Page 87 of Thin Ice

"Where?"

"I went." His voice cracked. He pressed his hand over his mouth for a second. His shoulders were shaking. "I went to my parents' house."

Everything stopped.

"You went to Peninsula Point?"

"Yes."

"This morning."

"I had to, Liam. I had to see her. I had to know if she would." He was stuttering now, tripping over the words, his voice breaking apart. "I needed to know if she'd take me back."

Take me back.

I heard take me back, and it landed on every scar I had, every one, the ones from when my dad walked out and the ones from the first time Alex walked away and the ones I'd been stitching shut for months telling myself this time was different, he was different; we were different.

"You wanted to go back," I said.

"No, that's not what I—"

"You went to your parents' house to see if they'd take you back."

"Liam, listen to me—"

"I knew it." My voice came out wrong. Too loud. Too raw. I stepped away from the railing. Away from him. "I knew this was going to happen."

"That's not what I said—"

"You said take me back. That's what you said. You went there because you want to go back."

He was crying now. Tears on his face, his hands out in front of him, reaching for me. "No. No, Liam, please. I said her. I said if she would take me back. My mom. Just my mom."

But I couldn't hear him. I could hear the words, but they weren't landing because the thing inside me was louder, the thing that had been waiting since the first day we picked him up.

This is what happens. People like him don't stay with people like me.

"You saw how I live," I said. My voice was shaking. I hated that it was shaking. "You've been sleeping in my bed for two weeks. You saw the house. You saw the kitchen and my mom working doubles. You saw all of it, and you had to go back there."

"That has nothing to do with—"

"It has everything to do with it, Alex. Everything." I turned away from him. "Your dad waves some money and you just. You go running back."

"He didn't wave anything. I went there to—"

I turned back to him. "You could've told me. But you didn't tell me. You lied to me."

He flinched. I saw it. The word lied hit him, and he flinched and I wanted to take it back, and I also wanted to say it again because it was true. He'd looked me in the face and said, coffee.

"You're right," he said. His voice was small. "I should have told you. I was scared."

"Scared of what?"

"Scared of this. Scared of exactly this. I knew you'd think I was going back to him, and that's not what happened, Liam, please—"

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you would have tried to stop me."