If You Leave

by Courtney Cole

  Another call beeps in as I try to figure out what Jacey is screaming about, but I don’t even look. All I can do is try to make sense of what she’s saying.

  “Jacey, slow down. I can’t understand you,” I tell her quickly. “Take a breath.”

  “OhmyGodMadison,” she shrieks. “OhmyGod… ohmyGod.”

  She’s frantic and she won’t listen and it turns my hand clammy as I grip the phone.

  “What is it?” I finally yell. “Jacey, what is going on?”

  “It’s Tony,” she finally manages to say. “Jesus Christ. Maddy, you’ve got to come. We’re at that curve on your street. The one… the nasty one.”

  The one where my parents died. My heart stops.

  “Hurry up,” Jacey wails. “Just get here.”

  I hear a siren, then I hear nothing.

  I can’t even feel my fingers or think as I grab my purse and rush out the door. I don’t notice the drive. I don’t register the red lights or stop signs or anything else. I’m on autopilot as I drive, as I distance myself from my heart so I don’t feel so much of what is going on.

  It’s nothing bad, I tell myself as I get closer. It’s nothing bad. He has a flat tire. He had a fender bender. He slid off the edge just like I did a few weeks ago. It’s nothing bad. He’s fine.

  He’s fine.

  He’s fine.

  He has to be fine.

  Nothing can be wrong with Tony, because he has to be fine. He holds my life together. He holds my family together and he holds the Hill together. He picks up my slack. He picked up my father’s slack for years. He became my father, in a way.

  He’s fine.

  But he’s not.

  He’s not fine. I know it before I get there. I know it from the dead feeling in my heart. I know it as I pull up and see his truck, crumpled on the side of the road. I know it when I see the ambulance and the fire trucks and the grave looks on everyone’s faces. I know it when I see the stretcher, with the still form on it, covered up with a sheet. I know it when I see the tip of his boot sticking out from under the sheet.

  He’s not fine.

  And I’m not either.

  My legs give out and I crumple to the ground. As I go down, I take in the rest of the scene. I see Jared in handcuffs, I see Jacey’s tear-streaked face rushing for me. I see EMTs lunging toward me.

  And then I don’t see anything at all.

  * * *

  Gabriel

  Maddy didn’t answer the phone.

  I listen to it ring and ring, then her voice picks up on the voice mail. I listen to the entire message, savoring the sound of her voice, but when the beep comes, I can’t speak. She doesn’t want to talk to me. I won’t force her to listen to me.

  With a sigh I head down to a group session, sitting on the opposite side of the room from Annie. She tries to catch my eye a few times, but I ignore it. I’m not mad at her, but I don’t want to deal with her right now. I’ve got enough to worry about without more drama.

  Instead I focus on the paper in front of me. On answering this shit so that I can just go through it all in person in individual therapy tonight.

  * * *

  I wish you could’ve prevented that incident, too. But I’m hearing a definite turnaround in the way you’re speaking about it, Gabe. Instead of saying, “I should’ve stopped it,” you’re now saying, “I wish I could have stopped it.” Have you noticed that? How does it feel to realize that it was out of your hands?

  How does it feel? Last night was the first night in a year that I didn’t have continuous nightmares.

  After individual therapy last night, I crashed hard and when I woke up an hour ago, it took me a minute to realize why I felt so well rested.

  Because I actually slept. It’s a fucking amazing feeling. I’d forgotten what that felt like.

  I also realize that my therapist was right. I think I really have shifted the blame for what happened away from me. I mean, in my head I always knew it wasn’t my fault. But heads and hearts don’t always agree; and my heart was guilty as hell.

  It’s not so guilty anymore.

  Not about that, anyway.

  Guilt about Maddy is still alive and well, though. But I know that can’t be resolved here. It can’t be resolved at all, not if she doesn’t want to talk to me. Sessions today don’t seem as grueling as normal, probably because I’m used to them now, but also because the end is in sight. I only have one more day, then I can leave tomorrow.

  But then what?

  What will I do then?

  Do I have the balls to go back to Maddy, to try to explain? Because for the first time, I feel like I might really beat this. And if I can, I know that I’d never hurt her again…

  But if she won’t even talk to me, then there’s no way in hell she’ll listen to me try to explain.

