My head swivels toward her in slow degrees.
“Lucky?” I choke out, my voice broken. I rattle my left hand against the manacle. “Lucky?”
She flinches at the ear-splitting clang. “That was a poor choice of words. I only meant—”
“Get out.” My eyes press closed. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”
“Archer, I think—”
“Go away.”
I hear the sound of retreating footsteps. The door clicks closed a second later, leaving me alone for the first time since I regained consciousness.
In solitude, I’m finally able to process the gravity of my situation.
Even with physical therapy, you may never regain the exact level of control or throwing power you had before.
I want to scream.
I want to rage.
I want to cry.
I want to curse.
I want to wrap my hands around my brother’s neck and squeeze until he stops breathing.
I want to hug my parents for five minutes straight, like a little kid after a bad dream.
I want to crawl into Jo’s warm embrace and reassure myself that there are still things in this world worth living for.
But I can only lie here — a prisoner of my own choices. A victim of circumstances beyond my control. Breathing through the pain that radiates from the top of my head to the tip of my toes.
I am broken.
In more ways than one.
When my door swings open the next morning, I assume it’s the police back for another round of questioning. I sit up straighter in bed as the last people I ever expected to see walk into my hospital room.
Blair and Vincent Valentine.
“Mr. and Mrs. Valentine, what are you doing here?” I crane my neck, trying to see around them. “Is Jo with you?”
“Josephine is at Cormorant House.”
“Oh.” My hope deflates. “Maybe next time.”
There’s a long silence. Neither of them seems to know where to start. They stare at me with eerie, emotionless gazes.
“I asked for my phone so I could call her and explain what happened… but they won’t let me have it. They only let me speak to my parents for a few moments last night.” I clear my throat. “I’m surprised they let you in, to be honest.”
“The State Police Superintendent is an old friend,” Vincent informs me.
“Right. Of course.” I suck in a sharp breath. “Maybe you could pass along a message to Jo for me. Tell her that I’m sor—”
“Oh, no.” Blair cuts me off. Her eyes are locked on my handcuffs. “I’m afraid that simply won’t be possible, Archer. Josephine is not to be told about any of this… mess.”
My brows lift. “What?”
“She is in a fragile state, right now.” Blair shakes her head in a poor mimicry of sympathy. “Frankly, now that we’ve learned what’s been going on around here with your family… it’s understandable why she’s spiraling. She’s been surrounded by chaos for weeks.”
“Is she all right?” I ask instantly. “What happened to her?”
“Physically, she’s fine. But mentally…” Blair shakes her head, lips pursed. “I’m afraid she has some soul-searching to do. Yesterday at the Exeter graduation, she completely devolved on the stage in front of hundreds during her speech. It was humiliating.”
My brows pull in. “For her or for you?”
“That is a very rude comment to make, young man. Especially given that we came here to help you.”
“You want to help me,” I say dubiously. “Why?”
They exchange a look.
Vincent steps forward. “We understand our daughter has a certain… fondness for you. But I think we all know that teenage romances rarely last. You two are simply on different life trajectories.”
I snort. “You mean in two separate tax brackets.”
“Josephine is destined for great things. She shouldn’t be bogged down by…” Blair trials off, gesturing vaguely at me. “By the many issues you’re currently facing. Your recovery, your family drama…”
“Not to mention the heap of trouble you’re in with the law.” Vincent’s voice is blunt. “You’ll need a good lawyer to make those drug possession charges go away. I happen to have one on speed dial. And that’s not even taking into account my personal connections to local law enforcement. I could make things significantly easier for you.” He pauses for a long beat. “Or significantly harder.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Quite the opposite,” Blair soothes, oozing civility from her every pore. “We’re making you an offer.”
“Which is what, exactly?”
“We plan to take Josephine away for the summer — overseas, to Europe, so she can get some hands-on experience at VALENT before she starts classes at Brown in the fall. If she likes Geneva, she may even defer a year. Stay on at the company to really get the hang of things.”
My heart has turned to stone inside my chest. “Geneva.”
“Switzerland,” Blair clarifies, as if I have no idea where Geneva is. “Leaving tonight. It’s a done deal.”
“If it’s such a done deal, why the hell are you here talking to me?” I hiss. “Shouldn’t you be packing?”
They’re silent.
“Let me guess… Jo isn’t so thrilled about this new summer vacation arrangement.”
“You know our Josephine. She can be quite stubborn.” Blair sighs. “Sometimes, she doesn’t know what’s best for her. She needs a little push in the right direction.”
“Stop talking in circles,” I growl. “Tell me what you want from me.”
It’s Vincent, who finally speaks plainly. “Cut off all ties with our daughter.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Vincent levels me with his best hardball stare — one I’m sure he wields effectively in board rooms. “Give her some incentive to leave Manchester — and the mess you’ve made — behind. Break her heart, if you have to. Whatever it takes to get her out of this town, before the blowback from your family implosion is spattered all over her bright future.”
“Screw you,” I hiss. “Get out of my room.”
