“How . . . how do you know—”
“I saw that you called them. It was in your call history. So what the fuck did they say to you that has put you in this frame of mind? Whatever it is, it isn’t fucking true. And do not for a second believe it. Don’t let them get in your goddamn head. Don’t let them rule over everything you’ve been able to move toward with Blakely. You have a good thing, man. Don’t waste it on their empty words.”
I look away from him as my phone dings with a text. I glance at the preview and read her text.
Blakely:Okay. Well, I miss you. Please call me if you can.
I set my phone down again and lean my head back so I can close my eyes. “My mom’s words were not empty. They were true.”
“What did she say?”
Keeping my eyes closed, I say, “My dad is dead.”
“Jesus.” Eli turns toward me. “Fuck, man. I’m sorry.”
My throat grows tight, and I shake my head. “It is what it is.”
“No, Halsey. That’s awful, and you’re allowed to feel that pain.”
Little does he know.
“Okay, so can you just leave me the fuck alone now?”
“No,” he says, and I feel him scoot closer. “I’m not leaving you alone.”
I place my hands over my face and groan. “I don’t want to fucking talk about this. Okay? I just want to . . . fuck.” I stand from the bench and place my hands on my hips. “I just want to be . . . be done.”
“Done with what?” Eli asks.
“Everything,” I shout before pulling on my hair. “I want to be done with this guilt, I want this heaviness resting on my chest, the responsibility of it all, taken away. I want it to be done. I want it to end. She was right. She was so fucking right.”
“Who was right?” Eli asks, standing now. “Your mom?”
“Don’t worry about it.” I step forward, but Eli stops me. And I don’t know what comes over me, but between my frustration, hurt, and irritation, I whip around and plow my fist right into Eli’s face, sending him back against the locker.
“What the fuck?” Pacey says as he comes into the locker room.
Eli doesn’t move, though. He just looks up at me, his cheekbone red from my fist. “Do it again,” he says. When I don’t move, still stunned from what I did, he lifts to his feet and gets right in my face. “Do it again, Holmes. Punch me. If that’s what’sgoing to help you, then fucking punch me again.” He pokes my chest and says, “But it won’t stop me from continuing to love you, care for you, and be there every step of the way.” He wets his lips. “I was there that night. I was at the bar with him. I watched him sling back shot after shot, and I didn’t do anything about it. I’ve held on to that feeling, the one where I think to myself . . . if only. But do you know where holding on to that has gotten me?” He pushes my chest, sending me a step back and causing Pacey to come up to us. “It got me fucking nowhere. Holding on to what your mom said to you will get you nowhere. Punching me will get you nowhere. Drinking like your fucking brother who had a goddamn problem that no one could fix BUT HIM won’t get you anywhere. So punch me.” He holds his arms out. “Fucking punch me, Holmes, and get it all out.”
“He was my responsibility,” I yell. “That’s what my mom said.And it was true.I should have looked after him. He was my—”
“No, Holmes. She’s wrong. So fucking wrong. He was a man. He was responsible for his own actions. He—”
“But I knew he was wild. I should have taken better care of him. I—”
“The only thing you should be doing is grieving the loss of your brother. That’s it. He made choices. And not just that night. You know this. It’s not your fault.”
“It should have been me, though. My mom was right. The wrong twin died.”
“Fucking hell. She said that?” Pacey rasps.
“Of course she did. It’s true.”
“It’s not. She’s bitter and angry, but that cannot live on your shoulders. It can’t. He made choices. And we grieve.”
“But—”
“No, man. No buts. You gotta let this go. You gotta get this anger out. Punch me. I’ll take it. And when you’re done, I’mgoing to be here with these open arms, ready to hold you and help you. So just. . .fucking. . .punch me.”
