Chapter Twenty-Four
The last place I want to go is home. I instinctively start driving to Danika’s.
I miss her. Then I consider how she might react.
If she’ll hold this against me in some way.
I’m too afraid to find out in my condition.
Jaz is with her relatives in the city. And as much as I love Darcy, hysterical girls aren’t her strength. I have nowhere else I can go.
Isit in my car after turning off the engine. Night has settled in around me. I stare at the floodlight, my head pressed against the headrest. I know I have to get out of the car.
When I flip down the visor to look in the mirror, I know there’s no way I can enter my house without my parents knowing something’s wrong. I stopped crying. I’ve become numb, unable to tap into any emotion. It’s been years since I’ve been this shut down.
My heart seizes, and I close my eyes to keep the tidal wave of emotion from rising again. My door clicks open, and the cold rushes in.
“C’mon, kid. You can’t sit out here all night.
” My dad offers me his hand. And as soon as I take it, he pulls me up and into a hug.
I let go and cry in his arms, sniffling into his sweater, infused with the scent I’ve known all my life.
Arms that have held me just as long. Strong and protective.
Except I’m still broken, no matter how tight his embrace.
“Let’s get you some hot chocolate with mini marshmallows.” He kisses the top of my head and guides me inside. “Your mom is out with her design team and won’t be back until late. It’s just you and me.”
How’d you know?” I ask, covering my legs with a soft blanket as I sink into the pillows on the couch in the theatre room. My dad sets a mug on the table in front of me with some cookies and a small bowl of multicolored mini marshmallows.
“Jane called the house.” He sits beside me and lifts his arm so I can snuggle against him. “She was worried. I didn’t want to distract you while you were driving, so I didn’t call. But I was only giving you five more minutes to get home before I was coming to get you.”
My body’s depleted. My heart aches. My head pounds, and my face is raw. I’m soul-exhausted. I can barely lift my mug to take a sip.
“Do you want to talk about it?” My dad’s voice rumbles in his chest, pressed against my ear.
I shake my head, setting the hot chocolate back on the table.
“Can we anyway?”
“I don’t think I can,” I tell him.
“That doesn’t make a dad worried or anything.” He rubs my arm, a gesture of comfort, letting me know I’m safe. Safe to tell him the hard things. Safe from everything that may feel too big. Except my dad can’t protect me from myself.
“It’s just… too raw.”
“Did anyone hurt you?”
“Not in the way you mean.”
“But in the way that worries me more.” When I glance up at him, he explains, “Your heart?”
I press my lips together to hold back the sob, but the tears don’t need much urging before dripping from my lashes.
I lose myself again in his sweater.
“Oh, sweetie,” my dad soothes. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted this to happen.”
“I think I lost them both,” I say between sobs.
“Both?”
“Jonathan and Collin.”
“I doubt that.”
“I was horrible to Collin. I said something that really hurt him.”
“And Jonathan?”
I can only shake my head. I don’t know who hurt who more. Or if he has any right to be upset with me. Not after what I saw.
“I wanted to be wrong,” he murmurs into my hair. I don’t ask him what he means because I never wanted him to be right about any of it.
Iwake with a blanket tucked around me, like my dad always did when it was his turn to kiss me goodnight when I was little.
The Wizard of Oz is on the screen, muted.
But I don’t need to hear it to know what they’re saying.
It’s one of my favorite movies. I dressed as a character from the story five Halloweens in a row, beginning when I was four.
The Tin Man is singing about all he’d be able to feel if he only had a heart.
“You can have mine,” I tell him before taking a deep breath and stretching. I search for my phone but remember I left it in the car with my jacket. I decide it can stay there.
My father’s voice drifts from behind the office door when I exit the theatre room.
Probably campaign details. It’s pretty much all he does lately.
I don’t know if he even works with the firm anymore.
I wonder if he’ll still let me decorate the tree in his office this year.
I guess it doesn’t matter. Not much does right now.
I trudge upstairs to my room and collapse onto my bed, not bothering to undress, and pull the comforter up over my head.
Are you still sleeping?” my mother asks through a crack in the door.
“No,” I answer.
I barely register it’s morning; I’ve been dozing on and off for hours.
I woke in the middle of the night sweating because I was still wearing my sweater.
I couldn’t fall back to sleep after changing into sweats and a T-shirt.
My mind was determined to autoplay the highlight reel from yesterday over and over and over.
I was able to mute the audio track, but couldn’t escape the angry glares, hurt-filled eyes or raised fist.
“We’re supposed to leave in an hour to meet the Kimballs.”
I don’t respond. Does she know? I wonder what Dad told her. There’s no way he didn’t tell her something. I’ve always assumed they tell each other everything.
“Want me to bring you back anything?” she asks from the other side of the door.
She definitely knows. Otherwise, she’d be in here, invading my space, inundating me with questions.
“No thanks.”
I stare at the door, wondering if she’ll come in or walk away. Nothing happens for a long minute. The door eases shut, and the click of her heels fades away. I sink into my pillow, not sure if I wanted her to come in or not.
My mother’s always been a problem solver. Dad’s the one to kiss my scrapes better. Whereas my mother asks what I’ll do differently next time.
The answer to that question has yet to rise to the surface.
