by Megyn Ward
“It is.” I mimic his stance, crossing my arms over my chest. “If we’re going to do this, then I expect exclusivity for the duration.”
“Exclusivity for the duration.” The look he pins me with knocks the air from my lungs. Makes me glad I’m leaning against a wall and not trying to stand on my own. “We’ve gone from sass mouth to downright dirty talk.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.” His gaze rake over me, slow and deliberate. “I’m so hard right now, I could hammer nails with the head of my cock.”
His off-handed assessment draws my gaze to the front of his jeans like a tractor beam. The second my eyes land on the bulge, straining against his zipper, my face catches fire, which is ridiculous considering where his face was less than fifteen minutes ago.
Never. Conner never would’ve talked to me this way when we were kids. Even when he teased me, he was always gentle. Careful. Like he didn’t want to spook me. Like he wanted to get it right.
Every word.
Every moment.
This Conner doesn’t seem to care either way. Not about what I think or how I feel.
I try not to let that hurt. I try to be like him. I try not to care.
“Is that a yes?” I push the words out on a sigh like I’m impatient but really I’m just trying to remember how to breathe.
He doesn’t give in. Instead, he ignores my question completely. “What’s it matter to you?” He gives me that cocky grin of his, the one I’ve never been able to resist. “You jealous?”
“It’s not jealousy,” I tell him, scrambling for cover. “It’s an aversion to Chlamydia.”
My words knock the grin right off his face, his jaw suddenly snapping so tight I can practically hear his teeth crack. “Whatever you say. It’s your dime, Daisy.” I hurt his feelings again. “No booze. No other women.”
His agreement leaves me out of sorts. I expected him to tell me no. That he’d do as he pleased. Other women. Oceans of whiskey.
I’d been prepared to accept both.
I drop my arms and stand up straight.
He doesn’t move.
“Okay, well—”
“No ring.”
“What?”
“You heard me,” he says, gaze dropping to the engagement ring on my hand. “The ring. I don’t want to see it on your finger again—for the duration. Next time, it’s going in the goddamned harbor.”
“It’s a family heirloom.” The ring has been in the Bradford family for generations. I’ll have to return it when this whole thing is finally over, which is just as well. It’s too much for me. I prefer simple.
“I don’t give a fuck if it’s the goddamned One Ring.” He laughs at me. “He gave it to you.”
“Jeremy is gay,” I blurt it out, finally finding a place to fit in the confession I’ve been carrying for days. “That’s why we’ve never been intimate—we’re just friends. That’s all we’ve ever been. Our relationship has never been real. He’s paying me to marry him.” I look down at the ring on my hand. It feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. If someone tossed me in the Charles right now, I’d sink to the bottom with no hope of surfacing. “None of it is real.”
“It feels real enough to me.”
His words jerk my gaze upward. I find him watching me, his jaw flexing and clenching like he’s struggling to keep himself in check.
“Con—”
“And stop bleaching your goddamned freckles.” It’s not a request. It’s a demand, and that’s exactly what it sounds like.
I think about the tube of skin cream in my travel bag, prescribed by my dermatologist. I use it religiously. I could deny it. Tell him they just faded on their own over time, but something tells me he’d know I was lying.
I swallow and nod, silently agreeing to his terms. “Is that all?”
“Yeah. That’s all.” He drops his arms and pushes himself off the wall. “Now, if you’re finished with me, I’ve got a business to run.” He moves down the hall, toward the kitchen, shoulders stiff, he calls out to me, right before he walks out the door. “You can leave the same way you came in.”
Forty-five
Henley
June
2007
Jessica has been staring at me all class period. Staring and whispering behind her hand to her friends. Every once in a while, one of them giggles. I’m trying not to pay attention but every time I hear it, my stomach clenches and I feel like I’m going to throw up.
I’m wearing the ring Conner gave me. I spent the entire morning with it on my finger, expecting someone to notice it. To say something. No one did and I’ve never been so glad to be so invisible.
