“It’s not hate,” he said roughly. “It’s…you have to understand the place that Mike and Brenda are living in is dark. Mike’s taking it out on you because he has no one else to hit. Right now, you’re it. You’re the face he sees when he’s in pain, but he’ll come around.”
“I should be lying in that bed, not Trevor.”
“No.” His voice was sharp. Sharp and rough. “Don’t you ever say that again.”
“It’s the truth.”
Something snapped in my dad. His eyes got all weird and his mouth was tight as he glared at me.
“I will tell you right now that I don’t want to hear that kind of crap coming out of your mouth. Understand? What happened is in the past. There’s nothing you can do to change what you did that night. It’s done. Finished. Do you understand?”
But he didn’t get it. I wasn’t so sure his answers were the right ones.
“It’s not over. Don’t you get that? No matter how much you all want it to be over.” My voice was loud, and I shifted away from him. “It’s all I can think about. It’s in my head every single day. If Trevor…” I had to stop for a second. “If Trevor doesn’t make it…” but I didn’t have the balls to finish my thought. I couldn’t say the words out loud, so I left them hanging.
“I know it’s hard, Nathan, but shutting yourself out and taking a vacation from life isn’t the answer either.”
“You don’t get it,” I replied. “It’s so much more than just a mistake. A mistake is putting milk in your coffee instead of cream, or calling the wrong play in a game.”
“I’m not minimizing what you did, Nathan. I would never do that. You made a mistake. You. All on your own, and it was one with tragic consequences. But you’re going to have to live with them. You’re going to have to deal with them.” His voice broke, and I felt the heat of tears stinging my eyes. “No one is perfect. Remember that.”
That was me all right. Far from freaking perfect.
“Yeah, well, my bad decision just might kill my best friend or leave him damaged for good. He’ll hate me forever.”
“Maybe.” My dad pushed away. “Maybe not. But whatever happens, we’ll deal with it. Your mom and I are here for you. I hope you know that.”
“You guys must be so ashamed.” We’d never really talked about this stuff before. After that night, when they’d come for me in the hospital, my mom had talked about everything except what had happened. And my father? He’d been real quiet. Scared.
“I’m not ashamed of you, Nathan. Don’t ever think that.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I wish that you didn’t have to deal with any of this. I wish that Trevor was good and healthy and that you guys were off with the band playing a show tonight.”
“That’s not gonna happen,” I muttered.
“No, it’s not, and I’m sorry it didn’t turn out that way. But I believe that the events of that night also set into motion the things that will define you. The things that will make you into the man I know you can be.”
My cell pinged, but this time it was a call.
“You should answer that,” he said quietly.
When he was gone, I glanced down, jerking forward when I saw who it was. Monroe.
I clenched my jaw as a wave of anger rolled over me. After Sunday, I’d thought…hell, I don’t know what I had thought. But I sure didn’t think she’d act as if I didn’t exist. Maybe she had figured out what everyone else already knew. That I was bad news.
The phone pinged for several more seconds and then stopped. I waited for a few minutes and then checked my voicemail, but there was nothing.
Tossing it, I sank back into the sofa, rested my head, and gazed up at the ceiling. I kept clenching and unclenching my hands, hating the heaviness inside me. But I had no idea how to lighten the load, and despite what my dad said, I wasn’t so sure I deserved it.
I’m not sure how long I was there, alone with all that darkness. It could have been minutes, but judging by the gloom outside, I was guessing it had been at least an hour. My mom poked her head in, a smile on her face.
“There’s a girl here for you, Nathan.”
“Yeah?” I angled my head so that I could look at her. “Tell me it’s not Rachel.” My mom wasn’t exactly a fan of Rachel. Hadn’t been ever since tenth grade when she’d come home from work early and found Rachel and me in bed. Naked and in the middle of getting busy.
Even so, at this point I was willing to bet Mom would let us go at it wherever the hell we wanted to, if that would make me happy. She just wanted to see me smile again.
“It’s not Rachel. It’s a really pretty girl with long dark hair. She says her name is Monroe and that you were expecting her.” She paused, her forehead wrinkling. “Who is she?”
Huh.
“Mrs. Blackwell’s granddaughter.” I saw the look in my mom’s eyes. “Hey, don’t get all excited. First off, she’s only here for the summer, and secondly, we’re not exactly friends.”
I scowled. She’d made it more than clear that I was nothing.
“Tell her I’m not home.” I added.
“I can’t.” Mom pushed back her long, blond hair and walked over to me, nudging my knee with hers as she rolled back on her feet. “She knows you’re here. If you want to blow her off, you’re going to have to do that yourself.”
“Awesome,” I said, jumping up to my feet.
My mom was on the small side, about Monroe’s height, and she had to stretch to reach me. She kissed my cheeks and whispered, “You’re welcome.”
I watched her leave through the patio doors that led to the back garden. My dad was out there, and I guessed she was trying to give me some space to deal with the “pretty girl” who’d come to see me.
Did I want to see Monroe? Did I have a choice?
“Screw it,” I muttered and headed toward the front door.
I smelled that summer scent that was all Monroe before I hit the foyer, and for a second, I let it wash over me.
“Pussy,” I said under my breath.
So she smelled good. She was still the prickliest, most complicated girl I’d ever met, and just because kissing her had pretty much been the highlight of my pathetic summer, it wasn’t like it had meant anything to her. She’d blown me off.
But I was curious as to why she had come to see me, and I guess it was that curiosity that pushed me forward. Or maybe I just wanted to see her.
She leaned against the wall beside the front door, her hair long and free—the way I liked it. Her shoulders were bare and so were her legs, and I took a good long look before meeting her eyes.
For a few seconds, there were no words. Hell, I barely breathed. That’s the kind of power that sat in the depths of those clear eyes.
“Out for a drive?” I said slowly, as if I didn’t give a shit.
Monroe took a step forward but paused, her hands swinging at her side. The dress was on the short side, and man, she looked hot in it. I tried to ignore the pull I felt toward her, but it was damn hard. Especially when she moved a piece of hair behind her shoulders and sighed.
“You could say that.”
“You look like you’re dressed for a party or something.”
“Oh,” she tripped over her words, “I…this was all I had and…”
I didn’t want to do this. Not with her. I just wanted the truth.
“What’s going on, Monroe?”
She took another step and I shoved my hands into my front pockets, shoulders hunched, a ferocious scowl in place.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“For what?” Something cracked loose inside me, something heavy. It broke away like a chunk of rock falling from a cliff, and suddenly I felt lighter than I had all week.
Was it the sound of her voice? Did she have that kind of power? Or was it the fact that being near her for less than five minutes had me wanting to crush her to my chest and just breathe in that summery, gentle smell.