Twenty-Nine
Avery
Two Weeks Later — August
It’s been fourteen goddamn days, and every attempt to reach Kaleb since leaving Alpine Ridge has gone unanswered. I can’t blame him for it, what with the way I up and left, no fucks given about the responsibilities I was sloughing off. Logic isn’t enough to stop me from being disappointed, though.
Okay, maybe heartbroken is more accurate.
And not just about Kaleb either. I miss the camp itself.
I miss the days spent under the sun, the campfires when evening took hold. I miss catching Kaleb’s eyes on me when I least expected them, the places he’d take me to be alone. I even miss the kids—Elijah most of all.
So I’ve spent the past couple weeks craving a place I never thought I’d belong to begin with.
The fucking irony.
Needless to say, if there is such a thing as hell on Earth, I’ve been living in it since the moment my car crossed the border into Washington and entered the Vancouver city limits.
To make matters worse, whenever my damn phone makes a noise, I’m instantly checking the screen like a lovesick fool, hoping and praying to find Kaleb’s name on the screen. It never is, of course; it’s almost always my father, seeing as he’s the only person I have after abandoning or alienating every other person in my life.
It’s not my father’s name on my screen right now, though. It’s not Kaleb’s either. But the name I find instead does send a similar jolt of electricity through my core.
Alpine Ridge Office.
While I know it could very well be Colin—and it would make the most sense for it to be him—even just the slightest chance that the guy who stole my stupid, withering heart will be on the other end of the line has me scrambling to accept the call.
“Hello?” I say on an exhale.
“Avery?”
It takes me a moment to place the voice, but the second I do, I’m hit with a wave of guilt.
“Elijah. Hey, kid. What’s up?” There’s a beat of silence on his end, and it has my back stiffening with worry. “Elijah, is everything okay? Is something wrong? Why are you still at camp?”
Glancing down at my watch, I note it’s the last day of camp, and well after the time the kids should’ve been picked up.
“You just left.”
Shit.
“You and I both know I wasn’t supposed to be there at all.”
There’s a rustling on the other end of the phone, and I can almost see Elijah vehemently shaking his head in response. What’s worse, though, is the way I can hear the tears cracking his voice when he speaks.
“You told me we both were. You said we fake it ‘til we make it, to believe in ourselves, and all this other crap that all turned out to be a lie.”
“Elijah, none of that is a lie.”
“Then why did you leave?”
Swallowing harshly, I utter a gruff, “It was just time for me to go.”
“You keep lying!” he shouts, his voice breaking some more. “Stop lying. Dayton and Colton already told me everything.”
Dread has my blood freezing like ice in my veins. “What did they say?”
I hear his shaky breath on the other end of the line before he word-vomits everything he’s been holding back.
“They said you only talked to me and were nice so I’d tell my dad how great you are and you’d get back into college. And when you got what you wanted, you left like it was nothing.” He stops, a garbled cough coming through the phone speaker that’s enough to break my heart in two. “And that’s…really fucked-up.”
I don’t have it in me to remind him not to cuss. Not when everything he’s said is the truth. The whole plan was fucked-up. I thought the same thing going into the summer, but I still went along with it anyway. Executed it to perfection and then got the hell out of Dodge.
And Elijah was the collateral, just like Kaleb said he’d be.
I’m slammed in the gut by another wave of guilt, and this time, I don’t try to fight it. Instead, I let it drag me under and force myself to feel it.
“It was fucked-up,” I agree softly. “I hurt you, and I’m sorry for that. But I’m not sorry for being someone you could confide in. And I promise you, everything I said to you this summer was the truth.”
“I forgive you,” he whispers after a moment. “But I’m still mad at you for leaving.”
The coil wrapped around my chest eases up ever so slightly. “Oh, c’mon. Things couldn’t have been that bad without me there.”
“They sucked.”
I scoff. “You’re telling me that once I left, everything went right back to how it was on the first day? Colton and Dayton stopped hanging out with you? You stopped having fun? Because I have a very hard time believing that.”
“No, but it wasn’t the same without you there,” he replies immediately.
His honesty stings, but it’s the soft sniffle on the other end of the line that’s my undoing.
“I know.” My lungs ache from the pain I know I’ve caused him. Pain I wish, more than anything, I could take back. “If it makes any difference, I would’ve much rather been there for the rest of the summer instead of here.”