  All I know is that the void I feel without her is huge. I hadn’t realized what a big part of my life she’d become until she suddenly wasn’t there anymore this week. And there’s no way that I want to continue like this. No fucking way.

  I finish up my session and make my way back to my room, ignoring Annie’s voice calling for me down the hall.

  I can’t deal with her right now.

  I’m on the way to my laptop, to send Maddy another note, when my phone rings on the dresser.

  Brand.

  “Dude, I don’t want to interrupt your therapy, but there’s something you’ve got to know. When you leave in the morning, you’ve got to come back to Angel Bay.”

  Before I can protest or argue, he continues, his voice grave.

  “Tony, the bartender from the Hill, is dead.”

  “What?” I ask, incredulously. “What happened?”

  Brand sighs, long and loud. “Long story. But it involves Jacey.”

  I swallow hard. “What happened?”

  “She apparently went back to that little fuck Jared. I don’t know the details, but Tony went out to talk some sense into her and Jared ran him off the road. He died at the scene.”

  Like Madison’s parents.

  That’s the only thing I can think of for a minute.

  “Is Jacey all right?” I ask calmly. “Was she there?”

  “Yeah, she’s fine. And yes, she was there. She went with Jared to try to defuse the situation and she couldn’t stop him. She’s pretty shaken up, but she’s fine.”

  “What about Jared?” My voice is wooden.

  “In jail.”

  Pause.

  “And Maddy?”

  Brand’s voice softens. “Jacey says that Maddy’s a wreck. She won’t even talk to Jacey right now. Apparently that guy was a like a father to her and she’s taking it hard. She was at the scene too. You need to come home, Gabe. I think she needs you. And I know Jacey does.”

  “I’ll be there tomorrow,” I tell him. “Tell Jacey I’m coming.”

  “And Maddy?”

  “Don’t mention it to her.”

  “But—”

  “No buts,” I interrupt. “I’ll be there, Brand. Just tell Jacey.”

  I hang up and stare at the wall.

  This is going to kill Madison. I know she’s devastated. I know how much she loved Tony. She’s had to deal with so much loss in her life—including losing me.

  This isn’t fucking fair.

  But life isn’t fucking fair.

  All I want to do is to grab my stuff and leave. To drive straight to Angel Bay and grab her up, and protect her from everything.

  But I can’t protect her from this.

  Tony’s dead and I can’t change that.

  I hit the showers and pack my shit and then drop into bed, counting down the hours until I can check out of this place and head back to where I belong.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Madison

  I’m at Tony and Maria’s house all day.

  They didn’t have much money and what little they had was taken up by their daughter Sophia’s college tuition, so as I listen to them decide how they’r
e going to pay for the funeral, I speak up.

  “I want to pay for it,” I tell them as I take in their family photos, photos that include me. Maria just stares at me in shock.

  Tony’s been a part of my life for years.

  He’s family.

  This is the only thing I can do for him now.

  The last thing.

  “It’s what I want,” I assure Maria as she cries in gratitude. “He was like a father to me, Maria. Mila too. He was always there when we needed him the most. It’s the least I can do.” My voice breaks and a lump forms in my throat and I know from experience that it’s going to be weeks until I’m able to swallow it.

  It’s hard to swallow when your throat is full of pain.

  Even though I can hardly think through my shock and grief, I help Maria make decisions, because I know that everything I’m feeling is amplified a hundred times in her. And poor Sophia is curled up in a ball on her bed, unable to process anything.

  I know how it feels. I feel like I’m walking around in a haze.

  But there are decisions to make.

  An urn.

  Crematory arrangements.

  Flowers.

  Hymns.

  An obituary.

  All the things that a funeral needs, we have to decide on. I can’t even believe that I’m doing this again. First my parents… and now Tony. It’s just too much. And then Jacey calls right in the middle of it. Right when I’m overwhelmed with everything.

  “Please, Maddy,” she begs tearfully. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I loved Tony too. I had no idea that Jared was going to do that. I thought he was different. I thought he was changing.”