When I roll over to look at my clock, my skin prickles with a spike of adrenaline. It’s ten past nine. I’m going to be—
I catch myself. Our ritual is so ingrained in my psyche that I didn’t think twice about going to Clara’s for our ten a.m. breakfast.
Will they be there?
I bite at my lip. Should I go?
What if I show and neither of them is there? Can I handle that? Do I even want to see Jonathan?
I think of the hurt shuttering Collin’s face when I reminded him that he didn’t have a father. That his dad left him and his mom when he was seven, never to return. In one sentence, I was the worst friend.
I have to go. For Collin. Because I can’t lose him.
As for Jonathan… I can’t think about him without tearing up. I’ll leave if he’s there. Stay if Collin shows. At least, that’s what I tell myself when I rush into the bathroom to shower.
My hair’s still damp when I approach Clara’s. I glance at our usual table in the window and freeze. It’s not Collin looking out at me. Or Jonathan. It’s Jaz.
When I pull the door open and wait for a family to exit, I discover the place is packed. Even more than usual for a Sunday morning and most are Hollis High students. The volume instantly lowers when I walk through the door. I look around suspiciously. They look back.
“Sadie.” Jaz beckons me to the table.
“What’s going on?” I ask, slowly eyeing the faces that lean over to inspect me.
“We don’t have to stay here,” Jaz says, about to stand.
“No,” I reply. “It’s okay. But why is everyone staring at me?” I sit across from Jaz and focus on her. “And why are you here? I mean, I missed you, but… why are you at our table?”
“Um… I wanted to check on you. Make sure you’re alright.” She visibly scans me, my face, my arms. “I called and texted you, but you didn’t answer. Knew you’d be here if you could.”
“What are you talking about?” There’s no way she knew what happened between me and the guys. No one was there to witness it, and Jonathan and Collin would never talk about it.
I glance back at the eyeballs that keep flicking our way. The volume has increased, but mostly in murmurs and whispers I can’t make out.
“I heard from Darcy, who heard from, I don’t remember who. But are you okay? She told me he hurt you.” She examines me again.
I’m very confused. “Who? Jonathan?”
She shrugs. “You can tell me if you want. I just wanted to be here for you.”
“Where’s this coming from?” My heart’s pounding. Out of guilt. Out of shame. Out of anger that anyone would suspect him, even me for that shuddering moment.
“Jonathan showed up at a party last night,”’ Jaz explains.
“Drank more than usual. Someone asked about who he laid out because his knuckles were split. Then someone else asked where you were and he lost it. Threw his beer bottle and screamed not to say your name again. People took that and… well, thought maybe he hurt you. I’m sorry. I was scared. I had to check on you.”
My heart aches. “Thank you for worrying about me. I love you for that. But—”
A police car swerves in front of Clara’s with its lights on. I stand, as does half the restaurant.
My dad shuts the door of our car, double parked across the street. My heart about leaps out of my chest. I rush to the door, followed by numerous others. Jaz is right behind me.
“Dad?”
He shakes his head at me, as if begging me not to do anything. He’s almost to me when I hear, “Jonathan Reeves. Put your hands where I can see them.”
I spin toward the officer’s voice. Jonathan is pinned to the side of the building, his wrists being cuffed by an officer. He’s looking at me, his eyes pleading.
“Sadie, come with me,” my dad directs, an arm around me. He attempts to usher me to the car, where my mother sits in the driver’s seat. I resist, unable to look away from Jonathan.
I ask my dad, “What’s going on? Aren’t you going to stop them?”
“I can’t.” He urges me forward; my feet are like cement. My neck is twisted, unable to look away from Jonathan.
“About time,” the police officer says, steering Jonathan by his arm. I recognize him. Officer Pratt. The same one who harassed Jonathan at our table.
I let my father control me, blindly led across the street—my eyes lock with Jonathan’s just before he’s tucked into the back seat of a patrol car.
When I finally turn away, I notice someone watching the spectacle from the sidewalk. He looks awful, his face bruised and discolored. A split lip and swollen eye… fixed on me.
Hal.
“I’m sorry, Sadie. I was worried he came here to hurt you too.” Hal’s words don’t sound apologetic at all.
“Me?” This isn’t making sense.
“I won’t press charges. I only wanted to protect you.” Hal motions to his face. “I never want him doing this to you.”
“Get in the car, Sadie,” my mother calls out, her voice an order. Dad holds the back door open.
“Eli, I didn’t mean for—”
“Go get your son,” my dad tells him. “Don’t let him get processed.”
Hal nods.
My mother pulls away as soon as the door’s closed. The police car is gone. The crowd is beginning to disperse.
Standing alone by the entrance to Clara’s is Collin, watching us drive away. I turn in my seat. Danika stops in front of Collin. Oren, Livvy and the others keep walking, not noticing or caring that she’s not with them.
I scramble for my purse to find my phone. Then remember I left it in my car.
“I need to get my car,” I say.
“We’ll get it later,” my mother responds.
“But—”
“You’re not going anywhere,” she interrupts. “It’s fine where it is. You don’t need to add to the scene.”
“How did you know this was going to happen?”
“I got a call,” Dad tells me without turning around. “I had a feeling you’d be here and didn’t want you to have to see this.”
Except I did.