by Cindi Madsen
“Oh? Where’d you get that idea?”
Now Hudson was eyeing me like I was some kind of encaged zoo animal he’d never seen before. “I have a theory.”
“What are you guys doing here, anyway?” I asked, not wanting to hear theories. “Shouldn’t you be out doing couple stuff?”
“We came here as a couple to see why our good friend Dane is so mopey lately, and if we can’t find a way to fix that.” Hudson flashed me an over-the-top grin. “You need to take a night off before you keel over.”
The second I slowed down, memories of Megan would flash through my mind. Of her and her shitty music, and how she’d sing along with a huge smile on her face. Of dancing with her that night at Howl at the Moon, the sweet torture every time her body brushed mine and made me want more. Of all the nights in my bedroom—even though I filled most of my bed, it felt empty without her.
Hudson put his hand over my notebook, stopping me from writing down anatomy definitions. “Just tell me this isn’t about what happened with Jazmine. That you still think you need to punish yourself for her mistakes.”
“I wasn’t there for her. Before I left, she was fine. Now she’s spiraled down a really bad path. Those are the facts.”
“And now it all makes sense.” My best friend exhaled, then turned to Whitney. “Baby, could you excuse us for a minute? It’s about to get mushy, and I’m not sure I can say what I need to with you looking on. I’ve got my bad boy rep to maintain.”
She brushed her lips across his. “Hate to break it to you, but if you really wanted to maintain it, you should’ve thought of that before you decorated a tree for me.” She scooted out of the bench and glanced around. “I’ll just go check out the…artwork. Yeah. I always wondered about pancake paintings. Holler if you need me.”
Hudson smacked her on the ass as she started away, and she shook her head, although she flashed him a huge smile along with it.
Then he turned to me, the remains of a love-struck grin on his face. “Me and her?” He jerked his chin toward Whitney. “You know a big part of that was because when I was sulking in self-pity, you forced me to look at what I’d lose if I didn’t do something. You were the one who made me realize that letting her go would be the biggest mistake I’d ever make, and that I had to do whatever it took to get her back.”
“That’s different,” I said. “You two are good for each other. I’d only drag Megan down. I’m behind in my classes, my family is a shit-show right now, and I’ve had enough bad games this season that at this point, even thinking of the NHL is a joke.” Yeah, without Megan cheering me on last game, I was a mess on the rink, unable to concentrate on plays and acting like a rookie with his head cut off. “Everything’s falling apart, and I can’t drag her down with me to make myself feel better—so that I can sleep, and I can manage my life. It’d be selfish, and if anything, everything that happened between us only proves I’m not the guy she needs.”
“Then fucking start being the guy she needs. Everything got worse once you pushed her away, right?”
I clenched my jaw, not admitting to it, although not arguing against it because it was true, and Hudson would see right through me.
“You’ve always taken care of everyone else—to the point that you nearly kill yourself. You were ready to break all the rules last semester to keep me here. You bend over backward for your family. You always put everyone else first, and I was so busy with my own life I didn’t realize you were drowning. Then you met Megan and you had someone do for you what you do for everyone else. Now I do see you drowning, though, and I’ll be damned if I stand by and watch, when I know that girl’s what you need.”
He ran his hand through his hair and then his eyes met mine. “Especially when… I’ve seen her, Dane. She looks like she’s sleeping about as much as you are. You two idiots are walking around like zombies without each other, and the solution is so simple. Go get her back.”
Thinking of her sad dug at my already beat up heart, another chunk punched out at the thought of Megan not smiling, not sleeping. While it was true that I needed her, she needed someone better. Someone who could give her everything she deserved. “She’ll be okay eventually. Without me she has a much better chance.”
“I’m not sure where the hell you’re getting that from. You’re a good guy. Why don’t you see that?”
