by Ivy Smoak
“Why do you have a hospital room in your home?” I asked and turned to my dad.
“It’s hard to make time to go in for all my checkups,” my dad said. “With work and everything.”
I wondered if the Caldwells had a hospital room in their mansion. I hadn’t come across it while I was there. I stared at one of the machines as I lay down. It didn’t look like any that had been in my mom’s hospital room.
My dad sat down in the chair beside the bed and grabbed my hand. “I know you said you didn’t want me in here with you,” my dad said. “But I’m going to stay for as long as I can. I don’t want you to do this alone. Is that okay with you?”
He was being extra nice today. He knew I was feeling down. I squeezed his hand. “Yeah, you can stay.”
“I can’t thank you enough for doing this,” my dad said.
“It’s no problem.”
He lifted my hand and kissed it. “Really, princess.” Tears were welling in the corners of his eyes.
I wasn’t sure why he was so emotional about this. It was just birth control. Ow. I looked over to see Dr. Wilson injecting something into my arm. He’d already given me shots when we’d first met. Did I really need any more? I bit the inside of my lip. I needed a distraction. “What are all those machines?” I asked.
My dad gave me a strange look. “They’re for my dialysis. I need it three times a week. It was getting exhausting going to the hospital so frequently. So Dr. Wilson helped set all this up.”
Wait, what? “Dialysis?” I tried to sit up, but my body felt all weird and tingly. “What’s dialysis for?” I’d heard about it before, but I couldn’t place it.
My dad shook his head like he was confused by my question. “My kidney failure.”
“Your kidneys are failing?” I was pretty sure he needed those. No. No, no, no. It was suddenly hard to breathe. It felt like the room was closing in on me. He’s dying. No, he can’t be dying. He can’t leave me too.
“You know that, princess. It was in the agreement you signed.”
“What?” My thoughts were starting to blur together.
“In section 72 B. Where you agreed to give me your kidney.”
No. No, I didn’t agree to that. I tried to say the words out loud but they didn’t come out for some reason. This wasn’t happening. I didn’t want this. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. “Dad,” I was finally able to gasp.
“I’m right here.” My dad reached forward as my mind got even fuzzier. He ran his fingers through my hair like my mom always used to. I closed my eyes and imagined it was her.
“Thank you,” my dad whispered. “Thank you for this.”
I was pretty sure I was sobbing, but I couldn’t feel my tears on my cheeks. Everyone hated me. And my dad just wanted me for my kidney. I’d trusted him. I’d fucking trusted him. But he didn’t love me. He’d never wanted me.
God, how could I ever think otherwise? He’d popped up out of the blue and forced me to live with him not because I was his daughter, but because I was a fucking match for his failing kidneys? All the blood work. All the being overly worried about my health. All the safety precautions. Him swearing he wouldn’t let Isabella ever hurt me? I thought he was being a good dad. I thought he loved me.
I couldn’t feel my tears, but I saw them fall from my chin and onto my shirt. I remembered Miller being surprised I’d signed the contract. I remembered how excited my dad was when I’d finally given him the signed papers. I was his angel? Fuck that. And fuck him. I was just an organ donor.
My dad never wanted me. I’d known that. I’d known it and I still let him in. Of course he didn’t love me. Of course he didn’t want me. No one wanted me. No one.
I couldn’t breathe. All I could think about was how much everything hurt. My heart ached.
My mom had been right. My uncle had been right. Mrs. Alcaraz had been right. Even the Caldwells had been right. My father was a monster.
And maybe I deserved this. Because Matt thought I was a monster too. I was toxic. I was a disease. I’d made so many mistakes. I’d betrayed Kennedy’s trust by telling Felix about Cupcake. And I’d betrayed Matt by doing the prank and talking to the Hunters. I’d even betrayed the Hunters by completely throwing them under the bus for the whole prank. I wanted to think that everyone would eventually be able to forgive me.
