17. The Past
17
THE PAST
TYLER
I get comfortable on my bed and add a heart emoji to the end of the text message I’ve typed to Echo.Footsteps bang up the hall and I bolt upright. The only person in this house who would make that much noise is Dad, and it sounds like he’s coming toward me.
An instant later, the bedroom door flies open and crashes against the wall. He glares at me as if it’s my fault he’s probably just dented the wall.
I stiffen. I don’t know what I did, but whatever it was, it can’t be good.
He stops halfway into the room and puts his hands on his hips. His expression is darker than the rainclouds outside, and I shiver involuntarily.
“Why did you rent a room at a hotel?” he demands, practically bristling with fury.
My stomach clenches, any trace of hunger vanishing. I’ve only booked a hotel room once—when I took Echo there. If he knows about the room, it’s possible he’s figured out what I was doing, but on the off chance he’s just fishing, there’s no way I’m going to cause problems for her.
I swing my legs off the bed and sit up. “It’s none of your business.”
He gestures for me to stand. When I don’t, he grabs my shirt and yanks me roughly to my feet.
“Want to rephrase that?” he asks, dangerously low.
I raise my chin. “No.”
Whatever happens, I’m in trouble, but I can protect my girl.
My beautiful shooting star.
Dad backhands me. I’m expecting it, so I don’t stumble. Instead, I press my palm to my cheek as blood fills my mouth. My instincts are driving me to spit it out, but if I do that, he’ll only get angrier because of the mess on the carpet. Disgust turning my gut, I swallow.
“I spoke to the hotel’s staff.” He drops his hands to his sides but comes closer, getting right in my face. “They confirmed you were there. You used a fake name and you were with a girl. Who is she?”
“No one,” I lie.
He scowls. “Try again.”
Feeling nauseous, I mutter, “Just a cheerleader I fucked a couple of times.”
Even the thought of being with someone other than Echo sickens me, but him believing that is better than him knowing the truth.
“Tyler.” He shakes his head. “I’m disappointed in you. I know how you work. If you want to fuck girls, you do it at their houses or in the back of your Chevy. This was more. Stop lying to me.”
My heart stutters. “What makes you so certain I’m lying?”
He folds his arms, his lips twisting smugly. “I have connections.”
Unconsciously, I step back, then force myself to stand firm. I can’t let him get the best of me this time. Not when the stakes are so high.
“So, I thought it might be nice to try something fancy,” I say. “You’re always reminding us to hold ourselves to a higher standard.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he grinds out, then he runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Look, Tyler. You can’t have a girlfriend when you’re aiming for the NHL. We’ve discussed this. You need to focus on hockey, not some slut who’s hoping you’re her ticket out of here. She’ll distract you.”
Ah, so now he’s trying the ‘voice of reason’ approach. I wonder what will be next? More violence? Or the subtle psychological manipulation that he thrives on?
“She’s not a slut,” I snap, my fists balling at my sides. I won’t be thrown off by his change of tactic.
His eyes sharpen. “So, she does mean something to you.”
Damn it.
“I love her.” I may as well admit it. He’s going to assume I have feelings for her anyway. “She’s not a distraction, either. She’s actually making me better.”
We’ve been studying together, so my grades are up, and she has a more level head than me, so I’ve been getting her opinion on my games—things I can improve, and things I kick ass at. She isn’t really interested in sports, but she’s been coming to my games and sitting alone in the stands to support me—even if I don’t acknowledge her so as not to draw Dad’s attention to her.
That will all change soon.
Prom is tomorrow, and I’m taking her as my date. Soon, everyone will know how gone I am for her. I just have to survive this first.
“You stupid asshole,” Dad says, shaking his head. “You really think you’re in love with some puck chaser who’s willing to let you up her skirt? You’re pussy-whipped. That’s all. Tell me who she is, and I’ll fix it. I would’ve fixed it already, but the damn hotel clerk gave me a terrible description.”