“Don’t make up your mind so fast, Archer.” Blair takes a few steps closer to the side of my bed. Her eyes are the same shade as her daughter’s, but they contain none of Jo’s warmth. “It seems your brother is still missing. When they find him, he will undoubtedly be going back to prison. You along with him, if you’re not smart. As for your parents… unfortunately, we can no longer offer them employment at Cormorant House in good conscience.”
I jerk against my handcuffs. “My parents have nothing to do with this—”
“Oh, but they do. They failed to inform us that their ex-convict, drug-addicted son had been released on parole. They concealed the fact that our daughter was in the crosshairs of gang violence, of all things.” She presses a hand to her heart. “Much as it pains me to let good help go, I don’t have much choice in the matter.”
Good help.
That’s all Flora and Miguel have ever been to these people.
“My parents have worked for you for over twenty years,” I hiss through clenched teeth, so furious I’m barely able to breathe. “Gull Cottage has been their home for as long as they’ve lived in this country. And you’re just going to throw them out on the street like… like… rubbish on trash day?”
“Certainly not.” Vincent huffs. “We are in a position to provide them with quite a generous severance package. Enough money to get them set up with a house of their own anywhere in the world.”
Anywhere except Manchester-by-the-Sea, he means.
“However…” Blair’s lips twist in a fake frown. “We are under no such obligation to do so. Technically, as they are in violation of their contract, we owe them nothing. Not a penny. Not even two weeks notice.” She pauses. “I doubt they’d find other work in this area. It’s a small community. People talk. You know how it is.”
Tr
anslation: we will use our extensive network to blacklist your parents from any potential job opportunities in a hundred-mile radius.
I look back and forth between them. My heart is lodged inside my throat. “So that’s my choice. Either I lose Jo… or lose everything else. My future. My family. My whole fucking life.”
Blair sniffs. “I wouldn’t phrase it so crudely, but… yes. In a sense, if you cut your ties with our daughter, we will ensure that you walk away from this rather unpleasant incident a free man. And we will take care of your parents in such a generous manner, they can retire tomorrow, if they so choose.”
My eyelids press closed. Jo’s face appears behind them. A million versions of it. A million memories, embedded deeply in my mind.
Jo at 4, wearing overalls and lopsided pigtails.
Jo at 8, teaching me to skip stones in the cove.
Jo at 10, digging up quahogs on the shore.
Jo at 12, teaching me the basics of sailing.
Jo at 15, scowling at me under the stars.
Jo at 17, telling me she loved me.
Jo at 18, exploding into passion beneath me.
“I can’t.” My eyes open. “I won’t.”
“Don’t be so stubborn, Archer.” Blair scoffs. “Think it through. We all know your baseball career is effectively over. Which means… no scholarship. No college. Even if you beat the criminal charges, you’re looking at a far smaller future than the one you planned on.”
I try to block her out, but her words hit me like bullets, tearing into the fabric of my heart.
“Without our help… you’ll be an ex-con, like your brother. Is that really what you want?.” She pauses artfully. “Tell me — can you really picture Josephine in that future with you? Do you really think she’d want you like this? No talent? No prospects? No ability to provide the kind of life to which she is accustomed?”
I clench my fists. Pain shoots through my broken bones — a pain so intense, my eyes fill with tears. I can’t bring myself to speak.
“You have nothing to offer,” Vincent says flatly. “You can’t elevate her to the heights she deserves. You will only bring her down, into a life of misery and despair. And, eventually… she will hate you for it.”
I stare at the wall. For a long time, the room is completely silent. The agony inside my heart is stronger, even, that the physical pain of my broken body. I find myself wishing, just for a moment, that I really had died when my truck flipped. A quick exit might’ve been more merciful than this slow atrophy occurring inside my soul.
I have lost everything.
My future.
My dream.
My love.
Looking back at Blair and Vincent, I swallow hard. The voice that comes out of my mouth sounds like it belongs to a stranger.
Cold.
Dead.
Empty.
“I’ll need a piece of paper.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
JOSEPHINE
I pace the confines of my bedroom, just as I’ve done for the past twenty-four hours, slowly going crazy. Since the commencement ceremony yesterday, I’ve been confined to the house, completely cut off from the outside world. Vincent and Blair took away my electronics in retaliation for the so-called spectacle I made during my speech.
I don’t regret a single word.
Nothing can hold my focus. Not sewing, not my kindle, not even The Great British Bake Off. I stare up at the ceiling, consumed with worry about Archer. The more hours slip by without being able to talk to him, the more convinced I become that something terrible has happened.
I try not to think too much about Ophelia or Odette’s opinion on the matter.
Teenage boys can be pigs. As soon as you let them under your panties, they treat you like conquered territory.
A knock on my door has me flying upright. I pray it’s Archer — or, at the very least, Flora or Miguel. But when the knob turns, it’s my mother who steps through the door.
“I haven’t changed my mind,” I say flatly. “I’m still not going to Switzerland.”
