You’re okay, I tell myself, echoing Daisy’s words. You’ll be fine. I’m almost to my car, to freedom, and I’ll be fine.
“Sam.” Cash’s voice sounds tortured and I stumble, like my body wants to go to him in spite of the last ten minutes. I refuse to turn, refuse to acknowledge him, but then he’s in front of me. His eyes are wild, his face red.
“Get out of my way.”
I try to side step him and he reaches for me. I slap his hand as hard as I can. “Don’t you dare touch me.”
“Sam, wait—”
I push forward, my eyes full of tears. Damn it. Why couldn’t I have waited to cry until I was safe in my car? I don’t want him to see my tears.
“I’m so—”
I spin to face him, a hot wave of rage rushing over me. “Don’t you say you’re sorry. Don’t you dare.” He’s standing too close. Too close and I remember what his arms feel like, how my head would fit so perfectly on his chest, and I am so fucking stupid. I slam my hands into that chest and push him, hard. “Get away from me.”
His face—God, that gorgeous, familiar face— is desperate, terrified. “Sam, please talk to me. Let me—”
“I thought I loved you,” I whisper and he goes still, his outstretched hands frozen inches from my side. “God, what a fucking joke.”
“No,” he says, but I’m already getting in the car, getting away from him. I wipe at my eyes angrily, needing to be able to see so that I can get the hell out of here. My tires kick up a storm of dust as I pull away from the house.
I see him in the rearview, the same mirror where I happily checked my lipstick a half hour earlier, anticipating his kiss. Now he’s standing alone in the driveway, exactly where I left him, not moving.
I tear my gaze away, focusing on the road, and I don’t look back again.
Chapter Twenty-three
Cash
I don’t get drunk. That’s about the only thing I can say for myself. I want to, desperately want to feel the fire of the tequila as I numb myself into oblivion. That’s the only way to make this panic go away, this sickness in the pit of my stomach. This self-loathing that’s so strong it makes me dizzy.
But I don’t deserve to make it go away. Don’t deserve to let it be numbed. I deserve to feel every single ounce of this pain and sickness. Because I did it to myself.
No, you did it to her, I think. You did it to her.
I wonder if Daisy is maybe going to punch me. When I come back into the house she’s standing in the kitchen, absolutely livid, clutching the counter behind her for support. But when her eyes meet mine, the anger fades away, replaced with something much worse. She looks sad. Heartbroken, even. Like she actually can’t believe I’m such a fucking asshole. Like it hurts her, to know how terrible I really am.
She only has one word for me. “Why?”
“Because she should know that she deserves better than me.”
Daisy shakes her head, disgust written all over her face. She walks from the kitchen, clearly unable or unwilling to be in the same room as me. But she pauses in the doorway, her back to me. “You better fucking apologize to Karen.”
I close my eyes, the shame washing over me. Because it wasn’t enough to rip Sam’s heart out, I had to be a dick to Karen, too.
I collapse into one of the dining room chairs, rubbing my hands over my face. There’s a part of me, still, that thinks I did the right thing in pushing her away. Giving her a clean break. Making damn sure that she wouldn’t want anything to do with me.
I mean, I obviously handled it wrong. Trying to fool around with Karen had been an asshole move, to both of them. But I wasn’t thinking clearly. Ever since I left the Warner’s house there was only one thing I could think of—Sam deserves so much better.
She doesn’t deserve some asshole whose womanizing is so notorious they talk about it on TV. Who would forever be remembered as a manipulative user. A guy whose reputation is so terrible that women actually hit on him at a memorial service. That girl in the bathroom honestly believed that we were going to hook up right there and it was my fault—everything I had done since Ransom hit it big reinforced that perception of me.
And Sam deserves better.
She deserves someone like Doug.
That was the big take away of the memorial service. Doug had loved her, been worthy of her. She needed someone like that in her life.
I am not someone like that.
After the memorial, I debated all day whether or not to call her and break it all off. It would be the kindest thing, the best thing for her. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Couldn’t make myself say the words. Because I wasn’t just an asshole—I was a selfish asshole. And I still wanted her, despite it all.
I was talking to Karen when I heard Paige mention that Sam was inside. I’d always liked Karen, had always felt a spark of chemistry with her. I stood there on the deck thinking of all the times I had tried to get her into bed. Because that was the kind of guy I was—the kind of guy who would hit on his little sister’s best friend just to get some.
I don’t think I consciously made the decision to do it. Or maybe that’s a cop out. I just knew that when I looked up and saw her standing there, the anger and the hurt on her face, I had felt something like grim satisfaction. You don’t want me. I’m not good for you. This is who I am.
But of course I couldn’t leave it at that. That would have been too kind, giving her a clean break. Instead I freaked out and followed her into the house, pushing people aside as I searched for her. The panic in my chest when she fled was like a living thing, clawing at me, choking me. I needed to try to explain, to make her understand. I think I probably was hoping she’d tell me that I was wrong, of course I was worthy of her.
Make that a selfish, delusional asshole.
I finally saw her making a run for it and Daisy intercepted me before I could get to the door, getting right up in my face. “Leave her alone. She just threw up in my bathroom, Cash. You literally made her sick, that’s how upset she is.”
