Chapter 40
I find Mila perched atthe end of the dock, her legs dangling down into the water, Chase splashing below. Chelsea hangs back as Ryan towers above, frowning down at him. “Get out.”
I lay a hand on his arm. “I’ve got it. Thanks. Chase, no swimming drunk. House rules.”
He looks up at me with an innocent grin. “You make the rules. You can break the rules.”
“I don’t want to break the rules. The rules exist for a reason.” I give him a meaningful look.
In response, he splashes me in the face. I slowly wipe the water out of my eyes. Mila giggles and I stifle the urge to push her in after Chase. Let them find out for themselves. “It’s not up for debate. Get out or go home.”
“He can’t go home without getting out,” Mila says. “It’s not a fair choice.”
“She has a point, Ken. Give me something to work with.” Chase glides back farther from the dock in a relaxed backstroke. He’s so arrogant. He may be like a brother to me, but he isn’t. It isn’t his house. He doesn’t have the responsibility to make sure everyone is okay all the time. As long as he splashes around like a jerk, I’m obligated to stay out here and babysit him, and really, I’m not in any condition to jump in after him if anything goes wrong. And I am becoming more and more convinced that something is going to go wrong.
“Please just get out,” I say, my temper strained.
“You’re being an asshole, Chase,” Ryan says.
“Stay out of it,” Chelsea whispers.
“Seriously, Ryan. You should rest your mouth. You might sprain your neck again, and we’d have to have you airlifted to the Saint Bullshit Hospital for imaginary injuries.” Chase treads water, watching Ryan. I can’t even believe he started again. Again. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. With anyone.
But instead of going ballistic like I expect him to, Ryan just says, in this calm, eerie voice, “That’s it, Chase.”
Chase doesn’t answer, but he looks uncertain. He’s drunk, really drunk, and I know he’s going to regret everything he’s said tonight. He loves Ryan. I know he does. I don’t know if the feeling is mutual anymore. I don’t know how Ryan feels about any of us. Except my girlfriend.
Chelsea steps between him and the edge of the dock. “Okay. Let’s all take a deep breath.”
It’s difficult to tell if Ryan was already in motion at that point or if he just spontaneously shot forward, but somehow his arms are suddenly on Chelsea’s shoulders, and then she’s in the water. Mila screams and I skid to the edge and reach down to help Chelsea, but when she looks up at me, there’s real, actual terror in her eyes. Not hurt—terror.
My heart leaps into my throat, and my lungs seem to empty as I pull her up.
But she’s okay. He let her go.
“What the hell is wrong with you,” Chase shouts. He cuts through the water and hauls himself up onto the dock.
“I’m so sorry. Chelsea. Chelsea.” Ryan pushes his way toward her, but she turns away from him, shivering. “It was an accident.” He jumps aboard the boat and comes back with a towel. “Here.” Ryan tries to wrap it around Chelsea, but I yank it out of his hands and drape it around her myself, then pull her against me protectively. I am losing control. I cannot protect my friends. This is not supposed to happen.
Chelsea stares at Ryan, wide-eyed. “It was not an accident. You’re different. You’re changing. Chase, you too. I don’t know what’s wrong with everyone. Emily, Kennedy, even you.”
“Oh, and you’re magically exempt?” Mila says.
“You don’t know her.” I eye her coldly. “You don’t get to weigh in.”
Mila climbs onto the boat, finds another towel, and hands it to Chase. “Here.”
Chase shakes himself off like a dog after a swim and then towel-dries himself vigorously. “Say what you want about me—I don’t attack women.”
Mila wanders back to the boat and swings a leg over the side, then another.
“Please get off the boat.” I turn back to Chelsea. “Are you okay?”
She nods shakily. “Yes. I just need to make some tea or something.”
“Okay. The rest of us are going to talk for a moment.”
Chelsea gives me a look. “Don’t make a bigger deal.”
I kiss her hand. “Relax. Seriously. Lavender and chamomile on the top tea shelf. Make a whole pot. I’ll be there in three minutes.”
She smiles. “Three minutes.” She slicks her hair back, casts Ryan an unforgiving look, and heads back into the house.