Her brows lift. “Really? Even if your attendance at Brown is contingent upon it?”
“What?”
“Your father and I have decided, if you don’t come to Switzerland, we won’t be paying your tuition for the fall semester.” She pauses. “Or any other semester, in fact.”
My mouth falls open. “That’s outrageous! You can’t do that—”
“We can. We did. The matter is settled.”
“Nothing is settled,” I retort hotly. “You don’t get to make decisions for me anymore. I’m eighteen.”
“Wasn’t your whole graduation speech about how we didn’t parent you enough? Here we are, trying to parent, and you punish us for it.”
I stare at her, unconvinced. “I don’t understand why you have to parent me in Geneva. Why can’t we just stay here for the summer?”
“Because our distribution headquarters aren’t here.”
“But—”
“You’ll adore Switzerland, Josephine. I promise.” She sits on the end of my bed and reaches out softly — almost tentatively — to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Don’t argue anymore. Pack your things. We’re leaving for the airport in an hour.“
She pushes to her feet and walks toward the door. Pausing in the frame she says, almost as an afterthought, “The Reyes boy came by earlier.”
I practically fly to her side, then grab her by the arm. “What? What did he say? Why didn’t you let him in to see me?”
“Slow down, Josephine.” Blair presses a hand to her chest. “Dear lord, you’re overexcited.”
I take a measured breath, trying to calm my nerves. “What did he say?”
“Not much. I did invite him in. He declined.”
My heart lurches. “No… that’s not… he wouldn’t…”
“He seemed to be in quite a bit of a hurry. Something about an opportunity regarding baseball — a training summer camp perhaps? In Nebraska, of all places. Honestly, Josephine, you know how I am when it comes to sports. It all goes right out of my head.”
I feel like I’ve been sucker-punched.
I know exactly what she’s talking about. For years, Archer has prattled on and on and on about the elite training camp run by former MLB players. It’s nearly impossible to get accepted into their program. But once you’re in, you train with the best of the best. There’s a good chance he could be recruited to the major leagues.
It’s the opportunity of a lifetime.
Not in a million years would he turn it down.
“Did he say anything else?” I ask, feeling the earth tilt beneath me. “Did he say when he was leaving?”
“No, he didn’t.” Blair sighs, sounding bored by this entire conversation. “Oh — he did leave a letter, though. It’s on the table in the atrium.”
I nearly bowl her over as I run out the door, into the hall. I round the staircase at warp speed and almost trip down them face-first, only managing to catch myself on the bannister at the very bottom.
The envelope is waiting on the entryway table, just as she promised. My fingers tremble as I rip it open. My eyes scan the words, devouring Archer’s familiar, blocky handwriting.
Dear Jo,
I’m sorry to be doing this in a letter. Honestly, after the other night, I didn’t know how to face you. I thought it would be easier to put everything down on paper, so there’s no confusion.
Prom night was a lot of fun. I had a great time. I hope you did, too. But, as wonderful as it was to spend that moment with you… I think that’s all it was.
A moment.
And moments pass.
As soon as I woke up the next morning, I realized we’d made a terrible mistake. I’m sure you realized it, too.
I’ve been given the opportunity to attend the MLB Elite camp in Nebraska this summer. I think it’ll be best for both of us if I go. I won’t have access to my phone or internet, so don’t bother reaching out.
&
nbsp; A little space wouldn’t be the worst thing, anyway.
I hope you know, I value our friendship so much. Too much to risk it with something as meaningless as a hook up.
Have a nice summer.
Best,
Archer
* * *
The letter flutters from my fingertips. It hits the floor with a soft whoosh, sliding beneath the table.
I do not bend to retrieve it.
Numb, I walk upstairs to pack my suitcase.
Up next…
* * *
Don’t miss the stunning conclusion to Archer & Jo’s love story in WE DON’T LIE ANYMORE, part two of THE DON’T DUET, coming to e-retailers December 2020.
* * *
PRE-ORDER NOW
Playlist
Wish You Were Gay — Billie Eilish
Water Fountain — Alec Benjamin
Cotton Candy - spill tab
Love You For A Long Time — Maggie Rogers
I Like Me Better — Lauv
Don’t Wanna Think — Julia Michaels
My Boy — Billie Eilish
I Hate Everybody - Halsey
Cardigan — Taylor Swift
Falling Like The Stars — James Arthur
I Miss You, I’m Sorry — Gracie Abrams
Watch - Billie Eilish
Exile — Taylor Swift
Forever (is a long time) — Halsey
Getting Over You — Lauv
If the World Was Ending — JP Saxe & Julia Michaels
Dancing On My Own — Calum Scott
Hoax — Taylor Swift
Josephine — The Wallflowers
About the Author
JULIE JOHNSON is a twenty-something Boston native suffering from an extreme case of Peter Pan Syndrome. When she's not writing, Julie can most often be found adding stamps to her passport, drinking too much coffee, striving to conquer her Netflix queue, and Instagramming pictures of her dog. (Follow her: @author_julie)
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