“If not now, then when?”
“When we get back to campus?”
“Katie, what’s going on with us?” Tate plants his feet and crosses his arms over his gingham chest. This guy’s not going anywhere. “I know you’ve been talking to Charlie Benson.”
A girl dripping in fake blood bursts from the cornrow, arcing a rubber knife and screaming like a woman possessed.
But I can’t take my eyes off Tate. “What did you say?”
Finding no reaction, the screamer disappears back into the corn.
Sadness lurks in Tate’s gaze. “A few weeks ago, we were hanging out in your dorm. You left your phone on the bed when you went to the bathroom. Charlie’s name popped up with a text.”
“One text doesn’t mean we’ve been talking.” I watch him drop his gaze to the dirt path beneath his feet. “You looked through my phone.”
“I’m not proud of it.” Tate returns his attention to me, defiant and daring me to argue. “You had a bunch of texts with him. And at least two long phone calls.”
“He’s an old friend.”
“He’s an old boyfriend.”
“I’m not cheating on you if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“Did Charlie know your mom was in the hospital?”
I step out of the way of a group of guys stumbling through. Tate doesn’t even bother giving them an obligatory wave.
Tate moves closer, using his full height to loom over me. “Did he?”
“Yes.”
“Before I did?”
Dates and times swim in my head, and I can’t begin to sort them out. “I don’t know. What are you getting at?”
He stares up at the lonely moon that hangs in a darkening sky. “It hurt when you didn’t tell me about your mom. I could’ve gone with you, but you didn’t even ask me. You didn’t give me a chance to be there for you.”
“You couldn’t have come to the hospital with me anyway. One visitor at a time and only immediate family.” The joys of your mom being incarcerated.
“You purposely didn’t tell me your mom was dying until you had to. If that had been me, I would’ve told you as soon as I got the news. I wouldn’t have shut you out.”
“Your situation would be different.”
“No, it’s not. This has nothing to do with the fact that my mom’s not dysfunctional and your mom’s—”
“My mom’s a what? A junkie addict who robs pharmacies and neglects her kid?”
The warm breeze ruffles a Dorothy Gale ponytail. “This has nothing to do with who our parents are—or how close we are or aren’t. This is about you and me. You chose to leave me out of an important part of your life.”
“But I did tell you about it.”
“Later. When you absolutely had to because I couldn’t find you in any of your classes. Do you know what I first thought? I thought you were cheating on me. And then I see Charlie’s name all over your phone, and—”
“I would never do that. If anyone has a reason to suspect cheating, it would be me, and I haven’t gone there.”
Tate throws his hands in the air. “I haven’t so much as looked at another girl.”
“How would I know? I never see you.”
“Is this about the fraternity? Do we need to have this argument again?”
“No, because nothing’s going to change.” Another couple sails past us, probably wondering if our drama is part of the show.
“Do you want me to quit it? Is that what’s finally going to make you happy?”
We both know he’s not going to quit, and I don’t even want him to. “It’s about balance. I don’t think that’s asking too much. Am I being demanding by wanting to spend time with you? Or by expecting you to keep the plans you make with me? Right now, what I’m getting are these fly-bys where you pop in to kiss me on the cheek with your aw-shucks face, telling me plans have changed and you can only stay ten minutes.”
Tate opens his mouth to deny it, then apparently thinks better of it. “I could definitely work harder on the balance thing.”
“Maybe you don’t want to.” I take a step back, bumping up against more corn. “Lately, I’ve wondered how much of that is truly the demands of your fraternity—or something you choose. I think you make up reasons to not be with me.” I wait for Tate to deny my accusation, to rail at me, and get mad at the audacious charge.
But he says nothing.
“Things were easier when we lived two hours apart,” I whisper.
Tate sticks his hands in the pockets of his dress as if he’s physically removing himself from what used to be our shared space. “This isn’t working, is it?”