I should have listened to her, should have left Sam alone. Instead I pushed Daisy aside and followed her outside.
I’m pretty sure I’m going to be haunted by the look on her face for the rest of my life. The anger and the hurt. I regretted it immediately, would have done anything to take it back, but she wouldn’t let me touch her, wouldn’t listen to me. I couldn’t blame her. And then she had said those words—I thought I loved you—and my heart had broken.
She loved me. That’s what I had in the palm of my hand, the love of a girl like Sam. And I threw it in her face.
God, I’m so fucked up.
I keep expecting my brothers to come into the kitchen, maybe Reed to come and yell at me for what I did to Paige’s best friend, or Daltrey to go off because I upset Daisy. Or even Lennon to look at me with those sad eyes of his and say, “I told you so.” But they don’t come in. I sit there alone for twenty minutes, staring at the table, fighting the urge to down an entire bottle of tequila.
You’re so far gone it’s not even worth it to them to yell at you, I think.
So I go upstairs and I lie on my bed, alone in the dark. Sam’s face is all I can see, her words a constant refrain in my head. I thought I loved you.
***
Everyone pretty much ignores me for the next two days. I spend most of the time alone in my room, beating myself up with the memory of Sam’s words, her face. I do take a minute to find Karen on Sunday, apologizing for my behavior.
She looks at me with something like pity in her eyes. “Paige told me about Sam. Why are you such an idiot?”
That was a pretty good question, but I had no answer for her. I just returned to my room, feeling like shit and wondering if it would ever get better.
On Monday evening Daltrey appears at my door. “Downstairs,” he says, not looking at me. “Now, please.”
With visions of Blake or Dad waiting for me, I drag myself downstairs. They’re sitting in the living room—my broth
ers and Daisy. Just like that day at the farmhouse. Another intervention for the fucked up brother.
“I’m not doing this,” I say, turning around in the doorway to the living room.
“Sit down, Cash,” Daisy snaps. I sigh. I’ve never been able to say no to her.
I throw myself into one of the armchairs and stare around at them. “Who’s going to start?” I ask. “Who wants to be the first to tell me how much I fucked up? You can save your breath, okay? No one knows better than I do what I did.”
“We’re not here to tell you that you fucked up,” Lennon says. “We all know you fucked up, it’s kind of a moot point. We’re here to see if you’re okay.”
I stare at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that we’re worried about you.”
“You’re worried about me? About me?” I let out a bitter laugh. “This is my fault, Len. All of it. I don’t deserve your worry.”
“I know it’s your fault,” he says. “But you’re my brother so, yeah, you do deserve my worry.”
I stare at the ground. “You guys. I’m…I’m messed up, okay? That’s pretty obvious. I probably shouldn’t be around anyone right now.”
“Too bad,” Daisy says. “We’re your family, Cash. We’re not going to leave you alone right now.”
I can’t answer for a long moment. “Why?” I finally ask, my eyes still glued to the floor. It’s the same thing she asked me the night of the party and I somehow feel like my fate hinges on their answer.
“Because we love you, asshole,” Daltrey mutters.
My head snaps up and I look around at each of them. There’s anger there, especially from Reed and Daisy, but there’s also love. They love me, even though I behave the way I do.
I don’t understand it.
“At that memorial—all the stuff I heard about Doug—”
“We know,” Reed says. “It’s pretty obvious, Cash. You saw what a good guy he was and you felt unworthy. That damn tabloid show probably didn’t help.”
“A girl tried to pick me up in the bathroom,” I mutter, the shame thick in my voice as my eyes go back to the floor. “She thought I’d be down for that. And I would have, a couple months ago. I would have bragged about it. Because that’s the kind of person I am.”
No one says anything for a long moment and I wonder if they’re realizing that they can’t really argue this with me.
But then Daisy takes a deep breath. “That’s bullshit, Cash. It’s an excuse.”
“What?”
“You’re using your past as an excuse. Okay, so you used to be a certain way. There’re going to be consequences. That’s life. But it doesn’t mean you can’t change how you are going forward.”
I shake my head. “People don’t change.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“Well fuck you, Cash, because I changed.”
My head snaps up to stare at her. Her hands are clenched on her thighs and I can see a sheen of tears in her eyes. Next to her, Daltrey glares at me. “Daisy. I didn’t mean—”
“You think you’re so much different than anyone else? You think your shit is so much harder to deal with than anyone else’s?” She holds up her hand, palm forward, the scar on her wrist visible even from this distance. “You think it wasn’t hard to come back from this?”
I don’t think I’ve ever felt so ashamed of myself, not even when I saw Sam’s tears the other night. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I just…you’re stronger than me, Daisy. Isn’t that obvious?” I attempt a smile but she’s not buying my lightening the mood.
“Just stop it. I didn’t have any super power that you’re missing. I had to work at it, every day. I still have to work at it. You know the last time I had a panic attack? Yesterday.”
I look between her and Daltrey as if seeking confirmation. I haven’t seen her have an attack in months. He nods at me, his face grim.
