Chapter 43
Millie
I spend the rest of the weekend locked in my room.
Every time images of Creed or Hyde flood my mind, I open my sketchbook. Initially, my throat clogged up, but once I’d torn out Creed’s tattoo design and crumpled it in my fist, I found peace with a pencil between my fingers, and headphones covering my ears so Abby couldn’t ask questions.
The worried looks she’s been giving me are enough. She must’ve heard what happened in the common room. Probably pieced together that Creed left those bruises on my body and that it’s all fucking over now.
I skip meals on Sunday, emptying my drawer of protein bars instead, but Abby brings me a sandwich from the cafeteria in the evening. It’s still sitting on my bedside table when I drag myself out of bed at six the next morning.
I haven’t slept much, listening to her soft breaths and occasional snores while I tossed and turned. I’ve been talking myself out of heading for the gym since five o’clock struck, stay away from my friends, stopping me every time I went to yank off the comforter.
My stomach’s tight by the time I take a shower, pull on the largest sweater I own, and leave the room, on my way to the cafeteria, “Fall Up” by VOILá filling my ears.
It’s depressing as hell in my current state. The lyrics tell a story of a man so obsessed, so enthralled he’d do literally anything to get the girl, but even though it reminds me Creed doesn’t want me like that, Gus’s vocals make me feel at ease.
Besides, headphones are the best deterrent for unwanted conversations. I see people watching me, even Jasper’s rocking on his shoes like he’s trying to decide whether to approach, but he doesn’t. No one does.
I grab a cup of coffee and tuck myself in the corner, far from the guys’ usual table. Head down, eyes on the first page of a textbook, I don’t notice my brother until he’s pulling out a chair beside me.
A tray brimming with healthy choices lands on the table.
He places a salad before me, then adds a bottle of freshly squeezed orange juice, and I hate how much that small gesture makes my heart ache.
I hate that despite him proving, time and time again, that there’s no room in his life for me, I still wish there was.
Setting my cup down, I gather my things and walk away. It hurts. It goes against what I’ve wanted my whole life—an older brother who gives a damn, but. I. Leave.
I’m done being a rainy-day toy, tossed in the corner when the sun comes out.
Hyde grabs my wrist before I take two steps and snatches off my headphones. “Don’t go. I want to talk.”
“I don’t.”
He huffs an exasperated breath. “I know I fucked up, okay? I’m sorry, Millie. I got scared and I lashed out. I didn’t mean—”
“You did.” I snatch my hand out of his grip. “You’re just scared I’ll pop a bunch of pills again.” I stand, shouldering my bag. “I’m not suicidal. I wasn’t then, and I’m not now.”
Dash’s bright persona shifts through the background like he’s been spotlighted. People stare at him, grin, and stick their hands out for a high-five. He catches my eye and smiles, putting his hand up in a wave.
A knot forms beneath my ribs and I snatch my headphones back from Hyde. “Your friend is coming. I better go.”
He turns with a frown, probably checking which one’s approaching, and when he spins back, I’m gone, moving toward the nearest exit.
I don’t dare look over my shoulder as I push the swinging double doors open.
It’s barely past seven in the morning, but I head into class, picking a spot high up and far left, so I’m tucked out of sight.
My phone pings with a text just as I pull out my notebook.
Dash: Ghosting me, Mini Ward? What did I do?
My fingers hover over the screen, but I don’t reply, leaving him on read and when he texts again half an hour later, I don’t read it, hoping he’ll get the message, but he doesn’t.
He texts me all day long, my phone pinging during classes and late into the afternoon. He stops around the time I hit the treadmills. If I can’t come to the gym in the mornings anymore, I’ll take late afternoons.
Once I make it back to my room, it’s almost seven p.m. and Dash sits on my bed. Abby’s around, too, the atmosphere between them much lighter now than it was pre-Thomas.
“There she is,” Dash says, grinning. “I was about to organize a search and rescue party.”
Abby rolls her eyes from where she’s applying makeup at her desk. “I told him your gym bag was missing so that’s probably where you went.”
Dash ignores her. “Why haven’t you replied? I have delicate feelings, Mini Ward.”
“I doubt that.”
He leans back on my pillows, arms braced behind him, face turning serious. “Hyde told you to stay away from us, didn’t he?”
