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“Like Riley did with Jeremy?”
My eyes snap to hers. “She talk to you about Jeremy?”
“Not really. She mentioned that she wrote to him, but never really spoke about him. I only knew about it because we all went to the cliff.”
I sit up, raising my eyebrows in question.
“Yeah,” she says, waving her hand in the air. “You know, on the anniversary of Jeremy’s death. We all went there…”
“You what?”
She rears back a little. “We went there because Jake thought she’d be there.”
“And she was?”
“She didn’t tell you?”
I shake my head. “So you were all there?”
“Not on the cliff,” she tells me. “Not the first time anyway. It was only Jake then. We didn’t want to pressure or overwhelm her to jump.”
“She jumped?” I ask, clearly surprised.
Amanda nods. “A few times.”
“Huh,” is all I say, my mind too busy spinning with thoughts.
“So what would you have written?”
“Huh?”
“In the letter, Dylan. To Dave? What did you want to say?”
“I wanted to tell him that I hated him. Again.”
“Again?”
“Long story,” I mumble.
“It’s valid.”
“What is?”
“To hate him.”
“It is?”
After typing something on her iPad, she looks up at me. “Of course it is.”
“Why?”
She places the iPad on the cushion next to her. “All emotions are valid, Dylan. Regardless of whether you think it’s right or wrong to feel them, they exist because they’re real. I could list a number of reasons as to why I think it’s okay to hate him. Or at least, to be mad at him. But that doesn’t mean it’s what you feel.”
“List them,” I snap. “Please.” Because I need to know.
She inhales deeply, her eyes on mine. “He left you, D. I mean, that’s basic right? When you think someone is going to be part of your life and then all of a sudden they’re not, that hurts. And hurt can easily turn to hate. Because it’s better than the alternative. He probably also made you feel guilty. Guilt can also turn to hate. Again. It’s better than the alternative.”
Even though I know the answer, still I ask, “Why would I feel guilty?”
“Because you feel like you should’ve known something was wrong. He was your friend. And now you’re wondering if the signs were there or if you just chose to turn a blind eye to it. If you were too wrapped up in the joys of your life, you didn’t see his.”
I exhale loudly, causing her to smile.
She continues. “You probably hate him because you feel like you have to live your life a certain way now because of him. You try to justify your life based on his death and you feel like you have to go above and beyond to give value to his death.”
“I don’t feel like I have to.”
She smiles wider. “But you want to?”
I nod.
“And, lastly, you’re allowed to hate him simply because he’s gone now. And there’s nothing you can do to bring him back. And I think, out of all the reasons, that’s probably the one that hits home the hardest.” She pauses a beat. “You miss him?”
I look down at my hands and nod again. “Like crazy.”
* * *
“Holy shit, babe,” Riley calls out, stepping into the house. “Did you fix the air conditioning?”
“Yep!” I remove the pipe from under the Riley’s bathroom sink and move quickly to let the gunk of hair fall into the bucket.
“Where are you?”
“Bathroom!”
Her footsteps near, stopping just outside the doorway. “What are you doing?”
“Clearing your pipes.”
She scoffs. “You wish.”
I replace the pipe and start to screw it back on.
“You got bored, huh?” she asks, kneeling down next to me.
“A little.” Lie. I was bored out of my fucking mind. There’s not a lot you can do in a house that’s not yours with a leg that doesn’t work.
“You went home and got your tools, D?”
I finish my task and start to sit up, taking her offered hand half way. “I got Eric to get them for me when he got some other shit.” I run my hands down my shorts. “Hi.”
She smiles. “Hi.”
“How was work?”
Shrugging, she says, “You had me looking at the clock, Banks.”
I attempt to stand but she places a hand on my shoulders, keeping me down. “So…” She lifts a leg and straddles my lap and I’m instantly hard.
I bite down on my lip, my dirty hands itching to touch her.
“What have you been doing?”
“Missing you.”
“Yeah?” she whispers, her hands on my neck, her eyes searching mine.
I nod.
She dips her head, her mouth finding my jaw. “I missed you too. All of you, babe.”
“Ry.”
“What?”
“Your mom’s going to be home any minute.”
Her lips move, hovering an inch in front of mine. “She’s not home now.”
Our mouths crash together, our kisses desperate. God I missed her. All of her. Her smell, her kiss, her taste. I use my hands to remember her, ignoring how dirty they are. I run them along her sides, down her waist and to her ass—forgetting where we are and what we’re doing. I get lost. In her. In the memories of her and the lust building inside me. Her hips push down, pressing into me, a moan escaping her lips and landing on mine.
