Chapter Thirty-Nine
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
BONNIE
I’m not sure if it’s the dopamine from last night or just my brain desperately trying to save me from myself, but whatever it is, I’m clinging to the numbing joy spreading through me for as long as I can.
I’m dreading the moment I step into my cold, messy apartment and it no longer feels like the haven it once held for me. Still, I know even if any of my friends offer to stay with me tonight, I’ll say no as some poor attempt at proving to myself that I’m okay, that whoever my attacker was didn’t take away my safety.
Again .
We part ways with Andi, Mads, Reed, and Wren at the airport, each of them hugging me and saying the same things: call me if you need me, I’ll be there in a heartbeat, please don’t be alone.
Except Reed, who holds me a little longer and holds his pinky up to me after, our silent promise to always be there if the other one can’t find a way out.
He’s sat on the floor with me before and helped me choose between a drink and a blade.
“Hey, you have her?” Zeb says to Gemma when he wraps his arm over my shoulder.
Gemma snickers. “I have her,” she says, peering at me.
And I entirely believe her.
I don’t know what the hell has happened within the last few days, but when she looks at me, I feel everything in my bones… Happiness. Sorrow. Fear. Trepidation. Excitement. I’m desperate to call her mine. Entirely . I want every night to be like last night and more days like the ones before—the hikes, car rides, and chats. I hope every argument ends the way ours did the other day. I hope she calls me on my bullshit and tells me when I’m being a brat; when she knows I’m just trying to push her away because it’s the default I’m working on resetting.
Most importantly, I want to say yes when she asks me out again.
Even so, going back home means I have to take care of loose ends, and there’s one that I’m pretty pissed about.
I haven’t heard from my stalker since leaving for Radio Eleven. There’s been no update from her, no checking in on how I am—and considering news of the shooting made national television, she should have at least sent something.
I’m pretty ticked about it.
Zeb and I walk out of the airport together to the valet, Gemma and Kade trailing behind, and after a few minutes, a black SUV pulls up. I begin to open the back door to climb in after Zeb; however, Gemma stops me with a squeeze of my elbow.
“You’re with me,” Gemma says.
I look at her, and my stalker feels like a distant memory.
“Oh, are we not in the same car?” I ask, and she smiles wider.
“You needed these, right?” Kade says as he closes the trunk and passes off two motorcycle helmets to Gemma.
“Yeah, thanks. I’ll get yours back to you next week. You and Liam have that ride up to the redwoods scheduled, right?”
“Yep,” Kade replies.
Zeb whistles, grinning at me. “I’m jealous,” he says as Gemma holds out one of the helmets for me to take.
My eyes are wide when I hesitantly take it from her, and she chuckles.
“Have you ever ridden?” she asks.
“Ah… no, I haven’t,” I reply.
Gemma grins. “Come on. Let’s get you home so you can pack.”
I’m staring at the helmet the entire time we walk into the garage to her bike. She strides over to the large two-person, solid black Suzuki motorcycle that nearly blends into the shadows behind it.
Watching Gemma slip her sleek helmet on, straddle the bike, and pat the seat behind her for me to join does something to me internally that leaves me unable to speak.
She pushes her visor up. “You okay?”
“No. No— You . On a bike. Wearing… No, I’m not okay, but I’m going to get on this bike before I ask you to run over my face with it while wearing a catsuit.”
Her eyes squint as if she’s smiling. I quickly climb on behind her, and when I’m settled, she turns the engine over, and I wrap my arms around her waist.
“Do you mind if we make a pit stop?” she asks, and I jump at the sound of her voice in my ear through the helmet.
“Oh shit. I didn’t know these did that,” I reply, taken aback.
She snickers. “Yeah.”
“Where are we stopping off at?” I ask.
“Somewhere quiet.”
Thought evacuates my mind as the world whizzes by us. I’m accustomed to dangerous driving with Zeb, though being on a motorcycle takes that fear and anxiety to a new level. And yet, wrapped around her, I’m calm. I’m breathing steadily and hugging her tight, counting the seconds at each stoplight when she takes her hand off the steering to squeeze mine.
I lose track of time as we ride through the hillsides, and eventually, Gemma pulls up to an overlook that showcases the valley and city below. I’m staring at the purple and orange streaked sky, the lights flickering on in the buildings and homes dotted along the landscape.
Gemma cuts the engine, pulls her helmet off, and reaches for my hand.
I don’t speak as I follow.
“Wow,” I say when we cross to the lookout. “How have I never been to this one?”
Gemma doesn’t speak. I can see her staring at the city as I am from the corner of my eye, yet there’s something about the way her jaw is tense. She’s holding her shoulders stiffly, and I find myself peering at her every couple of minutes trying to figure out why.
I’m overwhelmed when I look at her.
As I stare, my chest begins to ache.
