Hope

by Sydney Lane

"Her! Quincy!" She throws the words at me like daggers. "You couldn't save her, and you can't save me!" Those words are meant to hurt, and they do. I remind myself that she's wounded, much like an injured animal, cowering in the corner but ready to attack. One wrong move and she will come out fighting.

  "No, you're not her." I run my hands over my head as my frustration builds. "You see where I am right now? I'm not with her! I'm right here with you! You!" I yell.

  I never yell.

  It feels so damn good to finally get it out.

  "You just can't help yourself, can you? You're always trying to rescue somebody! Did you ever think it might be you who needs to be rescued?" Her eyes widen, almost as if she can't believe she said that.

  We stand, unmoving, as our chests heave with emotion, her words hanging thickly in the air between us. I close my eyes and lean back against the door, taking several deep, calming breaths. I choose my words wisely because this is probably the last chance I'll get. "You're wrong. I'm not trying to rescue you." My throat is tight, the words forcing their way out of my mouth. "I just want to be there while you rescue yourself."

  For a moment, I think she's not going to respond, and when she finally speaks, it cuts me to the core.

  "The pain, the emptiness, it eats at me. I feel as if I'm being destroyed from the inside out. And you want to take that away." Her voice breaks, and she takes a deep breath, briefly closing her eyes before opening them. "Well, you can't. You can't because sometimes, when everything else fades away, when no one else is here with me, that pain is what reminds me that I'm alive."

  A lone tear glides down her cheek, opening the gates as two more follow behind it, and then three, until she is shaking and crying and reaching for me. I open my arms, folding her naked body into my chest. Silently, I hold her as her pain flows from her, soaking my shirt.

  When someone you love, someone you’d lay your life down for, gets lost in the dark, you follow them. Maybe you can’t be the light they need. Maybe you don’t even need the light. And maybe, just maybe, it’s enough to just be there in the darkness.

  Together.

  Chapter 46

  Eliza

  I pretended to be asleep long after Declan curled in behind me and held me against him, allowing his warmth to seep into me. Every time I moved, his arms tightened around me as if, even sleeping, he could sense my intentions.

  I'm a runner. I'm not proud of it. It's just something I do.

  Back in school, when the shit hit the fan, I ran. I quit softball, gave up my scholarship, stopped talking to my friends. I ran.

  So, it's no surprise that at 3:00 A.M., I slide out of the bed, tiptoe to the door, and creep out of the room. This time, I don't even bother climbing down the fire escape. I'm strangely calm as I walk down the stairs and out the front door.

  What I didn't expect was for Seth to be standing beside his truck as if he'd been expecting me. He claimed he'd just gotten home, and I played along, even though I didn't know what to believe. His parting words haunt me. "It's time to stop running, Liza."

  Truer words have never been spoken.

  They say running is the easy way out, easier than staying. They say only cowards run, that it takes more courage to stay and fight. But at what point does it become less about running and more about surviving? What if staying only hurts the people you care most about?

  Make no mistake about it- turning your back on everything you love is the hardest thing you'll ever do. Walking away is like death. Like cutting out a piece of yourself and banishing it forever- except it never ends.

  Declan is the preacher's son. He's good and clean and all things nice. And I'm exactly what that guy at the party said. I'm the girl who had sex with a stranger and didn't even recognize him. We've all seen them- those girls at the club who get shitfaced and go home with a different guy every weekend. We all have our opinions of them, right or wrong, and we all know they aren't the kind of girls that guys actually date. No, they want them for one thing and one thing only.

  That was me.

  Until I met the guy who made me want to change.

  He made me want the impossible.

  Who was I kidding? Did I honestly think I could just pretend it never happened? That no one would ever remember me? I wanted to forget those nights, and apparently I did since I didn't even know who that guy was. If asked to pick him out of a line-up, I'd have sworn I'd never seen him before in my life.

  It was easy for me to forget. The only thing is that other people's memories go wide and deep. My past just caught up with me, exposing me to the bone, and I was totally, completely, unprepared.

