The Play: Briar U

by Kennedy, Elle

  “I dunno. This tweet just says there’s now two people up on the ledge. No other deets.”

  My heart pounds so fast I feel faint. I suck in an unsteady breath, then scrub my hand through my hair again. I want to tear it out. “I’m sorry,” I tell my team. “I need to go.”

  “Dude, why the fuck are you sorry?” Matt demands.

  “And why the fuck are you still here?” drawls Conor. The lazy tone is belied by the serious glint in his eyes.

  I wearily glance at Coach, who offers a brisk nod. Then I snatch my sneakers off the floor and race out of the locker room.

  * * *

  “This is it,” I announce five minutes later, concern and impatience warring inside me. “The lot entrance is up there on the right.”

  But when we try to turn into the parking lot, we find the Hastings police sectioned it off. Across the lot, I spot an ambulance and three police cruisers, along with two campus security cars.

  I curse in frustration. “Just stop here on the side of the road. If you get towed, I’ll just give you my car, okay?”

  He’s as impatient as I am as we dive out of his BMW. The winter chill slaps me in the face, same way it did when we’d barrelled out of the arena. It’s freezing out. Yet it’s not the temperature that’s making my bones ache. It’s fear. Pure, paralyzing terror.

  When I gaze up at the roof of Bristol House, a hiss of horror flies out. “Jesus.”

  “Oh my God,” Dr. Davis says at the same time. He lets out a tortured moan, and when I look over he’s covering his eyes with the back of his hand, as if he can’t bear to look again. Then his arm drops limply and he gives a determined nod. “Let’s go.”

  We hurry forward, but the police roped off the scene. The scene. Christ, I’m already viewing this as the scene of a crime. Or rather, a potentially devastating accident.

  I stare up again, my throat tightening to the point of asphyxiation. Although Demi’s dark hair is blowing in the wind, she stands as motionless as a statue. She’s in a red sweater and black leggings, and she looks so small and vulnerable up there. I wish I could hear her voice or see her eyes.

  Beside her, TJ is in a T-shirt and sweats, his skinny arms planted firmly at his sides.

  They’re talking. I don’t know what they’re saying. I don’t care what they’re saying. I want to go up there and pull that little asshole off the ledge—and then throw him the fuck over it for endangering Demi’s life.

  I force myself to take a breath. Then I notice that Demi’s father is about to hurl himself over the blockade, despite the protests of the young officer who’s attempting to stop him.

  “You can’t go beyond this point, sir!”

  My gaze flies toward the cop’s face. I know that guy. What was his name again? Alberts? Albertson!

  “That’s his daughter,” I explain, stepping between the two males. Albertson’s eyes widen when he recognizes me. “And she’s my girlfriend. You know her, Albertson—she was the one in the holding cell with me.”

  Dr. Davis turns to glower at me. “What holding cell?”

  I wave off the question. “Please. Albertson.” Somehow my voice sounds calm.

  The uniformed man throws a discreet glance over his shoulder, then dips his head in a tiny nod and allows us to rush past him.

  We skid to a stop about twenty yards from the entrance of the dormitory. Near the front doors, several officers are engaged in intent conversation with a man in a suit. The dean, I realize. Other faculty members are also present, along with a small crowd of observers that the cops are trying to corral to one area.

  Dr. Davis grabs my arm suddenly. I flinch, because his steel grip is definitely going to leave a bruise. “Do you know how to get up there?” he demands.

  I hesitate. Because I do know. It’s not a well-kept secret that Bristol is the place to go if you want to hang out on the roof and smoke J’s. But the wild look in his eyes tells me it’s not a wise idea for him to be anywhere near Demi right now. Hell, I can barely keep my own cool, and she’s my girlfriend. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I was looking up there at my daughter.

  Fear and desperation form a lethal cocktail in my bloodstream. My hands won’t quit shaking. I can barely stay upright without stumbling, and my bare arms are covered with goose pimples.

  “Even if I did, there’s no way the cops are letting us enter that building. I think we’re gonna have to stay out here.”