  “Oh my God, shut up,” I snap at her as I walk onto the front porch. “I can’t even talk to you right now. Tony’s in the morgue because of your stupid decisions. I never knew that you needed acceptance so bad that you would grovel to a scumbag like Jared. But you did. And you do. And look what happened. This is your fault, Jacey. Your fault.”

  I hang up on the middle of her sob and turn to find Maria staring at me, her dark eyes full of tears.

  “It’s not that little girl’s fault,” she tells me gently, her dark hair blowing in the breeze. “She makes bad decisions, but she’s just young. This was Jared Markson’s fault—and no one else’s. Tony chose to go over there. He made that decision. You can’t hold Jacey accountable, Madison.”

  But I can. And I do.

  I’m so pissed off at the world that I can’t see straight.

  None of this is fair.

  And as I slide my phone into my purse, I see something that I missed yesterday with everything going on.

  A missed call from Gabriel.

  It looks like he called right when I was talking to Jacey and he didn’t leave a message.

  It fucking figures.

  And oddly enough, I can’t feel anything about it. My entire body is numb. My mind, my heart, my limbs. I can’t feel and that’s good.

  If I can’t feel, then pain can’t overtake me. I can step back and do what I need to do. And Gabriel doesn’t matter right now.

  Getting through the funeral tomorrow matters.

  Getting past this god-awful grief matters.

  Figuring out what to do with my life matters.

  Because as I look around, at the lake, at the restaurant, at everything this place stands for, I think I’m tired of it.

  I’m tired of it all.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Gabriel

  When I walk into the back door of my grandparents’ cottage, I’m almost bowled over as Jacey launches herself into my arms.

  “Thank God you’re home,” she cries as she buries herself in my chest. I look across the kitchen to see Brand leaning in the doorway and he looks tired. He’s probably been talking Jacey down all night.

  “Hey, guys,” I greet them quietly as I drop my bag on the floor. “I’m sorry about Tony, Jacey. I know you were close to him.”

  She clings to me, her tear-streaked face turned up toward me. “I love him, Gabe. You know that, right? You know that I would never have done this on purpose.”

  I have to fight the urge to lecture her, to tell her how wrong it was to first lie about Jared harassing her, then actually go back to the scumbag. She’s too fragile right now, I can tell. Her slender shoulders shake as she cries and Brand shakes his head at me, cautioning me.

  “I know, Jace,” I tell her instead. “This isn’t your fault. This is Jared’s fault. There’s nothing we can do now but honor Tony’s memory.”

  “But Maddy won’t even talk to me,” Jacey continues to cry. “She thinks it’s my fault. And she’s probably right. If only I hadn’t gone back to Jared. If only I’d listened to everyone. They’re having a memorial service in the morning and I know if I go it will upset her. But I need to go, Gabe. He was my friend too. And this is all my fault.”

  I pat her back and soothe her and assure her in the best way I can. In my head I’m pissed at her. But I can’t make her feel even worse. It was a stupid thing to do, but Jacey doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. She never meant for anyone to get hurt.

  I walk her back to her room and sit her on her bed.

  “You need to rest, Jacey,” I instruct her. “You’ve got bags under your eyes. I know you haven’t slept. This wasn’t your fault and you’ll be going to that memorial. I’ll go with you, OK?”

  She nods soundlessly and curls up. I pull the blanket up to her chin and close the door on my way out.

  Brand is waiting for me in the kitchen.

  “She’ll be OK,” he tells me as he tosses me a beer. “She was up all night. But she’ll be OK. I know Maddy will come around. These things that happen so suddenly are always hard to take in.”

  I nod, knocking back the beer and crushing the can in my hand before I head out the back door.

  “Where are you going?” he calls after me.

  “Out,” I answer, without stopping. He knows me well enough not to follow as I wend my way down to the beach.

  When I reach the edge of the water, I drop onto my heels and stare out at the horizon. From this point, all you can see is the lake. It’s vast and wide and makes me feel small.

  It makes me feel like I’m just a fucking speck in the universe, as though all my shit is too small to worry about. Because in the scheme of things, it is.

  Life goes on. Whether it’s bad or good or otherwise, it goes on. And