If he doesn’t know, and has no way of finding out, then I’m not going to come clean. At least, not yet. He’s bound to hear about her soon enough, but I want a chance to warn her before he does.
“Fuck off,” I snarl.
It’s the wrong response.
He grabs my shoulders and shoves me against the wall. The impact jars my spine, and my phone falls from my grasp.
I expect him to lay into me, but instead he ducks and snatches my phone off the floor. My stomach bottoms out. It’s open on my message chain with Echo. His eyes flick from side to side as he scans the most recent messages. I try to get it off him, but he angles himself away, evading me.
Second by second, his scowl deepens. I lunge again, and he shoves me. When I recover my balance, his eyes are burning into me with undisguised fury.
“It’s even worse than I thought.” His tone is soft but deadly. “Kinseys do not fuck around with little working-class whores. Especially not when they’re smart enough to get more out of you than just sex.”
When his lips form the word “whore”, my lizard brain takes over. I plant my hands on his chest and shove him back.
“Don’t you fucking talk about her like that. I don’t care if her mom is a fucking cleaner. She’s better than you’ll ever be. They both are.”
Dad smashes my phone against the wall. The screen splinters. “I’ll do whatever I goddamn want, you ungrateful bastard.”
ECHO
I wince as the comb snags on a knot in my hair. Mom carefully works it out, twists the lock of hair, and pins it into the elaborate knot on the back of my head. I can’t afford to get my hair and makeup done at the salon, but fortunately Mom has plenty of experience doing hair and makeup for her three younger sisters.
I gaze at my reflection, admiring her work. I don’t look much different overall, but my best features have been emphasized. Thanks to some crafty use of eyeliner and eyeshadow, my eyes look bigger than usual, and the gold flecks are brighter. My lips are pinker, and my complexion is dewy.
“I can’t believe you’re so good at this,” I say.
Behind me, Mom grins. She meets my eyes in the mirror. “It’s just practice.”
“No, it’s talent. You have serious skill.” She never lets me talk down about my accomplishments, and I refuse to allow her to do so either. Especially when all I can do, if left to my own devices, is mascara and the most basic eyeshadow, with a smear of lip gloss.
“If you say so, sweetheart.” She pins back another strand of hair and grabs the canister of hairspray. “Close your eyes.”
I shut them while she sprays the knot until I’m certain it’s set as hard as cement. She puts the spray aside and messes with my bangs, sweeping them to one side and pinning them so they won’t hang in my eyes. Then she covers my eyes with her hand and sprays the front too.
“What do you think?” she asks, far more nervously than is warranted.
“I think you should go back to school to become a hairdresser or a beautician,” I tell her.
She smiles, but it’s wistful. “You flatterer.”
My heart squeezes. Mom had me young, and my father didn’t stick around. Because of that, she never had much opportunity to study. She had to make ends meet however she could, and cleaning was a job that didn’t require much training and for which there was almost always work available.
It would be fine if she enjoyed it, but she doesn’t. As I’ve grown older, it’s become more and more obvious how much she’s sacrificed for me, and I want to change that. I’m bound to get a scholarship to college, and once I do, she won’t have to provide for me anymore. She’ll be able to put herself first—if she’s willing to.
“Can you help me into my dress?” I ask.
“Of course.”
I grab the dress from the hanger. It’s the most expensive clothing item I’ve ever owned. Tyler insisted on paying for it using cash he’d squirreled away. He couldn’t risk putting it on his credit card in case his dad noticed.
I strip off everything other than my flesh-toned bra and a pair of skimpy panties that I’m hoping Tyler will get an eyeful of later. Mom doesn’t comment. We’ve already talked about safe sex and making sure I use protection—high priority topics for her since she had her own teen pregnancy.
She lifts the dress up and I duck underneath, sliding my arms through the armholes. The skirt swishes into place around me and I smooth down the bodice. It’s a stunning silvery blue dress, with beautiful floral details on the bodice and spotted down the tulle skirt. The neckline is lower than I’d usually wear, but not so low that I feel exposed.
