Fallen Crest Forever
Page 60
She was there for me. He was there for Mason.
The rest of that night, I cried.
Heather held me, and I kept crying.
I didn’t know when I would stop.
It was dark. Heather’s even breathing beside me told me she was sleeping soundly, but something had woken me up.
A flash!
There it was. I looked over. My phone was flashing. I already knew who it was. I felt him inside of me, and I clicked on the screen.
You okay? I just want to know that much.
Sadness lined every organ in my body. I didn’t think it would ever leave. Crying. But awake. You?
I didn’t wait long.
A minute later, Drunk.
It was a dagger to me. I didn’t want Mason to hurt. I didn’t want to hurt.
Thirty seconds later. How are we going to do this?
I took a deep breath. My hand started to tremble. What do you mean?
His reply: We should talk. I know why, but we should still talk.
He was right. I thumbed back, a hollow ache filled my chest, Give me a bit. I can’t talk and not break down yet.
Can I text you? Can we still do this?
I let the breath out. I already knew my face was wet again. I didn’t think it was going to be dry any time soon. A thousand knives were in my lungs, in my throat. I couldn’t breathe without pain. I couldn’t swallow without pain. I couldn’t move without pain.
Have to. I can’t do this without you.
My phone buzzed back his reply. Love you.
Love you. Be safe.
You too.
I’m at Courtney and Grace’s.
I know. Taylor told Logan. He told me.
Logan’s mad.
He doesn’t understand.
He doesn’t understand. Those words. I stared at them. It felt right to be texting with Mason. It felt like we were back together. I was just at a friend’s house, but that wasn’t real. I’d walked away—no, that’s not even right. He let me go. He walked for me, and then I was carried away.
Those thousand knives suddenly became ten thousand knives.
I wanted Mason back. I wanted to be in his arms. I heard Heather’s deep breathing behind me and wanted that to be him. I wanted it with each of the knives pushing inside of me.
I couldn’t respond. My hands were suddenly clammy, and the shaking was too much. I wouldn’t be able to hold on to the phone in a few seconds.
Then, it buzzed. I will make things right. I promise.
One large teardrop fell onto the phone. It blurred his words. I wiped it off with my thumb, but tucked the phone under the pillow next to me. I slept with those words in my head.
The next day passed in a blur, and the following night, Mason texted again as I lay in bed.
Sam?
Mason.
I wanted to smile, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I wanted to ignore how I needed to hear from him. I couldn’t do that either.
Still okay?
I wouldn’t answer that. Did you go to class?
Have to. I can’t play if I don’t.
I didn’t care if I ran this weekend, but it was different for him. Thousands cared if he played. One missed race from me wouldn’t go noticed by too many, for now. That would change, but for now I was okay.
I texted, You’re loved and adored.
Fuck. I don’t care about that. You know that.
I did. And I felt my tears. They always came. Are things right yet?
I didn’t know what we could do. I knew I was being irrational to ask that—nothing could have changed that quickly—but I couldn’t stop my fingers. I couldn’t stop the swell of hope filling my chest, even though I knew what his answer would be. But still, I waited.
Another minute.
Then, We should have the official talk.
I could only grip my phone as I stared at his last response. Talk. Official.
That’s right. We were still unofficially broken up, and ice-cold dread sliced my veins. If we talked, the unofficial part would become official. Call me a coward, but I was okay living in the in-between.
Not yet. I typed.
Can I tell you I love you?
Deep breath. Always.
Then I do. Always.
I didn’t go to classes that week. Heather remained at my side, and while Courtney and Grace went on with their lives, mine was at a standstill. I didn’t go to practice. I was given time off from the team because of the parking lot incident, but it wouldn’t have mattered. I wouldn’t have gone running anyway. If I started, I wouldn’t stop.
Late one night, I woke hearing raised voices in the apartment. Heather wasn’t next to me, and as I padded barefoot down the hallway, I heard her say, “Back up, Kade.”
My heart jumped.
Mason?
I hurried forward, then heard Logan’s angry voice, “She’s mine too, Heather.”
I stopped, seeing Courtney and Grace in the kitchen. They were in my line of sight and both saw me. Their eyes were wide, filled with an emotion I didn’t want to recognize. I pulled my gaze away. Grace sat at the kitchen table, a blanket pulled around her. Courtney stood in front, with one hand on the table and the other resting on her chest. I could understand the fear in their eyes.
Logan was here. Logan was pissed off. I felt their intimidation even before leaving the bedroom, but the other emotion I saw in their gazes—I swallowed hard.
I didn’t want their pity.
Why would they pity me?
“You don’t think this is hard on her?” Heather snapped. “You’re going to make it worse. You can’t come here and bully these two girls—”
“She’s my family! Stop protecting her from me.”