I ran my thumb along the edge of the table, unearthing who knew how many years of gunk. “Cassidy called me last weekend. Jazmine overdid it at some party and ended up in the hospital—she nearly died. After our last talk, I thought she was better. I thought that even though she and I didn’t work out—even though I screwed her up—I managed to at least do something right when it came to her. But… I tried to save her, but all I ended up doing was break her more, and that kills me.”
“I thought I was clear the last time we talked about Jazmine, but apparently I wasn’t. You saw that broken girl and you thought you could be her hero, but in the end, you just ended up drained and feeling responsible for the decisions she was going to make anyway. But she was already too far gone, and you need to stop blaming yourself for her decisions.”
I shook my head. “I could’ve stopped her. If I would’ve stayed, or if I made more of an effort. I wasn’t there for her when she needed me, and after her Mom died—”
“That’s rough, I’ll give her that, but it’s also bullshit. I ran into her at a party a few months before we even moved to Boston. She was high and completely out of it, on way more than alcohol. You were at…I don’t remember. One of your sisters had something or other. Addicts are really good at twisting things and blaming other people—I’d know. I lived with one for most of my life.”
Hudson fiddled with the saltshaker. “That’s why I never liked Jazmine. It makes me feel awful to say, because my mom and I…well, we’re trying to work things out, and you know I love her. But Jaz always reminded me of my mom. You could’ve given that girl the world—could’ve stayed with her until you made it in the NHL, and showered her with love and money, and she’d spend every spare penny on more expensive drugs.”
“Maybe if I would’ve gotten her help—”
“You’re not listening to me. There’s nothing you could’ve done to keep her from going down this road. She would have to want help to stop, and she doesn’t. She’d drag you down, man. That’s what would’ve happened.”
For so long, guilt over not being there for Jazmine during her mom’s hospitalization and funeral haunted me. I hadn’t allowed myself to even think that her life might’ve turned out the same, regardless of the choices I made. My mind always traveled back to that month we first met, when she needed someone and I thought I could be the guy to save her. But she always did go toward the wrong crowd; always pushed the boundaries. Something about Hudson’s words sunk deep, and for the first time, I toyed with letting go of the blame and guilt that’d weighed me down.
I’d made plenty of mistakes, sure, but every time I’d tried to help Jaz, tried to suggest a different crowd, or staying home from a party, she only resented me for it. I couldn’t make all of Jazmine’s decisions for the rest of her life, even if I wished I could’ve somehow fixed her.
Megan’s words mixed in, too, about how people made their own choices, and how I couldn’t live my entire life for other people.
“You get it now?” Hudson asked.
“I…” I raked my hands through my hair, my body feeling lighter than it had in a long time. “I’m starting to.”
“Finally. Like I said, you can’t save everyone. But the girl who saves you back? That’s the girl you fight like hell for.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Megan
“I can’t believe I let you guys talk me into this,” I said, dragging my feet as the familiar flashing lights and stage with dueling pianos came into view.
Lyla and Vanessa both put a hand on my back and propelled me farther into Howl at the Moon, not giving me much of a choice but to follow Whitney as she pushed int
o the crowd.
“You told us this place was awesome,” Vanessa said.
“Yeah, and I also told you it’d be impossible to not think about Dane here, which I feel is counterintuitive to my mission to get over him.” For the most part, nearly two weeks after the incident, life had returned to normal.
Not sleeping was normal, after all.
The occasional urge to cry…well, thanks to being a girl and dealing with suck-ass hormone surges once a month, even that wasn’t all that abnormal. I’d thrown myself into my classes and experienced my first high school visit with the engineering outreach program, and I loved every second of it.
With the exception of our shared class, it was easy enough to avoid Dane. Even then, he showed up on the late side, and I bolted early. He looked even more tired than usual, which made it hard not to ask how he was doing.
My heart tugged, and I worked to push away that image of him. After all, he was the one who decided we couldn’t even be friends.