I’d called Matt a hypocrite. But I guess that was me. Because I’d never be able to forgive Cupcake for what he did to Kennedy. Or how he and Isabella set up Felix. It seemed like everyone in my life betrayed everyone else. But this? My dad betraying me in this way? I’d never forgive him. Never. He was supposed to love me unconditionally. He was supposed to be my dad. I just needed one person to believe in me. To want me. To love me.
My dad’s face blurred in front of me. I’d thought he loved me. I’d thought Matt loved me too. Why did no one ever love me?
I pictured my mom singing to me as we danced in the kitchen. It was like I could actually hear her voice. And then the image in my mind morphed and I was holding her cold hand in her hospital bed. Watching the life drain from her face.
She was the only person that ever loved me for me. The only person that saw the good in me. The only person worth fighting for. And she was already gone.
For one last second, I felt her fingers in my hair. And her song in my ear. My heart felt like it was breaking in two. But I knew that wasn’t true. Because it was already shattered.
Chapter 39
Friday
Matt
I looked down at all my missed calls and texts from Brooklyn. She probably had an equal number of them on her phone now because she’d ignored all my calls and texts this afternoon.
I was pissed off last night. Fuming. Not just because I’d seen a side to Brooklyn I’d never seen before. But because she’d lied. She’d looked at me and lied to my face while she was out sneaking around with James and Rob behind my back.
How the fuck was that supposed to make me feel? James had proposed to her. And if she didn’t see that he was trying to steal her away from me, then she was blind. Or maybe she was hoping he would.
I sighed and ran my hand down my face. She had every reason to be mad at me too though. And I had a feeling I knew why she wasn’t calling me back. I’d basically told her I was marrying her to help get her away from her crazy fucking family. And that it was pointless because she belonged with them.
She’d lied. She’d made me feel like shit. But I’d been the asshole. And I hated that I’d made her feel like shit too.
Thinking about shit made me picture the destruction of the Pruitts’ dining room. I shook my head. What a mess. But if anyone deserved to fall through the ceiling on a toilet, it was Isabella. Brooklyn was right about that.
“Are you going to call her?”
I looked up to see Mason leaning against the doorjamb.
“Mom’s already wondering why Brooklyn didn’t come home with us last night,” he said. “You definitely won’t be able to evade her questions if Brooklyn doesn’t show up for Friendsgiving.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing in here all afternoon?” I tossed my phone down on my bed.
“I don’t know? Jerking off?”
“Funny. Brooklyn’s not answering my calls.”
“Huh. If you ask me, she seemed pretty sorry last night. I’m surprised she isn’t answering.”
“Yeah, I know. But I shouldn’t have left her at the Pruitts. And I shouldn’t have said all that stuff about her being like them. She’s probably super pissed off at me.”
Mason shrugged. “No one wants to be compared to a Pruitt.”
I wasn’t even sure that was the worst part. Brooklyn had gone behind my back in order to pull that prank on Isabella. If she had come to me and told me that she really needed to stand up to Isabella, I would have helped her. But Brooklyn must have felt like she couldn’t rely on me. And now I’d given her even more reason to doubt me.
“I’m going to go there and try to tal
k to her. Can I borrow your car?” I asked and stood up.
“Much better plan than calling,” said Mason. “But I don’t mind driving.”
I laughed. “You’re coming with me? Voluntarily? To the Pruitts’?”
“You said a lot of stupid shit last night. You’re going to need a wingman.”
Fair enough.
“And I’m pretty sure if I stay here Mom’s gonna make me help in the kitchen. And no one wants that.”
Another good point.
Mason slapped my back as I walked through the door. “It’s gonna be fine.”
“Yeah. Maybe we should stop and get flowers though,” I said. “Just in case.” Not that I knew what flowers were her favorite. I’d bought her every type of flower I could find after her uncle passed away. I got it stuck in my head that if I found the right kind, she’d smile. That hadn’t worked. But holding her as she fell asleep in my arms had worked. She smiled a lot in her dreams. Recently I’d been getting her to smile more when she was awake too. And I couldn’t believe I’d stood there yelling at her when all I cared about was seeing her smile.