“She’s mine too, and you’re damn straight I will. Back off, Logan. I mean it.”
A deep growl came from him. “Jax, I swear—”
Courtney and Grace jumped. Their eyes grew even wider.
Grace gasped.
Courtney jerked forward, then braked when Heather shot back, “What? You’re going to threaten me? You’re forgetting I know you. I’m not like these two girls who are probably scared of you right now. I know you love Sam, and I know you’re hurting, and I know all this anger is because you’re scared you’re losing another family member. You’re not. Okay?” She softened her tone. “I don’t know what’s going on, and I’m guessing you don’t either, but they do. You have to trust them.”
“He’s not doing anything!” Another eruption from the hallway.
Smack!
Something hit the wall.
“You don’t know that either.”
“He’s not here.”
Heather sounded tired, but sympathetic. “She’s texting at night.”
“What?”
“She texts. At night. She thinks I’m sleeping, but I wake up too. I’m assuming it’s Mason on the other end.”
He was quiet. Then, a few beats later he asked, “How do you know?”
He asked like his life depended on it.
“Because she sleeps better afterward.”
“Oh.”
She coughed, clearing her throat, and her voice took on an edge of kindness. I knew that was just for Logan. “I’ll tell her you came and wanted to hug her. That’s all I’ll say.”
I hadn’t heard Heather talk like that to anyone else.
“Thank you.”
I closed my eyes, feeling a pang in my chest. I pressed against the wall and tried to stop the waterworks. These fucking tears.
“How do I fix this, Heather? I don’t know how to fix it.”
He was a broken little boy.
I was Helen. I had just ripped apart his family—again.
I sunk to my knees. Oh, God. I couldn’t . . .
“Sam!”
Courtney rushed to my side, her hand touching my back, but then it was brushed aside. Two strong arms lifted me up, and Logan carried me back to the bedroom. He laid me on the bed and stepped back.
He hung his head, his hands pushed into his pockets. “Is that true? Is he texting you?” he asked, his voice so raw and gruff.
I nodded. My throat was scraped clean. It wasn’t working anymore.
Logan drew in a breath, and his shoulders grew rigid. “Is he going to fix this?”
I paused.
I hoped.
And I nodded.
Logan’s eyes met mine. I saw the unshed tears. “I want to stay. Let me stay.”
The rest of that night, I cried.
Heather held me, and I kept crying.
I didn’t know when I would stop.
It was dark. Heather’s even breathing beside me told me she was sleeping soundly, but something had woken me up.
A flash!
There it was. I looked over. My phone was flashing. I already knew who it was. I felt him inside of me, and I clicked on the screen.
You okay? I just want to know that much.
Sadness lined every organ in my body. I didn’t think it would ever leave. Crying. But awake. You?
I didn’t wait long.
A minute later, Drunk.
It was a dagger to me. I didn’t want Mason to hurt. I didn’t want to hurt.
Thirty seconds later. How are we going to do this?
I took a deep breath. My hand started to tremble. What do you mean?
His reply: We should talk. I know why, but we should still talk.
He was right. I thumbed back, a hollow ache filled my chest, Give me a bit. I can’t talk and not break down yet.
Can I text you? Can we still do this?
I let the breath out. I already knew my face was wet again. I didn’t think it was going to be dry any time soon. A thousand knives were in my lungs, in my throat. I couldn’t breathe without pain. I couldn’t swallow without pain. I couldn’t move without pain.
Have to. I can’t do this without you.
My phone buzzed back his reply. Love you.
Love you. Be safe.
You too.
I’m at Courtney and Grace’s.
I know. Taylor told Logan. He told me.
Logan’s mad.
He doesn’t understand.
He doesn’t understand. Those words. I stared at them. It felt right to be texting with Mason. It felt like we were back together. I was just at a friend’s house, but that wasn’t real. I’d walked away—no, that’s not even right. He let me go. He walked for me, and then I was carried away.
Those thousand knives suddenly became ten thousand knives.
I wanted Mason back. I wanted to be in his arms. I heard Heather’s deep breathing behind me and wanted that to be him. I wanted it with each of the knives pushing inside of me.
I couldn’t respond. My hands were suddenly clammy, and the shaking was too much. I wouldn’t be able to hold on to the phone in a few seconds.
Then, it buzzed. I will make things right. I promise.
One large teardrop fell onto the phone. It blurred his words. I wiped it off with my thumb, but tucked the phone under the pillow next to me. I slept with those words in my head.
The next day passed in a blur, and the following night, Mason texted again as I lay in bed.
Sam?
Mason.
