“Yeah, I do, actually. That was a horrible thing to say.”
“And what he said wasn’t?”
“I’m not saying that he wasn’t wrong, but he’s my brother … kind of … and I can’t have you two fighting.” He reaches down and tries to grab one of my hands, but I lace my fingers together behind my back. “I like you, but I can’t have this tension every time you come around. It’s been there since the beginning, and I’m not sure I can do this anymore.” I see him look down and into his hands; he already knows what I’m about to say. “I’m sorry, Keegan, but … we have to break up.” I want him to try to convince me to stay, but he doesn’t even try to contest it. The look of betrayal in his green eyes is the last thing I see before he cranks his truck up and drives away.
* * *
It’s almost eleven when the headlights of my dad’s car wake me from my slumber later that night. After he separated the fight, he took off with one of his friends from the game, and we haven’t seen him since. As he advances toward the house, I can tell that he’s had a few drinks, and although he isn’t drunk, I know he’s close to the edge.
Shortly after my dad makes it inside, my phone vibrates from my bedside table with a text. Thinking that it’s a message from Dylan or Keegan, I rush to answer it, but when I pick up my phone, I realize that it’s not from either of them.
Dad: Family meeting.
Uh-oh. Dylan’s done it now. We hardly ever have family meetings, because they only happen when there’s something big on the table that we have to discuss immediately. The last one was almost a year ago, when Mom and Dad told us that they were applying to be foster parents. The issue tonight must be too mature for Matthew’s ears because they leave him asleep in his bed.
“I just want to ask one question,” my dad says when he finally speaks. “What the hell happened? I thought you and Keegan were friends. I turn my back for three seconds, and you’re pounding Keegan’s face into the ground.”
“Friends?” Dylan and I say in unison, but then I decide to let him have the floor; he is the reason that we’re having this meeting right now. He might as well speak for himself. “I lost it for a second, I guess.” He looks as if he has more to say, but nothing comes out. I don’t know how he’s going to cover this up.
“You ‘lost it for a second’?” my mom interjects. “I think you did a hell of a lot more than just lose it for a second.” She’s not wrong. “I can’t believe you would do something so stupid, Dylan. Violence is never the answer—”
“I agree,” Dad says, cutting Mom off. “As of right now, we’re not sure if Keegan’s family is going to press charges, but quite frankly, I wouldn’t blame them if they did. I talked to his mother, and she says he’s pretty banged up. Nothing’s broken, but he might have a zygomatic fracture.” I see the corners of Dylan’s mouth twitch a little as if he wants to laugh. “Now, I think that we need to get away to the lake house for a while so everyone can cool down. Lake Arrowhead is beautiful at this time of the year.”
I think back to when I got in trouble for crashing Dad’s car into a streetlight when I still had my permit. It wasn’t my fault because I was only swerving out of the way of another car, but I still ended up hitting the streetlight and causing a blackout that lasted almost four hours. I don’t remember Mom and Dad rewarding me for crashing their car by letting me take a vacation. But Dylan walks in, takes a few hard swings on my boyfriend—well, ex-boyfriend, now—comes within an inch of breaking Keegan’s face, and embarrasses my family in front of everyone at the batting cages, and now Dad wants to let him take a trip to “get away from it all.” That’s fair.
Then again, except for the car incident, Matthew and I have never really put a toe out of line, so he probably doesn’t know how to discipline us in situations like this. Maybe I should cut them a little slack. Meh.
“I’m sorry, but what the hell is going on here?” I ask before he can get another word in. Mom and Dad both look at me with wide eyes; they’ve never heard me curse before. “Are we seriously going to reward him for fighting? What happened to ‘violence is never the answer,’ Mom?”
“I think that we’ve all been under a lot of stress lately, which is why Dylan might have lost it today,” my dad answers for her. “And I think we would all benefit from a mini vacation to the lake house. It’s the perfect time. You kids are on fall break, and the weather is perfect. Plus, we might as well take advantage of it. It may be the last chance for us to go together as a family.”
