“You always were,” I whispered.
His eyes flashed with surprise.
“But you made sure to ruin it.”
I pushed him off from me, and when I walked out, he didn’t stop me. When I made it down the stairs, Audrey was sitting on the stairs on her phone. When she heard me come down, she turned and looked relieved.
“Are you okay?” She rushed to me.
I managed to nod. “Can we leave?”
“Yeah, of course. I was waiting for you.”
I turned to look back at her, surprised. Gigi had never done that for me. She usually ditched me if I wasn’t in a partying mood. I looked at Audrey, who didn’t bitch or moan that we were leaving the party. It made me think about that night—the whole reason I’d had to call my parents because I got ditched.
When we got home, I didn’t change. I lay on the bed with Gavin’s taste still on my lips.
“Scarlett, you need to help me, please.” The voice was frantic.
“Baby, get out, please.” This one was begging.
I opened my eyes and immediately felt dizzy. My seat belt felt suffocating, strapped against my body. Moving my head, I couldn’t figure out where I was. Everything was wrong. When I blinked, then did I realize I was upside-down.
“We have to leave. This thing will blow,” a masculine voice said.
“No!” was shouted.
I was going to close my eyes, but met my mom’s through the rearview mirror. God, the look in her eyes screamed defeat.
“M-mom,” I croaked.
“Get out,” she begged.
“Mom!” I shouted, only to come awake covered in sweat.
My heart was beating erratically, and I swore I could smell the smoke in the air. It had been years since I’d had a nightmare. Why now? I pulled my legs against my chest and cried.
When morning came, I called my new therapist, and fortunately, she had room to meet me. The house was quiet, which let me get ready in peace before I went to talk about my feelings.
It was either that or get on medication, and I didn’t like the way the drugs made feel like an alien in my own body. This way, I could work out my feelings.
The doctor’s office was by a strip mall. It looked ordinary from the outside, the window tinted, but once you walked in, it gave off that office smell that made it feel cold and uninviting. I didn’t have to wait for long before I was being prodded with half questions meant to reveal full answers.
“When was the last time you had a nightmare?” my therapist asked.
She was old, with wrinkles across her face, short brunette hair, natural makeup, and a gray suit.
“A little after high school ended. My depression was at an all-time low. I withdrew from everyone I knew. I didn’t talk to my friends; I just lay in bed, and everything made me want to cry or rage. I thought it was normal behavior for grief.”
“But you tried to take your own life,” she said.
She pierced me with a stare. It wasn’t cold, nor was it pity; she was just stating a fact that was hard to explain.
“Have you ever smelled burning flesh?” I asked her, which caught her off guard. I kept going before she could reply. “I might not remember much about that night, but I remember waking up on the side of the road, and my parents’ car on the other side was burning. The smell…God, that’s something I’ll never forget. It was like burnt liver, but coppery and metallic. It was so strong that when I screamed, I could taste it.”
Both of us stayed quiet for a second. I didn’t know how I got out of the car, and why would I leave my parents to that fate? My alcohol levels were pretty high when the police and ambulance got there. They took pity on me and didn’t give any charges for underage drinking. Perhaps they knew what I already did: killing my parents was punishment enough.
“I didn’t try to kill myself on prom night. I remembered that smell. I remembered the flames, and I wanted to wash them off me. I didn’t realize I lost control until he saved me.”
Gavin and Dylan were the only ones who still saw me when I started to pull away. Gavin was the only one who saw me, saw past the façade, and if it wasn’t for him, I might be dead.
“Gavin was it,” she stated. “He’s the one who saved you, but he is also the one who told your brother. Do you resent him?”
“For telling on me? No.” The answer was quick.
I didn’t resent him for telling Nick. How could I when he’d sat on my other side at my parents’ funeral. While Gigi lost it and leaned into me for comfort, he’d stood on my other side, a wall of strength. At one point, I think he held my hand, squeezing it hard to keep me grounded. Having him there next to me meant much more than I ever allowed myself to admit.
“I want to see you once a week, for now, Scarlett,” my therapist was quick to reply while she wrote some notes.
Being dismissed, I gave her a nod and grabbed my things.
“Here.” She extended me a card. “That’s my personal number. Call me if you ever need anything.”
Taking the card, I gave her a small smile and walked out. When the fresh air hit my face, I felt like I could breathe again.
Sixteen
“You always were, but you made sure to ruin it.”
I heard Scarlett’s voice in my head. Saw the hurt on my mind, and it fucked with me.
God, that kiss—it undid me. I hadn’t felt that way about anyone since prom night. I wanted to own her again. Worship her sweet body like I had done when I was an idiot kid. Just because we wanted things, it didn’t mean we should have them.
“Fuck, man.” Quincy came up to my face and started to yell.
He took off his helmet, and I didn’t blame him. The screaming fans and the blaring lights usually calmed me, but today, they fed my anxiety.
“You need to get your head in the game, Dunn. I don’t give a fuck how that happened, but a game like today can’t happen again.”
I bit my tongue to not say anything because he had every right. There was no way to catch up now. I looked over at my coach, and he looked pissed. My eyes met Nick’s, and he tried to give me a sympathetic smile, but it looked like a grimace.
This loss was on me.
The game ended, and everyone knew it was my fault. Call me Mr. Butter-fucking-fingers. I couldn’t catch a damn pass. I hated myself tonight. I hated that I was so weak and she affected me on a molecular level that rewired my whole being.
“Snap out of it.” Ollie punched my shoulder.
He didn’t get it, the pressure. He was never going to play pro. He didn’t know about the pressure to perform better than the last game, or being better than everyone else because you needed the scouts to want you—need you.
“I’m fine,” I lied.
“Remember that time Q forgot his little magic ball? Everyone gave him shit for it.”
I couldn’t help but grin. Quincy was superstitious. Hell, we all were when it came to his Christmas ornament. I didn’t know why he had it, how the hell it ended up in his duffel bag, but when he found it and left it at home one time, we lost fucking bad. Ever since then, he didn’t want to chance it.
Neither did we.
“Don’t let him hear you talking shit about his magic ball,” I said, welcoming the distraction.