“I can’t do that.”
“And now why is that?”
I rack my brain for an answer but the simple truth is I’m embarrassed. Embarrassed for how I protected Will for so long. For how I let myself lie so carelessly, not taking into account anyone around me, for the boy I used to love. And if I’m being honest, after everything, I really don’t think Olivia should have to face the consequences of the truth. Now that I see Will clearly it’s like I see her clearly too, and she never deserved how he treated her—how I treated her.
“She’s going to be destroyed…” I say it more to myself but I feel Sloane’s arm wrap around me.
“At first, maybe.” She gently squeezes my shoulder. “But she’ll be okay.” Jean gives a little nod of agreement.
I let out a long breath, Madam Auch’s voice in my head yet again.
“Anything not utterly destroyed is weak!”
I nod. “Okay.”
The sky is blue over ahead as I suck in a deep breath, trying to give Olivia room to process everything. I’ve been going over exactly what I planned to tell her over and over again in my head for the past two days. Sloane coached me through gently breaking the news more times than I can count and yet, this all feels wrong. The secret like a loaded gun that I just pulled the trigger on. I glance over, seeing Olivia attempt to wrap her mind around the news that Will and I spent time with Lily that summer, that he and Lily were together. She rolls her lips together, confusion riddling her features, mixed with the deep understanding that what I’m saying is true.
“When did they break up?” Her voice is hollow and I know this crushed her, that I played such a large part in blowing up her life. I feel rotten, like all my worst qualities are bubbling to the surface, pushing through every pore.
“I’m not really sure…but I know it was Lily who did it, ended things.” She sighs, her shoulders sagging only momentarily with exhaustion. “Will was torn up for weeks until he saw her at the kegger and then...well…you know.” I can barely get the words out, my eyes tracing the students out on the lawn through the shrubbery of the campus garden I pulled her into. What I would give to be one of them, to not have to deal with all of this. If I didn’t have Will in my life maybe I would be just another student, lounging on the lawn of the courtyard before class. Instead I’mhere, single handedly ruining a girl's life, and for what? What did I actually get out of this arrangement?
I bite the inside of my cheek and am at a total loss for words as I hear her quiet sniffling beside me. “Look...I know this is complete shit.”
She snorts, amusement shining through her tears. “You could say that again.”
I give her a sad smile, fishing a tissue from my dance bag. I sigh, thinking again about all the pain, not just hers but his too, now. I replay how he was so hurt when Lily died and how then, instead of crawling out of that pit of sadness, he dug it deeper, made it more expansive and pulled others in with him.
“I know I shouldn’t be defending him—trust me when I say I’m the last person who wants to do that right now.” I breathe, trying to form my thought. “But Will really does care about you.” And even though I’ve denied that sentiment for so long, I know what I’m saying is the truth. Will does care. Otherwise she’d have known by now. That doesn’t mean anything he’s done is right—if anything it makes it all worse. But even so, there is a shred of the boy I knew left, which means there’s a tiny piece of my heart, sharp and jagged, that will always be hoping he’s okay. She gives me a teary smile and I return it, my body flooding with resolve. I can’t help but feel proud of myself, feel like I’ve finally broken the toxic cycle of him and I. Like me choosing to plant myself on a side that isn’t his, to stand by what I think is right, finally cut the rope between us.
“Also, it’s important to note thatBenis veryclearlyin love with you.” I think about the way Will’s older brother has been behaving the past few months, how much he’s changed and realize how muchI’vechanged since spending time with Grant. “I know you probably feel betrayed rightnow and rightfully so. Just, I don’t know, don’t write them off completely.” I know what I’m saying is crazy, see how her eyebrows raise with this less than sage advice, but for whatever reason her giving Ben another chance is the little piece of hope I need to know maybe Grant will give me one, too.
I move to stand, grabbing my bag, when Olivia grabs my arm. “Gen…” her eyes search mine, her face flushed from crying. “Thank you.”
I blink speechless, tears forming in my eyes. Swallowing, I nod my head then turn. I feel the leaves crunching under my feet as they carry me out of the courtyard. The sun shining just slightly brighter than it had less than an hour ago and I let myself hang on to the hope that people can be forgiven. That they can change.
30
Grant
The neighborhood already put the bows up—big, red velvet ones on the street lights, with coordinating ribbon wrapped around the lampposts. I can just see Gen twirling around one, the way she did at the rehearsal. The way she does when she’s feeling carefree, all of sudden.
I blink the thought away. The streets are empty with everyone at my parents’ house, no doubt asking Evie Fielder what the secret ingredient to her punch is. It’s just sherbet, but they don’t believe her; could be the pearls or the way her hair doesn’t move, but she gives the air that she’d never put store brand ice cream in her vintage crystal punch bowl, and yet she does.
There’s a twinge, deep in my chest, when I think about her lately. My mom—Evie, always Evie—is at the center of the good part of my life. Everything I am, everything my life gets to be, is because she insisted on fostering a set of almost teenaged twins. She could’ve picked an infant, or a toddler even, but she chose us. Decided that we were worth the work. Because wewerework, Sloane and I. Sloanedoesn’t see it that way. I’m sure she can’t, with the way she keeps trying to pull Connie back into our lives.
She’s left it alone since things fell apart with Gen, but then, she’s kind of left me alone—something she’s never done. It would hurt more if it didn’t mean she was choosing Gen. And I know I’m being a coward, know that I should just get the fuck over my issues and reach out to Gen. Tell her how I’m feeling. But the fear of her leaving, the fear of her finding something better, looms like a shadow over the hope that we could be okay. Is this painful, visceral thing.
Back inside, multiple fireplaces roar, Anders taking turns between offering champagne and keeping the cozy ambience alive. There’s a lively game of pictionary happening in the sitting room, my mom and her friends on a team against the men, and I catch a glimpse of the neighborhood kids through the window, crouching behind the dark shrubbery in what looks like a game of manhunt. I smile to myself, despite the cloud over my head that won’t budge, because I remember this so well. The kind of childhood I got to have here is something I’ll never take for granted.
“...the number wouldn’t…” Sloane’s voice ebbs and flows from the corner of the room, where she’s perched in the lap of Brennan Leekes, just one of the many guys that thought they had a chance with my sister. “So then I dropped everythin’ and went to Boston, because she was there tryin’ to contact Grant, which—” she rolls her eyes just as I appear in their field of vision, Brennan sitting up taller in an attempt to look less wrapped up in Sloane than he is. My sister doesn’t budge, just lounges in his lap, her eyes slanted at me. “Oh goodie,” she slurs, her hot breath reeking of undiluted whiskey, “we were just talkin’ about you.” Her smile is feral, and I can tell that the weeks’ worth ofthoughts stewing in the pressure cooker of her mind are about to come flying out.
“Hey man,” Brennan offers, smart enough to pick up on the shift in Sloane’s mood. “Long time no see.” As gently as he can—he really was always a nice guy—he readjusts her on his lap, deftly placing her on the chair in his place before giving me a quick pat on the shoulder. “We’ll catch up later?”
“Where are you goin’?” Sloane pouts, her arms crossing dramatically.
“Just grabbing punch,” he lies. “It’s just whiskey in her cup,” he says to me under his breath before shuffling out of sight, and I nod, like I didn’t already know.
“You ruin everything. Have you ever justnot caredfor, like, a minute of your life?” she scowls, glaring up at me. “Oh wait—you tried that.Didn’twork out for you.” I try my best to school my features at her flippant mention of Gen.
