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I deletedHarbor Westcott from my life a long time ago.
His number.
Our photos.
And as many memories as I could purge over the years, though the bin in the back of my mind is overflowing because I refuse to empty it.
The truth is that I didn’t want any hint of him seeping into the life I had after him. Then why did I beg Margaret to trade shifts with me on Saturday—me taking her morning—so I could be ready at five for him? Why did I try on the same red dress that had Harbor readjusting his pants at graduation last year? But more importantly, why am I texting his sister to get his phone number to ask if said red dress is appropriate?
Ugh!
Marina replies:It’s the same number he’s always had.
I type:I deleted it back in Beacon.
Three dots do the wave thing and then her next message pops up:Harsh.
Me:No, not harsh. What he did to me was harsh.
Marina:Not if you knew why he did it . . .
I stare at the screen and read the message again and over again. She knows why he left me? Has she known all along?
Marina’s his little sister, his only sister. I know they were close, so I assume they still are, but she and I were close for a time as well. I miss her. She was like the little sis I never had. I remember going to their house in The Pointe after graduation and her crying on my shoulder because he left. We were in this together.So I thought.
Harbor used to say she couldn’t keep a secret. Well, she’s done a fine job of keeping this one. I call her immediately.
“Hello,” she answers like she doesn’t have a care in the world while I’m over here panicking.
“Why did Harbor leave?” I pluck the dress away from my skin, not wanting to nervously sweat on it.
“I don’t think it’s my place to tell you, Lark. I’m sorry.”
Exhaling from the wind of hope being knocked out of me, I then ask, “But you knew why all along?”
“No . . . I found out when he returned.”
“Tell me something, anything, Marina, about why he left me?”
“He didn’t leave you.” She pauses, and then I hear her mom calling her name in the background. “One minute, Mom,” she yells, holding the phone away from her mouth.
She’s going in circles and not getting to the point. I’m seeing a pattern with the Westcotts.
“I’m back. You still there, Lark?”
“Yes?” I cling to her voice, holding my phone tighter and needing anything that will help me put this nightmare behind me once and for all.
“I don’t think I’m supposed to say anything, but I’m not sure Harbor ever will.” Is it wrong that I’m silently praying she shares what she knows with me?
My mind speeds through every reaction he’ll have once he hears she told me. I’m okay dealing with the consequences because I’ve never wanted to hear something more in my life. “Please tell me.”
I hear her blow out a deep breath, and then she says, “Don’t tell him I told you, though, okay?”
“Okay . . . Hey, how did you know we’re talking again?”
“You asked for his phone number, so I figured talking was involved somewhere in that equation.”
“Ah. That makes sense.” Am I ready to finally hear the truth?Damn right, I am.“Now tell me.”
