“Where the fuck were you, then?” That’s Gideon, who’s still very loud and still not shouting.
I swallow hard and press my lips together because somehow there’s nothing worse than the truth.
“It’s none of your business.” I manage to keep my voice steady.
“Javi—”
“Maybe next time you could put a tracker on me,” I suggest. “Save yourselves the frustration.”
“We’re not putting a fucking tracker on you.”
Silas steps forward. He’s frowning, and his eyes dart between my own, right to left, right to left. I thought I couldn’t feel worse, but I do.
“Are you checking to see if I’m high right now?”
“No,” he lies, and I almost scream. I want to tell him that he should be, that it’s the first thing anyone with half a brain would have checked, that if any of them were smart we wouldn’t be standing here having this conversation, we’d be halfway to rehab number four already. I disappeared for three days; I know what I’d put money on.
“I don’t tell you guys everything,” I hear myself say. “There. Happy? Do I still get to keep some things to myself?”
Gideon’s closer to shouting with every word. “Jesus fucking Christ, Javi, there’s keeping things to yourself and then there’s disappearing for?—”
I’m so busy being a dick to my friends that I don’t even see Wyatt coming toward me until he practically knocks me over, ashe smashes my arms against my sides and my face against his hair. I struggle for half a second because what thefuck, but he just squeezes harder, and I give up.
“I’m sorry,” he says, somewhere near my ear, and no.Thisis the worst I can feel, a brand new emotional low: Wyatt apologizing to me because I’m being the world’s biggest asshole. Jesus. What’s wrong with me?
I shut my eyes and swallow hard, wrap my arms back around him, and pretend there aren’t tears leaking out.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “Me, too.”
We stand there, hugging and crying, like a couple of idiots. A couple seconds later, my other side is engulfed as either Silas or Gideon joins us. Or maybe both—they’re blocking out the sunlight and I can’t see.
None of them says anything. I’ve got my face buried in Wyatt’s unshowered orange hair, clenching my jaw so hard my teeth might crack, trying and failing not to cry because they shouldn’t be doing this. They should be furious and shouting and probably packing their shit and ending our friendship. I don’t understand why they stick around, why they’d want a friend who’s always two steps from disaster. Maybe they’re all masochists or something.
“We were scared,” Wyatt says softly. His hair smells like smoke.
“I’m fine. I swear,” I tell him, and I really hope it’s true.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MADELINE
Sunday morning,I’m sitting at my kitchen table with my laptop and my phone, aStar Trek: The Next Generationepisode on in the background. In theory, I’m menu planning for the next two weeks while the crew keeps me company. In reality, I’m trying really hard to think about sandwiches but actually spiraling about Javier, and I find Picard very soothing.
I’m just saying, he’d know what to do right now. He’d give me orders in his commanding-but-surprisingly-gentle voice, and then I’d be sure I was doing the correct thing: waiting until 10:00 a.m. to call my dad and tell him more of the truth. Also, this would probably happen while theEnterprisewas being tracked by Romulans and forced into a wormhole or something, so my problems would feel minor in comparison.
I’m still staring vacantly at my television, wondering what moral lessonStar Trekwould impart about my dilemma, when my phone buzzes in my hand and I startle so hard I drop it on the floor.
Javier:Hey, sorry, I’m alive. I went for a hike and forgot to tell anyone
I have to take a deep breath and rest my forehead on the table. Between the relief that he’s okay and the disbelief that he did something that dumb, I’m too overwhelmed to respond. Also, thank god I don’t have to tell my dad where Javier slept on Wednesday night, because I’m a really bad liar and he would want to know why I didn’t say something sooner, and I still haven’t thought of a good reason. I’d probably either say I forgot, in which case my dad would want my brain checked out, or I’d come up with something likeJavier was going to throw a surprise party for his cat, and he didn’t want anyone to know where he was so he could get cat party supplies in secret.
I finally lift up my head, stare at my phone for several seconds, and gather my wits.
Me:Glad you’re okay! That’s a long hike.
Javier:Yeah, it was overnight
Javier:I gotta go but I’ll talk to you later?
