“Do you really think we care about any of that?” Kenzie asks, sounding baffled. Insulted.
And yes, hurt. That seems to be the running theme for the day. Me saying things and acting in ways that hurt the people I care about most.
Well, that and bawling my eyes out.
“I cared,” I say. “But I shouldn’t have. I should have had more faith in you” –I look at Tori— “in both of you. I should have trusted you. And I should have been proud,” I continue, softer, my tears still flowing, “of how hard my sisters work to give me a home where I’m safe. Where I’m loved. To give me a place where I’m accepted, fully.”
I haven’t appreciated that. Not nearly enough.
“But you didn’t,” Tori says quietly. “You didn’t have faith in us. You didn’t trust us. Not with anything. And now…?” She shrugs. “Now it doesn’t matter.” She looks at Kenzie then Whitney. “You both ready to go?”
Kenzie nods and while Whitney hesitates, it only lasts a moment before she steps toward the door. Tori reaches it first and pulls it open.
“Zoe moved out,” I blurt, my voice cracking. “She and Taylor moved to Erie.”
Whitney’s the first to react, facing me with a shocked, “What?”
“Zoe’s pregnant—again—and she wanted a fresh start. They’re going to live with Zoe’s grandma. They took all their stuff.”
It’s a dumb thing to say—that’s what people do when they move, right? Take their belongings with them—but it just seems so final.
Like their existence here has been erased.
Like there’s no hope of them ever coming back.
“They took their stuff,” I repeat, “and now I can’t even look in Zoe’s room because it’s empty and they’ve only been gone two hours and I already miss them and it hurts” –I press my fist against my chest— “here. So much.”
“Hadley…” Whitney says, her own eyes shiny with tears, “I’m sorry. Truly.”
She gets it. Other than Sam, she’s the only person I’ve let in—as much as I let anyone in. She knows better than most what my sisters mean to me, how much I love my niece.
I want to wrap Whitney’s sympathy around me like a blanket, let it calm me, comfort me, but this isn’t about making me feel better.
This is about me doing better. Being better.
It’s about me finally be honest. With my friends. And with myself.
“I don’t know my dad,” I say, and if any of them are jarred by the abrupt change in topic, they don’t show it, just watch me patiently, as if they understand how important this is to me.
As if it’s just as important to them.
And what they’ve been waiting for.
“He left town the minute he found out my mom was pregnant,” I continue. “Like, literally, the minute he found out.” My palms are clammy and I wipe them down the front of my shorts. Swallow to try and soothe my sore throat. “My mom stuck around, but even as a little kid, I knew it was only a matter of time before she took off, too. Some people aren’t cut out for staying and she’s one of them. I was ten the last time I saw her, the last time I spoke to her. She didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t tell us she was leaving, she just…never came back.”
“That really sucks,” Kenzie says.
“It does,” I agree. “But I’m not telling you this so you’ll feel sorry for me.”
“Oh, I don’t. Well, I mean I do because I’m not a monster or anything, but mostly I just feel like maybe I understand you a little more. And why you’re so messed up.”
Whitney inhales sharply.
Tori groans. “Mackenzie.”
Kenzie blinks, all wide eyes and good intentions. “What?” She glances at each one of us in turn. “It’s not like we all don’t know she’s got some issues.”
And for some crazy reason, I suddenly feel like laughing.
Seriously, this emotional roller coaster of a day is going to do me in.
“I do have issues,” I agree. The past twenty minutes—make that the past seventeen years—have proved that, so no point arguing. “I thought that everyone would leave me because, for the most part, everyone had. My dad. My mom. My grandmother.”
“And Sam,” Tori adds gently.
Our eyes meet and in hers I see that she gets it. She’s starting to get me. And because she is, my first inclination is to drop my gaze, shutter my expression. To hide what I’m feeling.
To close myself off.
Sam once accused me of always being scared. He said I was too afraid of opening up or letting someone see the real me. That I was scared to let anyone get close to me.
He was right.
But all that changes. Now.
No more crying.
No more excuses.
No more running scared.
I’m fighting for what I want.
Starting with these three girls.
“And Sam,” I agree, letting her see exactly what his walking away from me did to me. How much it still tears me up inside. “Everyone left me,” I continue, my voice husky. Unsteady. “But not you.” I look from Tori to Kenzie and finally Whitney, keeping my gaze on her when I continue. “You didn’t leave. You reached out to me and tried to be my friend and I’m sorry—I’m so, so sorry that I wasn’t a friend to you in return. Any of you,” I add, glancing at Tori and Kenzie. “I thought the only way to protect myself from getting hurt was to keep people from getting close to me. You were right,” I say to Tori. “I did ditch you after Sam left, but not because he left. Not like you think, anyway. I just…I thought with Sam gone, you’d realize what a lost cause I am, and I couldn’t handle having you both walk away from me, too.”