Dad is relentless. He threw that last bit in for me because he knows that I feel bad for wanting to go away for college. I’m sure he’s still hoping that I’ll follow in his footsteps and go to UCLA. I glance around at my family members’ faces; their eyes are begging me to agree to the trip. “Okay, I’ll go.”
“Great,” my dad says. “We’ll leave in the morning.” He dismisses us after that, and he and Mom retire to their own room without taking another look at Dylan and me. I wait until I hear their door close to jump down Dylan’s throat, but before I can get my first word out, he’s already headed out the back door.
“Dylan,” I say as I take a seat next to him on the lawn in our backyard. He’s been avoiding me since we came back from the cages, but I’m not going to let him get away from me this time. “Dylan, what happened today? I thought you were okay with me and Keegan.”
“I was. At first. But somewhere between seeing you guys all over each other at homecoming and him crashing our family day, I lost it.” He doesn’t apologize, but when I look into his eyes, they are saying the words for him.
“Well, you’ll be happy to know that I broke up with him today.” I see his dimples flash across his face as he tries to hold back his smile. “I’m still willing to make this work, if you are.”
“I know I haven’t been the most patient person in the world. I’ve just been going through a lot. But I want you to know that I’m going to try. I don’t want to lose you to something stupid.” He grabs my hands and rubs them between his.
“Speaking of losing me—” I look away from him. We have to have this conversation whether he wants to or not. “I know that this thing between us is growing, and it’s so easy to cast away all our problems when we’re together. But now we need to focus on reality.” I take a deep breath before confessing, “I’m applying to some schools out of state. My GPA is high enough to shoot for the Ivy League, and I’d regret it in a big way if I didn’t try.”
Dylan’s eyes narrow on mine and hold an unblinking stare for almost thirty seconds before he speaks. “Are you warning me that you’re going to break up with me when you leave for college? Because if that’s what this conversation is about, I don’t want to have it. Not now, anyway.” He gets up and storms into his studio in a huff. I hate that Dylan never wants to stick around to deal with things.
When I catch up to him, he’s already at his easel, getting lost in the crimson background that he’s painted. “Not at all. Don’t get me wrong, Dylan, I want to be with you. But I’m trying to be proactive and solve our problems before they sneak up on us. I can’t make decisions about our relationship by myself, though.”
Before I can get my next words out, he’s throwing his brush at the ground, painting it red in a few places. “Well, what do you want me to do?”
“I want you to help me figure this out.” No response. “But college is a big deal, and I want you to be happy for me, too, like a brother would be.”
“But I’m more than that!” he screams, his voice shaking my body like an earthquake. He’s never really yelled at me, and he must see the shock on my face, because he calms himself before continuing. “Sorry. Let’s just talk about this later.”
“Why later? It’s always later.” My eyes burn with fiery tears as I lay into him. “You know, your hot-and-cold act is getting really tired, Dylan. I’m not sure who you want me to be. Your sister, your girlfriend, your tutor, your mentor … what? Because I’m getting dizzy spells from spinning my wheels trying to fi
gure it all out.”
“Then why stay with me?” he spits, his voice cold and unforgiving.
“Because I…” Love you. “Never mind … Now is not the time.”
“Maybe it’s because you already broke up with Keegan, so now you’re stuck with me. And you know that there’s no one else waiting in line to date you.”
The world around me freezes for a second, giving me time to process the malice in his words.
“I cannot believe you just said that.”
He turns back to his easel, shrugging off our conversation as if there’s nothing I can say to contest him.
“But if that’s what you think, then fine.” I leave his studio, and I purposely don’t tell him if our relationship is over. I want him to worry about what will happen to us. I want him to worry that he’s lost me for good.
chapter 17
WE USED TO go to the lake house every year for the Fourth of July. We would go fishing as a family and have a contest to see who could catch the biggest fish—Dad always won, of course. After we finished cleaning them, Dad would build a campfire and have us grill the fish over it. Mom used to put little pieces on my stick to make it like a kebab, and I would continue to roast and eat the pieces until my stomach grew heavy with satisfaction. Then at the end of the day, we would pull the fireworks from the basement and light up the night sky for at least fifteen minutes.