  I never pretended to be anything different. Declan saw me in the club. He knew I wasn't sweet and innocent, but he didn't know the full extent of me. How completely out of control I'd been.

  It's one thing to suspect and another to have it thrown in your face.

  I knew, from the minute I laid eyes on Declan, that he was dangerous. I knew he wasn't like the other guys I hooked up with. The dimples, the polo shirts, wanting me to spend the night... all bad signs. I knew, in that instant, I was going to love him.

  I couldn't help myself, really.

  The moment I looked into his chocolate eyes, I didn't stand a chance. His gaze was a reflection of mine, the same eyes staring back at me from the mirror every single day. They were sad, pain and doubt swirling in their bottomless abyss. They called out to me, like a beacon in the night, and it was so, so easy to answer. Someone was always going to get hurt.

  Only a few short weeks ago, I was running to him, and now, I'm leaving him.

  I'm going home. To Somerset.

  It wasn't until now, when I'm completely broken, that I can fully understand what I need to do. There are some things I need to deal with. Things I've been hiding from for a long time. Things that are keeping me from being able to move on.

  I'm learning that the past should stay in the past, but it can't stay there if you keep dragging it out of the closet like a favorite pair of shoes. And the only way you can do that is to face it head on. If you never take it out, examine it, and learn from it, well, you'll never be able to leave it where it belongs.

  I drive into Somerset, past my old school and softball field, with shame etched onto my soul. The same shame that has haunted me since I left several months ago.

  By the time I reach my destination, my nerves kick in. My hands shake as I take several deep breaths and step from the car. I hesitate, accepting that this is part of moving forward. It has to be done.

  I raise my hand to knock on the dark wood door, steeling myself for the onslaught of emotions, both good and bad.

  "Eliza." I jump at the sound of my name, my hand still suspended midair. Jared is sitting in the swing at the end of the porch. So lost in my thoughts, I hadn't even noticed him.

  His slow, uncertain smile tugs on my heartstrings, so familiar yet so foreign. Suddenly, I'm transported back in time, to our first date, when he was so shy and I was so nervous. Jared, with his hazel eyes and ginger hair, was the star quarterback, and I was shocked when he approached me in the parking lot after softball practice. I clearly remember the way my heart fluttered and how I smiled all the way home. I couldn't believe he was interested in me.

  That date led to several late nights, kissing under the stars, making out on my bed when we were supposed to be studying, and many, many memories I wish didn't hurt so much. My first date, my first kiss... my first love.

  "Jared." I walk to him, standing awkwardly in front of him with my arms crossed over my chest. His eyes skim down my body, and I wonder what he sees. Does he still see the girl he took to the county fair and kissed with cotton-candy lips behind the grandstands or does he see the wild, tattooed girl I've become?

  "What-" he pauses, clearing his throat. "What are you doing here?"

  I attempt a smile, gesturing to the empty space next to him. "May I?" When he nods, I sit beside him, drawing my knees up to my chin and wrapping my arms around them. I watc
h a bug crawl across the porch and take a deep breath before I begin. "I came to apologize."

  "For what? I mean, I understood you had to leave after the award ceremony. Payton said you had a prior commitment. No big deal." He shrugs his shoulders, unwilling to meet my eyes. I'm sure he deliberately misunderstood.

  "No. Not the other night." I turn to him, my eyes drawn to his striking profile. His hair is the perfect fiery shade, reminding me of a sunset on the beach. A five o'clock shadow lightly covers his jaw, the only sign that he's not the same seventeen year old I last sat here with. I'm strangely mesmerized by him, by the man he's becoming.

  "Then what, Eliza? I don't know what happened, so please tell me what it is you're apologizing for." Finally, his eyes meet mine. I'm crushed by what I find there, my courage lost. When I don't answer, he lets out a deep breath and looks away, raking a hand through his mussed hair.

  Several minutes pass, the silence a heavy weight between us. Once the words leave my mouth, I can never take them back. The scariest fucking thing about confronting the past is making it real. Talking about it brings it to life, making my secret his secret, too.

