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Surely not. Tessa doesn’t look broken, but she’s falling apart, tearing at the seams.
“I tried to call you all day.” Dakota’s voice is so quiet, but loud enough for me to hear the edge beneath the words. “This is my second time coming by here. I was just leaving.” Dakota stares straight at Nora. “You were supposed to tell me about Michigan.”
Michigan—how could it have slipped my mind?“How’s he doing?” I ask, trying to gather an answer in my head.
“The same. Since you were ignoring my calls.” Dakota’s eyes dart to the ground. She looks like the words pain her. “I’m going to assume that’s a no. You could have just told me no.”
And there’s the guilt. Do I deserve it? I can’t decide.
Sometimes situations arise where black and white aren’t so clear as you grasp for the right answer, wishing the gray didn’t exist. This is one of those moments for me. I’m a good person, aren’t I? I’m a loyal friend and a stand-up citizen. I help women pick up their groceries, and I once turned in an envelope full of cash—$200, to be exact—to the police in Saginaw. I’ve never considered myself to be one of those people who find pleasure in causing others pain. I’ve never had to doubt my intentions or consider that maybe I’m not so perfect.
The thought is weird. This entire time I was judging all the guys around me, all the guys who cheat on their girlfriends and betray their friends, thinking of them as the scum of the earth, and I’m somehow better?
I’ve lied to Dakota’s face about Nora. I slept with Nora and I don’t think I ever even thought about telling Dakota. I would normally think this wouldn’t be her business—why wouldn’t it? She’s a big part of my life and she trusts me, yet I was going to keep Nora hidden from her? To make it worse, I have been hiding Nora away like a dirty little secret while making her feel bad for not telling me about her past?
I’m not the good guy, the nice friend. I’ve turned into the manipulative Gamemaker. Not that I’m having innocent children murder each other. Would Nora be the Peeta here in my story, or the Gale? I’m even more manipulative than Katniss—at least she’s fighting for her life; I’m just going back and forth between two women who care about me, and I can’t seem to figure out what to do. So it’s like I’m toying with both of them. Whether it was my intention or not doesn’t change the reality. I could have just told Dakota no or yes, instead of ignoring her calls all day while her dad is dying! What’s wrong with me? Is this what dating someone is? Losing touch with reality at the expense of everyone else?
That’s doesn’t seem fair. Or worth the hassle.
“I’m sorry. I should have answered when you called . . .” I start, not able to keep my eyes from peering at Nora, then back to Dakota. “It’s been a long night.”
I don’t catch on to how insensitive my comment was until the words have had a few seconds to marinate in the stiff air.
“Well, I’m sorry to interrupt your long night.” Dakota’s teeth are bared. “I’m flying out in the morning. Your aunt Reese is picking me up from the airport and dropping me off at the hospital.”
At the mention of my aunt Reese, my chest aches. I miss her. She offered a sense of normalcy during my entire childhood. Her and my uncle are two of my favorite people. Well, were. When he was alive.
“I’m sorry, Dakota.” I take a step toward her.
Her voice interrupts me. “Go with her.”
It’s Nora’s voice.
I turn around to face her. I must have heard her wrong. Her eyes are sad when she looks at me. “Go with her, Landon.”
“What?” I whisper, and put my hands on her arms, now crossed at her chest.
She nods and quietly repeats, “Go with her. It’s the right thing to do.”
I cock my head to the side, clearly misunderstanding what’s going on here.
“I’m serious. Being sad for her doesn’t take away what we have. It’s the right thing to do.”