Wait. No. How on earth did this unravel into a breakup conversation? “So, we’ve hit a rough patch. First semester of college stress fracture.”
“Things haven’t been going well in a long time, Katie. I think I’ve felt it for a while. That’s probably why I spend so much time at the fraternity.” He reaches for my hands. “Do you remember the question I asked you this summer?”
How could I forget? We haven’t talked about that moment since, and I assumed we were locking it in the never-to-be-mentioned vault.
It had been a cloudy Friday night. We’d each driven to the halfway point and met at Foxtail Lake in a map dot of a Texas town. Tate had brought a picnic, a romantic and quality-lacking collection of convenience store hot dogs, oatmeal cream pies, and two slushies.
“I thought you were finally going to tell me you loved me,” I say.
“You mean you were afraid I was going to say that.”
This time it’s my turn to withhold the denial. “I assumed we were having a sweet date along the shoreline, and instead, you ask me if I want to break up before we start college. Who does that?” That was a long drive home, just me, my racing thoughts, and my highly emotional car solos.
“I didn’t believe you when you said no.” Tate pulls us out of the way of three guys screaming about an evil scarecrow.
“You said you were worried I might feel held back while at college.” My rueful laugh is barely audible over the shrieking a few rows over. “I convinced myself you were being heroically sacrificial, but that’s not what it was at all, was it?” I see it so clearly now. Even through all the stinky fur blocking my vision. “You asked me if I wanted to break up because that’s what you wanted. Were you hoping I’d say yes and let you off easy?”
Tate drops my hands, his ridiculously red lips pressing in a firm line. “I thought I’d give you a chance to be honest about what you want—or who you want.”
“I want you.”
When he rolls his eyes, a glob of fake lashes sticks to his cheek. “No, you don’t. And I’m tired of not measuring up. You’ve never gotten over Charlie Benson, and I’m never going to be that guy.”
“That’s not fair. I don’t understand where this is coming from.” Why now? And for heaven sakes, why here?
“We’ve had a good run,” Tate says, “and I care about you a lot. But—”
“Don’t do this.” Not while I’m so sad, so overwhelmed. So itchy with synthetic dog hair.
“I want you to be happy. We both know I’m not making you happy. You deserve more.”
One more person leaving me. “Whatever it is, we can work through it. I won’t shut you out. I’ll call more often. I’ll go to all your Greek events and not complain.”
Yet Tate isn’t backing down. “We both deserve more than this.”
“But I don’t want more. I want you.” The shadows of the night can’t hide his severe frown. “I mean, you are more. You’re enough. Aren’t I enough for you?” I hear the pitiful plea in my voice, and it makes me want to take off running into this maze until I’m lost forever. “I’m not, am I?”
“Seriously?” He yanks off his wig and crushes it in his fist. “You’re more than anyone deserves, Katie. The problem is you don’t believe that. Since the day we met in Middleton, I’ve admired you for your guts and determination. But the past few month
s, I’ve watched you practically drown yourself in shame and insecurity.”
“Aside from my terrible GPA, I’m still the same me.”
“You walk around campus like you’re afraid someone will actually talk to you.”
“Turns out, most don’t.”
“You’ve barely made friends, and that’s not like you at all. You act completely intimidated by everyone here.”
“I guess I need time to warm up to fifteen thousand people.”
“You took those audition results as a statement of your worth. So last night, you quit.”
“Completely inaccurate, Dr. Freud. I happen to be in the throes of grief, and the play is too much. Even Dr. Maddox agreed.” The jerk.
Tate closes the distance, and his voice is more anguished than whoever’s being chased in the distance by a chainsaw. “You left me out of your mom’s hospital crisis because you didn’t want me to see her at her worst and you at your most vulnerable.
“She was handcuffed to a bed, Tate. That Polaroid moment was strictly for family.”
“Remind me again why you told James not to give your mom a funeral?”
I take a step of retreat, bumping against a hay bale. “Because she had no friends or family besides me.”