“It never goes away, Cash. I just had to decide that it was worth fighting.”
“You think…you think that’s all I need to do?”
“I think you are completely capable of doing whatever you want with your life.”
Her words wash over me like a balm of some kind. Does she really believe in me that much? Daisy doesn’t lie.
“I…I don’t know how.” My voice is hoarse and I have to look away so my brothers don’t see the grimace.
“The same way you learned to play guitar,” she says. “The same way you made this band successful. The same way you take care of me and your brothers—”
“I don’t take care of anyone.”
She rolls her eyes. “Give me a break. You’re the most loyal person I know.”
“You were there for me when I was having trouble with Dad,” Daltrey says. “And when Reed didn’t know what to do about Paige.”
“You might have handled that one poorly,” Reed adds. “Seeing as how you kissed her and all, but the point still stands.”
I chance a glance at him, surprised to see him smiling.
“I want to tell you something, Cash.” I look back at Daisy, who appears to be trying to communicate something to Daltrey with her eyes. He shrugs, leaning back in his chair, his eyes on me now. Daisy turns to face me, too, and she’s smiling at me for the first time since before the party.
“What?”
“I’m having a baby.”
The room goes completely silent and still, everyone staring at her. And then Lennon lets out a yell. “What?”
She nods. “It’s pretty early still, but we wanted you guys to know first.”
I gape at my youngest brother, who now has the most self-satisfied smile on his face. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
Lennon jumps up to hug her first—I feel too stunned to move. They’re having a baby? Aren’t they still twelve year olds, playing freeze tag in the backyard?
“Are you going to congratulate me?” Daltrey asks, laughing. I finally manage to move my ass, grabbing him in a hug.
“Holy shit, kid.”
“I know, right?”
“Congratulations, Dalt.”
“Thank you.”
I let go of him so Reed can hug him and I think I see tears in our big brother’s eyes. He cradles the back of Daltrey’s head in his hand for a moment as he embraces him and whispers something I can’t hear.
“Daisy.” I stare at her, the little girl from next door. She’s going to have a baby.
“You’re going to be an uncle, Cash.”
“Holy shit.”
She laughs, standing on her tiptoes to hug me. “There’s no one better for the job,” she whispers in my ear. “That’s why I wanted you to know today, of all days. Because I have faith in you, Cash—faith you’ll be a great uncle. Faith you’ll be great at anything you want to do.”
I pull back to look at her and I can tell that she means every word.
I know it’s selfish to think of myself right now considering the news she’s just shared, but I have to know. “So what do I do now?”
Daisy’s gaze is steady on mine, full of strength. Full of faith. “You decide what you want, Cash. And then you work for it every day until it’s yours.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Sam
I don’t get drunk. It’s a little thing, I know, but it matters to me. After all of the mistakes I’ve made, all the times I’ve self-medicated my way through emotions that I didn’t want to deal with, it means something that I don’t get drunk that night.
I want to. It’s an automatic urge, to go home and lose myself in a bottle. It’s what I’ve always done, after all. But not tonight. I won’t let him do that to me, send me back down that path I fought so hard to leave behind. And because I know it will be too hard to be at my house, I go to Penny’s. Not so that she can take me out or help me get numb. Just so that I won’t be alone. So that I have someone to help me.
It’s a pretty big step.
I tell her everything, from our trip to L.A. to the mom
ent I saw him at the party. She lets me talk between sobs, rubbing my back, not giving any commentary until I’m finished.
“Well, fuck him,” she says when I’ve finally told the entire story. I actually laugh, even though it feels like my heart is splitting in two.
“I really thought…it was real. I thought I loved him.” I snort. “God. I thought Doug was trying to send me a message, letting me know it was okay to move on with Cash.”
“I think Doug would want you to move on with whoever makes you happy,” she says. “I also think that Cash is an asshole.”
I think about L.A., about him sitting through that musical. Taking me to the soccer game. Planning everything out so perfectly so that it would be what I wanted. How could the same person have done all that and brazenly kissed another girl in front of me?
“I need to tell you something,” Penny says, looking guilty. “Um, about the memorial.”
“What?” Cash had been weird that day, I remember. Had she seen something to explain his behavior?
“I heard Nancy Thompson talking about him. She, uh, apparently tried to seduce him in the bathroom.”
I sit up straight. “At the memorial?”
She nods. “Trashy, huh?”
“She tried? Or she succeeded?”
“I distinctly heard her say tried.”
I sit back, trying to make sense of it. Is that what had caused him to leave? Maybe he was tempted, I think. Maybe he realized that if he was in a relationship he couldn’t do shit like that anymore.
The thought is so depressing I shudder. I can’t imagine putting a cheap thrill of picking up random women (in bathrooms, at memorials, no less) above the kind of relationship I thought we could have built. If that’s what he wanted, if he really thought that would make him happy, then maybe he had done me a favor at the party.
“I don’t want to talk about him anymore,” I say, clenching my fists. Penny looks worried for a minute, like she thinks I’m going to ask her to take me out instead. But I pull the throw we’re sharing more firmly over my legs. “Let’s watch a movie.”
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