The lake looks the same as it always did to me. A little muddy around the edges, a deep greenish-blue in color, and filled with colorful fish. When I step out of the car and catch a whiff of the outdoorsy scent, I’m instantly reminded of all the good times we’ve had here. And that, at least for the moment, distracts me from my withering relationship.
“Beautiful Lake Arrowhead, how I’ve missed you,” my dad breathes when he exits the car. With his hands on his hips, he continues inhaling and exhaling until he’s filled his lungs with the lake air. “Dylan, help me get the bags. Emma, can you go unlock the doors while your mother gets Matthew out? He’s still asleep.” I couldn’t sleep the entire ride because Dylan had his headphones turned up so loud that I could hear his music through them, but somehow Matthew managed to sleep. How? I have no clue.
Dad tosses me the keys, and I race to the front door. I struggle with the locks, but eventually I hear the click and let myself inside. After hanging the keys on the hook by the door, I retrace my old steps to the room I’ve had each time we’ve stayed here. It’s on the second floor, and it’s the only bedroom, besides Mom and Dad’s, that has a view of the lake.
My dad seems to already be in the mood for fishing and announces that he’s going out on the lake as soon as he can grab his bait and rod, which gives us no time to unpack or change if we want to come with him. But I know my father, and I know he’s going to go fishing at least three more times before we leave, so I’m fine to skip the first round and catch one of his later time slots.
When I finish unpacking, the sun is high in the sky, but my internal clock is screaming that it’s time for a nap. The three-hour ride up here must have worn me out, so I crash on the sofa that lines my wall of windows. The last thing I see is a single cloud in the sapphire sky. It’s shaped like a heart—a lopsided one, but a heart nonetheless. As the cloud continues to float along in the sky, I see it start to break down the center into two pieces. Is the universe trying to tell me something? Are Dylan and I done? For all I know, we might be.
When I open my eyes, it’s Dylan that I see standing before me, setting up his easel by the windows as if this is his room. Even though he’s not talking to me, I find it hard to hold back a smile. I knew he was eventually going to seek me out in my room; we can’t stay away from each other for too long.
“We had a fight,” he states matter-of-factly.
“Yeah.” I run my fingers through my lightly greasy roots and sigh. “Yeah, we did.”
“Still thinking about leaving me for college?” His brown eyes are cold as ice when he looks at me.
“I think I owe it to myself to see what’s out there. Don’t you think I deserve that?”
“Don’t do that,” he counters.
“Do what?”
“Make me out to be the bad guy. Like my anger is just an overreaction. I mean, how am I supposed to feel about losing the only girl I’ve ever come close to…”
The only girl you’ve ever come close to … What, Dylan?
Shaking, he turns away from me. “You should just cut the cord now. Why continue this if it’s only gonna end, right?”
“It might not end, Dylan. Just because I’m applying doesn’t mean that I’ll get in.”
“It’s hard to believe that when your name is sitting so comfortably at the top of the class rankings list.” He has a point. The odds of me getting turned down by every school I apply to are unlikely. But I’m not ready to give up on us yet. We’ve already gone through so much. “It makes it hard to trust you, when you can look me in my eyes and lie to me every day. Telling me how much you care about me, but secretly planning to up and leave me once graduation is over.”
“That’s the problem. You never trust me. Not when I was with Keegan, not with knowing about your sleeping pills. Not with anything. You keep everything bottled up so tightly that I have to dig deep just to get anything out of you.” He lets his head hang low while he searches through his bag of paintbrushes. He knows I’m right.
“You have no clue what I’ve been going through, Emma. Your life is perfect. And yes, you’ve had some social setbacks, but compared to mine, your life has been a cakewalk.”