“That’s not the only reason why.”
“Oh, I’d love to hear your diagnosis on this as well, so please, do tell.”
“Because you’re embarrassed. You’re furious with your mom. You’re letting the past make the decision and jack things up. I get that this is hard, but a funeral is closure. It’s a way to say your final goodbye.”
“I said goodbye in the hospital. It’s over.”
“Is it? Tell me something.” A breeze ruffles his blond hair as his eyes sear into mine. “Your decision to not have a funeral—is that about you or your mom?”
“It’s about the fact that everyone has better things to do on a Saturday.”
“Bobbie Ann was who she was, Katie. There’s nothing wrong in honoring her life.”
“Honoring what? The way she sucked as a mom? The way she had a rap sheet longer than my high school transcript? Should I have communion at her funeral with vodka and cigarettes? Have a photo slide show of all the moments she didn’t show up for?”
“I know she mistreated you—”
“Yes, she did. My mom was a mess, Tate. And you expect me to put that on display for everyone?” Jesus, you better help me because right now, I just wanna smack this boy with some corn husks.
“All my life, I’ve been the recipient of people’s pity. ‘Poor Katie, her mother’s drunk at her teeball game. Oh, poor Katie, her pants are too short, her lunch account is empty, her friends no longer come over and play. Poor Katie, we can’t find a home to take a teenager.’ From teachers to caseworkers, I got pity. I’m not gonna sit on the front row of the In Between Community Church, a one-girl receiving line, as the whole town shakes my hand and offers me more freaking pity.”
“Trust me when I tell you people would only be there to love and support you. Nobody wants you to feel ashamed.”
“I said no funeral.” I scratch my cheek and pull back a fake whisker. “And what do you care? We’re over, right?”
“I would still go. I’d do anything to support you.”
I have to laugh at that. “Anything but stay my boyfriend.” I pluck off the rest of the whiskers, the glue glommed to my paws. “You’re wrong about everything. All of it.”
Tate’s sad smile is one that will stay burned in my mind like a photograph. “I kind of hope I am. Especially Charlie. I never liked that guy.” He leans down and kisses my cold cheek. “But I know I’m not. I care about you so much, but it’s time to stop holding on for all the wrong reasons.”
“Oh, yeah?” I blink back tears and dust as I send Tate a look that used to make the caseworkers tremble. “Well…that dress makes your hips look big!”
Racing away as fast as my dog feet will let me, I leave Tate in that maze.
Tonight, instead of having some Halloween fun, I got my heart stomped on and handed back to me.
And there are only two things I know without a doubt.
One, I need a shower.
And two, I need to go home.
Not to my dorm. But to In Between.
The only place that ever makes sense.
Chapter Thirty-Three
I pull into the driveway of my house at half past nine. Seeing all the lights are out, I’m thankful that at least something is working in my favor.
Easing the front door open, I rest my bag in the entry then tiptoe inside, careful not to alert Rocky.
Then I hear the TV. And see the glow of lights from the den.
“Katie?”
Shoot.
Rocky rounds the corner, his claws clicking on the hardwood floors. He races to me, skidding as he puts the brakes on too late.
Oomph. “Hello to you, too.” I pat his soft head.
“Katie, is that you?” A sleepy-looking James appears, holding a bowl of popcorn and not bothering to hide his concern. “Is everything all right? I thought you were staying on campus this weekend. And…you’re in fur.”
“I...”
“Katie?” Millie joins us, her curly hair pulled in a short ponytail, and her face scrubbed clean of makeup. “Hon, what’s wrong?”
“You mean besides the fact that she’s dressed as a mop?”
“I’m Toto.” I scratch behind my ear where a cluster of fur digs in. “From Wizard of Oz.”
James quirks a brow. “Is that what the store told you?”
Millie gets a look at my bag. “What’s wrong? You said you were staying on campus this weekend.”
