He flashes me a tight smile. “I’ll be waiting here to take you home when you’re done.”
I touch my bracelet for courage, reminding myself why I’m doing this. Bree deserves to be free, and so do I. Shrinking into my green hops hoodie, I bury my hands into its pockets and shuffle my way over to Bree. The park is beautiful. It’s a clearing of grass with a spatter of picnic tables and a swing set surrounded by thick native vegetation. A forest of trees in various winter colors grows opposite the parking lot, hiding winding hiking trails from the main road. This would be a good place to run if it wasn’t also the location where I’ll experience my first breakup. How do Donovan and Nolan go through this all the time?
Bree waits until I’m right next to her before looking up from her phone, her hands shaking within her matching pink gloves. On the screen is a picture of her and James laughing on the beach with a clear, vibrant blue sky framing their faces. I immediately feel like an asshole.
“Hi,” she greets, her eyes darting up at my face and then back down to her phone.
“Hey,” I respond flatly, looking out at the trees knowing I can’t do what I need to if I look at her. “Bree—”
“This was the first sunny day of summer vacation last year,” she interrupts, turning the screen toward me. It’s a punch to the gut to look at their happy faces, but I oblige her if only to put off what I have to say a little longer. “You didn’t bother to call first. Just showed up in the morning with an iced coffee and a donut, announcing we were going to the beach. Apparently, I deserved a day out in the sun after working so hard on my finals.” She rapidly blinks away the moisture collecting in her eyes, sniffles, and clears her throat. “I was so mad at first because I wanted to sleep in, but you were so excited to go that I caved. All we did was splash in the waves and walk down the boardwalk eating too much ice cream, but it was my favorite day that summer. A day that was just the two of us being us.” She releases a watery laugh. “By the end of the day, you were so sunburnt that I had to slather you with aloe.” A soft laugh falls from her lips. “You still insisted it was the perfect day and wanted to make it a tradition to go every year.”
“I’m sorry he’s gone,” I whisper, at a loss at what else to say. My heart aches for her, but Nolan is right, it’s time to end this. Her James is gone, and I can’t keep pretending to fill his shoes.
“Not he. You,” she insists, her brown eyes wide and cheeks pink from the cold. Her hands clutch the phone tightly to her chest.
“No. Not anymore.” I sigh and take a step back, needing space between us, needing to get away from the James that fills her pictures with bright smiles and love in his eyes. Gesturing toward her phone, I decide to tell her as much of the truth as I can. “The guy from your stories, he died that night in the car accident. I’m sorry, but I can’t pretend anymore. No matter how hard you try, I’ll never turn back into the guy you remember.”
She scrambles to her feet, dropping her phone on the ground, and grabs my arm. “Please don’t do this,” she begs, tears dripping down her face. “We don’t have to go back to the way things were. I know you’re different, and that’s okay. We can get to know each other all over again. I’m sorry if I told you too many stories of before. I thought it was helping, but I’ll stop if you don’t like it. I promise. Just please don’t do this. Please don’t break up with me. Iloveyou.”
I close my eyes and let my arm go limp. My next breath feels like knives shredding through my lungs. Quietly, I admit, “I don’t love you.”
Bree sobs like a wounded animal, pulling on my arm like a lifeline that she doesn’t know has been cut. “Please,” she whimpers. “You loved me once. You can love me again. I’ll wait.”
Shaking my head, I open my eyes so I can look into hers, that way she can see it’s the end. “I don’t want to. I’m a different person who wants to live a different life. Not one that’ll be constantly compared to who I was.”
She pulls away like I’ve burned her and walks backward, tripping onto the bench of the picnic table. Her expression turns hard, and she spits out, “This is abouther, isn’t it? I saw how you looked at her during lunch.”
“Her name isCallie, and she has nothing to do with this,” I lie, my tone harsh and defensive. Even if she has every right to be mad, I can’t stand the idea of anyone speaking badly of Callie.
“I didn’t say her name on purpose,” she sneers, getting back up and squeezing her hands into fists. “If it wasn’t about her, then you wouldn’t know who I was talking about.” Taking a deep breath, she shakes out her hands, and her tone grows more compassionate. “I get that your life is very confusing right now, and she saved you. It feels like you have a connection, but she’s literally dating four of the most infamous guys in school. Do you really think she has room for another boyfriend, and that they’d be okay with it?” She swallows heavily. “I love you with all my heart. I love you enough to figure out a new us, and you have my full attention. I’m not saying this to be cruel, but what do you have to offer her that the others haven’t?”
Taking another step back, I reach for my chest. Her words are a razor-sharp spear that pierces the weakest part of me without resistance, my greatest fear emerging from her ignorant lips.
How badly she’s shaken me must show on my face, because she takes two steps forward, her expression one of soft concern. “Let’s go back to my place. We can start over and get to know each other again.” She offers up a shy smile while reaching for the hand on my chest. “There are some things I wouldn’t mind introducing you to again.”
The mere suggestion of being intimate with Bree makes my skin crawl, and I feel like I’ve betrayed Callie in some way. Ripping my hand away, I stomp toward Nolan’s car, shouting over my shoulder. “It’s over, Bree. Nothing you say will change my mind.”
Her reply is cold and ominous, the waning sun setting her ablaze like a fury from old stories. “Go ahead. Ask her out. But don’t come crawling back to me when she finds out what a pervert you are and refuses to do the nasty shit you’re into—assuming you get that far. You may not remember now, but you will. Your body won’t let you forget.”
Ice fills my veins as I spin back to face her. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Check under the bed,” she taunts and then releases a bitter laugh.
While she reaches down to pick up her phone, I bolt toward Nolan’s car, determined to figure out James’s dark secret.
∞∞∞
I managed to stay calm for the ride back to James’s family home—as long as I ignored my feet bouncing nonstop—and kept Bree’s implications to myself. Whatever it is, it’s no one’s business but mine. Fortunately, Nolan was too distracted with brooding to notice anything amiss. I’ll help him with his problems after I solve my own mystery.
Once at the house, I shout a quick thanks and run inside the house. Making some excuse to James’s parents about needing to do homework, I race up the stairs and down the hall.
Slamming the door to James’s bedroom, I immediately start pulling anything and everything out from under his bed. It’s mostly a lot of baseball equipment, random ribbons and trophies from when he was in little league, and awful smelling gym bags. In the far back against the wall is a black box closed with an old bike lock and no sign of a key. I nearly overextend my arm to get it, my body too bulky to climb underneath the bed, but with my fingertips, I’m able to slide the box to the foot of the bed and retrieve it from there.
It doesn’t look particularly special, covered in various stickers of bands that no one has heard of—clearly freebies he got at some random festival. It’s a box that could easily be mistaken for nothing but a place to stash small mementos. Bree’s bitter laugh echoes in my ears, a final attack from a wounded creature. Whatever is in this box is meant to shock me.
“Alright, James, where did you hide the key?” I mutter, plopping the box onto the bed. “And what the hell were you into? I mean, I don’t kink shame, but please don’t let it be something illegal or with knives. Getting cut up gives me the willies, and I just came back from the dead, and I don’t want to immediately go to juvie.”
With hands on my hips, I scan the small room while considering where a kinky jock would hide a key to his stash of unmentionables. Based on how tucked away the box was and the attempts made to camouflage what could possibly be inside, I’m guessing anywhere.