  Rage burns hot in his dark eyes. “And you claim to give a shit about my daughter?”

  “I do give a shit.” I exhale weakly. “Dr. Davis. Marcus. Look at her—look at them.”

  His anger dissolves into agony as he tilts his head back. His scalp is shiny under the glow of the streetlamp at the foot of the path.

  “Trust her,” I urge.

  He blinks. “What?”

  “Just trust her. I know you want to run up there and storm the roof, but all you’re going to do is scare the shit out of TJ. Trust me, if I was up on that ledge and you came out…?” I shake my head in warning. “You’ll make things worse, I promise you that. I know how much you love your daughter—I mean, you drove all the way from Boston to order me to stay away from her. Which I still don’t understand, by the way, because I’ve done nothing but love that girl with all my heart. And because I love her, I have faith in her.”

  He visibly gulps. His massive Adam’s apple bobs like there’s a whole other entity in his throat.

  “She’s so smart,” I tell him. “And she knows what she’s doing—she and I spent the entire semester working on a project that required her to pretend to be my therapist. If anyone can get through to TJ, it’s her. Trust her.”

  All the fight seems to drain out of him. His massive shoulders sag.

  After a second of hesitation, I reach over and touch his arm reassuringly.

  His eyes narrow at first, but then his expression softens. “You do love her,” he says brusquely.

  “Yes.”

  We both turn our attention back to Demi. Time ceases to exist. It’s frozen like the air. Frozen like the ground beneath my feet. Frozen like the fear in my heart. Minutes pass, or maybe it’s hours. Days. I don’t know.

  What I do know is that I don’t breathe easy until Demi finally takes TJ’s hand and safely helps him off the ledge.

  41

  Demi

  I’m in shock. My entire body is ice-cold and trembling like a leaf in a windstorm. My eyes are blinking and in focus, but I don’t see anything. My ears are working but no sounds register. When I exit the front doors of Bristol House and spot Hunter and my father standing off to the side, I assume they’re not real. A figment of my imagination, a product of my shock. So I keep walking with my arm around TJ.

  “Demi.”

  I stop. Because that did sound real. That sounded like my father.

  But the cops are now closing in on us, distracting me from my dad. TJ looks as shocked as I feel, panic swamping his eyes when one of the officers tries to lead him toward the ambulance.

  “I don’t need to go to the hospital,” he protests. “Demi.”

  “Yes, you do,” I say quietly, giving him a tight squeeze. “You need to talk to somebody about what happened tonight.”

  “I talked to you.”

  He did, but I’ve done as much as I can. The fact that he seriously contemplated suicide and took action to try to implement it, is beyond my capabilities. Plus, he has no choice but to go to the hospital. They’ll probably admit him into the psych ward and keep him under observation for seventy-two hours to ensure he doesn’t harm himself or others.

  “I’ll come and see you the moment I can,” I assure him. “I promise.”

  That gets me a weak nod. He’s in a total daze as he follows the cop toward the waiting ambulance.

  I turn around, and the next thing I know, my father’s huge arms envelop me whole. I was already having trouble breathing. Now I’m choking.

  “Dad, please,” I wheeze desperately. “I can’t brea
the.”

  It’s with great reluctance that he releases me and sets me on my feet. I blink and then I’m being hugged again, not as violently as before but with an equal amount of emotion.

  “You have no idea how worried we were,” Hunter says hoarsely.

  Dad makes a guttural noise as he nods in grim agreement.

  “I don’t understand,” I say slowly. “Why are you here?”

  “Someone snapped a picture of you on the roof and a bunch of people are tweeting about it,” Hunter explains.

  “No, not you.” I stare at my father. “Why are you here? Why aren’t you in Boston?”

  “I came to…” He stops for a beat, and Hunter smoothly finishes his sentence.

  “To see you.”

  My dad smiles wryly. “No, kid, I don’t need you to cover my ass.” He shrugs. “I came here to tell him to stop seeing you.”

  “Dad.” My jaw drops.