But as soon as I walked into class, I felt Jessica’s eyes on me, digging into my back while I slid into my seat. Thankfully we have a test today so as soon as I’m finished, I take my paper up to the teacher and ask if I can go to the bathroom. He waves me off and doesn’t even notice when I take all my books with me.
I don’t go to the bathroom. I go to the library, heading toward the back study table where we usually sit and wait for Conner. When he gets here, I’ll give him the ring back and explain that—
“That’s a cute top.”
I look up to find Jessica standing over me, her long blonde hair tossed over her shoulder, fake smile plastered across her face. Behind her, the girls we have history class with glare at me.
I look down at the shirt I’m wearing. It’s a plain blue V-neck that Conner’s mom gave me from a bunch of stuff her niece didn’t want anymore. There’s nothing special about it other than it never belonged to my brother. “Thanks,” I mumble, shallowing hard against the buzzing hum that’s building in my ears.
I watch her slide into the seat next to me from the corner of my eye. “Where’d you get it?” She says it like she already knows so I ignore her, pulling my book closer to my chest, trying to focus on the words in front of me.
“Conner’s mom bought it for you, right?” she says in that syrupy sweet tone she uses when she’s about to gut you. “I saw her at the mall a few weeks ago, buying a bunch of stuff and I swear I saw her buy that shirt.” Somewhere behind me, her friends laugh. The words go blurry on the page but I keep staring at it, hoping they’ll get bored and leave me alone. No such luck.
“I like your ring, it’s pretty,” she says, still pretending that she didn’t come here to hurt me. “Did Conner’s mom give that to you too?”
“What do you want, Jessica?” I say because, suddenly, I just want it over with. I just want her to say whatever she came in here to say so she and her friends can have their laugh and go back to ignoring me.
“I want to know what you think is really happening between you and Conner.” Her tone goes sour. Nasty.
Bile churns in my stomach, splashing and stinging the back of my throat. “Nothing is happening between Conner and me,” I say it without looking up, the humming buzz in my ear punctuated by the heavy drum of my pulse, echoing in my ears. “I’m tutoring him in calculus. That’s all.”
“Do really think he’s your boyfriend. That he loves you?” It’s like I never said a word. “You’re not his girlfriend, Henley.” She gives me a sympathetic smile, like she feels sorry for me. I can feel it crawling, like spiders, all over my face. “You’re like this little stray dog that follows him around and he lets you because he feels sorry for you. You’re the Gilroy family charity case.”
I feel my hand curl into a fist, the ring Conner gave me cutting into the skin between my fingers.
“No,” she laughs, looking over her shoulder at her friends, urging them to join in. “You’re more like the family pet.” She turns toward me, still laughing.
Ladies don’t solve their problems with their fists.
That’s the last thing I remember thinking before I punch Jessica right in dumb, loud mouth.
Forty-six
Conner
“Hate to break the news but I don’t think you’regetting laid tonight,” Ryan says, slumping aga
inst the locker next to mine while I shove books in my backpack.
“What?” I throw him a quick glance, my heart doing a double thump against my rigcage.
“Hen knocked Jessica out in the library today,” he says on a laugh that sounds half embarrassed and half impressed. “Doubt she’ll be making it to Caleb’s party and if she does, I don’t think she’ll be in the mood.”
Jessica. He’s talking about Jessica. Not his sister.
“Henley hit Jessica?” If he notices how sharp my tone is, he doesn’t show it. “Why? What happened?”
“I dunno,” he say, with a shrug. “According to Jess and her friends, they were in the library and Hen just attacked her.”
Bullshit. Henley has a temper but she wouldn’t just attack someone, unprovoked. “What does Henley say happened?”
“Nothing. She’s been sitting in the Dean’s office all afternoon with her mouth glued shut.”
