Page 56 of The Has-Been

You both went through some tough shit.

All week, he’s been avoiding my questions. On Sunday morning, I filled him in on what happened after I left her condo Saturday, and he acted like he had no idea what she might be talking about when she suggested that she had gone through something hard, too.

Then, when I was taping his ankle before practice on Tuesday, I brought it up again, but he changed the subject, asking if I wanted to go to Melbourne’s after practice.

“You fucking bastard,” I declare.

“What?” he asks defensively.

“You know something!” My voice raises.

He bites his lip—the only tell-tale sign that Morgan Reid is nervous. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit!” I yell, throwing my hands out. “Did something else happen? What don’t I remember?”

I push the strands of my hair out of my face. I thought she just meant the breakup was tough on her, that seeing me that way was hard. But what if there was something else?

Something I missed when I was too busy worrying how long it was before I could take my next painkiller.

Reid’s fingers dance over the steering wheel, confirming what I already suspect.

There is more to the story.

More that happened that he and Aubrey aren’t telling me.

“Morgan,” I warn, using his first name. Something I haven’t done since I first met him, knowing how much he fucking hates it. He’s started a fight for less than that—but at the moment, I couldn’t care less.

I watch his jaw tick, clearly annoyed with it.

“Tell. Me.”

“It’s not my business to tell.” He notes quietly.

“You’re my best friend!” I counter. “Did I do something? Say something I don’t remember?” I ask, thinking of that night and how little I remember.

I remember the parking lot. The arena. The lightpole. Reid and Aubrey finding me.

But I don’t remember much past that.

I don’t remember her leaving. I don’t remember me leaving. I don’t remember Reid starting CPR. I don’t remember Reid calling an ambulance.

Don’t remember being brought back.

Don’t remember what life was like with her.

Reid clears his throat, and I jump, being thrown back into the present. “What I will say,” he eyes me cautiously, and I can’t help but be hurt that he has been keeping whatever this is a secret.

But I suppose I can’t blame him—I haven’t exactly been in the right mindset.

“What Aubrey was going through...well, it’s something I can’t imagine having to go through alone…without the one person—” He cuts himself off as he parks, resting his head against the seat as we pull into the drive. After a while, he slowly turns to look at me. “You should’ve been there, man.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

“I’m her friend too, you know,” he confesses quietly. “I’ve already said too much. I’m afraid you’re on your own.”

I curse loudly as Reid starts to climb from his truck, but then he hesitates.

“I know you’ve spent a lot of time trying to forget the past. Trying to put it behind you and move forward,” he opens his door, “But some hard truths you’ve gotta face head-first. Ask her what happened. Keep asking her. Keep being there for her. Prove that you won’t fold when things get hard—and I think one day she’ll find it in herself to tell you. But you have to earn that right first.” His eyes go distant—like the words hurt him as much as they do me. “I’m going out tonight—June’s big Halloween party. Do you want to come? Maybe try talking to Aubrey? Say sorry for the dumb shit you said by trying to keep her away...?”