32. Baby Can I Hold You
CHAPTER 32
Baby Can I Hold You
DUSTY
E verything is a mess. My life always is. Why did I think it would ever work out for me? I was right to push Joel away. I only end up hurting the people I love. And I do love him. And Key . . .
Is it possible to love two people at the same time?
Because the truth is I never stopped loving him. I’ve pushed that love down into the deepest darkest parts of me, but when he hugged me it was like a dam broke, and everything I’ve kept hidden for all these years burst over the shore like the waves of a tsunami.
But I ruined it again. I hurt Joel and possibly broke the friendship that he’s held so dear for so many years. I’ll never forgive myself for it.
Key stands in the open doorway staring out at the street as if willing Joel to come back. I don’t know what to do, but I’m freezing. Shivers cover my body even on this summer day, but perhaps they’re not because I’m cold.
“Key?”
He turns around to look at me, and his tear-streaked face will haunt my dreams. “I . . . I . . .” he tries, but he can’t seem to get the words out.
Should I comfort him? I want to. It feels natural that I would, but he was so mad at me. He must hate me. He hugged me, yes, but that was only because I told him about the miscarriage. Maybe he wants me to leave.
“Can I use your phone?” I ask.
He blinks for a moment, then his brow furrows. “My phone?”
I nod and wrap my arms around myself, realizing I’m still in Joel’s shirt and nothing else. “I’ll leave. I can call a cab and go.”
“You’re . . .” he starts. “You’re not going to wait for him to come back?”
I shrug. “I don’t think he wants me to be here when he comes back.”
Key closes the front door, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yes, he does.”
“No. I didn’t tell him the truth about . . . I didn’t tell him about my past. He won’t want to speak to me now.”
“Yes, he will. He loves you.”
More tears sting my eyes but I wipe them away. I need to pull myself together. “He can call me if he wants to talk,” I say. “I’ll get dressed, then I’ll be gone. You won’t have to see me again.”
I head for Joel’s bedroom hallway but Key stops me, his warm hand wrapping around my wrist. “Wait.”
He can’t even make eye contact with me. I’m a horrible person. If only we had talked in Vegas. If only I wasn’t so stubborn, so proud, so guarded. If only I trusted the boy who said he loved me more than anything over the man I knew spent the majority of his life hurting his son. If only, if only, if only —there’s too many to count.
“Maybe . . .” he whispers, staring at my bare feet. “Maybe you could stay. Maybe we could talk?”
His gaze finally meets mine and god how I’ve missed those hazel eyes. For a moment, it’s like we’re teenagers again, when he was the only good thing in my life.
I need to say yes. This could be my only chance for us to clear the air, and we both need closure, so I nod. No more if only s . . . especially if I want to fix things with Joel.
“Okay,” I whisper back. “I’ll get dressed and be right back . . . then we can talk.”
He nods, and I wind my way back to Joel’s bedroom. When I enter, it’s like a punch in the gut. The room smells of sex. The sheets on the bed are everywhere and my body can’t help but remember the ghost of Joel’s touch. How he made me feel.
I gather up my underwear and clothes, and I nearly get dressed, but the faster that happens, the sooner I’ll have to talk to Key. Take a shower, Dusty . I meet my reflection in the wardrobe mirrors and nod to myself, shaking out my hands. The spray of warm water will clear my head if nothing else. Besides, the idea of Key smelling it on me is too much to bear.
The water runs hot and I climb in, letting it soak my hair and ease the tension off my swollen face and sore neck. Yes, this was a good idea. Things are starting to seem less impossible. But even though my brain doesn’t feel befuddled anymore, I still have no idea what to do. The bravest decision would be to leave. To tell Key and Joel that they deserve better than me. That I don’t care about them and they’re better off without me in their lives.
But I’m so tired of lying. So tired of having to be brave. Key was right. Sometimes I just need to be fucking saved. For someone to make the decision. But what if they make the wrong one? What if Joel never calls me and that’s the end? What if Key can’t forgive me? What if this is all just . . . tragedy? Can I survive any more?
When I find myself back in the living room, skin raw and wearing the clothes I arrived in this morning, Key is sitting on the couch, looking at the picture I held in my hand an hour ago. He looks exhausted but so undeniably handsome.
These past few years have turned him into a gorgeous man. His wavy brown hair is slightly too long. Just long enough to piss off the parents of his fans, I’m sure. He’s filled out. His upper body is lean and strong, the muscles in his neck defined.
“Hey,” I say, announcing myself.
He looks up. “Hey.”
“Sorry, I just . . . I figured I should shower.”
“It’s fine.”
I join him on the edge of the sofa, unsure where to start. For a long moment, we sit in silence, the tension building between us.
“What a mess, huh?” he says, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.
I breathe out a laugh and nod. “You could say that.”
He presses his head into his hands, ruffles his hair and sighs. “I’m sorry about earlier.” He twists his mouth before taking a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have said what I said. I was just . . . shocked and angry and everything that happened between us just came rushing back.”
I shake my head. “It’s fine. A shock is putting it mildly.” His mouth twitches at the side into a half-hearted smile, and my stomach flutters. It’s been so long, and I thought I’d done a good enough job of burying my feelings for him, but apparently not enough, because here they are. Like a shot of adrenaline to the heart, my body is vibrating. Overwhelmed by so many conflicting emotions.
But here’s my chance. It’s now or never.
“Why didn’t you come?” I whisper.
