It’s a ridiculous question. Few enjoy the game as much as Raegan, and Paxton is my insurance that she’s watching. The reminder of that night creeps into my thoughts, recalling how she had looked me straight in the eye—straight into my heart—before jumping into the ocean. She didn’t give me the chance to say one fucking thing. Not stop or don’t or even good-bye. I was stuck in the midst of a silent battlefield that night, standing on the deck of the boat, searching for her while I felt myself dying in response. Derek was closer, and he didn’t have Paxton and some crazy-ass lady holding him back, telling him he was going to scare the dolphins who were circling her body, making loud sounds as they chaotically moved and weaved through the water. Derek saved her, and in doing so, he spared what was left of my sanity. Unfortunately, she’d already taken nearly all of it, letting it fall to the bottom of the Puget Sound, where it sits, lost like a forgotten pirate ship.
3
Raegan
“Hey, are you feeling okay?” Poppy intercepts my route to class, her head dipped as she examines me.
An automatic ‘yes’ leaves my mouth out of habit. It’s been a week since I went home from the hospital. I’ve been given a clean bill of health except for the cough that still steals my breath periodically, but even that, they assure me, will end soon.
“He still hasn’t called?” She sees through my lie.
I breathe out a heavy sigh, watching my breath float in the cold air before shaking my head. “I was stupid enough to believe I meant something. That I might be different.”
Poppy winces. “Something doesn’t add up. It’s too weird. He was going crazy. If Paxton hadn’t been so blinded by his own fear, he would have realized Lincoln’s got it bad for you. That doesn’t just go away overnight.” She’s given too many empty assurances, and he’s ignored me for too long for the words to provide any sort of ease or comfort.
“We could go out to a party. Track him down?”
My traitorous heart beats faster with hope. “If he’s not responding to my calls or texts, do you really think he’s going to talk to me in person?”
“I think you scared the shit out of him.”
“I wasn’t trying to.”
There’s something foreign about her expression, something that resembles doubt or possibly resentment that makes my heart thump louder and faster.
“You know I wasn’t trying to actually drown myself, right?”
“I know. But, what would’ve happened if you’d died?” Her eyes rim red as she stares at me. “Did you even consider how we’d survive that? The guilt Lincoln would’ve lived with knowing he brought you out there, and Paxton for not having stopped you, and me on both of those fronts? Your parents, your sister, your grandpa?
“I get it. I know how much you love the ocean and the animals, and you reacted. But, Rae, you almost died.” Her eyes turn glassy with unshed tears. “I want to hug you and throttle you every time I see you, and I’m terrified you’ll try something crazy again.”
A myriad of emotions push and pull at my heart, wanting to argue my independence and how that situation was the exception, not the standard, but guilt and shame silence me as I play out the past few weeks in a reverse role, with her jumping. Pax jumping. Lincoln jumping.
I release the unspoken words in a long breath and wrap my arms around Poppy. It takes her a couple of seconds to register my hug, and a couple more before she weakly wraps her arms around me, her breaths heavier and longer as she openly cries. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she says between tears, her voice raspy and uneven.
I hold her tighter, the pain in my side pinching, but it only encourages me to grasp harder. Pain reminds me I’m alive, and I no longer wish to avoid it.
When Poppy pulls away, her hands remain gripping my arms, bridging us. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not fair to be mad at you. My mom says it’s part of the grieving process, which doesn’t really make sense because you’re here, and even when they said you weren’t breathing, I refused to believe you wouldn’t make it, but…” she gasps, fresh tears rolling down her freckled cheeks. “I’ve never been so afraid. I spent the drive to the hospital thinking about everything we’ve done together, all the times you’ve been there for me, and it made me feel so stupid for being upset about Mike these past couple of months.”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She hugs me again; her grip is tighter. “You owe me some really good wrinkle cream for my birthday because I’m pretty sure you aged me like twenty years.”
I laugh, nodding as we separate. “Deal.”
“And Lincoln might just need to process for a bit. Or yell at you.” She pauses. “Maybe both.”
I fake another smile, nodding with understanding.
Poppy wipes at her cheeks with the heels of her hands. “I’m going to be late for class. Are you working tonight?”
I shake my head. “I’m off all week.”
“Maybe we can catch up later? I’m working at my Mom’s office until six, but I’ll call you after.”
“Sounds good.”
She smiles, every bit of her expression familiar before she waves and turns, walking in the opposite direction of my next class. I debate skipping, lying, and saying I was too tired, or that I got dizzy, or one of the other hundred excuses at my disposal. Everyone is still looking at me like I’m going to keel over at any second—another consequence of nearly dying, I suppose. Not only is everyone upset with me on some level, but there’s also zero trust between those I need it from most, and everyone’s looking at me like I’m as fragile as an ancient glass ornament that’s been cracked and will shatter at any moment.
I could grab some coffee and try to warm up—I’ve been permanently frozen since that fateful night. I could go home and spend the day with Maggie and the documentaries she loves. But, being absent will only make that crack they all see more prominent, so I hitch my bag higher on my shoulder and head in the direction of the science building.
I slide into my seat with only a few minutes to spare before class starts. The room is uncomfortably cold, so I leave my jacket on as I pull out my laptop, considering Poppy’s advice. Could anger be what’s keeping Lincoln from returning my messages?
“Hey.”
I glance up, spotting a guy with short brown hair and light brown eyes. I stare at him, waiting for him to request to borrow something or ask if I have notes.
He swallows, blinking several times as he shifts his feet, kicking them out in front of his desk and crossing one over the other. “You’re Raegan, right?”
I nod. “I’m Ben. That’s Megan,” he says, pointing to the girl with auburn hair and a quick smile behind him. “You’re always quiet, so I just wanted to say hi. Introduce myself.”
“And Megan,” I point out.
He chuckles humorlessly, but his features are friendly. “We’ve been friends for like two years.”
I nod again, reminded why I hate small talk and meeting new people so damn much. “It’s nice to meet you both.”