“Beautiful,” Mom murmurs. “I hope that boy appreciates what he’s got.”
“He does, Mom.”
Nerves fizz in my gut. When Tyler comes to pick me up, it will be the first time he and Mom meet. I’ve told Mom a bit about him, but not everything. For instance, she doesn’t know we’ve used the “L” word already. Not that she’d be upset about it; it just seems like something special that should be private between us.
While Mom zips my dress, I check the time. It’s nearly eight. Tyler should be here soon. Prom starts at eight-thirty, and he promised to arrive early, so he’ll have time to talk to Mom and pose for a few photos.
“Remember to be home by midnight, or I’ll send out the search party,” Mom warns good-naturedly.
“I will.” Briefly. After that, Tyler and I have plans to return to his spot by the lake.
Being careful not to wrinkle my skirt, I sit on the sofa. Mom joins me.
“You really like Tyler, huh?” she asks.
“I do.” Even thinking of him makes my heart feel too big for my chest.
“Then I’m excited to meet him.”
I hope she likes him. Mom means a lot to me, and I value her opinion. I won’t dump Tyler if she doesn’t like him, but it would give me reason to pause and evaluate him more closely.
Mom snaps a photograph of me on her phone. I bounce in place, hardly able to contain myself. I’m about to be the subject of more attention than I’ve ever experienced in my life. All eyes will be on me and Tyler. It’s scary, but also thrilling. I’m pleased that everyone will know we’re together. I’ll be proud to say he’s mine.
Fifteen minutes pass, and I frown. I should have heard from Tyler by now. I check my phone, but he hasn’t messaged. I sent him a text, but he doesn’t reply. Another ten minutes later, I call him, worried he might have been delayed or forgotten the address. The call goes straight to voicemail.
“Let’s take some more photos while we wait,” Mom suggests. “Go stand in front of the curtains.”
I pose for a few photos, doing my best to smile, but I’m worried. When it’s closer to nine than eight, Mom sighs.
“Is it possible he’s standing you up?” she asks.
“What?” My heart hammers. Despite the situation, that thought hadn’t occurred to me. “No. He wouldn’t do that.”
She shrugs helplessly. “Then maybe there’s been a miscommunication and he thought you were going to meet him there.”
I doubt it. We were quite clear about him coming here and meeting Mom, but perhaps he panicked and went straight to prom because the idea of talking to Mom freaked him out. I can’t forget that I’m the first proper relationship he’s had. Meeting my mother might be too much for him right now.
“You’re right,” I say. “I’ll drive there and see if he’s around.”
She smiles, but anxiety is etched in the lines of her face. “Want me to come?”
“No, I’ll be fine. Can I borrow your car?”
“Of course.” She hands me the keys. “Don’t drink and drive.”
“I would never.”
She kisses my cheek. “I know, sweetheart. You’re a good girl.”
I message Tyler to let him know what I’m doing and then tuck my phone into my purse and slip it into a hidden pocket on the side of my dress.
“I’ll be home before midnight,” I promise.
“Have fun.”
I put on the strappy black shoes I chose to go with the dress and make my way out the front door to where the car is parked on the side of the street. The drive is short, so I soon arrive outside the school gymnasium, where the prom is already underway.
There’s no line to enter—presumably because most people are already here—so I show my ticket to the teacher standing by the door and walk right in. As I enter, a Dua Lipa song is playing. Silver and blue balloons hang from the ceiling, and the walls have been covered.
Rochelle, one of the popular girls, glances up from the mocktail she’s drinking and flashes a predatory grin.
“Are you all by yourself, you little loser?” She bats her eyelashes, and the guy with her laughs as if she’s a comedian.
I roll my eyes. Just wait until she sees who I’m with tonight.
I scan the throng, searching for Tyler. Hopefully he’s received my message and knows to be on the lookout for me.
