Page 199 of The Way the Heart Breaks: Jade’s Story

36

END GAME

Tommy

By the time I leave Lucas's house, I'm fucking exhausted. Not physically, mentally.

I sit behind the wheel and stare through the windshield for a minute before starting the Legend, a car that Jade loves to drive, even though she’s a self-proclaimed truck girl. One day, I’ll make sure she has both.

I hate not telling her shit, but I made a promise to my brother.

Last night he called me, and just by the defeated tone in his voice, I knew, I fucking knew what “Hey Tommy” meant.

I left the house, Mom telling me I can’t keep throwing my life away for that boy. And yeah, I know I wanted to keep things calm, so maybe Jade could meet them, but I blew that shit up when I said, “I can do whatever I want, I’m eighteen.”

Lucas came home from practice Thursday night and found Kate in a pile of her own puke. He checked her into rehab again. He's living alone again. We did what we do when she does what she does. We smoked a bowl, ate the fuck out of chicken wings and pizza, chilled in the hot tub, and pretended for a few hours that the world wasn't falling apart around him.

Apparently, he did the same routine tonight. And Sadi, well, she’s a fucking trashy stalker. Somehow, she found out and showed up. And Tessa, well, she and my pretty girl stopped there to drop him off food and found the two of them in the hot tub.

I begged him to tell her, but after what happened with three on the field, and Sadi already having been a psycho cunt at school, he said he's done.

I called him on that shit too, told him I knew he was in love with her. All he did was shrug and say, “Yeah, well, sometimes that's not enough.”

I don't want to believe that shit, and that's exactly what I told him. Told him it's time to fucking rally, come up with a play to bring this game around and fucking win it.

I know his buzz had worn off, but the fucking play he cooked up was wack. But at least he has one now. I pound on the wheel a few times, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Sucks, fucking sucks because I'm not the quarterback; I don't call the plays, but Lucas, I'll always be on his fucking team. I'll always be rooting for him. Just like he will, me. I just hope I can fix this shit with Jade.

I don't even realize where I'm going until I see the road leading toward her house. I should go home. It's late. Too late to call her.

Her dad is probably asleep, and the last thing I need is Jack Ross answering the phone at midnight and hearing me ask for his daughter.

So, I keep driving. When I reach the end of her driveway, I pull over and kill the engine.

Her house is dark.

Except for one window. I know that window. The bay window. She pointed it out the first time we walked through the woods together.

That's my room.

I remember the way she said it, like she's showing me something important.

I look up, and I sit here for another minute, trying to talk myself out of being a dumbass. But she may be awake, may be studying, maybe she's pissed at me and can't go to sleep, or maybe she's wondering how to fucking dump me.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I'm opening the door, sneaking up the driveway, hiding in the shadows, like a fucking thief.

Standing at the bottom of a tree, I look up and smile. Men don't make trees. God makes trees. It's like he's standing there saying, here's your sign, because this old oak is perfect for climbing.

I grab the lowest branch and start up. I'm halfway to her window before I realize how fucking insane this is. I'm eighteen years old, climbing a tree in the middle of the night to get into my girlfriend's bedroom because she won't answer my calls.

Yeah. This seems completely reasonable. I reach the branch closest to her window and steady myself. The curtains are open, and I can see her bed.

I step out a little further onto the branch, and there she is, sleeping. She's curled up beneath the blanket, one arm tucked under her pillow, her chest falling softly as she exhales.

The cassette tapes, the ones I've bought her for the past three weeks, they're stacked beside her bed. A schoolbook is sitting nearby, probably fallen asleep studying. Hanging near the window are the tulips I gave her; she’s drying them.

My eyes move around the room. A red, sexy-as-hell dress is hanging where she left it, waiting for tomorrow night.