“Jessica did something,” I say shouldering my backpack. “She harasses her non-stop. Where is she?”
“Jess? Her parents came and—”
“Henley.” I cut him off. “Where’s Henley?”
Ryan gives me a weird look. “They couldn’t get ahold of anyone to come get her so they kept her in the office until the end of the day and then sent her home with a three-day suspension. Our mom’s gonna—where are you going?” he calls after me when I start walking away.
“I’ve gotta get home.” Hopefully Henley will be there. I can talk to her. Find out what happened.
“To hang out with my sister?” The way he says it, slow and careful, puts me on edge. Like the thought of us together bothers him. Like there’s something wrong with me. “On a Friday night. Again.”
I don’t want to lie. I don’t think I should have to. Henley is my girlfriend. At least, I think she is. I have a feeling whatever happened in the library with Jessica might have changed that. I’ve got to talk to her. I can fix it if she’ll just let me talk to her.
“I want a car,” I say, giving him the standard lie I’ve been telling for the past three months. “That means I have to pass calculus. Finals are next week. I can’t afford to slack off now.”
“Yeah, but Caleb’s parents are—”
“Yeah,” I say, continuing the lie. “And you just said, Jessica probably won’t even be there so what’s the point?” I push the exterior door to the school open, squinting my eyes against the bright afternoon sun. It takes them a few seconds to adjust, when they do, I catch sight of Henley across the street, walking home with Tess. Declan is walking with them. I can see his mouth moving from here.
Jessica’s going to be there, and Con’s been trying to hook up—
Shit.
“Henley,” I call out, not giving a shit that it’ll make her mad. She doesn’t even look at me.
I jog across the street, acutely aware of the fact that Ryan is following along. That Declan and Tess are watching. Other kids on the sidewalk. She finally looks at me. But when she does, her gaze slides right through me like I’m not even there.
“Hey,” I say, walking the last few steps to close the gap between us, I shoot my brother a quick look. He’s got his eyes pinned to the sidewalk between us. “I heard what happened. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she says, shifting her load of books from one hip to the other. She still won’t use the backpack I gave her. They look heavy. That hand she has wrapped around them is sporting a set of swollen knuckles. And the ring I gave her is gone.
“Where are you going?” I ask, fighting against the churning sickness in my stomach.
“Tess’s to hang out and watch movies.” Like Declan, Henley won’t look me in the eye. I look at Tess. She’s surprised by what Henley just said, but she does a decent job of hiding it.
“I thought we were studying,” I say, fighting to keep my tone calm. Trying to pretend I don’t care where she goes or what she does.
“Declan was just telling us there’s a party at Caleb Emerson’s tonight,” she says, her tone too upbeat. Too bright. “I think you should go—you’ve been working hard. You deserve a break.” She nods her head, like the matter is settled.
“I don’t want a break,” I say a little too loud, aiming a hard stare at my brother. He still won’t look at me.
“Well, I do,” Henley says, drawing my attention. When I look at her, she looks right through me. “I think we could both use it.”
I give her an almost imperceptible shake of my head, my jaw clenched and aching. Teeth clamped together so tight I can practically feel them cracking.
She gives me a bland, unHenley smile in return. “Have a good time, Conner—I’ll see you on Monday.” She hitches her books against her chest and turns away from me. Gone before I can say another word.
“Let’s go,” Ryan says, snagging my shoulder to pull me toward the park. I jerk out of his grip and close the gap between me and Declan.
“What’s your problem?” I say, getting in his face.
“I’m problem-free,” he tells me with a grin. “What’s yours?”
“I’m only gonna say this once, so I really hope you’re listening,” I say, making sure my tone travels no further than my brother’s ears. “Unless you want me to tell Mom and Dad that you’re stealing cars and selling them to that chop-shop in Southie, stay the fuck out of my business and leave Henley alone.”