***
I knocked on the Pruitts’ door. I’d gotten a bouquet of red roses. Sometimes when my dad made my mom angry, he’d come home with a dozen roses for her. If it worked for him, hopefully it would work for me.
Mason gave me a thumbs up.
The bodyguard that always hung around Brooklyn opened the door. His eyes were red and puffy like he’d been crying.
“Oh. Um. Hey,” I said. “Can I speak with Brooklyn?”
He wiped under his nose with the back of his hand. And then held the door open for Mason and me to come in. “Mr. Pruitt’s been expecting you. He’s in his study.” He gestured toward the large wooden office doors.
Okay. “But will you tell Brooklyn that I’m here? Friendsgiving starts in less than an hour and we really have to get going.”
The guy looked like he was about to start crying again. “Just go talk to Mr. Pruitt.”
Before I could ask any more questions, he walked away.
Weird. I hoped he was okay. Brooklyn was always so nice to her security team, but they always just made me feel uncomfortable. Like they hated me for some reason. I walked over to Mr. Pruitt’s study and knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
I pushed open the door and froze. Mr. Pruitt was sitting behind his desk in a wheelchair. His arm was attached to an IV. His face was completely drained of color. Except for his eyes. They were red and puffy just like the security guard’s. He looked like death.
“Matthew,” he said, his voice hoarse like he hadn’t used it in a long time. “There’s been…an incident.”
“What kind of incident?” It was like all the blood rushed to my ears. I could hear my heart pounding.
Mr. Pruitt looked back down at the picture of Brooklyn he had on his desk. “Brooklyn…she…” his voice trailed off as a sob escaped his throat. He tried to reach for a tissue from his desk, but his arm gave out.
“What the hell is going on? Where is she?”
Mr. Pruitt just shook his head. “We didn’t know how weak her heart was until it was too late.”
Too late? Too late for what?
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m going to miss her just as much as you.”
What the fuck was he talking about? I didn’t realize I was stumbling backwards until I ran into Mason. Mason grabbed my arms like he was expecting me to fall over.
But this was just a sick joke. Brooklyn was fine. I’d just seen her last night. She’d just left me dozens of messages. There was no incident. I pushed Mason off of me and ran out into the foyer. “Brooklyn!” I yelled.
My voice echoed in the empty foyer.
“Brooklyn!” I ran up the stairs. “Brooklyn, please just talk to me!” I ran down the hall to her bedroom. “Brooklyn?” The room was empty. I ran back out into the hall. Where the fuck was she? I started opening up random doors. “I’m sorry, baby. Please just talk to me.”
“I told her she wouldn’t live to see her wedding day,” Isabella said.
Her words sent a chill down my spine. I turned to see her standing in the middle of the hallway with a huge smile on her face.
She had no clue what she was talking about, though. Brooklyn was fine. “Get out of my way, Isabella.” I walked past her. “Brooklyn, where are you?!”
“Those morgue people came and took her away hours ago.”
Panic was starting to settle into my chest. “Brooklyn!”
“They just wheeled her cold, lifeless body out,” Isabella said. “Like a bag of trash. Because that’s what she was.”
I lunged at her. I didn’t realize or care that anyone was watching us, but two bodyguards grabbed me before I could wrap my hands around Isabella’s throat.
Isabella laughed.
“Get off me,” I yelled. “Brooklyn, where are you?!”
“Exactly where she belongs,” Isabella said. “Six feet under with her whore mother.”
I ripped my arm away from one of the security guards and grabbed the front of Isabella’s sweater.
She screamed at the top of her lungs.
“What did you do?” I yelled.
The security guards pulled me away.
This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real.
“I didn’t have to do anything,” Isabella called after me as I was being pulled down the steps. “I had a wonderful plan, but I didn’t even have to use it. She died because she was weak.”
“Don’t you dare fucking call her that.” I tried to lunge up the stairs again, but Mason stepped in front of me.
“She died in surgery,” he said.
