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He shakes his head. ‘I didn’t. I had no idea. And I preferred it that way, not knowing who it was. I felt like I could say anything and it wouldn’t matter because we’d never meet. You think I’d tell a girl from school about a hamster I found in my piano?’ He’s quiet for a moment, and I let him gather his thoughts. ‘I didn’t know until the morning after Archer’s party, when you were in my kitchen and you told meIt’s okay to make mistakes, as long as you get up and try again.And I knew then, but all I could think was how sometimes you need to hear something, even if you know the truth of it. It’s difficult to take advice when it’s your own.’
I recall that morning. The smell of eggs and bacon, the light making the ebony cabinets seem impossibly darker, the muscles in Chase’s back shifting beneath his shirt, and the way he went still when I said those words to him. How he refused to look at me after.
‘How did you even get my number in the first place?’
He hesitates, and I actually want to slap him, the fact he still wants to keep things from me, even now. ‘Cassie. She didn’t say whose number it was, only something about a girl she wanted to set me up with. But it was never about that for me, I swear.’
Of course it was Cassie.Of courseit was. She must have seen Archer checking me out, felt threatened, and tried to hook me up with Chase to get me out the way.
Bitch.
‘Why did you keep talking to me, then?’ My voice is thick, because I know I’m never going to have the simplicity of Chase’s friendship anymore. Not after this.
‘Because I didn’t realise how much I needed you in my life,’ he says. ‘How much I enjoyed talking to you. You didn’t know who I was, so I could keep up the pretence. I could tell you everything and it still wouldn’t matter.’
‘So, you used me to unload your burdens.’
His expression turns pained, but I go on, ‘I should charge you for my time. You must owe me at least two-hundred quid.’
He lets out a breath, clearly relieved I haven’t thrown him out, but I’m not done.
Not even close.
‘You let me talk about my life.’ My voice catches, but he just looks at me as I wrench out every word as surely as if they were blades. ‘About belonging, about the point of everything, about love and failure—knowing who I was. Because you were too afraid to be yourself. Because you wanted someone to dump your shit onto, and you chose me.’
‘It wasneverlike that—‘
‘Well, guess what? I used you for the exact same reason, but the only difference is that I needed you to be real. I wanted to meet you, because I needed a friend. A true friend.’
‘Frankie, I—‘
‘You watched me lose everyone.’ I don’t even realise I’m crying until I feel wet pool in my collarbones. ‘Cassie, my mum, Archer—andyou weren’t there.’
His eyes are wide. I think he’s actually worried he’s hurt me more than he realised. He turns his body fully to face me. ‘I tried to tell you, but I was scared of this. Of hurting you—‘
‘Because I’m a crazy bitch, you mean?’ The words are out before I can stop them, and I’m surprised at how bitter they sound, how much I believe them.
‘What?’ He shakes his head. ‘Why would I think—?’ And then his incredulity sharpens into something dangerous and dark and stormy, and he says through clenched teeth, ‘Did Archer tell you that?’
I shake my head, but the movement is too fast, too sudden. I swat my tears. ‘Why am I always fuckingcrying?’
‘Talk to me, baby.’
And maybe it’s the softness in his voice, or the haunted look in his eyes, or the fact that Chase is here—thatKaiis here—, or that his hands look as though they’re ready to catch me if I fall apart, that I say, ‘The first time he hit me, he told me I was dramatic for crying about it, that it was just a scratch. And each time after that, when he did something I wasn’t happy with, he mademefeel bad, like I was crazy. And I don’t know if I’m going insane, if he’s right and I really am just overreacting about everything, if I’ve been wrong all along, but... I wanted to tell you, to talk to you about it, but he pulled my hair and told me I couldn’t speak to you ever again, and I was scared, Chase. I was so scared—‘
My words break off as something punches the air from my lungs. I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t—
‘Jesus, Frankie.’ Chase gathers me into his lap and leans back against the headboard, and I fold into him, my face scrunched into his shirt as he rubs my back, but I’m not crying anymore. My body shakes so violently my teeth chatter. ‘It’s okay. I’m here now. Everything’s going to be okay.’
But it won’t be, will it?I want to say.Because even though Archer is no longer in my life, I still carry the weight of everything he did to me. It lingers and festers and feeds off of me when I’m not looking, when I’m least expecting it, and in those moments I’m back in his car or pressed against the bed or my temple stings, and I smell the ale on his breath and see the hate in his eyes and it takes everything out of me to convince myself he’s not there, that I’m safe, safe, safe—
But I say none of that, because at that moment Chase sucks in a sharp breath and whispers, ‘Did you paint this?’
I follow his gaze. I completely forgot about that stupid mountain—but it isn’t stupid. It’s probably the only reason I get out of bed most days.
I scramble to explain. ‘It’s nothing—‘
‘It’s not nothing. It’s beautiful.’ He looks down at me, and it’s the wonder in his eyes that stops my breathing entirely. ‘You’re beautiful.’