I wanted to smile, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I wanted to ignore how I needed to hear from him. I couldn’t do that either.
Still okay?
I wouldn’t answer that. Did you go to class?
Have to. I can’t play if I don’t.
I didn’t care if I ran this weekend, but it was different for him. Thousands cared if he played. One missed race from me wouldn’t go noticed by too many, for now. That would change, but for now I was okay.
I texted, You’re loved and adored.
Fuck. I don’t care about that. You know that.
I did. And I felt my tears. They always came. Are things right yet?
I didn’t know what we could do. I knew I was being irrational to ask that—nothing could have changed that quickly—but I couldn’t stop my fingers. I couldn’t stop the swell of hope filling my chest, even though I knew what his answer would be. But still, I waited.
Another minute.
Then, We should have the official talk.
I could only grip my phone as I stared at his last response. Talk. Official.
That’s right. We were still unofficially broken up, and ice-cold dread sliced my veins. If we talked, the unofficial part would become official. Call me a coward, but I was okay living in the in-between.
Not yet. I typed.
Can I tell you I love you?
Deep breath. Always.
Then I do. Always.
I didn’t go to classes that week. Heather remained at my side, and while Courtney and Grace went on with their lives, mine was at a standstill. I didn’t go to practice. I was given time off from the team because of the parking lot incident, but it wouldn’t have mattered. I wouldn’t have gone running anyway. If I started, I wouldn’t stop.
Late one night, I woke hearing raised voices in the apartment. Heather wasn’t next to me, and as I padded barefoot down the hallway, I heard her say, “Back up, Kade.”
My heart jumped.
Mason?
I hurried forward, then heard Logan’s angry voice, “She’s mine too, Heather.”
I stopped, seeing Courtney and Grace in the kitchen. They were in my line of sight and both saw me. Their eyes were wide, filled with an emotion I didn’t want to recognize. I pulled my gaze away. Grace sat at the kitchen table, a blanket pulled around her. Courtney stood in front, with one hand on the table and the other resting on her chest. I could understand the fear in their eyes.
Logan was here. Logan was pissed off. I felt their intimidation even before leaving the bedroom, but the other emotion I saw in their gazes—I swallowed hard.
I didn’t want their pity.
Why would they pity me?
“You don’t think this is hard on her?” Heather snapped. “You’re going to make it worse. You can’t come here and bully these two girls—”
“She’s my family! Stop protecting her from me.”
“She’s mine too, and you’re damn straight I will. Back off, Logan. I mean it.”
A deep growl came from him. “Jax, I swear—”
Courtney and Grace jumped. Their eyes grew even wider.
Grace gasped.
Courtney jerked forward, then braked when Heather shot back, “What? You’re going to threaten me? You’re forgetting I know you. I’m not like these two girls who are probably scared of you right now. I know you love Sam, and I know you’re hurting, and I know all this anger is because you’re scared you’re losing another family member. You’re not. Okay?” She softened her tone. “I don’t know what’s going on, and I’m guessing you don’t either, but they do. You have to trust them.”
“He’s not doing anything!” Another eruption from the hallway.
Smack!
Something hit the wall.
“You don’t know that either.”
“He’s not here.”
Heather sounded tired, but sympathetic. “She’s texting at night.”
“What?”
“She texts. At night. She thinks I’m sleeping, but I wake up too. I’m assuming it’s Mason on the other end.”
He was quiet. Then, a few beats later he asked, “How do you know?”
He asked like his life depended on it.
“Because she sleeps better afterward.”
“Oh.”
She coughed, clearing her throat, and her voice took on an edge of kindness. I knew that was just for Logan. “I’ll tell her you came and wanted to hug her. That’s all I’ll say.”
I hadn’t heard Heather talk like that to anyone else.
“Thank you.”
I closed my eyes, feeling a pang in my chest. I pressed against the wall and tried to stop the waterworks. These fucking tears.
“How do I fix this, Heather? I don’t know how to fix it.”
He was a broken little boy.
I was Helen. I had just ripped apart his family—again.
I sunk to my knees. Oh, God. I couldn’t . . .
“Sam!”
Courtney rushed to my side, her hand touching my back, but then it was brushed aside. Two strong arms lifted me up, and Logan carried me back to the bedroom. He laid me on the bed and stepped back.
He hung his head, his hands pushed into his pockets. “Is that true? Is he texting you?” he asked, his voice so raw and gruff.
I nodded. My throat was scraped clean. It wasn’t working anymore.
Logan drew in a breath, and his shoulders grew rigid. “Is he going to fix this?”
I paused.
I hoped.
And I nodded.
Logan’s eyes met mine. I saw the unshed tears. “I want to stay. Let me stay.”
