Piper
Henry’s history with Whitney—Whit—isn’t the stuff of average high school romances.
They could’ve had a baby together.
I can’t help but wish he’d told me this story before now. It’s heavy—the hurt he’s endured, the connection he shares with her, regardless of whether they’re together or apart. Trauma has so obviously marked him, leaving a scar on his soul.
This layer, this secret…I almost feel like I’m meeting him for the first time.
Though who am I to toss stones? I live within the cold confines of a glass house.
I should’ve told him the truth about what happened with Damon weeks ago.
“Hey,” he says. “You okay?”
I nod, but emotionally, I’m wrung out.
“You want something to drink? I can run inside.”
“Yeah, thank you. Water? Or soda?”
My voice sounds froggy, like I’ve spent the night screaming through a concert.
He watches me for a minute, worry pinching his features, then leaves me on our chair and jogs toward the house.
The windows are alight, vibrating with a bass beat.
I catch sight of Gabi inside with Anna and Michaela.
She laughs, tossing her braids over her shoulder.
I haven’t seen her so carefree since before she and Damon got together.
I’m so glad she’s rid of him.
Henry’s been gone only a minute when his phone chimes again.
I regard it like it’s a scorpion, tail raised, ready to strike.
Don’t do it, I tell myself, but holy balls. How am I supposed to not look?
I glance back at the house. I can see Henry in the kitchen. He’s getting a drink. For me. Like a gentleman.
And here I am, seriously considering invading his privacy.
Another chime; another text.
I nudge his wallet out of the way so I can slip his phone off the table.
His background is the picture we took together at the marine park, in front of the fountain, which…
how adorable. It’s almost enough to make me put down his phone, respect his boundaries, trust that he’s handling things with his ex in the best possible way.
But our faces are partially obscured by text messages, stacked atop each other.
I can only see one, and it is in fact from Whitney.
Whitney
Thank you for saying you’ll try again. See you soon.
There are heart emojis, a whole slew of them.
Yesterday, he said wanted to stay in Sugar Bay. He said it’d be cool to spend senior year together. He said he liked me a lot. And he just poured his heart out to me, holding tight to my hands, checking to make sure I was okay when he was done recounting one of the hardest experiences of his life.
I read the text again. This can’t be right.
Whitney must be confused.
But…she doesn’t sound confused.
Henry told her he’d try again? Try them again? And she’ll see him soon?
It’s right here in a text bubble.
I put his phone back on the table, screen down, the way he left it. And then I get up from the chair and cross the yard toward the house.
Is Henry playing me?
It’s a preposterous idea—utterly incomprehensible—and yet I’m suddenly nauseated.
I sneak inside, slipping past his turned back. He’s caught up in a conversation with Jayden, two bottles of water tucked under his arm, oblivious to the fact that I just caught him in…in what can only be a massive lie.
In the empty hallway, I stop to lean against the wall, intent on getting my blood pressure under control.
Bending, I brace my hands against my knees.
I focus on breathing, on counting the tiles that lead to the front door.
There are goose bumps on my arms, and the music is so loud my head’s starting to pound.
I need to go back outside, where it’s warm and quiet and dark.
The front door opens, getting caught on the woven doormat, wrinkling it before detaching and swinging clear. I raise my gaze to see who’s rolling in so late.
My heart claws its way into my throat as Damon walks into the house.