Chapter 32
Cricket Jenkins
I pick up a box full of Micah’s old notebooks and schoolwork, the cardboard corners digging into my palms as I navigate the stairs.
The weight of it makes my arms burn, but I push through, careful not to trip as I head outside.
The December air is crisp, carrying the sound of waves crashing against the shore.
Micah’s shoving a garbage bag full of hoodies into the backseat of his car, grunting with effort as he tries to wedge it between his guitar case and a box of books.
He gets it settled then turns and takes the box from me, his fingers brushing mine for just a second, long enough to send that familiar electric current up my arms.
“Thanks for helping today. I know you have a ton of schoolwork to finish.”
“Of course. It’s your first big move. I wouldn’t leave you hanging.
” I watch as he sets the box in the trunk, rearranging things to make it fit.
“Besides, all the homework is from my consumer behavior class. I’ll do anything to put that off.
” I make a gagging noise, and Micah laughs, the sound warm and genuine.
“You should drop that class. It’s done nothing but give you heartache.”
I shoot him a look that says stop trying to get me to confront my father and turn away from him, although I know he’s right. I have to do it eventually. I want to follow my own path. But the thought of that conversation with my dad makes my stomach twist into knots.
I go back into his house, the familiar layout feeling strange now that it’s being emptied of Micah’s presence. I pass by Kiki and Tobias bringing out more boxes as I climb the stairs to his room.
When I reach the doorway, I stop and stare.
There’s only one box left, sitting in the middle of the floor.
The room that was so completely Micah just this morning is now stripped bare.
Gone are the posters he’d tacked up, the pictures of us and his family scattered across the dresser, the guitar picks that always seemed to migrate to every surface.
The walls are blank, the closet empty. Even the faint scent of his cologne is fading.
It feels like a ghost room now. A space that used to pulse with life and music and Micah’s energy, now hollow and waiting to be filled by someone else.
I pick up the last box, heavier than I expected, filled with framed photos and personal items, and look around one more time.
My throat tightens. This room has been his sanctuary, the place where he wrote songs late into the night, where we watched movies together, where he held me when I cried and made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I was more than a friend to him.
But I wasn’t. I’m not.
I walk to the window and look out at the seashore, the endless stretch of sand and waves I’ve known my whole life. The beach where we would sit on a blanket and he would sing to me. The beach where I fell in love with him.
Micah is going to be a superstar. I know it with the same certainty I know the sun will rise tomorrow.
He’s too talented, too special, too extraordinary not to be.
His contract with Atlantic Coast Records is just the beginning.
Soon he’ll be recording in Nashville, then touring, then performing in venues I can only dream of.
His face will be on magazine covers. His songs will be on the radio.
Women will scream his name and throw themselves at him.
And where will I be when he’s a major rock star? Still by his side, clinging to him, still wishing he would see me as a woman instead of his faithful sidekick? Still crying myself to sleep at night, knowing he’s the perfect man for me but will never love me the way I love him?
The thought crashes over me like a wave, and suddenly I can’t breathe.
Tears spring to my eyes, and I furiously blink them back, my vision blurring.
This is not the time to be wallowing in my self-pity.
This is supposed to be a happy day. Micah’s moving into his first apartment, starting his adult life, living his dream.
I should be celebrating with him, not falling apart because I’m terrified of losing him to a future in which I don’t belong.
But the tears come anyway, hot and insistent, spilling down my cheeks before I can stop them. I swipe at them angrily with the back of my hand.
“Cricket?”
I spin around to find Kiki and Tobias entering the room. Tobias’s eyes go to the box in my arms, but Kiki’s lock onto my face, and I’m sure she sees my tears.
Tobias looks around the empty space, oblivious to my distress. “Is this the last box?”
“Yeah.” My voice comes out rough and thick.
“I’ll get it,” he says, crossing the room and taking it from me. He leaves without another word, and I’m grateful he didn’t ask questions.
But Kiki stays. She comes over to me, wrapping me in a hug that smells like laundry detergent and comfort. Her arms are warm and maternal, and it makes me want to cry even harder.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I lie, the words muffled against her shoulder as I desperately try to pull myself together. I can’t fall apart right now. Micah needs me to be strong, to be supportive, to be his friend.