“Then why did you leave?”
My teeth sink into my cheek before I murmur, “It’s…complicated.”
“It was your dad, wasn’t it?” his disembodied voice asks. “I saw him by the lake the same day you left. Well, I didn’t know it was him. I had to ask Kaleb who it was.”
Just hearing Kaleb’s name is a shot to the heart. One I’m not prepared for in the slightest, nor for the way it steals all the air from my lungs. My eyes sink closed, and I drop my head to my chest, attempting to breathe through the pain of my own making.
And God, it hurts.
Love fucking hurts.
Clearing my throat, I somehow manage to find my voice, but it comes out only as a sullen whisper. “Yeah, it was my dad. The whole plan was his idea.” I pause and swallow, the truth tasting like bile as it leaves my lips. “But it’s still my fault. I’m the one who went along with it.”
“Why?”
Because I’m a coward, lying down and submitting.
The funny thing is, it’s not Shame screaming this in my head; it’s my own thoughts. The same ones that have been playing on repeat since Kaleb told me to go and not look back.
And it’s a choice I’ve regretted ever since.
Knowing the whole truth is far too heavy for a kid Elijah’s age; I offer him a sugar-coated version of it instead, framing it in a way he’s sure to understand.
“Pretty much the same reason you keep going to camp. I did it to make him happy.”
Even if it cost me my own, apparently.
Happiness doesn’t seem to exist without Kaleb. Not anymore. Not when I know what it feels like to be so obscenely, disgustingly filled with joy because of him. All the things that used to give me some sort of serotonin boost just feel bland in comparison. Dulled to a shade of gray.
There’s nothing like him.
Elijah’s voice calls on the other end, breaking through my thoughts.
“Avery? Are you still there?”
Shit.
Clearing my throat, I mutter, “Yeah, sorry. I’m here. Uh, what’d you say?”
“I told you that I understood why you left,” he relays. “And then I asked you if we’re still friends even though I kinda yelled at you.”
I roll my lips in to contain my chuckle. “Of course, kid. You’re one of the best friends I’ve got.”
It’s not until the words are spoken that I realize how true they are. It might not make much sense, but somehow, Elijah and I are cut from the same cloth. A little bit insecure, a lotta bit weighed down by parental expectations.
My only hope is that he pushes back and fights for what he wants. He could end up like me if he doesn’t, and that’s the last thing I want for him.
Elijah lets out a long sigh. “I thought you’d be mad at me for yelling at you. I’m glad you’re not.”
“I couldn’t be mad at you for telling me how you were feeling.”
“Yeah, I guess. I don’t like saying the hard things, though.”
My brows furrow. “The hard things?”
“Yeah, you know,” he insists softly on the other line. “The things that people won’t like to hear. Or the things that kinda scare me to say.”
Believe me, kid. I know the feeling better than I care to admit.
“You can always tell me the hard things, kid. Promise.”
I listen to Elijah ramble on for a bit after that, not quite zoning out, but not being as attentive as I should either. It’s hard when my mind is racing, reeling and circling around all the things I should’ve done differently.
All the things I’d change if I could finally break free of the chains binding me.
“Avery, can I tell you something else?”
I smirk and murmur, “Yeah, sure.”
Feeling like he’s about to tell me something ridiculous that happened after I left camp, I settle back into the couch and wait for the tale.
There’s a pause on the other end of the line before his soft voice drives rusty nails into my heart.
“I’m not the only person whose feelings you hurt. Kaleb…he wasn’t the same without you here. He was crabby a lot, and the rest of the time he seemed really sad.”
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the kid is trying to hurt me for leaving. But he isn’t that kind of person. He’s just…saying the hard things.
It’s not his fault if it rips me to shreds by hearing it.
Releasing a mangled cough, I try to breathe around the emotion clogging my throat when I mutter, “Now I really know you’re stretching the truth. I’m sure he threw a party the second my car left the parking lot.”
“If the party were a funeral, sure.”
I choke on a laugh, still feeling the sting of his admission despite his quick wit. Which, come to think of it, sounds a lot like someone else I know.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have left after all. You’ve clearly spent too much time around the twins.”
“Dayton,” Elijah corrects, and that has us both laughing a little. It quickly fades, though, leaving a sobering silence between us before he whispers, “Avery?”
“Yeah, kid?”