“Oh, I get it!” Kenzie says, clapping her hands in excitement at her discovery—which has Eggie barking with joy and running over to her. “You ditched us before we could ditch you.”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I did. That’s what I did with you, too,” I tell Whitney. “But it’s not the only reason. I…” I stop and take a deep, fortifying breath. “I couldn’t face you. Didn’t want to face anyone, not after what happened at the party.”
“Are you talking about the Max thing?” Tori asks. “Because if anyone should be ashamed to show his face, it’s that asshole. He had no right telling everyone you two hooked up.”
“Max was a giant jackhole that night,” Kenzie says with a scowl, which makes her look about as fierce as a kitten but it’s the point that counts. “I mean, he’s a jackhole all the time but he really stepped up his game at the party.”
“Hadley, I don’t care that you were with Max,” Whitney says.
“None of us cares,” Kenzie agrees.
“I mean, I wouldn’t recommend hooking up with the brother of the boy I’m in love with,” Tori adds dryly, because leave it to her to lay it all on the line. “And honestly, I don’t think hooking up with Max Constable is ever the best use of a girl’s time—any girl. But it’s not like you and Sam were together when it happened.”
“Right. You didn’t cheat on Sam,” Whitney agrees. “And even if you had, and even though I’m Sam’s friend, too, I’m your friend first. I wouldn’t have judged you for it.”
“Uh, considering he was hooking up with Abby,” Tori puts in, “he had no right to act like you had cheated on him. He was almost as big of an ass that night as Max.”
And that’s it. The combination of hearing Whitney saying I’m your friend—present tense—and having Tori and Kenzie sticking up for me…
So much for that whole no-more-crying thing.
I knew once I started I wouldn’t be able to stop. This is obviously my life now.
“I missed you,” I say in a rush because it’s still easier to let out these personal truths in short, quick bursts where I don’t have time to overthink them. “I missed you all so much. You were—are,” I amend, looking at Whitney, “such good friends and I’m not. I wasn’t. But if you give me another chance, if we can just start over, I promise I will be.”
; It’s hard, it’s so very, very hard admitting that, asking for another chance.
Risking their rejection.
But I do it. I do it because they’re worth it.
And so am I.
Whitney is the first to relent. And forgive. “You’re doing fine,” she tells me with a small, kind smile. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“No,” Kenzie says. “She’s right.” She looks at me. “You weren’t horrible or anything, but you’ve got a long way to go to be on par with us.” She gestures back and forth between herself and Tori. “We’re pretty awesome friends. But I think with some time and lots and lots of practice, you might just move up to our level. And if you start to slip back into your old ways, we’ll just yank you back on track.”
“Sounds good,” I say, my voice coming out like I’ve swallowed gravel.
That’s two down.
One to go.
Holding my breath, I look at Tori but she’s impossible to read.
I’m guessing she’s doing it on purpose, the whole stoic, expressionless, making-me-wait thing.
I might even deserve it.
“We were heading to Baldwin’s for brunch,” she finally says of the local diner, completely monotone. “Before you acted like a crazy person and body-slammed into my car, that is.”
I wait some more. She is really milking this payback for all it’s worth.
And the gleam in her eyes says she knows it.
But then her lips twitch, and while it’s not quite a smile, it’s the least hostile she’s looked at me in almost a year. “Would you care to join us?”
I almost deflate with relief.
“I’d love to.” Hey, maybe this honesty thing isn’t so bad after all. “When we’re done, we can come back here and hang out. Maybe bake some cookies? Or a cake?”
I haven’t baked anything in a week, and while it didn’t bother me during that time, it’s like I’m suddenly in sugar withdrawal.
“Ooh! Can we do both?” Kenzie asks, clapping her hands in delight.
Right there is a girl after my own heart. I smile for what seems like the first time all week. “Absolutely.”
I grab my phone and purse and we head out, two by two—Tori and Kenzie in the lead, me and Whitney, arms linked, picking up the rear.
I still have no idea how I’m going to get over losing Sam or handle not seeing Zoe and Taylor each day, and God knows my future after high school is one great-big question mark.
I do know that I’ll survive it. All of it. And it won’t be because I’m hiding from the pain and loss and regret. I’m going to go through it. I’m going to learn from it.
I’m going to survive it.
But I won’t have to do it alone.
54
Turns out, trying to change one’s entire perspective on life is harder than you’d think.
At least, it has been for me.
Or maybe it’s just going to take some time. Longer than the two days I’ve been working on it.
But I’ve been doing my best not to revert back to the Hadley of old.
It hasn’t been easy.
Especially when I start to miss Zoe and Taylor so much I spend an hour sitting on the couch crying into Eggie’s fur. Or when my thoughts drift to Sam and the way we ended.
And I hate it. I hate feeling so lost. So hurt. I just want it to go away.
That’s when I start to think that my life would be so much easier if I just went back to who I was: a girl who stayed safe, never took chances and protected her heart above all else. A girl who accepted whatever life sent her way.
But then I remember what I promised myself. How far I’ve already come.