  "I'm sorry for everything. You deserved an explanation, the truth, something. I should've talked to you instead of shutting you out." Tears fill my eyes, and I take several large breaths, blinking them away. "I don't even know if you even care, but I'm ready if you are."

  "Why now?" Almost a whisper, like he's afraid of what I'll say, like he knows it will change everything he thought was true.

  "Because it's killing me. It's slowly eating away at me, and I'm not sure I even know who Eliza Nichols is anymore." His palm rests on the bench between us as he gently rocks us back and forth. I reach over, covering his hand with mine. He flinches before weaving his fingers with mine. "And because you deserve it."

  He continues staring straight ahead, his nostrils flaring with each breath, as he prepares himself. "I'm not sure I want to know, but I can't let go until I know what it was- if I did something."

  "No. It wasn't you. Jared, you were perfect." He leans back, withdrawing his hand from mine and pulling me into the curve of his arm. I rest my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes. When I begin talking, I don't stop for a long, long time, and his shirt is soaked with tears- many of them mine but also his own.

  "Why didn't you tell me before?" His words are filled with anguish, regret and anger bitter on his tongue. "I would've been there. I never would have let you go."

  "I just couldn't. I was so afraid and so, so ashamed." I release a rush of breath. "It was my fault."

  "Eliza." He places his hands on my shoulders and gently turns me toward him, staring into my eyes. "Don't ever say that again. It wasn't your fault. I'm shocked and disappointed and mad as hell, but I don't blame you."

  "Thank you. You don't know how much I needed to hear that." He may have forgiven me, but I don't know if I'll ever forgive myself. People think it's so hard to forgive others when they've wronged you, but they have no fucking clue how hard it is when that person is yourself.

  "So, who's the lucky guy?" Jared's voice is low, curious. My head snaps up, my heart coming to a screeching halt. Old Life meet New Life.

  "What do you mean?" Boy, this could get uncomfortable.

  "There has to be someone. Someone who made you want to live again." His voice trails off, and I find myself missing what we had. I miss him and youth and innocence. I miss me.

  "Jared, I did this for you. For us. It was just time." It's the truth. It was time to confront the past so that I could have a future, but he's right about one thing. Declan made me want to love again. He made me want sober kisses and morning after cuddles. He made me want to relinquish control and just love and be loved.

  "I like seeing that sparkle in your eyes again." He shoots me a smile that says he knows exactly what I'm thinking and that he's genuinely happy for me.

  After a long, warm hug, I stand and walk to the steps leading off the porch. I turn back, wistfully thinking about what might have been. "I love you, Jared. I always will."

  "You know, if things don't work out with him..." His smile lights up the world, and I know we'll be alright.

  "He's a lot like you." A sad smile touches my lips before I turn and walk away.

  Chapter 47

  Declan

  "Time to go, fuckers!" Seth barrels down the hallway, banging on each door as he passes. I step into the hall, stopping him just as he gets to mine. I figure somebody had better stop him before he knocks a few doors off their hinges.

  "Whoa, whoa!" I almost laugh when I see what he's wearing. I blink in astonishment. "Don't get your panties in a wad, Lady Gaga. They're already gone. Meeting us there." I can't hold it in. This time, I do laugh, and I laugh hard.

  Seth was nominated by our fraternity to compete in the Greek God contest, and he's taking it seriously. In addition to having a runway catwalk, there is a swimwear competition. Yes, as in a bathing suit. That part of the show is done in drag.

  By the looks of his hideous make-up and matted wig, he's taking it very seriously. With the long, blonde hair and smeared lipstick, he looks strangely like Lady Gaga.

  "Fuck you, Dicklan," he grumbles under his breath. In his hands, he carries the biggest pair of high heels I've ever seen in my life. On the football field, he runs like a cheetah- fast and smooth. In those shoes, however, I'm pretty sure he'll resemble a bull in a china shop. I'm still laughing when he punches me in the shoulder. "You're just jealous."