“I just want you to know…I really like you and Kaleb together.”
A knot catches in my throat, and this time, I have no choice but to let my voice crack around it.
“Yeah, kid. Me too.”
My conversation with Elijah has been on my mind a lot the last few days, and if I thought I was down in the dumps before his call, it’s nothing compared to now. Now, I’m downright miserable. Sulking in self-pity and regret.
And because misery loves company, it seems my father wants to get in on the action.
He’s been overly present the past few days, using some vacation time for us to take the boat out or grab lunch at his favorite restaurant downtown. And while some father-son bonding would be fine and dandy, he spends most of the time talking about me going back to Foltyn in the coming weeks.
The problem is, the more I think about setting foot on that campus as a student again, the more apprehensive I get. Not because of Kaleb or missing baseball or anything else, but rather because I don’t want it anymore. After what I did to Aspen and Keene, I don’t deserve it. And after going along with this plan of Dad’s, I only feel more unworthy of a second chance. It’s eating away at me like a parasite, and I know if I don’t do something about it soon, I may lose my mind.
Which is why I find myself walking downstairs this morning like I’m walking into my own execution, a pit of dread sitting in my stomach when I turn the corner to find my father in the kitchen.
“Avery,” he notes, barely glancing up from his coffee and paper sitting on the island. “I’m surprised you’re still here. I’d have thought you’d be heading out to see some friends before classes start.”
Acid burns the back of my throat at yet another reminder of what I’m about to do, and it has me swallowing a few times to rid myself of the taste.
Say the hard thing.
Say the hard thing, and let the chips fall.
“Actually, I’m not going.” I mutter, steeling myself for his reaction.
He’s not fazed. “To see your friends? That’s fine. There’s always—”
“No, Dad. I’m not going back to Foltyn.”
To his credit, my father does meet my gaze this time, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean you’re not going?”
“Exactly that,” I utter calmly, despite feeling anything but. “I’m not sure what there is to not understand.”
There’s a beat of silence where he studies me before setting down his coffee.
“What in the world has gotten into you?” Pressing his palms to the counter, he rises to stand. “After all the work we’ve put in over the summer—”
Oh, no.
“Let’s get one thing straight: I’m the one who put in the work, not you,” I snap, despite my better judgment. “I busted my ass at that camp, I earned my way back into Foltyn, and now, I get to decide if that’s even what I want.”
“What you want?” he echoes through a bark of laughter. “You’re barely an adult. Do you really think you have any clue about what you want?”
“Maybe not, but I sure as fuck know what I don’t want. And being like you takes the number one spot.”
He blinks a few times before shaking off my blow. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you since going to that camp, but—”
“What’s gotten into me is that I’m so sick of living a lie. Because all it’s done is make me fucking miserable.”
Jesus Christ, he can’t really be this dense?
But apparently, he can. I shouldn’t be surprised, since he never listens to a word I say.
“Living a lie?” His brows furrow, and he takes a step back to lean against the counter behind him. “Son, if you don’t think Foltyn is the right fit, then we can transfer you.”
“For fuck’s sake, this doesn’t have anything to do with school and everything to do with the fact that I’m gay!” I shout, tossing my arms out in front of me. “That’s the lie, Dad. I’m. Gay.”
Shame claws at my mind, but I don’t back down or cower from it.
The gloves are off now. The hardest thing to say in my life is out in the open…and the weight of is slowly starting to dissipate.
My father, on the other hand, looks equally dazed and confused as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Look, if something unseemly happened at that camp, you can tell me. Colin might be a friend and a client, but you’re my son. If you were put in some sort of position—”
“The only position I’ve been put in was thanks to you, Dad.” I can feel my face contort with some mixture of a grimace and snarl. “You’re the one who orchestrated this entire thing, after all. And I’m not just talking about me spending half the summer at Alpine Ridge either. Every hateful word or malicious action that’s ever come from me is all in direct connection to you.”
“How dare you put your decisions on me?” The words come out with a harsh bite but still in his low, even tone. Always keeping his composure. “You have this thing called free will. Use it. Don’t blame me for your mistakes.”
“How dare I ?” A maniacal laugh leaves me, and I rake my fingers through my hair. “How dare you, Dad? I’ve been your disaster in the making for years. I’ve turned my back on myself, on the things I want, on what is gonna make me happy, and for what? So I can be like you? So I can be filled with hate and ignorance?” I shake my head, my sardonic laughter slowly fading. “No, Dad. I’m done living that way.”