I spot him almost immediately, standing with a group of guys from the hockey team. The way he’s swaying slightly from one foot to the other makes it obvious he’s had a bit to drink. Does he really need that much liquid courage to get through our big reveal?
Dread unfurls in my gut as my gaze shifts to the girl under his arm. She’s slightly taller than me, but much curvier, and every single one of her curves is on display in a figure-hugging black dress.
Whitney Lewis.
A cheerleader I know he’s hooked up with in the past. Why is his arm around her?
At that instant, he looks up and meets my gaze. For a moment, something flickers through his eyes that might be regret but then he lowers his head and kisses Whitney. She clings to his chest and kisses him back.
A stabbing pain lances through my chest, and I’m suddenly hot all over.
I blink rapidly, my mind struggling to process what I’m seeing, even though, on one level, it’s blatantly obvious.
Tyler didn’t pick me up tonight because he didn’t want to. Not because he was too nervous. Maybe he never intended to take me to prom in the first place. I don’t know. All I know is that he’s lip-locked with someone else and doesn’t seem to care if I see.
Perhaps he even relishes it.
As I watch, something cracks inside me. I can’t stay for this.
I look around frantically, hoping to find an easy escape, but Rochelle and a couple of her friends are now between me and the door. They aren’t paying me any attention—why would they when no one knows Tyler and I are together? They don’t understand that a betrayal is playing out right in front of them.
I glance back at Tyler, as if, somehow, I might discover that the past two minutes have been a trick of my mind, but he’s still with Whitney. They’ve stopped kissing, but he’s talking to her quietly.
Intimately.
Raising my chin high, I turn and push past Rochelle, ignoring her cry of protest. I walk faster and faster, and by the time I’m outside, I’m running.
“Miss Dean?” The teacher at the door calls after me, but I ignore her.
My heart is breaking, and no one knows it but me.
TYLER
Just as I reach into my school locker to find the books I need for my next two classes, an achingly familiar voice calls my name.
“Tyler!”
I close my eyes, bile rising up the back of my throat. My stomach is knotted, and I’ve barely been able to eat all weekend, yet I still feel like throwing up.
Forcing a cocky smirk to my lips, I turn toward Echo.
“What’s she want?” Lee, one of my hockey teammates, asks.
“Dude, it’s the charity case,” another of them says loudly enough for Echo to hear.
She flushes, but her eyes shine with determination as she comes to a halt in front of me. I cringe on her behalf, knowing how much she hates being called that, and her sharp gaze tracks the movement.
Damn. I can’t afford for her to think I’m soft on her. I need her to hate me, or she’ll ask too many questions. I thought I’d accomplished that with my display with Whitney, but maybe Echo is an even better person that I gave her credit for.
I have to admit, if the shoe had been on the other foot, and I’d seen her kissing someone else, either their face would have been smashed in or I’d have already had a revenge hookup.
My gut sours. I don’t think Echo is the kind of person who would fuck someone for revenge, but she didn’t believe I’d ever betray her and look where we are. I wouldn’t blame her if she spent the rest of the weekend with someone else, even if the thought of it makes me want to cry for the first time in fucking years.
Echo tips her chin back. God, she’s incredible. She’s like a medieval warrior woman striding into battle. Fearless and utterly captivating.
“Why did you stand me up for prom?” she asks.
To anyone else, her voice might sound level, but I know her well enough to see through her facade. This confrontation is taking a lot out of her.
My insides crawl. I’m not good enough for her in any way, shape, or form. Not after what I’ve done. And honestly, not before then either. It’s just that now, she finally sees the truth.
“I was never going to go to prom with you,” I tell her flatly.
Beside me, Lee snorts with laughter. Several bystanders have stopped to watch. I silently beg Echo to drop the subject. To turn around and walk away before I’m forced to do something else unforgivable.
Leave, baby girl. Walk away. You deserve better.
But she stays.