I’ve known for a while what he’s been doing when he sneaks out, but until now, I’ve kept my mouth shut. I watch Declan grind his teeth for a few seconds before I look at Ryan. “Buy your sister a backpack,” I say, practically snarling at him before pushing past him. He calls after me a few times before giving up. They head for the park, and I head for home.
Forty-seven
Henley
I hide at Tess’s for as long as I can. When I get finally get home, my dad is on the bathroom floor, flat on his back, snoring loudly. Pants undone and at half-mast. Despite the effort, he’s pissed himself.
Again.
Sighing, I leave him where he is for now and head down the hall toward my room to drop off my books.
I bump my bedroom door open with my hip and use my elbow to switch on the light.
Conner is sitting outside my window.
He’s sitting on the landing, facing my room, feet braced on the sill, forearms hanging from his knees.
I drop my books on the bed, and then I just stand there while we stare at each other through the window. He doesn’t say anything or gesture for me to let him in like last time. He looks dug in. Like he’s been here for hours. Like he’s not going anywhere.
I skirt the bed and open the window for him before leaving my room again to deal with my dad.
In the hall, I grab a stack of towels from the linen closet and head back to the bathroom. Dropping the towels on the floor, I kneel next to my dad, giving the situation a quick assessment.
“Dad.” I whisper it, nudging his shoulder. He’s out cold. My dad isn’t a big man but getting him up off the floor by myself will prove impossible. I’ll have to roll him onto his side unless I want to run the risk of him choking on his own vomit.
Conner is behind me, standing in the hallway. Blocking him out, I grab my dad’s urine soaked waistband and start jerking his pants up until I have them high enough to get them buttoned.
Next, I grab him by his shoulder and hip and start the struggle to get him rolled onto his side. He rouses at the movement, his bleary eyes opening slightly. “Fuck off,” he mutters. Planting his hands, one on my shoulder, the other on my face, he shoves, knocking me into the toilet before slipping away again.
From the corner of my eye, I see Conner lunge forward, hands out of his pockets.
I right myself, holding up a hand to stop him from coming any closer. “Don’t,” I say, wiping my hand across my mouth before looking up at him. “He’s drunk. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
Conner shakes his head, fists clenched, glare dead centered on my father like he’s waiting for
him to make a move.
“Conner,” I say his name, my tone sharp. He looks at me, and I shake my head again. “He’s my responsibility. I can do it myself.”
Nodding his head once, he retreats to the doorway while I struggle on my own to get my dad rolled over onto his side. Thankfully, he doesn’t wake again. I finally manage it, shoving him back against the sink so he won’t end up on his back again. Then I fold a towel and slip it under his head. Spread the rest out around him. With any luck, that’s where he’ll throw-up when it starts. That way, all I’ll have to do is wash a load of towels.
Finished, I push past Conner, who’s still standing in the doorway, looking at my dad. His fists are still clenched.
In the kitchen, I wash my hands and face. It’s filthy. Sink full of dishes. Garbage can in the corner overflowing. Old food left out on the counter. I think about Conner’s kitchen. Clean and tidy. His mom making dinner. His dad at the table reading the paper.
Promising myself I’ll clean it in the morning, I walk into the living room long enough to turn off the television before heading to my room.
Conner is sitting on my bed, looking at his hands.
“You can’t keep doing this, Conner,” I tell him, shaking my head. “You can’t keep walking into bathrooms and waiting for me after class. You can’t keep coming here and trying to hold my hand. People are going to—”
“What?” he says, jaw set. “People are going to what, Henley?” He’s angry, his tone hard and sarcastic. “Ohhh, that’s right. I’m not supposed to want to be with someone like you—whatever the fuck that means.”
“Conner—” I close my eyes against the sight of him because I can’t look at him and say what I have to say next. “This isn’t going to work,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t think we should—”
“No.”
The word comes at me like a slap, popping my eyes open. I watch him stand, practically charging at me. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to break up with me just because things get hard.”