“Then tell me. Let me help you. That’s what a relationship is. You help me when I fall, and I help you when you fall.” I try to make eye contact with him, but he won’t meet my gaze.
“Everyone I’ve ever cared about has left me somehow, someway. My mom was taken from me, my dad would rather rot in a mental institution than deal with anything … and now, you’re going to leave me, too.” I don’t know what he wants me to do. If I stay here, I’ll resent him for not letting me fly, but if I go, I’ll resent myself for not sticking around to see if things can work. It’s a lose-lose situation, just like he pointed out with Catherine and Heathcliff.
“Do you remember what you said to me when you asked me out over text message?” I grab his hand and help him to his feet. When we stand, I can feel the sunlight illuminating my eyes. I imagine them reflecting a mixture of purple, blue, red, orange, and yellow; the colors of today’s sunset. “You said that you were always going to be there. Now I’m saying it to you. Dylan, I’m not going anywhere. No matter what happens—whether I’m two miles away or two thousand—I’m always going to be there whenever you need me.” When his hands wrap around me, a small smile sneaks up on me.
He rests his forehead on mine, the eye contact between us and my breathing both intensifying as he does. I feel a warm, electric current pulsing in my fingertips, and before I know it, my fingers are tangled up with his like a bunch of old necklaces in the bottom of a jewelry box.
“And just for the record,” he says in a low voice, “I hate fighting with you. It sucks.”
“I agree. It totally sucks,” I say as he presses his lips into mine. In that instant, my mind goes blank, and I let myself get caught in the moment with him. We’ve been so at odds with each other that moments like this have been rare. “So, come to draw me like one of your French girls?” I joke as I lift my arms over my head like the girl in the Titanic. “I’m ready when you are.”
“Actually, no.” Funny; he thought I was serious. “It’s the sunset. The colors mix and mingle in a way that I’ve never seen before, even though I’ve seen a million sunsets and sunrises. For some reason, it looks different here.” He pauses before continuing. “You want to join me? Should I set up the second easel? I brought it in case you wanted to fool around … with the paint, I mean. Not like … never mind.”
I have to stifle my laugh.
“Dad’s probably finished with the fish and should be calling us
to eat any minute now.” As if he heard me, my dad’s voice rings through the house, telling us to come down for dinner. I know my dad too well.
My mom directs us outside when we arrive on the first floor. “This sunset is way too beautiful to pass up,” she says with a wide smile. We arrange ourselves around the picnic table that I’ve sat at many times before. It used to look much bigger than it does now, but I assume that’s because I’ve grown so much since the last time we were here.
* * *
“Caught, gutted, and grilled by yours truly,” Dad says as he passes me a plate of fish. I feel like since he’s been out of the pro leagues, he’s been looking for a way to release his competitive side. But in doing so, he’s made everything all about him. There is nothing spectacular about his fish, but he always wants us to praise him for these types of mediocre things. I think he has a problem.
“How did everyone’s first day go? Mine was great, as you can all see.”
“I caught a fish, too, Dad. Remember?” Matthew pipes up from across the table.
“And you did very well, son.”
I feel bad. Even Matthew has to compete with Dad for attention from the rest of the family. It’s ridiculous.
“Emma?” my dad says in an agitated voice—I guess for the second time. “What did you do today? I feel like I’ve barely heard from you.”
Well, we are on vacation. Doesn’t that mean that I should get a break from you, too?
“Oh, I slept all afternoon. Gotta catch up on all the beauty sleep I missed last night.”
“You’re already beautiful,” Dylan whispers so low that only I can hear him.
Across the table, Dad, who must have heard a piece of his soft words, asks him to speak up.
“I said, I spent it painting.” His cover is so believable that no one even pauses to question it. “The sunset captured me today.” We all turn to admire the setting sun, and I think I hear a collective sigh.
“If I were you,” my dad says, “I’d enter this one into the showcase. Everyone loves a good sunset.”
Wrong in All the Right Ways Page 19