“Nothing’s wrong.” I sniff. “Can’t a girl change her mind?”
Millie doesn’t say a word. She simply opens her slender arms and waits. I rush to her and throw myself into her embrace.
“It’s okay.” She rubs my back, transferring her calm energy. “Tell me all about it.”
“Tate broke up with me tonight.”
“What?” Her voice softens with mama bear concern. “How? Where?”
“Somewhere between a bundle of haunted cornstalks and a man carrying a chainsaw.”
“I knew we should’ve sent you to a Christian college.” James sighs. “You ladies come into the den and sit. Let’s hear this story.”
As Rocky trails close beside me, sniffing my pants and violating my personal space, I follow my parents. The TV shows a paused black and white scene, so I assume Millie’s talked James into watching one of her classic movies he pretends not to like.
They sit on the leather couch, but I continue standing, filled with nervous energy and a need to pace.
“Start at the beginning,” Millie says.
“The very very beginning where I went to play rehearsal and quit? Or the plain old beginning where I went on a date with Tate, and he broke up with me in a corn maze, then I made my dramatic departure, but soon got lost and had to yell for him to come and find me, thus ruining my hair-toss-and-sashay-away moment?”
James reaches for his popcorn and takes a super-sized bite. “Do I have too much testosterone for this conversation?”
Millie rests her hand on his leg. “You stay put. And Katie, we want the full story. You quit the play? I thought we’d discussed this.”
“We did. I thought I could go through with the show, but I guess I can’t.”
“I see.” Millie’s lips press into a disapproving line. “Did you at least do it civilly? You made an appointment and told the professor in private?”
“Um, sure.”
“Oh, Katie.” You know when Millie rolls her eyes, it’s serious business.
“It just happened. The moment overtook me, and I quit. But it’s not like anyone cares.”
Millie brushes dog hair from her pants with slow, deliberate swipes. “We care.”
“You’ve had quite the evening,” James says evenly, as if he’s resisting the urge to say more.
&nbs
p; “I’m sorry.” I walk from one side of the small room to the other, my giant dog feet flopping on the carpet. “I’m sorry I’ve messed everything up.” Daring to approach the couch again, I reach into the popcorn bowl and steal a handful. The least Tate could’ve done was feed me dinner before he cut me loose.
James sniffs the air. “You smell like stale cigarettes and Lysol.”
I flop into the recliner. “Sadly, that’s one of the high points of my evening.” Ugh, I couldn’t wait to go shower and change. I’d been in such a hurry to get away from Tate and his relationship detonation, I’d returned to the dorm just long enough to pack my bags before getting back on the road home. Moving with the speed of one outrunning a tornado, I’d left no time to put on clothes that didn’t offend the senses or carry fleas.
“You are planning on returning to school Monday, right?” Millie asks.
I spring up from my cushy chair. “I should go shower.”
“Hold it right there,” James says. “I thought we were taking it week by week.”
“We were. And this week was abysmally awful. Therefore, I believe I’d like to move back home and close the chapter on my attempt at college.”
“I assume you’ve given this a lot of thought and prayer.” James levels those preacher eyes on me.
“Yes.” I mean, I’ve thought about it a lot, so I don’t need to run this one by God. College is terrible. It’s a den of torture. The end.
“We’ve given it a lot of thought and prayer too,” Millie says. “We know you’re processing a lot of sorrow and stress right now, but we also don’t feel that you’re quitting for the right reasons.”
James holds up a hand, halting any potential protest. “How about you get a good night’s sleep, and we’ll discuss this fresh in the morning over pancakes. Tomorrow, if you can honestly tell us you have a peace about ending your college career and bailing on the play, we will respect that.”
He makes me sound like an irresponsible flake who could be influenced by carbs. But I’ll take it. “Thank you.” I kick off my puppy feet and return to my big cushy chair.
Millie coughs into her shoulder. “Though one thing is not negotiable.”
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