Our eyes meet, and he doesn’t need to ask what I’m talking about. He knows. “I did.” His answer hits me in the gut, and I have to gulp down air. He did come. He did. How can two words make everything better and more painful all at once?
“You did?” I ask, my voice shaky.
“I tried to get away,” he explains, “but my mom had her friends over and she kept . . .” Another deep breath. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is I was there, and you weren’t. Why didn’t you stay?”
I blow out a breath. “When your dad came to the bus station, I was terrified. Panicking. I thought something had happened to you. I thought your parents found out. But when your dad gave me back the necklace . . .”
He closes his eyes. “I should’ve known they found it?—”
“I was stupid and scared. When he told me you didn’t want to do this anymore—that you were afraid of ruining your life—I believed him. How could I not? I was terrified too, but I couldn’t get away from the mess we were in like you could. So I gave your dad the ring you made me, got on the bus, and left.”
“I thought you changed your mind,” he says, almost to himself. “It just confirmed all of the doubts I was already having. God, and my parents? How did they even know? Fuck, I’m so stupid!”
“We were both stupid,” I admit. “We were seventeen trying to act like grownups. It was foolish to think we could make that work.”
He looks at me then. “I would’ve tried.”
My lip trembles as I smile. “I know. I know you would have.”
He nods, clears his throat. “Can I ask what happened? With the baby?”
My chest aches at the thought of it. “When the bus stopped in Nevada, the bleeding started,” I say through a shaky breath. “There was so much, I knew something was wrong. I left the bus station and went to the hospital and that’s where they told me . . . it just went away.”
His face contorts with anguish, and I hate that I’ve spent all these years feeling alone in my devastation. Of course Key would feel it too. It was never just my baby.
“They told me it happens sometimes,” I continue. “More often than you’d think. That it wasn’t anything I did. But I’ve always thought it was punishment for every bad choice I made in my life.”
He leans toward me. “It wasn’t your fault. It’s mine. If I had been there, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. Maybe I could’ve stopped it?—”
I shake my head. “Neither of us could’ve stopped this. It wasn’t meant to be.”
“Just like us.”
I look to the floor to avoid his eyes now. There it is. The uncomfortable thing that I’ve been avoiding for years. That maybe it was doomed from the start. How can the universe be so cruel as to make you love someone so much only to rip them away from you? How can that love still be so strong after so much?
He glances sidelong at the front door. “Does he make you happy?”
I wipe away the tear that trickles down my cheek and look up at him. “He makes me so happy.”
He nods and fidgets with his hands. The scars look worse than I remember.
“I’m glad,” he says. “I’m glad you found someone to love you. Even if that someone couldn’t be me.”
I wanted it to be you for so long. “What about you?”
“Me?”
I open my hands toward him. “Yeah. It’s been a long time. Has there been anyone who you?—”
“No. It’s always been you.”
Sucking my lip into my mouth, I chew nervously.
“I mean,” he continues. “There’ve been girls, but they were just distractions. It never meant anything. It wasn’t until recently that anyone ever came close to you. Or at least she reminded me of you. I never even met her . . .” he finishes to himself.
At my raised eyebrow he continues.
“A fantasy phone girl, if you can believe it.” He huffs a short laugh but my heart may have stopped beating. “Pathetic, huh?”
My watery eyes search his face. For a trace, for any hint that this is a joke. There’s no way. It’s impossible .
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
My hands shake, my head following along as though my physical body can’t accept any more. “Baby?”
Then he freezes too. The two of us stuck, frozen in time. The world is simultaneously crumbling around me, and yet everything makes sense. The connection through the phone line. The way the sound of his voice made me feel. How he was watching my favorite movie. How he came to me for comfort. How he continues to enter my life and make me fall in love with him over and over and over again. Every. Damn. Time.
He drops off the couch onto his knees before me. “Cherry?”
The truth of it is in my eyes. He can see it. Then with the desperation of a man grasping for a life raft, he wraps his arms around my waist, his grip unyielding. “It’s impossible,” he whispers against my ribcage.
It is. It truly is. We both crossed an entire country only to find each other again and again. Even over the phone?
Looking up at me, he grabs my face in his hands. His eyes scan mine and I watch the words form in his mind. How he showed me how he really felt for the first time at thirteen, and that pure-hearted innocence is still there. How he said them to me at seventeen, when we expressed that feeling physically. He’s about to say them, but all I know is the undeniable guilt at wanting to say them back, after almost saying them to Joel.
“Dusty, I?—”
Ring rrrrring.
We look at the phone, then at each other. Neither of us moves. It rings again, again, again. We drift as one to the kitchen and the spiral corded phone on the wall. I know Key’s thinking the same thing: Joel is calling.
Key reaches it first. “Hello?”
My body is vibrating with adrenaline, nerves peaking when Key’s face scrunches. Is it not Joel? Who would be calling now?
“No, I’m—I’m his roommate,” he says into the speaker. Then he turns ghostly white. “What do you mean?”
Key looks up at me, his eyes wide and terrified.
“Is he okay?” he asks through the phone.
My stomach turns to stone and I have to grip the counter to keep from falling over.
“Yes, I-I’ll be right there. Yes. Thank you.”
He hangs up and it’s like I already know the answer. “Who was that?”
Key is shaking, but he swallows hard and turns to me. “That was the hospital,” he says, and I can’t breathe. “Joel was in a car accident.”