Mercer hums thoughtfully. “You’ve taken MDMA before, I presume?”
“Yes.” There’s no point in downplaying it, especially with him. “I used to do it almost every time I went out.”
He doesn’t ask a follow-up question. Instead, he studies me, his brow creased.
The moment of silence gives me time to mull over what I want to say next. If this is our shot at reconciling, I want to put everything out there. Everything I can while still protecting Ty, that is.
“Will you do something for me?” I ask.
He straightens, his face twisting in a look of fear. “Anything.”
I press my lips together and take a deep breath, steadying myself. “Would you mind closing your eyes? While I talk, I mean. I want to tell you everything. I just—I just need to get through it, and I worry that if I have to gauge your reactions, I’ll chicken out.”
He swallows thickly, his throat bobbing, then sighs. “Don’t you dare try to leave this room while I’m not looking.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I assure him, offering a soft smile.
He cocks one brow in challenge.
“Close them please,” I whisper.
Finally, he does, and I begin.
“Before I came to Holt, I spent a lot of time alone. My parents…” Another wave of nausea hits me, so I close my eyes and breathe through it. When I’m certain I don’t need to make a run to the bathroom, I go on. “My parents died tragically and unexpectedly. It happened just a few weeks before Atty and Ty were set to move eleven hours from home to play hockey. Wewere all still reeling when they left, and I was alone. I was profoundly alone.
“Growing up, I spent most of my free time at the local ice arena with my parents, watching the boys play hockey. On weekends we’d travel all over to tournaments. As lame as it sounds, Atty and Ty were my best friends. Our family was close. I didn’t just love my parents; I truly enjoyed spending time with them. So much changed so quickly around the time I turned eighteen. I… I lost all of them at once.”
I stop that part of the story there. I’m afraid if I go any further, I’ll go too far.
“I went to my first college party just to force myself out of the house. It was the third week of the semester, but most of my classes were online. I had gone six days without leaving the house or talking to anyone besides Atty and Ty. That weekend, they had an away game in a remote town even farther north than where they were living, so I knew I wouldn’t hear from them for a few days. It was just me and my grief.”
I pause, watching Mercer’s face for any signs of disapproval. His expression is even, his eyes still closed, and his posture is mostly relaxed. He’s listening, and as promised, he’s letting me try to get through this.
“I was scared out of my mind when I walked in. But I quickly learned how much alcohol would loosen me up. If I kept a steady buzz going, the loneliness and grief went quiet. I tried E for the first time the next weekend. From there, I experimented more, and eventually I became a certified party girl. It sure as hell beat being a deeply grieving, lonely girl. That’s all I had to look forward to for a while. I started to crave it… the warmth and sense of companionship from random hookups. The light, floaty sensation when the molly would hit me, or the loose, uncaring recklessness that comes with being so drunk I can’t see straight.
“I went out every weekend for months and months. I felt like I had unlocked a superpower. I’d party hard for three days straight and was somehow fortunate enough to recover quickly. Then I’d fall right back into the role I had perfected. The smart, prepared, overachieving student. The sweet sister and friend. I got really good at living two lives. During the week, I would hole up in the library during the day and ensure I was home at night to talk to my brother or Ty. On the weekends, though… I could be someone else. I could shed all the bad memories and trade my loneliness for emotions that didn’t hurt so much. I liked being wild and feeling free. I loved that I could forget, if just for a little while.”
Shoulders slumping, I blow out a long breath.
It’s not everything, but I’m drained, so for now, it has to be enough.
Timidly, I take one of Mercer’s hands in mine. “You can open your eyes now.”
He blinks a few times and slowly lifts his head until our gazes connect. It takes effort to fight the urge to look away. I don’t want to hide from him. I don’t want to leave anything unsaid.
For all I know, this makes no sense to him. I’ve never had to explain myself, so I’ve never really examined why I was so drawn to the party scene. Sharing all that may not be enough, but it feels like a first step. I refuse to be ashamed of the coping mechanisms I created. They were important for years. They were how I survived.
But last night was different.
Last night I was wild and reckless and loose, yet it didn’t help. Not even a little.
All my heartbreak was still there, even after several drinks. The pain lingered all night. The deep desire to be with the three men I’ve come to view as mine was completely undeterred by the drugs and alcohol.
“I regret how I behaved last night.” The confession is for Mercer, but it’s also for me. “I made poor choices for all the wrong reasons, and in the end, it didn’t matter. In the end, I still just wanted you.”
Once I get that last admission out, I slump forward, dizzy again and wildly frustrated with myself.
Strong hands cup my upper arms, then Mercer’s face is close to mine. “Is it okay if I hold you now?”