  “I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I just…” He drags a hand over his bald skull. “You’re my baby girl. You’d just had your heart broken and I didn’t want it to happen again. Nico hurt you, and then I saw who you went out and picked right afterward?” He tips his head at Hunter. “Rich boy, hotshot athlete? In my experience those two qualities indicate a player. Seemed like a recipe for another broken heart,” he growls protectively, “and I wasn’t gonna let that happen to you.”

  “I’m sure you had the best intentions, but Hunter’s not a player. And like I told you earlier, we’re together now, and you’re just going to have to deal with it. You could either make this hard on everyone, or you could accept that this is my new boyfriend. And yes he’s a rich hockey player, but—oh my fucking God!” I suddenly burst out.

  “Demi, language.”

  My upset gaze swings toward Hunter, and for the first time in five minutes I realize he’s wearing the lower half of his hockey uniform. “What are you doing here? What time is it?” I scramble to get my phone out of my pocket. “It’s eight-thirty! Your game started at eight!”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  His careless shrug triggers another rush of panic. “Then why aren’t you playing? What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “Language.”

  “Dad, I swear to God!”

  Hunter’s lips twitch as he reaches for my hand. “Babe. Do you honestly think I would just suit up and play hockey while you’re standing on a ledge a hundred feet off the ground—”

  “Fifty feet—”

  “—A thousand feet off the ground, with a dude threatening to jump? One, that speaks volumes about how little you think of me. And two…well, I don’t have a two, okay? One is bad enough. Fuck’s sake, Demi.”

  “Language,” my dad chides.

  Hunter dons a sheepish smile. “Sorry, sir.”

  “You need to get to the arena,” I order. “We need to get him to the arena.” And then I’m hurrying past them. “Where’s your car, Dad?”

  He leads the way to his silver BMW, and I’m amazed to discover that the engine is still running, both driver and passenger door are thrown open, and the vehicle’s back bumper is sticking out toward the road. Wow. They must’ve really been worried.

  Dad slides behind the wheel, with Hunter next to him, and me in the middle of the backseat.

  “I can’t believe you’re not on the ice right now,” I say in dismay.

  “You mean more to me than hockey,” he says simply, and damned if that doesn’t make my heart expand. “Get it through your stubborn head.”

  I lean toward him and reach for his hand. He grips mine tightly, and I know he must feel how icy my fingers are.

  “You have no idea how scared I was,” he says roughly.

  “Not as scared as I was,” I admit.

  Dad peers sharply at me. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital and get checked out?”

  “I’m fine. Just in shock.” I bite hard on my lower lip. “I was so afraid he was going to do it. You have no idea.”

  Briar’s hockey facility comes into view. Dad bypasses the parking lot and stops directly out front. To my dismay, Hunter doesn’t immediately dive out of the car.

  Instead, he twists to meet my eyes. “I knew you’d be able to help him.”

  “Help him?” Anguish clogs my throat. “I didn’t even see that he needed help, Hunter. How did I miss all the signs? And what kind of shrink am I going to be if I can’t even see the warning signs in my own friends?”

  “A brilliant shrink,” Dad replies, his tone stern. “Human beings aren’t infallible, sweetheart. Sometimes we make mistakes. Sometimes we fail. I’ve lost more patients on that table than my conscience can handle, but you? You didn’t lose your friend tonight. You saved him.” Dad gestures toward Hunter. “And he’s right—he knew you’d be okay. I was seconds away from scaling the building like Spider-Man to rescue you, but your boyfriend here convinced me to have faith.”

  “In what?”

  “In you,” Hunter answers, and he and Dad exchange an awkward smile.

  I’m touched to see it. “Mom says she wants to take me and Hunter out the next time we’re in the city,” I say after a beat of hesitation. “Maybe you could join us and we’ll have a redo of the brunch?”

  My father nods. “I’ll be there.”

  “Thank you.” I turn to Hunter. “And thank you for coming to save me. With that said—get out of this car, Monk. Now. If you hurry, you could probably get ready in time to play in the second period.” My teeth dig into my lip again. “Would you be horribly upset if I didn’t go in and watch the game? I need some time to process what happened tonight. Just…decompress, you know? And I want to call my mom.”