“Let’s go for a sail,” Mila says.
I ignore her. “Guys, this has to stop. Either we all have to get our shit together or we have to go home. Play nice or go home—those are the rules. And no more rule breaking.” I look from Ryan to Chase. Ryan looks sullen, his face blistered and burned from a day of overexposure.
Chase points to Ryan. “Talk to him. I’m perfectly fine the way things are.”
“I’m not,” I say firmly. “Everything’s been sloping south for a while, but it’s taken a sudden dive. And I’m not okay with it. We only have two more years together. But the way things are going, we’re not going to make it through the summer. Chase, you have to stop it with the passive-aggressive comments toward Ryan. I’m not getting in the middle of your drama, but it’s got to stop.”
Chase side-eyes Ryan. “No drama.”
Ryan presses his lips together. “Mm-hmm.”
I cross my arms. “You’re both terrible liars.”
“Mila’s leaving,” Chase says.
“Good riddance.” I can’t help it.
“No, she’s taking the boat.” He points behind me.
I turn around. “Shit. Mila!”
Mila’s unfurled the sails while we’ve been talking, and a steady wind has begun to move her away from the dock. She waves innocently. “Moonlight sail. You can make it if you jump.”
I stare, aghast. None of this is remotely acceptable. In the best-case scenario, my father would flip out if he found out that Chase’s guest, who for all I know doesn’t even know how to sail, took the boat out by herself. Drunk. In the worst, Mila is heading into the darkness to meet the dripping man alone. I back up, take a running leap, and barely make it onto the deck, sliding into the mast and hitting my head for the second time.
“Shit,” Mila says. “Are you okay?”
I sit, my forehead throbbing. At least I hit a different part of my head. Still, I’ll be lucky if there’s anything left of my brain by morning.
Chase lands on the deck beside me, and Ryan hits the water a moment later. I can’t help a petty grin spreading across my face. Push my girlfriend into the water. Karma. Chase throws him a line and hauls him up.
“Turn around and take us back,” I tell Chase. “We’re not doing this tonight.”
“Pretty pretty please.” Mila jumps up and down and presses herself against Chase, swaying against him. “I want to see the stars.”
“You can see them from the dock.” I massage my forehead. “We all drank way too much to operate a boat. Back it up.”
“Come on. It’s so romantic out here.” She nuzzles up to him.
“Really?” Ryan says in a flat voice. “Is it romantic?” He sits next to me. “How enchanting for all of us.”
I stand, but sway on my feet and have to sit again. “Look, I can’t sail right now. My head is completely messed up. I need a few minutes for it to clear.” But a swift wind has picked up out of nowhere, and we’re rapidly moving toward the middle of the lake. Marvelous.
“Give us ten,” Chase says. “Fair compromise. Mila gets to see the stars, you get to rest your head, and then we go straight back.”
“Please, Mom?” Mila says.
I’m really starting to dislike that girl.
“Fine.” I sigh.
“Really?” Ryan looks back toward the house. “This is the moment you choose to start backing down on things?”
“What’s the rush, Ry?” I tap my forehead gently. Definitely well on its way to a bruise.
“I’m done with this place. I’m done with all of you. The last thing I want is to spend another minute in that house. Or in my own, for that matter.” He goes to the back of the boat and hangs over the edge, trailing his arm into the water.
I look at Chase. “Will you talk to him, please?”
He shrugs uncomfortably. “I don’t think anything good is going to come out of talking right now.” The wind dies a little, and he spins the steering wheel. “Mila, can you take in that line?”
She tugs at the ratchet and succeeds in tightening the sail a little, but not enough. I look up. The telltale has fallen flat. The night air feels misty and heavy, windless. We rock back and forth, drifting a little, but not really catching any wind. There isn’t any to catch. I sigh and bump Mila aside with my hip, straining to tighten the sail as far as I can, but it doesn’t help.
“Drop anchor.” I let the sail down. “Ryan, get your hand out of the water. Everyone, arms and legs inside the boat.”
“Come on,” Ryan groans.
“There’s no wind. We have to wait it out. Probably just a few minutes. Let Mila look at her freaking stars.” I flop down next to him as Mila and Chase snuggle close to each other at the bow of the ship. “Tell me something, Ryan.”
