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“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know that?” I exploded.
“I’m not your problem, Wick.”
“I don’t fucking care,” I growled. “It hurts to watch you hurt. Okay? I couldn’t just do nothing.”
When she gulped and glanced at me sadly, I fisted my hand and pressed it against my heart. “I made you a promise that I wouldn’t let you drown, except that’s exactly what I did.”
Shaking her head, she said, “No. I just needed some time to process everything.”
I drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Alright then. I… I’m sorry I butted in where I didn’t belong.” I wiped a hand over my face. “It’s just really hard to watch you go through this.”
Finally, for the first time in eight days, her mouth tipped up in a smile. A maudlin, regretful smile, but a smile nonetheless. “Even though you didn’t have to do anything, thank you for interceding.” Nodding, she blew out a long breath. “I think it was exactly what I needed. I’m not sure I would’ve been able to pull myself out of that slump.”
“I could’ve done it a little more tactfully at least,” I muttered regretfully.
“Well, yeah,” Haven agreed. “You did make me cry.”
I winced. “Gah, don’t remind me.”
She held up a finger. “But…” she went on. “I think it was exactly what I needed. Kind words wouldn’t have shaken me from my trance like what you did. So…thank you.”
I groaned and let my head fall back. “Please don’t thank me for making you cry.”
With a shrug, she broke into the package of saltines. “Well, I’m thanking you anyway. Sometimes, the brutal truth is what a person needs most to really jostle them into seeing what’s really going on.”
I sighed without responding, just glad she was out of the living room and not watching TV. I think the voice of SpongeBob might just haunt me forever.
Watching her eat, I nodded and decided to go out on a limb.
“I, uh…” Clearing my throat as she looked up at me and hit me full force in the chest with those insightful blue-gray eyes of her, I started over. “A couple of years ago, I hit a low point, too. Went off the rails and was out of myself for a few days.”
“When you broke your hand?” she asked.
I frowned. “What?”
She blushed and ducked her head. “Sorry, I just now remembered that. Freshman year, a couple of months after I started dating Topher, I think. I remembered seeing you for the first time. You had your hand wrapped, and you looked so…angry.”
Wanting to forget that era in my life entirely, I tensed and held my breath. “Angry,” I murmured. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”
“Topher said you punched a locker and broke your hand. A couple of lockers, actually.”
Five lockers.
“Was it because he took over as the starting quarterback?”
I tilted my head, confused. “What?”
“Is that why you punched the lockers?” she prodded. “The sportscasters who were talking during the game the night you were suspended said you were the starting quarterback for the team before Topher was.”
I nodded, totally hating the direction these questions were headed. But I answered honestly. “No. I didn’t punch a locker and break my hand because he became the starting quarterback. He became the starting quarterback because I punched a locker and broke my hand.”
“Oh,” she said, lifting her eyebrows thoughtfully only to pause a
nd frown again. “Then why did you punch a locker, to begin with?”
I sighed and glanced at the ceiling.
Realizing she’d overstepped her bounds with me, Haven waved her hands. “Sorry. Never mind. I’m prying too much. Go ahead and say whatever you were going to say.”
