“And you were right. I wasn’t a good friend to you. I haven’t been for a long time. And, like, I don’t expect us to become besties overnight or whatever. But maybe, eventually, we can be okay again. . . .” Jenny sighed. “I just feel bad. What you said at the marsh made me realize how selfish I had become. And the worst part is that I don’t even know when I became like this. So, fine, I’m trying to make it up to you. Repent for my sins or whatever.”
Surprisingly, this confession wasn’t the weirdest thing that had happened to me in the past twenty-four hours. And maybe it was because of how much my life had changed recently, but suddenly the thought of reconciling with Jenny didn’t seem all that crazy.
“Have you spoken to Brett?” she added.
I’d been in such a rush to barge into the kitchen I’d forgotten to even check my phone.
“No,” I said quickly. “Not yet. Why? Got any advice?”
Jenny laughed, ate the other half of the jelly bell. “No. Not this time. It’s weird, right? His family is, like, worshipped in this town or something. Goes to show that every family has their secrets. What?” She grabbed a napkin and wiped her mouth. “Is there sugar on my face?”
“No. It’s just— It’s weird seeing you here. But it feels normal at the same time. Does that make sense?”
“Tell me about it. It was weird coming here two years later. I wasn’t sure if I even should come, but you seemed really not okay last night, Becca. Like, your mind was in a different world or something. Without the book this time.”
I sat down at the table across from her. “My life is starting to feel like one.”
We both laughed. For that second, it was like the past two years never happened and we were two fifteen-year-old best friends again.
“Do you hear that?” she asked, glancing around the kitchen. “It sounds like a phone ringing.” It was a phone. My phone. I ran to my bedroom to grab it. Brett’s name was on the screen. I let out a huge sigh of relief.
“Brett, hey. How are you?”
“Are you home?” His voice was muffled. It sounded like he was driving with the windows down. I told him I was. “Can I come over? I need to talk to you.”
“Of course.”
I hung up and ran back to the kitchen.
“Brett?”
I nodded. “He’s on his way.”
“Guess that’s my cue to leave.” Jenny stood up and we walked to the door. I had to restrain myself from opening it and shooing her out. I wanted to talk to Brett. I needed to know he was okay. But then Jenny turned back around, looking like she was debating whether or not to say something. “I, um, hope everything’s okay with him. My dad and his dad are friends. I don’t want it to be weird when people start choosing sides.”
I must’ve said something because she waved and left. She was halfway down the hall when I called her name. “The hotel looked great, by the way. Brett told me your parents furnished it.”
Jenny used to have this huge smile before it turned tight-lipped. The kind that completely took over her entire face. I hadn’t seen it since freshman year. Until now. “Thanks, Becca,” she said.
The elevator doors opened and Brett walked out. He glanced between me and Jenny, looking confused, said something to her, then kept walking. “What was that about?” he asked once he was in front of me. He looked disheveled. It was clear he hadn’t slept.
“Long story. How was last night?” I reached out and wrapped my arms around him. He patted my back a few times, then let go. I looked up at him. His face was unreadable. “Brett? Is everything okay?”
He wouldn’t look me in the eyes. “Can we talk?”
“Sure.”
I gazed at the door for a moment, twirling the key around in my hand. It felt too private, bringing Brett inside when no one else was there. So I made my way to the elevator, knowing he’d follow, and pressed the button to the roof. We didn’t speak as we rode up, and Brett trailed behind as I walked over to lean on the cement ledge overlooking the town. He stood beside me, his side against mine. It wasn’t normal, what that did to my heart.
I waited for him to grab my hand like he usually did when we were side by side.
“I used to come here as a kid,” I explained.
“To read?”
I rolled my eyes. “No. Not to read. To think. There was something about standing up here that made my problems shrink, made the world feel a little bit smaller. A little less scary.” I glanced at him. He was nodding along. “You’re being really quiet.”
Brett looked the same as he did last night. Still angry. Still a little confused. His eyes were scanning the town below us like he’d find answers written in the rooftops.
He may have looked the same, but he felt far away.
“My dad came home late last night,” he said. “I told him to leave, that he couldn’t stay there with me and Mom.”
“Did he explain what happened with that woman?”
“You mean his mistress?” he said, gripping the ledge a little tighter. “He wanted to but I wouldn’t let him.”
“You didn’t want answers?” That made zero sense to me. I’d give anything for a few explanations.
“I thought I did until he was sitting in front of me. Then I realized that it doesn’t matter anymore, Becca. Answers, the truth, whatever you want to call it. None of it matters because it’s too late. Nothing he says will fix what he’s done to my mom, to our family. Maybe there’s some truths that are better kept as secrets.” His head fell into his hands. “This sucks. This really sucks. My mom didn’t get out of bed this morning. She thinks I can’t hear her crying but I can.”
I wanted to tell him how sorry I was, but I knew all too well that my sympathy wouldn’t take away a fraction of the pain. They were empty words, like trying to use a single Band-Aid to hold an entire shattered heart together.
So I reached through the space between us and held his hand. The wind blew a strand of hair onto his forehead and I brushed it away, waiting for him to continue.
Brett let out a long breath. “I’m sorry for leaving you last night,” he said.
“It’s okay. Jenny gave me a ride.”
Now that caught his attention. “You guys are friends again?”
Were we? “I’m not really sure.”
He nodded, staring back at the sky. “I didn’t come here just to talk about my family. I want to talk about us.”
It was selfish, but I perked up at this. Until he let go of my hand.
“I’ve been thinking,” Brett continued, “that so much of my life was based off my dad. I started playing football for him. I based all my plans for college off what he wanted me to do or what he would have done. I always felt like it was my responsibility to live the life he wanted for me. Like it was my fault for being born and taking those opportunities away from him. It’s weird to think about, but it feels like my life hasn’t really been mine. I don’t even know if I like football, Becca. Or if I convinced myself I did because I had no other choice.”
I wasn’t following. “You’re going to quit the team?”
“No. I can’t do that to my teammates.” Then he finally turned away from the sky to look at me. I wished he hadn’t. His eyes held all the truths. “You remember why we both agreed to start dating? How I did it for my dad?” I nodded, knowing where this was heading. “That was just another thing I did for him. And I don’t want us to be like that. I don’t want our story to start because of him. Everything in my life has happened because of my dad and I need one thing to feel like mine.”