“Hey, you were in danger of becoming one of those people who only ever studies, and drastic times call for drastic measures.” Lyla pushed harder, and for someone so sweet and innocent looking, she was stronger than expected. “We’re going to make new memories, so this place goes from yours with him to just yours.”
“I feel like your logic is flawed, and honesty, that’s not something I ever thought I’d say to you.”
“Trust me, I’m good at experiments.”
“And I’m good at buying margaritas.” Vanessa held up her debit card.
“Okay,” I said. “Maybe I’m starting to trust this plan a little more.”
After all, nights were the hardest, the times when Dane and my good memories tried to rise up while I tossed and turned. I’d gone to text him out of habit once, only to remember I couldn’t anymore. The hazy times between sleep and waking weren’t much better—one night I’d sworn I was in his bed, his warm body wrapped around mine, and when I rolled to ask him which hot spot we should visit next, I woke up enough to realize that he wasn’t there; that he never would be again.
To combat the sorrow that washed over me, I looked at my Fresh Start Checklist and reminded myself of how far I’d come. I hadn’t reverted to old self-destructive habits after our breakup, and not only did I feel like I belonged at Boston College, I also felt stronger, even in the moments I was sad.
Whitney signaled over a dimpled waiter, and we all ordered drinks—he gave our IDs the briefest glance, far more interested in Lyla’s cleavage, although she seemed oblivious about his appreciative appraisal.
Before I had to tell him she had a boyfriend—my brother—and make it awkward, he moved on to a more enthusiastically flirty group of women.
After downing our cocktails, we headed for the dance floor. As we bumped against each other, bouncing to the beat and laughing, I did feel better than I had in days. My heart still beat a little softer and duller than usual, even with the extra cardio, and in spite of the selection of perfectly good-looking guys, I had no desire to attempt a get-to-know-you type chat. For now, I was going to focus on classes and my engineering program, but I told myself that when summer semester rolled around, I’d try the dating thing again.
Tonight was about having a girls’ night filled with dancing and drinking. A night to show myself that going out could still be fun, even if it felt like more work than it used to. With enough alcohol, I might even forget that getting over Dane was taking longer than I wanted it to.
But when the upbeat song transitioned to a slower one, I was suddenly back here with Dane, his arms around me, the multicolored lights flickering across his face.
Like a damn breaking, the sadness I’d forced back gushed forward, stealing my breath. I was doing so well. How can I crack at one stupid slow song?
Would it always be like this? All the spots in Boston we’d gone to together now tainted? Why had I taken him to the best ones? I should’ve saved them for a guy who’d commit to me. Who checked off all my damn boyfriend-potential items instead of focusing on our shared insomniac tendencies and amazing sexual chemistry.
Man, I miss sex. Not enough to throw myself at a rebound guy or to get under someone else, as Vanessa once joked was the best way to get over someone. But I definitely missed it, more than I expected to given my mostly mediocre experiences before Dane crashed into my life and ruined every other guy. But what I missed most was lying nose-to-nose with him, talking about everything and nothing, and having him hold me as I drifted to sleep.
It felt like I hadn’t gotten good solid sleep in forever. Probably because I hadn’t.
Whitney glanced at me and then she nudged Lyla. Both of them stopped dancing, and once Vanessa looked my way, her swaying hips stilled as well.
Tears rose, and there I stood, useless to fight them. “I’m sorry, guys. I tried, but…I think I need to go.”
Lyla’s eyes flew wide as she clamped onto my arm. “But you can’t.”
“I know you’re trying to help, but I’m not ready. Maybe if we went to a different bar?” Deep down, I knew it wouldn’t make much difference. “Or how about ice cream and Netflix? I can’t be the only one who thinks that sounds like a good girls’ night.”
Whitney turned away, her attention on her phone.
Vanessa and Lyla circled me like a wild animal they thought might bolt.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Why are you guys being so weird? I’m sorry to be the party pooper and all, but don’t you understand? I’m not ready for this. I need more time.”