  Hunter cups my cheek. “It’s absolutely fine. Maybe you and your dad can grab a coffee and get you warmed up? Your hands are freezing.” He glances at my father expectantly.

  Dad replies with a firm nod. “I’ll take care of her. Go play your game, kid.”

  “I’ll come find you afterward,” I promise Hunter.

  He leans in to plant a chaste kiss on my lips, then hops out of the car. Tears fill my eyes as I watch him dart toward the entrance of the arena.

  “It’s fine,” Dad says gruffly. “I’m sure his absence didn’t hurt his team too ba—”

  “I’m not crying because of that,” I interrupt between sniffles. “I don’t even know why I’m crying. The tears just started pouring for no reason.”

  “Not for no reason. The shock is wearing off, and it’s finally hitting you—the gravity of what happened tonight.” My father’s smile is tinged with sadness. “Come up here in the front, sweetheart, and we’ll go somewhere and talk. Okay?”

  I rub my tear-streaked cheeks, then nod and reach for the door handle. “Thanks for being here, Daddy.”

  “Always.”

  42

  Demi

  I feel like I’ve run two marathons and gone to war all in one night by the time Hunter and I walk through his front door later.

  His team won the game, so everybody is out celebrating tonight. But we decided to bail on the after party, along with Summer and Fitz. And Brenna, who said she’d rather Skype with her boyfriend than “deal with a bunch of horny drunk boys slobbering all over her.”

  The house is pitch black and dead silent as the entire group files inside.

  “Okay, this is fucking creepy,” Brenna remarks.

  “It doesn’t feel right when they’re not here,” Summer agrees.

  “Who?” I ask. “Hollis and Rupi?”

  “Yeah.” Summer vaguely waves a hand over the shadowy hallway. “Listen to it.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “To what?”

  “Exactly!”

  As we enter the living room, the haunting, albeit tinny notes of a familiar song waft out of Brenna’s phone. It’s Simon and Garfunkel’s “The Sound of Silence.” I burst out laughing as she solemnly holds it up for all to hear.

  She has a point, though. This is the quietest I’ve ever heard this house. “Where did t
hey go, anyway?” I ask.

  “No idea,” Hunter replies. “Hollis said it was a surprise.”

  “A surprise for who?”

  “For Rupi.”

  “So then why couldn’t he tell the rest of you?” I counter.

  “Because it was a surprise.”

  I let out a sigh. “I don’t understand that guy.”

  “Nobody does,” Brenna says frankly. “Don’t waste any more brain cells trying to.”

  “Anyway, if you’ll excuse us,” Hunter announces, “Semi and I are heading up to bed. She’s had a tough night.”

  “I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” Summer says sympathetically. She and I aren’t super close, but she surprises me with a hug tight enough to steal the breath from my lungs.

  “Thank you. It was terrifying, not gonna lie.”

  “I hope your friend is going to be okay,” Fitz says gruffly.

  “Me too.” I wonder what the shrinks at the hospital will make of TJ’s mental state. I think he’s suffering from depression, and he definitely has dangerously low feelings of self-worth. I hope whoever he talks to will provide him with the help and guidance he needs.

  I’m sure the school or the police already contacted his family, and I’m planning on seeing him the moment he’s allowed visitors. TJ was always there for me when I needed to talk, when I needed someone to listen, and I plan on doing the same for him.

  But tonight I don’t want to spend another second reliving what happened on that roof. Dad and I discussed it at length over a cup of coffee in my kitchen, and the pride shining in his eyes when I described talking TJ off the ledge made my heart clench with emotion. I hope he eventually accepts my decision to forgo medical school. Maybe one day he’ll be proud of that too.

  I check my phone as we enter Hunter’s room. A million messages await me. Pippa, Corinne, Darius, Pax, my mom, and even one from Nico, who I unblocked after Christmas. It says he heard about TJ, he’s glad we’re both all right, and that I’m a very good friend. It’s a sweet message, and I make a mental note to reply to him, and everyone else, tomorrow.