“What’s that?”
“What’s so horrible that you need to get away from?”
He looks down at the water. “Nothing. I’m not running.”
“I never used the word running.” I pause. “I know this has been a shitty year. I’m really sorry, Ryan.”
“I bet.” He shifts so that his face is in profile. “Some people think they’re entitled to everything, don’t they?”
“Like who?”
Ryan shrugs, gazing up at the stars. “Off the top of my head? Chase for one.”
“He’s earned all of it.”
“Has he? He was born athletic, I guess, but he also had years of lacrosse camp. He studies, but he also has expensive tutors. Are those things you can really earn, Kennedy? Or do your parents give them to you?”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “I guess it’s not necessarily earned.”
He glances at me, and I feel the accusation in his eyes cutting right down to my core. “What about people? How do you earn people, Kennedy?”
I rest my head on my hand and study his face. I’ve never paid enough attention to Ryan. He fades into the background too easily. His laid-back posture, his mild expressions, his soft voice. But he’s not mild. He’s sharp and bitter and angry. “You can’t earn people. People like Chase because he’s authentic. Friendly and funny. He’s a people person.”
“No. He’s charismatic. He can be friendly. He can also be manipulative. Just like you, Kennedy.”
“Well, you can be passive-aggressive and sulky and scary, Ryan. I think that can turn people off.”
He smiles. “I guess it would. The nice guys never get the girl.”
I laugh in disbelief. “Are you the nice guy?”
“I think so.”
“Well, I would disagree with you. I think you’ve been a dick today.”
He looks me in the eye. “Why shouldn’t I be? Why should I continue to be a doormat?”
There’s a sudden bang and I turn, startled. Chase and Mila have disappeared. I dash across the deck, heart pounding, before realizing they’ve locked themselves below in the cabin. I kick the door, then sit behind the steering wheel and turn it absently. “You’re not a doormat. You’re just self-centered. You can’t expect someone to love you just because you have feelings for them. That’s not how it works, and it doesn’t make you a nice guy. I know life feels unfair and it seems like some people get all the wins, but there’s no such thing as deserving a person. And you can’t take it out on Chelsea, because she cares about you. Way too much.”
He whips his head up suddenly. “Why? What did she tell you?”
“Nothing.”
Ryan stands, a silhouette against the moon. “Then ask me.”
I raise my head wearily. “What?”
“What really happened between Chelsea and me.”
A chill runs down my spine. “It’s none of my business. All that matters is it’s over.”
“Nothing stays a secret between friends, though, does it?” He starts walking toward me, and I stand instinctively.
“Sure it does. I don’t want to know.”
“Yes, you do. You need to know everything. You always have to be in the center of everything. You’re the hostess.” He says it mockingly. “You make the seating arrangements. The sleeping arrangements. You decide who eats with who. Who talks to who. Who sleeps with who.”
“God, Ryan, stop. I don’t want to know.” I hold my hands up, but he presses forward like some nightmare zombie creature, and I edge backward until I’m up against the side of the boat and he’s pressed against me. I want to scream for Chase, but my voice feels stuck. I’m so thrown off, so taken aback, it feels like the world has turned completely upside down. Ryan is the quiet one. Chelsea’s weird-secret-psychic-bond person. He’s not the one who pushes you against the side of a boat and says creepy things. I have to be misinterpreting this. I have to.
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe the reason I get so mad at you is because deep down I’m in love with you?” It’s so cold I start shivering. I shake my head. “Good,” he says. “Because it’s bullshit.” He grins.
I duck under his arm. “You’re an asshole.” I try to gather all my anger, bottle and bury it. We’re not alone out here. Asshole or not, I can’t let my anger put him in danger.
“Now you know how it feels,” he says.
But my head aches and my heart pounds, and the cold is already seeping in.
I turn. “How it feels? You’re a foot taller than I am, and you cornered me in the dark. On a boat. Far from help. Today you’ve slapped Chase, given Mila a bloody nose, and pushed Chelsea into the lake, which she’s terrified of. You have no idea how it feels.”
He nods slowly. “Okay. But Kennedy? I don’t care. Because I don’t like you.”