She inhales deeply, her face a mask of calm, even though she’s surely simmering with hurt and rage.
“Yes, you were,” she says. “We had plans, and then you broke them and went with Whitney instead. Why?”
My gut plummets. Seriously. How is she so brave?
Lee steps up beside me. “Listen, charity case. Ty would never go to prom with a poor little nobody like you.”
My fists clench subconsciously. I want to smash one into Lee’s face and break his nose for daring to speak to her that way, but I don’t have the right to. Not after the shit I’ve pulled. Besides, in a way, he’s helping me.
I laugh. It’s strained and false, but no one seems to notice. At least, no one other than Echo.
“He’s right,” I say. “You’re nothing to me. I don’t know where you’ve got this crazy idea from, but maybe you need to get your head checked.”
Someone whistles, and murmurs, “Ouch.”
Echo flinches but still doesn’t leave. My insides wrench, desperate to throw up the coffee I managed to drink at breakfast, but I swallow it back down. The bitterness burns my throat, and I draw comfort from the pain. It’s what I deserve.
Echo holds my gaze. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but there must be a reason.”
I fight the urge to glance away. There is a reason, but I can’t admit as much to her or she’ll try to fix it, and there’s no fixing this. I’m doing what I can to protect her. But in order for it to work, I can’t give her any reason to doubt what an asshole I am.
I steel myself against the pleading in the depths of her hazel eyes. Now is not the time to be weak.
“I fucked you,” I tell her loudly. “That’s it. We were never together. We fucked, and now it’s over. No prom, no great love story, and no cutesy happily ever after. I got what I wanted from you. Get that through your head.”
Her expression shatters.
My heart does, too.
She sobs, then claps her hand to her mouth in an attempt to hide it. She turns away and runs down the corridor, but not before the absolute desolation in her eyes makes me wish I’d jumped off a goddamn bridge.
People jeer as she goes, and self-loathing settles deep into my soul. This is all on me. She trusted me, and I hurt her. I knew her insecurities, and I used them against her. Then I humiliated her in front of the people who’ve always treated her like trash.
She’ll never forgive me for this.
It’s exactly what I was aiming for, and yet, I want to get on my knees, crawl after her, and beg for another chance.
I open my locker again and roughly yank out the books, then slam it shut.
“Can you believe—”
“Fuck off,” I snap at Lee, unable to listen to a second more of his bullshit.
“Whoa. What the fuck?” He backs away, his hands raised.
Ignoring him, I click the combination lock into place and stride toward the men’s bathroom. I need a moment of privacy to get a hold of myself. But before I reach them, a slim hand lands on my upper arm.
I spin around, ready to unleash the full force of my temper on whoever has dared to interrupt my getaway, but I bite my tongue as Soraya’s disappointed eyes meet mine.
“What did you just do?” she asks, disgust curling her lip.
I stiffen. “What I had to.”
She tilts her head to the side. “You shouldn’t have. Without even seeing you together, I can tell there’s something special between you. The way you talk about her…it’s like you can’t really bring yourself to believe she’s yours.”
“Well, she’s not anymore,” I grit out, desperate for her to stop speaking because I just want to scream, and Soraya gets enough abuse from Dad without me piling it on too. Besides, she’s right to call me out on my shitty behavior.
“Uh-huh.” She crosses her arms. “Whose fault is that?”
I shift from one foot to the other, uncomfortable beneath her scrutiny. How much of that conversation did she hear? Does she know I kissed another girl?
The memory makes me gag, and I cough to hide it.
Maybe there was another way I could have done it, but I panicked and went for the first option I could think of to push Echo away.
“Dad found out,” I tell her.
Her eyes soften, and sympathy flickers in them. “How bad was it?”
I swallow. “Bad.”
So bad I felt trapped into a corner. I did what little I could to fight my way out, and now I have to live with the consequences.
Soraya rubs my arm and then lowers her hand to her side. “It must have been, because you just ruined something that could have made you happy.”