“A failure?” he echoes, biting the word out as if it’s personally offended him in some way. He grips my face, tilting my head up toward his. He strokes his thumb under my eye, collecting the last of my tears. “Scarlett, you are the smartest person I know. You arewonderful.”
“I’m a mess,” I choke out.
“So am I, so is everyone at our age.” He smiles, and he presses the softest kiss to my forehead. He soothes me like he’s done it a million times, kissing that spot on my forehead again like he knows exactly what I need. Even his next words are whispered into the same place. “Listen, my dad is still in Vermont and our house outside the city is free. We can go there. Away from all of this. Away from NU. For as long as you want.”
I swallow back another cry. “I’ve been an ass to you. You don’t have to do this.”
“Of course I do.” That only makes me cry harder, squeezing my eyes tight. “Come on, angel. Let me help you pack a bag, and we can go.”
I don’t bother arguing with him. I let him help me pack, not caring that all my clothes probably haven’t been washed or about the fact that I look like I haven’t slept in three days. He helps me without judgment, even going into the bathroom and packing my toiletries too. When I think I’ve got all my stuff, I hug both ofthe girls at the same time, telling them I just need a minute, and they don’t ask me any questions. And then I hold Evan’s hand the whole way to his house.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: EVAN
On the two-hour drive to my dad’s house just outside the city, Scarlett doesn’t mumble any more than five words. I keep looking over to her every couple seconds to find her head pressed against the cool window, watching the city whizz past in the night. She squeezes my hand a few times, cold fingers wrapped around my warm ones.
I knew when Kennedy called me yesterday that something was wrong. I hadn’t heard from Scarlett since Christmas Eve. I didn’t expect her to text after what happened between us in the library, but still. I just wished I wasn’t so far away. I wish it hadn’t taken me so long to get to her.
I pull into the gravel driveway of my dad’s house, taking in the mountain-style home illuminated by soft orange lights along the large stepping stones. The rustic-lodge style of the house always comforts me. It reminds me of days back in high school when my dad would wake me up as early as possible to go on a run through the woods that surround our house. Mornings making pancakes and eggs. Evenings playing piano and chess and falling asleep to a movie on the couch. Beside Vermont and visiting my cousins, this is the only place I’d want to be during the holidays. And I think it’s exactly where Scarlett needs to be right now.
I turn to look at her, reaching over to rest my hand on the knee she has pulled up to her chest. “Are you okay?”
She nods, dropping her chin to her knee and turning to me. “I feel like all I’ve done is sleep, but I’m still so tired.”
I smile, nodding slowly. “Let’s get you inside.”
I open my door, slipping out into the cold night air before opening the trunk of my car and pulling out Scarlett’s bags as well as my suitcase. I carry them all up to the house and Scarlett follows behind me.
I unlock the security system on the screen outside the door—the only real touch of modernity in this place—before sliding my key through the lock, instantly greeted by the smell of pine cones and fresh laundry. Even though we haven’t been home in almost two weeks, the house still smells the same, maintained by our housekeeper, Leah.
We step into the foyer, and I hang up my coat on the hook, gesturing to Scarlett for hers. She narrows her eyes at me as she slips off her coat, toeing off her shoes at the same time. “Your house is . . . not what I expected.” She hands me her thick coat and I hang it up beside mine.
“It’s only me and my dad that stay here, so he didn’t see the use in investing in a huge property. It’s snug, but it’s home,” I explain, and she hums softly, taking in the exposed wooden beams, the rough-hewn furniture, and the deep browns, beiges, greens and oranges that decorate the house as we pass the living room on the way to the stairs. “The bathroom’s this way.”
I take her to the bathroom that connects my bedroom and the guest room, placing her bag beside the door. Scarlett sits on the lid of the toilet seat, and I sit by the edge of the tub, inspecting the different bubble baths before pouring one into the running water.
Scarlett stares at her palms in her lap, and when I notice they’re shaking slightly, I press my hands over hers to steady them. She lets out a deep breath when I look up at her, keeping my hands firmly pressed against hers. Her eyes shine and I take my own deep breath.
“Look, I know you don’t want to talk about what happened, but can I say something?”
She sniffles. “If you must.”
I know she’s teasing me, to cover up how she truly feels, but I need her to know I’m being sincere. I squeeze her hand once. “I’m on your team, Scarlett. I know it might not seem like it, but I always have been. I’ve always got your back, no matter what. If I have to keep embarrassing myself to prove to you that you can trust me, I’ll do it.” I swallow hard, staring at her hands. “You . . . You’re important to me, alright?”
Like I expected, she doesn’t say anything when I look back up at her. Her mouth opens and closes a few times like she’s searching for the right words, but they never come. I stand from the tub, squeezing her hands as I pull her up with me. The bath is full now, steaming and filled with bubbles.
Scarlett looks at the water and then back to me.
“Do you . . .” I clear my throat, scratching the back of my neck. “Do you want me to stay or . . . ?”
She smiles weakly. “I just need a minute.”
“Okay. I’ll be downstairs. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.” I nod once. Then twice. And a third time before I finally turn to walk out the bathroom, but Scarlett’s voice stops me. “Evan?” My heart thrashes in my chest, and I can tell she’s crying without even looking at her. I want to turn around. I want to take her in my arms and tell her that I’ve got her, over and over again, but I also know she needs this time alone.
I swallow hard. “Yes?”
“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “For everything.”