  "Really? Jealous? No, Seth, I'm just thinking that it's a good thing no one else got nominated. They wouldn't have been so dedicated." I lift an eyebrow, watching him guiltily glance down at his freshly-shaved, bare legs.

  "You watch, fucker. I'm in it to win it. Greek God right here!" he bellows, the way only Seth can, and beats on his chest. He has no shame.

  When I catch a glimpse of his "breasts", I find a softball-sized wad tucked into each cup of what could only be described as a poorly rigged bra. A t-shirt cut short and tied tightly around his chest, the arms torn off, resembles something you might see in a bad strip club. Laughing, I point them out. "Love the tits, man."

  He tucks his girls back into his bra and rushes me, pushing me against the wall and wrapping his arms around me in a bear hug. I push him off, ready to trip him before I let him rub those 'tits' all over me. "Just wait until you see the rest of my 'package'," he says, wagging his eyebrows up and down and grabbing his crotch. Oh, God, oh, no. I don't want to see that. Ever.

  I might have nightmares for the rest of my life.

  "Keep your junk to yourself, man." Sometimes, I just want to kill him, but times like these, I'm glad he's here. If he wasn't here rubbing his newly acquired tits on me and making me laugh, I'd be holed up in my room, marinating in self-pity.

  His face suddenly grows serious, well, as serious as he can be with his Lady Gaga wig and hooker make-up, asking, "You cool, bro?"

  "Fine." Not really. No, not fine. Anything but fine. "Why?"

  "The shit with Liza. Don't act like you don't know what I'm talkin' about." His cool eyes assess me, and I'm back to wishing he'd go away. "You're not hibernatin' in your room, not like-"

  What he means to say is 'not like last time'- like I did with Quincy.

  "I didn't plan on it," I say, my voice catching in my throat. "Look, Seth, I don't need this shit. I know what I'm doing. She just needs some time, and I'm going to give it to her. And when she's ready, I'm going to fight for her. I'm going to fight for us. She won't get rid of me that easily."

  He smirks, clapping me on the back with his big hand. "Something's changed. You're different this time."

  "That's because there's no going back this time." I mean that with every breath I take.

  He stands back, gaging me. "Yeah, you're gonna be alright."

  I pretended to be asleep when Liza pretended to be asleep. I forced myself not to reach out for her when she slipped from my bed and dressed in the dark. I had known she would leave me, full
y expected it when she slid out of my arms and out the door. That's why I texted Seth and asked him to make sure she made it home okay.

  I could have done it myself. I could have insisted she stay or that she let me drive her home or that she just let me hold her the way I wanted to. I could have. But that would have ended it- this- whatever we have. One thing I know about Liza is that when she's hurting, it's best to let her come to you.

  And that's the plan. It's either the worst thing I've ever done or it's what will save us.

  I'm giving her time.

  Having faith in someone else, hoping they feel the same way you do, is the most agonizing, terrifying thing known to man, especially when that person holds your heart in the palm of their hand, theirs to cherish or theirs to break. And hey, you don't have a say since you're the one who gave them the power in the first place. That's faith in its purest form.

  One benefit of being the preacher's son is that I know a lot about faith. I know a lot about believing in things that don't seem possible, things you never even dreamed of. I know how to pray, and I mean really pray, for something and hope your prayers are not only heard but answered. But most importantly, I know when to step back and let things happen the way they are supposed to. The way they were meant to be.

  Maybe I learned a lot of that with Quincy, too.

  She taught me that when things don't go the way you want, even though it may seem like the end, it may only be the beginning. She helped me realize that the road sometimes leads to places you never knew existed. My road led me to Liza, and hers lead her to me.

  I've spent a lot of time watching Brody and Quincy. That look I've seen pass between them, when they think no one else is watching, the one that whispers promises I never wanted to imagine. I see that same look in Liza's eyes when she looks at me. I know how she feels about me, even if she doesn't.

  I just have to convince her of it.

  Tonight, while I'm at the Greek God competition and having fun with my friends and trying to put my life back together, my heart won't be in it.