She doesn’t deserve to be led on like I’ve done. She deserves so much better than the fucked-up mess I am. Still, I want… I want to be enough for her. I want to deserve whatever this is between us. It feels like it could be worth it, and I’m so tired of being stuck in my head, so fearful of relapse that I’m desperate to push everything good for me away.
Another car drives by. The lights flare on her face.
And every ounce of wishful thinking evacuates my head.
I practically feel the color drain from my face. Gemma glances sideways at me, her expression surprisingly filled with as much anguish as I feel.
“You okay?” she asks, turning into me.
“Ah… yeah. Yeah, of course,” I say, swallowing.
She closes the gap between us as if she doesn’t believe me. I reach for her hand and kiss her fingers, blinking back the sentiment pressing against my chest.
“Bonnie, I….” Gemma sighs heavily. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“There’s something I need to tell you, too,” I admit, barely able to hold it back any longer. “And I’ve been avoiding talking about it because… I don’t think I was ready. I wasn’t sure if it would scare you away or—”
“There’s nothing you could do that would scare me,” she says, pressing her palm to my cheek.
I laugh nervously. “You say that… What I need to say might change your mind.”
“Try me.”
My tongue darts out over my lips. I don’t know where to begin, how to start…
Just spit it out.
“I want to be with you,” I manage, every word slow and calculated. “And I’ve been avoiding that truth because when I’m with you, sometimes, all I can think about is how much you make me feel. Because I feel everything when I’m with you. Everything that… everything and more that I once felt with Kelsey. Everything I once tried to forget with just one more drink. One more hit. And that’s a fucking hard truth to come to terms with because if that’s the case, then the end of this… of you and me… if it ever came, what might that mean?”
The last sentence is a squeak. I clear my throat and shake my head at myself, unable to stop the word vomit leaving my lips.
“I loved her,” I breathe. “I loved her so fucking…”
I have to pause and breathe through it, tears already lining my eyes. Gemma gives me a reassuring squeeze, then reaches up to wipe a tear from the corner of my lid.
“They say you never forget your first love, right? Especially when loving and losing her was the thing that broke me. All I ever wanted in those years after she died was to forget it ever happened. I debated so many times whether it was worth it to love again—I still debate it. And I hate the way that makes me feel.”
Gemma leans slightly, catching another tear with her thumb. “What happened that night?”
I hesitate as my gaze washes out to the city down below. Taking a heavy breath, I let go of her hand and face the overlook, hands pressing into the wooden railing. I open my mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a staggered breath, a hiccup that takes my words away.
“I’m such a fucking disaster,” I eventually manage.
Gemma steps up beside me. “You are,” she says, and I huff, almost amused. “But you’re a beautiful fucking disaster, and nothing about that makes me want to run away.”
“I’m not beautiful like this,” I say, eyeing her.
“Especially like this.”
I sniff back my tears and take a deep breath, eyes closing for a beat as I collect my thoughts. Gemma settles her forearms on the railing, getting more comfortable as she looks my way.
“Try again,” she encourages me.
I nod because I know I can say this. I can talk about this.
It’s Gemma.
I can talk to her.
“It was like… six months after graduation,” I start. “We were driving one night—well, no, let me back up. Kelsey got into a fight with her mom. Again. Her mom didn’t like that she and I had decided to take a year off and then move to LA in the new year. I was so fucking excited about it. She was my best friend. My crush. My world revolved around her, and at eighteen… the world was already so small that nothing else seemed to matter. I was so in love with her. I didn’t care that we were just friends, but god, that night…”
I can feel my lips daring to drag downward as I pause to take a breath, and Gemma’s arm brushes mine in an encouraging way.
“That night, she called me, and she said, ‘Hey, let’s run away,’ and of course, I was all in,” I go on. “I was so fucking in because when the girl of your teenage dreams says she wants to run away with you, you fucking do it. And so, I picked her up in that shitty old Bronco. We were only twenty minutes down the road, laughing. Singing along to the radio. And she just looks at me in that perfect way and says she thinks I love her. I didn’t know what to do. She was teasing me, joking around, so when we hit a straight stretch of road, I leaned over, and I kissed her.”
My jaw begins to tremble. I hear Gemma exhale as if she knows what happens next, and I push through to finish.
“I kissed her, and I took my eyes off the road because she kissed me back, and she was looking at me like…” My eyes meet Gemma’s. “She was looking at me the way you look at me.”
Gemma’s jaw ticks. She straightens and turns into me, and I mirror her.
“And in the few seconds I had to enjoy my first kiss with her, my life was complete,” I say. “Everything else seemed so fucking easy. I saw my future with her in the blink of an eye. Moving to LA. Loving her. Being with her. Old and wrinkled. All of it. Until those headlights showed on her face.”
I can’t stop my tears this time.
“It was my fault,” I almost sob. “I took my eyes off the road, and she… I had drifted into the other lane. I tried to swerve, but I wasn’t fast enough. The semi hit the back end, and we flipped like six times. I was thrown out. Kelsey got stuck in her seat. And by the time I regained consciousness… There was so much fire. I swear I could see her crying, hanging upside down in that truck. I swear I heard her say my name. I tried to get to her. I tried .”