He scoffs, his hands dropping to grip the counter behind him. “I never—”
A violent, feral snarl leaves my mouth, and I slam my fist down on the counter. “Just stop talking and fucking listen to me for once!”
He opens his mouth to say something, but the look on my face must make him think better of it. I can feel the blood pumping through my veins with every beat my heart takes, and I focus my mind on it. Using it as a cadence to follow as I speak in a low, even tone. The same one he’s taught me over the years.
“When I look in the mirror, I hate myself. I hate the person I’ve become; the one you’ve had a hand in creating. You wanna talk about owning mistakes? Well, this is yours. Raising me to see myself as less than, and all over something I can’t control. I have voices in my head screaming at me about how vile and disgusting I am, and it’s been slowly turning me into someone I can’t stand.” My voice cracks slightly, but I clear my throat and push through. “You’ve made me despise myself for far too long, and I’m not gonna do it anymore. I’ve worked too fucking hard to put those demons to rest for you to break them back out of their cage.”
“Avery. Son, look…” He looks almost pained as he looks at me, eyes a mess of confusion. “If this is some sort of cry for help, we can find you a—a shrink or someone. We can fix—”
“I’m not a problem for you to fix! This is who I am, Dad. It’s who I’ve always been. I’ve just been terrified to show it.” I slowly link my fingers behind my head and look up at the ceiling, doing my best to calm my racing heart. Tears threaten to spill over and I blink them back, doing my best to keep my shit together.
“I found someone who saw me—the real fucking me—Dad. Someone who showed me what it was like to be free. To not hide in the shadows from who I am. To release some of this shame that I should’ve never had to live with in the first place. And he gave me the confidence to look at myself in the mirror and make the changes I need to in order to be happy with the person I see staring back at me.” I can’t keep the emotions from thickening my voice anymore, each word cracking and breaking as I speak. “And then you showed up at camp and…I tossed him aside. I walked away from someone I love because I was afraid of what you’d think of me. But I’m not gonna do that anymore. I never should have in the first place.”
A few stray tears manage to escape, despite my best efforts, but they’re tears of healing as much as they are tears of pain. I feel lighter and lighter with every word and each salty drop. Like the weight of the world is slowly starting to recede.
“And, yeah, I probably do need to see a therapist—a fucking good one at that—if I’m gonna keep working through all the self-loathing and resentment that’s built up inside me over the years.”
“Then we can do that,” my dad insists, his tone softer than I expected.
“I don’t think you understand,” I say with a watery laugh. “It’s not going to change who I am. I’m still gonna be gay. So you can either get on board with it or—or…”
I trail off, the alternative not clear in my mind. Him cutting me off feels like the most obvious, and if that’s reality, I’ll live with it. But I wouldn’t put it past him to weave in some darker scheme into the mix.
Clearing my throat, I drop my hands and lower my gaze. “I don’t expect this to change overnight. In fact, I…I don’t expect anything at all from you. Other than maybe a trip to the best conversion therapy center money can buy. I’m sure those still exist, if you look hard enough.”
My father’s knuckles are stark white as he grips the counter behind him, shoulders slumped forward slightly as he stares at his abandoned coffee on the island.
“Is that really how little you think of me?” he asks, voice barely louder than a whisper.
Just like that, I shatter entirely, tears spilling down my face. “You’ve never given me a reason to believe otherwise.”
His shoulders cave inward, hands leaving the counter to cross in front of him. He’s silent as I stare at him, looking anywhere but at me. At the pain he’s caused. It’s only when he lifts one hand to cover his mouth and raises his gaze that I find his eyes rimmed with red.
And for what might be the first time in my entire life, I watch my father cry.
“I’m so sorry, son,” he says, voice barely distinguishable from behind his hand. “ I’m so, so sorry.”
He loses it after that, arms wrapping around himself and chin dropping to his chest while he leans back against the counter. Like he’s doing everything he can to hold himself together as his shoulders shake with every sob racking his body.
Tears continue streaming down my face too, a physical release of anguish and shame that’s been a long time coming. And while I know this doesn’t change the past, it’s proof that maybe—just fucking maybe—some things can be fixed.
That perspectives can shift.
With time.