Lyla and Whitney exchanged some type of silent conversation, and Whitney lifted a finger. Then Lyla said, “Okay. One more song. Then we’ll go.”
I wanted to stomp my foot and demand we go now, before I fell apart in front of all these people, but I figured I could survive one more stupid too-happy song. Whether or not I could do it without bursting into tears was a different story. I signaled for another drink, but the dimpled waiter was nowhere to be seen. I scanned the bar area, trying to catch the eye of someone else who would bring me alcohol, stat.
“The next song is a special request,” the female singer seated behind the piano said. “It’s going out to Megan, and I’m supposed to say, sorry for being so stupid, and if you’ll give me another chance, you can have full control of the music, even if it means I have to listen to…” She squinted at a paper in her hand. “Stupid Harry Styles every minute of every day.”
“Sounds like someone screwed up pretty bad,” the male singer behind the other piano said with a chuckle.
I stared at the stage, sure they must mean a different Megan. And a different Harry Styles—well, maybe not a different one. But a lot of girls liked One Direction. I knew I couldn’t be the only one, much less the only one named Megan.
I bet there were a lot of guys out there who were stupid and sorry. In fact, it’d be harder to find a non-stupid guy.
But then the opening notes of “Kiss You” started, and the woman currently working her way across the ivory keys added, “Megan, Dane’s sorry. And apparently, he wants to kiss you.”
My mind must be playing tricks on me. That’s it, my lack of sleep has gotten to the point of hallucination.
But then the crowd parted for someone tall and muscular, wearing the same hat as Dane usually wore.
I glanced at my group of friends, who had a combination of sheepish and guilty expressions on their faces.
Then Dane stepped through the crowd, his gaze on me, and I forgot how to breathe. His footsteps slowed as he approached. “Hey.”
I crossed my arms, unwilling—and unable, honestly—to get out any words, even one as simple as hey.
“Okay, so you’re pissed, and you should be. I was stupid, and I am sorry—you have no idea how sorry. See, I thought I was doing what was best for you. I didn’t think I deserved you, and I still don’t, but the truth is…” He spread his arms wide. “I’m completely lost without you, Megan.”
A giant lump formed in my throat, and I sho
ok my head. “You say that—you say things like you’re crazy without me, and that you only want me. But then you pull away again, and I just can’t…” I clenched my jaw, hoping that would keep the rising tears from falling. “I can’t do it again, Dane.”
A desperate look crossed his face and he reached for me, capturing my wrist as I turned to go.
“Wait. Megan, please. Just hear me out.”
I couldn’t help but notice we had a captive audience, but I tried to push that out of my mind. I wasn’t going to go easy on him because there were witnesses around, only to end up feeling like a fool later. He thought he could get the performers to play one of my favorite songs and I’d just say oh well about all that pain and anguish—sure hope he’s serious this time? “You broke my heart,” I said, and despite my best efforts, a tear slid down my cheek.
He recoiled like I’d slapped him, and his grip on my wrist loosened, making it easier to jerk my arm away. But then resolve set into his features and he closed the foot of space I’d managed to put between us. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, and that’s the one I regret the most. I know you’ve given me more chances than I deserve, but I also know that I don’t want to go one more day without you.” His eyes locked onto mine. “Megan, I need you. I should’ve fought for you—for us—and no matter how long it takes, I’m going to prove to you just how much I love you.”
My bruised heart fluttered, torn between letting those words sink in and pushing them away before they could hurt me. “You…love me?”
“How could I not? I knew I was in trouble that first night you brought me here, when I was having a horrible night, and you took it upon yourself to cheer me up. Then, in your car, this was the song that came on…” He pointed at the ceiling, and I decided now wasn’t the time to point out the speakers were on the stage. “I couldn’t tell you the song that came on when we won the hockey championship last year, but I remember this one. Everything about that night is seared in my brain. I was too afraid to let myself admit it, but I fell a little in love with you that night. And each night after only made me fall harder.”