I shook my head back and forth. “No. What the hell are you talking about? She wasn’t having surgery today.”
“She’d agreed to give her dad her kidney. There were complications.”
No. “She would have told me if she was doing that.” I just kept shaking my head as the tears started to fall down my cheeks. “She’s okay. She’s alive. I’ll call her again. I’ll just call her. You’ll see.” I fumbled with my phone in my pocket. All the missed calls and texts were blinking back at me.
Mason put his hands on my shoulders. “They didn’t know her mom died of heart disease. Mr. Pruitt seemed shocked when I told him that. They were under the impression that it was cancer like her uncle.”
No.
“She’s gone, Matt. Her heart gave out on the operating table. She didn’t make it.”
“She’s not gone.” What the hell was he talking about? Surgery? She just had a doctor’s appointment. Not a freaking surgery. “Brooklyn!” I yelled.
“I’m sorry, Matthew,” Mr. Pruitt said.
I turned around. Mr. Pruitt was in his wheelchair in the middle of the foyer. His IV wheeled in right beside him. “I owe her everything. She saved my life.”
You fucking prick. “She never agreed to any surgery!”
“She did. She signed the papers. I have a copy of them in my office if…”
“One of your contracts? They’re a million pages long. No one reads those things, you psychopath.”
He looked at me like I’d slapped him. “I can’t change what happened now. It’s done.”
How could he talk about his daughter like she was just a finished business transaction? “This is a joke, right? This is all a joke?” But I didn’t have the energy to call out her name again. Because no one was looking at me like this was a joke. She can’t be dead. She can’t be.
Mr. Pruitt pulled Brooklyn’s ring out of his pocket. “She would have wanted you to have this back.” He held it out to me.
If Brooklyn was alive she wouldn’t have taken it off. She’d promised me forever. She’d promised. I didn’t want the ring back. I just wanted her.
He grabbed my hand and pressed the ring into my palm. “I’m sorry. I’ll be in touch with the funeral arrangements. I know she would have loved for you to give a speech.” Mr. Pruitt snapped his finger
s and one of the bodyguards wheeled him away.
I looked down at the ring in my hand and it became blurry through my tears. “This isn’t real. She can’t be dead. She can’t be.”
I wanted to run around the house looking for her. I wanted to see her laughing at one of my jokes. Or even crying because I was being an idiot. I just wanted to see her face. I needed to see her face.
Mason hugged me.
This isn’t real. I closed my eyes and opened them again. But I was still standing in the middle of the Pruitts’ foyer, Brooklyn’s ring digging into my palm.
Brooklyn was gone. And the last thing I’d ever said to her was that she was a liar.
I looked down at the rose petals all over the floor. I wasn’t even aware that I’d dropped the bouquet. What the fuck had I even brought them here for? Flowers couldn’t fix anything. They couldn’t bring her uncle back. And they couldn’t bring Brooklyn back either.
My whole body felt numb.
“It’s going to be okay,” Mason said.
How was anything going to be okay? Brooklyn was dead. And she’d died thinking that I hated her.
Chapter 40
Wednesday
Matt
I was still numb. I’d gone from rage to despair. I’d called the cops on Isabella, convinced that she was somehow behind it. I’d hired a private investigator, thinking maybe Brooklyn was still alive and out there somewhere alone and scared. Hell, I’d even thought I’d seen her in the street. But I’d just scared some random girl half to death when I grabbed her arm. From rage to despair, all the way back to…numb.
I looked over at the coffin. I wanted to climb inside and stop breathing. I wanted to stop feeling this hollowness in my chest. I just wanted my fucking girl back.
Someone in the church cleared their throat.
And I realized I’d just been standing up here saying nothing. “I was supposed to marry Brooklyn next month,” I said into the microphone. The mic made a squealing noise, like it was rejecting the past tense words that didn’t make any fucking sense coming out of my mouth. “And I don’t really know what to say about our ending, when all I was thinking about recently was our beginning.” I swallowed down the lump in my throat.