I remember what Zoe said the day she told me she was leaving. About how she was moving to Erie to prove that the Jones girls don’t have to settle for less than what we deserve. That if we want a different life, we have to fight for it.
I definitely want a different life.
I want more. More out of life. More from myself.
And I want Sam.
So very, very much.
Which is why I’m standing on the pedals of my bike, slowly and steadily pumping my legs, trying to make it to the top of Sam’s driveway.
Sam’s long, steep driveway.
So far, this isn’t one of my better plans.
Then again, it was less actual plan and more spontaneous decision. Even though school starts tomorrow, I still went to work today. There I’d been, riding my bike home from a long, grueling day of weeding and mowing when, instead of taking a left onto State Street, I’d gone straight.
Now, ten minutes later, here I am, sweaty and tired and breathless.
Following my heart and going after the boy who means everything to me.
I finally reach the top and immediately spy Sam in the basketball court, playing one-on-one with Charlie.
Saves me from having to ring the doorbell and the possibility of having the door slammed shut in my face.
Or worse, having his mother answer.
But she’s not home. The garage doors are open—allfour of them—but only Sam’s SUV is parked inside. Hopefully his mom and Patrick are both at work and will stay there until after I’m long gone.
Max isn’t home, either. Pitt started classes last week, which means that after he dropped the bomb about us hooking up, he got to pack up and leave. No sticking around to face the consequences of his actions. No trying to work things out with his brother. No remorse or making amends.
He gets to go on living his life, free and easy. Gets to go right on doing whatever he feels like, saying whatever he wants without any consequences or accountability.
Those are all left to me.
I reach the far corner of the basketball court when Charlie gives Sam the heads-up that I’m here—as in Charlie spies me first and jerks his head in my direction causing Sam to look my way.
I’m too far away to see what, if any, emotions fill his eyes, but the way he goes completely, rigidly stiff and then slowly, deliberately turns away gives me a mighty big clue.
He’s not happy to see me.
I’m not welcome here.
It’s almost enough to have me doing a U-turn in front of the garage and zooming myself right back down that driveway.
Almost.
But the new, hopefully improving—if not quite all the way improved—Hadley doesn’t give up so easily.
Pressing my lips together, I stop my bike next to the entrance to the court and swing off before I change my bold, brave mind.
I’m taking off my backpack, watching Sam ignore my presence, when he says something to Charlie, the words too low for me to hear.
Charlie’s eyebrows rise and he looks at me. Frowns thoughtfully. Then turns to Sam. “Make it twenty.”
Okay, that was clear enough.
Sam hesitates then nods and Charlie heads toward me in that loping way preteen boys have, all bouncy strides and swinging arms. He stops in front of me—probably because I’m blocking his way.
“Did he offer you twenty bucks to tell me he doesn’t want to talk to me?” I ask.
“Nah. He’s paying me to get lost.” Charlie scratches the side of his nose. “I would’ve gone anyway,” he says in an undertone. Not that he needs to bother being quiet since Sam is now on the other side of the court shooting layups. “No way I want to stick around and watch you two fight.”
“Did he tell you we’re fighting?”
He rolls his eyes, like I’m just way too lame for him to even deal with. “No. Duh. But it’s kinda obvious. You haven’t been around and he’s been acting like someone died or something.”
I glance at Sam. “He has?”
I may have sounded a bit too happy about it because Charlie scrunches up his face. “Uh. Yeah. Anyway,” he says with a one-shoulder shrug, “good luck. You’re going to need it.”
No kidding.
We part ways—Charlie heading toward the house, me entering the court. Sam continues with the layups,
shooting them one after the other, switching sides, grabbing his own rebounds and dribbling several times in between before shooting again.
But these aren’t just drills he’s doing. It’s like he’s playing some invisible opponent, his movements crisp and aggressive. Giving him a wide berth, I cross to stand behind the basket to the right, where I know he can see me.
He keeps right on acting like he doesn’t.
“Sam,” I say. But there’s nothing. No slight pause. No glance my way. I try again. Louder. “Sam.”
This time I know he hears me because his mouth thins and he dribbles harder, sweat dripping down the side of his face, his expression all harsh lines.
I bite my inner lower lip. This was such a mistake. It’s been nine days since Sam found out about me hooking up with Max. Nine days. And he hasn’t texted or called me once. He didn’t stop me from leaving the party last weekend. Hasn’t tried to talk to me or see me since.
He quit his job—again—so he wouldn’t have to be around me.
He wants us to be through.
Again.
My coming here wasn’t bravery.
It’s lunacy.
I should let him go.
But I’ve let so many things go without a fight. Too many things.
Including Sam.
Plus, he’s really starting to tick me off.
So when his next shot bounces off the rim, I dart out and snatch the ball before he can, twisting away when he reaches for it.
We stare at each other. Well, his is more a burning glare than a stare and it’s not actually aimed at me but at a spot over my head. His hair is damp at the temples, his shirt clinging to his chest, his jaw working as if he’s doing a fine job of grinding his molars to dust.
The Art of Holding On Page 36