“You’re not still upset about River, are you?” Kiki pulls back slightly, her eyes searching my face with concern.
“No.” A lump forms in my throat, making it hard to speak. River seems like a lifetime ago, even though it’s only been days. He was never the problem. He was never going to be the solution either.
“Oh, sweetie.” Kiki squeezes my shoulder, her voice dropping to something soft and knowing. “Micah will come around. I know he will.”
My jaw drops, shock momentarily overriding my tears. “You knew?”
“Of course. Everyone knows you’re in love with him.”
Embarrassment sweeps through me like wildfire, and I know my face is flaming red, hot enough to burn. “Everyone?” The word comes out as barely a whisper.
“Everyone but Micah,” she says gently, like she’s delivering good news instead of confirming my worst nightmare. “But don’t worry. He’s got to figure it out soon.”
I want to sink into the floor. I want the earth to open up and swallow me whole.
Is it that obvious to everyone that I’ve been pining for him?
I must look like such a loser. All this time, I thought I was hiding my feelings fairly well, playing it cool, being the supportive best friend.
Instead, everyone has been watching me make a fool of myself, probably talking about it behind my back, pitying poor Cricket, who’s hopelessly in love with a guy who will never see her that way.
Kiki loops her arm through mine, anchoring me when I feel like I might float away from sheer humiliation. “He’s in love with you too. I know he is. He just doesn’t know it yet.”
My heart sinks, heavy as a stone in my chest. “But he keeps telling me what a good pal I am. His bestie. Such a fantastic friend.” The words taste bitter on my tongue. “I hate that word.”
She pats my arm sympathetically. “You are a good friend to him. And someday you’ll be so much more. Relationships are best when built on friendship. Never think that’s a bad thing.”
I nod because I know she’s right, because I want to believe her, because what else can I do?
But I’m so tired. Tired of waiting for him.
Tired of being patient. Tired of pretending my heart doesn’t shatter every time he looks past me toward another woman, every time he writes a song about someone else, every time he calls me his buddy like it’s something to be proud of instead of a label that’s slowly suffocating me.
He doesn’t know it, but he’s killing me. One “best friend” at a time.
Kiki and I walk down the stairs together, my legs feeling like they might give out with each step. Outside, Micah and Tobias are trying to shove that last box into the trunk of his blue Honda, which is already packed to the brim.
“It’s going to fit,” Tobias says with determination, moving around boxes and bags like he’s playing the world’s most frustrating game of Tetris.
“I don’t think so.” Micah steps back and shakes his head, running a hand through his hair in that way that makes my stomach flip.
After another five minutes of Tobias removing and replacing boxes, shifting things at different angles, he triumphantly slams the trunk shut with a satisfied grunt. “There.”
Everyone claps. “Great job,” Kiki says, rising up on her toes to give him a quick kiss.
Micah turns to me. “Before I forget, this is yours.” He pulls an envelope from his back pocket and hands it to me.
The envelope is crisp and white, my name written on the front in his messy handwriting. I open it, unsure what to expect, my fingers trembling slightly. Inside is a check, and when I see the amount, my heart stutters to a complete stop.
Fifteen thousand dollars.
I stare at it, the numbers blurring and refocusing as my brain tries to process what I’m seeing. It’s made out to me, signed by Micah, with “Management Commission” written in the memo line.
Micah grins at me, his whole face lighting up with pride. “Congratulations. You’re officially my manager.”
My head spins, and I have to take a breath to steady myself, gripping the check like it might disappear if I don’t hold on tight enough. This is real money. Real, life-changing money. Money that represents freedom.
Kiki slings her arm over my shoulders, squeezing me tight. “Your first check. That’s awesome. What are you going to do with it?”
The words come out before I can even think about them, before I can second-guess myself or worry about the consequences. “I’m going to pay my own tuition.”
Micah’s eyebrows rise, surprise and something that looks like respect flickering across his face. “Does that mean what I think it means?”
“What does it mean?” Tobias asks, looking between us in confusion.