I don’t say anything, but Dash reads the answer from the way my shoulders slump, or maybe the way my face falls or the sound my bag makes as I drop it.
“Unbelievable,” he says, dragging a hand down his face. “That emotionally constipated control freak.”
Abby chuckles, applying blush to her cheeks.
“He’s not wrong, you know? Hyde’s been on my case since day one.
” She waves her lipstick about. “Don’t be nosy, Abby.
Don’t force Millie to talk but ask questions.
Be kind. Don’t hover but keep an eye on her.
Call me if something feels wrong. Call me if she stops eating.
Call me if you see any pills,” she lists, badly imitating my brother’s baritone.
Dash just shakes his head. “Told you. Control freak.”
He holds his hand out, wiggling his fingers and glaring until I take it. He pulls me onto the bed, scooting over to make room, and a second later, I’m cuddling into his side, his arm wrapped around my back.
“Hyde can say whatever he wants, but that doesn’t mean you have to listen,” he tells me, tapping his fingertips over my ribs. “We’re friends, Mini.”
“I know, but you were Hyde’s friend first and—”
“Do I have property of Hyde Ward written on my forehead? Does Noah or—?”
“No,” I cut in before he mentions Creed. “I get what you’re saying but I don’t want to cause problems.”
Dash chuckles. “You’re not a problem, Mini.”
Funny, because it feels like the exact opposite. I don’t say anything, pinching the string of his hoodie between my fingers.
“I want you in my life,” he says after a while. “Don’t amputate me because your brother’s having an existential crisis.”
***
The next two days pass in a strange, suspended state. I go to class, take notes, and nod when professors make eye contact.
I eat, drink, and spend a little time with Noah in the evenings, playing chess. Dash appears at random, takes me to lunch, or brings coffee to my room when it’s too late for caffeine.
I don’t cry, though every nook and cranny of the campus holds memories of Creed. Everywhere I look, I see us... kissing behind closed doors, holding each other’s gaze across the lawn, our fingers brushing under the cafeteria table whenever Hyde wasn’t paying attention.
Nights are the worst. I can’t sleep, but pills are a no-go, so I lie there and think about Creed until it hurts to breathe. I hate that he’s in my head after what he did. I hate that I replay every moment we spent together, wishing for more instead of less.
I hate that I miss him.
He’s not around. He went back to Seattle after I walked out of Noah’s room. Dash didn’t tell me until Tuesday. I tell myself I don’t care, but I scan the parking lot outside North Wing every time I pass, searching for his car.
God, I miss him so much. I miss the heat of his body, his scent, the way he watched me every time he pulled back from a kiss to catch his breath.
On Wednesday evening, I come back from the gym and find my brother waiting on my bed. He doesn’t look so hot with dark bruises under his eyes and a three-day stubble.
“Which part of leave me alone don’t you understand?” I ask, opening my closet. “Leave, Hyde.”
“Millie—”
“What?” I snap, spinning to face him, a pair of leggings and a jumper in hand. “I tried avoiding Dash and Noah, but they wouldn’t let me ghost them.”
“I know. They’ve made it quite clear.” He inhales a deep breath like he’s bracing for something unpleasant. “Have you heard from Creed?”
My mouth falls open, eyebrows scrunching. I have half a mind to grab his arm and shove him out the door, but there’s something so sad in his eyes that I just shake my head.
“Yeah, me neither,” he sighs, tearing off his cuticles. “I think I’m losing my best friend, Millie.”
He sounds broken, torn to pieces, and it guts me more than I’d like. I’m supposed to be furious, but anger slips away.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come between you. I wasn’t trying to take anything from you, Hyde. He just... he made me feel whole for a little while.”
And then he kissed that girl.
Hyde doesn’t answer, staring at the floor as if it might tell him what to do. When he lifts his head, his eyes are sharper, but no less sad.
“You haven’t smiled in two days,” he says out of the blue.
What’s there to smile about when two men I care about most don’t want me?
“You haven’t seen much of me the past two days.” Keeping my voice flat takes effort while my throat’s tightening. “I’m tired and it’s late, Hyde. Please go.”
He looks at me like he wants to add something, but he grits his teeth, gets up, and closes the door behind him.