Page 75 of Never Forget

“The doorman was expecting guests,” Charles says in a way that makes me think it isn’t his first time he’s mentioned this fact.

“Nah, we fooled him.”

Chuckling at Charles’ exasperated sigh, I head to the kitchen and find leftover pizza and antipasto salad. The pizza is cold and the salad is warmer than it should be, but I’m hungry enough that it doesn’t matter. I make myself a plate, then load one up for Scott. He accepts the plate without complaint before retreating to a corner of the room, where he eats in silence.

I can feel him watching me from across the room. His bad mood penetrates the playful atmosphere, until I divert attention to what they’ve been up to the past few hours and where they’re headed when they’re done here. The three football players, driven mostly by AJ, roughhouse and cut up a lot while Alonso and I sit back and watch them act like fools.

While they’re distracted, I escape into the second bedroom to call home again. I talk to Simon, who assures me everything is fine, and then to Zane, who assures me there’s been no sign of people, drones, or anything else suspicious. He rechecked the entire house, including my grandparents’ and Simon’s things, for any kind of tracking or recording devices. And lastly, he relays that everyone is on track to arrive as scheduled. They’re staggering their arrivals both for safety and to minimize any further stress for my grandparents. I end the call and head back into the living room to hang out with everyone, feeling reassured that the plan is working so far, but no less stressed that I’m not there.

Eventually, Lawrence arrives. After leveling me, and then Scott, with a distinctly unimpressed look, he tells the guys that the coast is clear and they’re free to leave. There are cars downstairs ready to take them wherever they need to go.

Scott comes forward to thank everyone for their help, shaking hands and accepting an audible pound on the back from AJ.

“Man, what’d you do to piss everybody off?” AJ whispers as he wraps one arm around me for a quick hug. The others shake my hand or pat me on the shoulder as I thank them for helping us out and promise to tell them everything when it’s safe to do so.

Alonso is the last to reach for my hand, pulling me in to kiss me on the cheek. “Send the others my love, and good luck with that one,” he says with a wink, then follows the riffraff out.

Lawrence is the last to leave, looking like he might want to say something, but he holds his tongue and closes the door behind him.

I fall back onto the couch cushions with a heavy breath. Silence settles over the condo. The tension between us and the events of the day start to sink in, as if running around all day kept the reality of our situation at bay until the stillness set in.

My mind spins, reliving every moment of the day in a montage of intense feelings, confusion, and heartache.

I started off today feeling numb. The news about the drone attacks had torn me right out of the floaty, fulfilled feeling I’d been in after our day-long session and a morning joking around. After that, learning that Scott had been getting texts from whoever has been trying to scare or maybe even hurt me and the people I love most had sent me reeling. I don’t think I slept at all last night, too busy worrying over scenarios where the plan we made could go wrong.

Of all the things that could happen, I never once considered an outcome where Scott wouldn’t be part of my life anymore. Even when I acknowledged the possibility that he could be fired, I assumed I’d be able to fix it. That no matter what, he’d be coming home with me. Because I‘ve gotten used to having him in my space, whether I pretend to hate it or not.

And after everything I’ve done to push him away, I’m not sure I ever really considered that it was a real possibility. I always just selfishly assumed that he’d be there, that he’d continue to overlook all my flaws, that he’d want to be by my side for whatever reason has kept him here this long.

What if I finally did it? What if I finally managed to push him away? What if he’s realized I’m just as selfish, self-absorbed, and useless as my family thinks I am?

When the silence has gone on too long, broken only by the ominous sounds of another rainstorm brewing outside, and I’ve worried myself into an existential nightmare, I turn to Scott and whisper, “I’m sorry.”

TWENTY

SCOTT

“I’m not ready to talk yet.”

Naz nods, wringing his hands in his lap. “I understand.”

“Do you?”

He looks up at me, his dark eyes almost black. I can see the emotion there. The stress of the day, the uncertainty of it all, the way my own fear and uncertainty have clearly exacerbated how much he was already struggling.

It’s not very often that I’m in a bad mood. I’m usually doing what Naz has been attempting all evening, first with those teenagers, then with the guys here—trying to compensate for the negativity or lack of conversation. Somehow tonight we’ve switched roles. Which is a little funny considering what I’d been planning to do to show him my own sincere apology.

I’m very aware that he’s not the only one that fucked up today. My fuck up, in all actuality, was way bigger. Truthfully, I’m only this upset because I was terrified, and that’s on me. Maybe I should have trusted him more, the way he trusted me when he saw me skulking around the office with a stolen laptop.

I need to get a hold of myself, but I’m not ready to let it go yet. It’s going to take more than reasoning skills and rationalizing to get control again.

“I’m sorry too.”

Naz blinks up at me, and I don’t know if I’m imagining things or if it’s the lighting, but there’s a wet shine to his onyx gaze that I can’t look away from.

We stay like that for a long time. Me standing at the end of the couch, looking down at him. Him staring up at me. We hold eye contact, an entire conversation drifting between us without saying a word.

The tension in the room shifts, becoming something palpable shared between us. There’s an energy in the air, a vibration that settles in my bones and makes my limbs feel restless.