I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me. It’s a stunning thing to hear, especially from someone you’ve spent so much time with for so many years. It’s literally breathtaking.
“You play power games,” he goes on. His face is so still, his voice so low and calm. “You control people. It’s all a game to you. Everything is a game. Playing house. Playing friends. Playing life. No consequences for golden boy and gossip girl.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” That shit. That ungrateful shit. The amount of terror and isolation and exhaustion I’ve lived with to protect them. All of them.
But he’s not done. “You always win. I hate that, too. Chelsea—”
“Chelsea isn’t a fluffy toy at a carnival. She’s a person.”
“She sees through you,” he says with a slanted smile. “Sooner or later, she’s going to be gone. Or is she already? It’s hard to tell sometimes. When we were—you know.” He averts his eyes in an unconvincing display of modesty.
I glare at him, blood beginning to pulse loudly, pounding an angry rhythm in my ears. “I told you, it’s none of my business.”
He bites his lip and smiles, gazing up. “I’ll leave it up to your imagination. She had a lot to say about you. I was pretty shocked when you got back together, I’ll put it that way.”
“Well. Guess you don’t know her very well.” I keep my face placid. Now he looks furious.
“I know her better than you ever will.”
“Excuse me?”
“Why do you think we got together in the first place? Because neither of us could stand the rest of you. On the surface, sure. We’ll always care about each other. But underneath, she resents you every bit as much as I do, because you don’t respect her, you treat her like an outsider, and no one, no one in the world, wants to feel like that. You make Chelsea feel bad about herself. So you can drop the smug true-love act. She may not want me, but you’re bad for her.” He stares at me derisively as my heart goes cold in my chest. The worst words, the ones that cut like knives, are ones dipped in the subtle poison of truth. And I don’t want to believe him, but I can see in his eyes that he believes, and I feel in the pit of my stomach that there might be some truth to it. Do the words we use to describe Chelsea—quirky, random, unique—make her feel less special and more like an outsider? When I say offhand things like her ability to silence a room, does it make her feel like she doesn’t fit in with the rest of us?
“I’m not bad for her,” I whisper. But the squeezing feeling in my chest grows tighter.
“Then why did she come to me when you tossed her aside?”
I try to make sense of what he’s saying. “I didn’t toss her aside. It was complicated.”
Ryan shrugs. “No, it wasn’t. You wanted Chelsea at the lake house, in our little world, where everything was under your control. Back at school you had to deal with the real world. Judgment. Reputation. You don’t belong with a Chelsea, do you? You belong with someone like Chase. You can’t tell me that never went through your head. Can you?” His eyes meet mine, and they are so devoid of emotion, I want to smack him in the face. No. That’s too little. Child’s play.
“I don’t give a shit what people think.”
“But you thought about it.”
“Everyone thinks!” I scream, my head pounding. I hate him. I hate myself. Everyone thinks terrible things. Fleeting, wrong things that they regret. They shouldn’t come back to haunt you. Not when you keep them silent, bottled inside. Ryan has no right.
“Not me,” he snarls back. “I am not like you.”
“Well, good for you, Ryan. Good for the nice guys. You’re right. You never win.”
He tears at his hair and lets out a burst of angry, disbelieving laughter. “Maybe I’m not nice. But I never broke her heart. That’s the difference between you and me. You’re a heartless, entitled princess. Chase is a spoiled brat. My sister is a manipulative jerk. And Chelsea is just naive. I’m so done with all of you.”
I try not to let tears show, but I can’t stop them from stinging my eyes. I had no idea how much contempt he had for all of us. Even his own sister. But especially for Chelsea. “I want you out.”
“Fine with me. I’m sick of all of you. Your fakeness. Chase’s arrogance. The way Chelsea looks at me. It’s all so pathetic. She’s pathetic.”
I grit my teeth. “Do not say her name again.”
He smiles that infuriating smirk again.
My heart pounds. I have protected him. I may not have liked him always, but I have loved him like family.
“It’s your fault, Kennedy,” he says. “You threw us together. Your house. Your rules. If it wasn’t for you, Chelsea and I never would have fucked.”
I push him.