I hiccup and shove the tears off my face, frustration swelling inside of me. “Paramedics told me later that she was already dead from injuries. That she couldn’t have called my name because there was glass in her face. They said I experienced hallucinations because of the hit I took to my head. Still, it…” I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath, trying to cool my emotions.
“I’ve worked my ass off trying to push past that night. I didn’t want to be alive for so long after losing her. I think I kept hoping one day I’d drink enough that I wouldn’t have to face another sunrise. I found a way to hide my pain from my family. And when I moved to LA and found Young Decay, I thought maybe that was the way I could distance myself from the pain. Except I didn’t want them to know. I didn’t want them to see my pain. I thought if they knew I was broken, they wouldn’t want me. And then… my mom got sick. And I was so fucking angry at her for that. I was so angry at her for getting sick right when we signed our record deal, as if she had some kind of control over it. I was so lost in my own shit that I hated her. It was like I thought her getting sick would end my dream. I didn’t go home. I avoided her phone calls. I was mean to my dad for no reason except that I didn’t want anyone to find out. I was scared of people realizing I was broken, so I stayed drunk, and I stayed high, and I forced myself to be numb because the alternative seemed too terrifying to face because what if they didn’t want someone who was different from the person they’d asked to join their band?”
I realize then that I’m sitting on a bench, and I don’t even remember moving or sitting down on it.
Gemma is turned into me, holding onto my hand.
I scoff at myself. “After a while, I realized I didn’t have to feel anything if I just stayed one foot over the edge at all times, and that was always a better alternative than facing the real world.” I pause to take a deep breath, eyes blinking at the darkening sky.
“And now?” Gemma asks.
“And now, I’m terrified of the opposite,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m scared of going back there. I’m petrified that one little misstep is going to have the strength to make me walk out of my front door and down the street to the liquor store. I can’t go back there. Even on the days that it sounds appealing as hell, when I’m desperate to just have a little numbness, I know I can’t. And that fucking sucks.”
Gemma’s lips quirk at the corner as she pushes a strand of hair out of my face. “That’s when you call Darcy?” she asks.
“Sometimes. I feel like Darcy has heard me say the same argument over and over, and each time, they tell me the same thing: it’s one day at a time. Every day is a new chance to say that I made it one day without that vice. Sometimes I just need to hear it again.”
My chest feels so much lighter after saying it out loud.
I feel like I can breathe, and while Gemma hasn’t said anything, I’m hoping like hell I didn’t just scare her off. She curls her hand around mine and stares at our entwined fingers as if trying to find the right words to say after all of that, and when she opens her mouth to speak, I shake my head.
“No, don’t,” I say, cutting her off. “I know that’s a lot. I know I’m a lot. And I know every time we kiss, I feel like I’m leading you on or hurting you when I really don’t mean to. So, I need you to know that I’m almost there. Or… I’m there, but I have one thing I have to take care of before I can really try. And I hope that’s okay. I hope trying is okay with you because for the first time since Kelsey, while I’m scared as hell, it’s also a good scary—whatever the fuck that means.”
Gemma looks like she wants to smile. However, as a minute of quiet passes us by, I’m wondering if she’s changed her mind.
“Oh shit. Did I just scare you?” I ask, panicking.
“You could never scare me,” she says. “I was just thinking how much your happiness is worth, and how I don’t deserve it.”
I balk slightly. “Okay, we’re not going to get into that because we’ll be here all night arguing about who deserves what, and that’s just a relentless, pointless cycle.”
She smiles. “What do you propose instead?”
“We go back to my place, and you finally sit on my face,” I suggest.
Gemma rolls her eyes and stands up, pushing me off. “Bonnie,” she says, laughing me off.
“I think it’s a really great suggestion,” I say, following her.
“Get over it,” she teases as she starts toward the bike again.
I corner her when we reach her ride, and the way she smirks at me makes my heart race. I lean in, grinning against her lips, though I hesitate to kiss her even if I’m dying to. Gemma curls her finger beneath my chin, nose nudging mine.
“Thank you for telling me,” she says softly. “I know that was hard.”
“As long as you’re not running, it was worth it,” I reply.
“Bonnie, I don’t know how to walk away from you,” she says. “The last few weeks…”
Her voice trails, and I close my eyes as her forehead sinks against mine. “I know.”
Standing there, I breathe her in. I breathe in the smell of the hillside flowers, the sunset taking daylight away from us.
“What did you have to tell me?” I ask, curious.
Her smile falters entirely, her energy tensing. I don’t know what it was, but she’s nervous, and I wish I could make her see that it’s okay.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, touching her cheek.
Gemma leans down, kisses my jaw, then hands me my helmet. “I’ll tell you another night,” she says. “Let’s get you home.”