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I’m relieved it wasn’t Jeremy.
And just like a similar dreary day, I think about how double-edged it is—to feel such stark relief and yet such agony, you wonder what’s the point of feeling anything good at all?
So lost in my spiraling thoughts, I don’t notice the car pulling up in the near distance. A door opening and slamming registers only after I stiffen at the sound of fast-approaching footsteps.
My lip kicks up in a bitter, resigned smile.
Deep down, I knew calling him was a mistake. I should’ve called Shawn. Or, hell, Gavin. Why I called Jeremy Montgomery of all fucking people…
I don’t know.
I don’t even remember making the decision to do it.
I just…
Wanted him.
Needed him.
To make me understand.
To make this go away.
Something.
“What did you do?” My eyes fall shut at the sound of his pained voice. “What the fuck did you do, Mason?”
Sniffing, I bring the bottle to my lips, and take a long, bolstering gulp.
There’s a sharp intake of air cutting through the cemetery, and faster than I can blink he’s there, grabbing the bottle from me.
“Hey!” I shout as he side-steps out of my reach. Spearing him with a glare, I stumble to a stand. “Give that back.”
Amber eyes bulge at me with more fire than I’ve ever seen, tendons straining against the smooth, pale column of his neck. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Oooh, he’s pissed.
A quiet, rusty chuckle leaves me, and hell if it doesn’t make him look all the more furious.
But there’s something else there too—something that registers through my drunken haze. A wariness that pinches the corners of his eyes and flattens his mouth as his gaze keeps darting between me and the headstone just off to the side of me.
“Mason…” he says slowly. “What are you doing here?”
I spread my arms. “What does it look like?”
His gaze reddens, and he shakes his head. “I don’t…”
“Don’t what? You don’t visit her either?” I bark out a laugh, and it’s ugly and raw, cracking into the rain-strung cemetery. I tip my head back, roughly scrubbing my hands down my face. “Fuckkkkk!” I half-shout, half-groan into my palms.
God, no wonder he wishes it was him instead.
He’s had to watch me fall apart over and over and over again…
Fall apart over her…
Not just me, but his parents too. Waylon…
Repeatedly, we’ve thrown our grief in his face, not realizing what it would do to him. This is Jeremy for fuck’s sake. The boy who, for as long as I’ve known him, has always felt like something was wrong with him. The boy who once told me how he feels like a burden. The boy who’s always fought so hard to melt into the background, so no one would spare him too much attention.
