

  I was instantly overwhelmed by the proximity, by my emotions, and the tears fell, my shoulders shuddering as I tried to hold back sobs. One of his hands was in my hair, clutching me to his chest, and after a moment, I pulled away, needing to get away from him. But when I looked up at him, his eyes were on my lips. I held my breath, frozen to the spot, hoping to God he wasn’t about to do what I thought he was about to do.

  He leaned down, and the second it was clear that he was trying to kiss me, my arms shot out, pushing him away.

  “Goddammit, Jimmy.” My voice cracked, tears slipping down my face. “You didn’t listen to one fucking thing I said. You don’t get to kiss me. You don’t get to stand on my porch and remind me of what I never had to begin with. It’s over. I want you to hear me right now. It’s over.” The chains around my heart fell away with every word. “I don’t love you. I don’t want you. I will never be with you. And you will leave me be. Do you understand?”

  “Do I have a choice?” He was hurt, and I didn’t care.

  “None. If you ever loved me, let me go. Move on. Let me do the same. Please.”

  He took a deep breath. “If you change your mind—”

  “I won’t.”

  “Well, if you do, I’ll be around. I loved you, Maggie. I still do, and I probably always will. It wasn’t your fault, what I did. It was … I don’t know. My own issues. Something inside of me is broken, but that isn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just need you to walk away with that.”

  I nodded. It was all I could manage.

  He watched me for a moment longer, like he was trying to memorize me, and then he walked away.

  My entire body trembled as I turned and opened the door, stepped into the entryway, closed the door behind me, feeling exhausted, spent.

  My parents were in the kitchen, trying to look inconspicuous — Mom moving things around on the counter, Dad pretending to read at the island. I dragged myself into the room.

  Dad looked up from his tablet, his comforting smile not able to disguise his worry. “Shotgun’s just in there, if you want me to grab it.” He jerked his head toward the office.