Chapter 30
CHAPTER 30
Presley
S unday, I went to Evan’s house to break it off. It wasn’t a real relationship in my mind… I don’t think it ever was even in the beginning. He used me as much as I used him, and I was glad I never had sex with him. Evan was wiping his nose with a tissue when he opened the door punctuated by a cough.
“I think you made me sick,” he said, coughing again.
I ducked around him. “Where are you parents?” I asked.
“Mom went to the shooting range and my father had tennis lesson.”
Evan had another coughing fit and I hoped I didn’t relapse. I wanted to make this as quick as possible. End it and go home. He wouldn’t let our break-up go and I was prepared for whatever trouble I would face.
“Do you want something to drink?” he asked.
“No, thanks,” I said dryly.
I went to the living room where Evan had a football game on the television and there it was, his green notebook. It was peeking out from under a couch cushion. It couldn’t be this easy. I snatched it up, folding it and shoving the thin notebook in the inner pocket of my down jacket.
I was giddy, but my quest left me with another dilemma. I knew his mother’s horrible secret. She destroyed lives with her decision, and she would have to pay… we all would. When he came back, I delivered the news.
“I’m done with you,” I said, grinding my teeth.
He frowned, wiping his nose. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Did you really think we would just fall into what we were a few months ago? You can’t force a relationship.”
Evan clenched the tissues in his hand, his knuckles turning white. “You think it’s that easy? Did you forget what I have?”
I smirked. “I’d rethink your decision because you don’t know what I have.”
His face went pale. “You have shit, and I’ll make sure everyone knows what a pathetic little virgin you are. One who broke into my house with her loser friend.”
I put my hands on my hips, not intimidated. “Three things wrong with your statement. One – I don’t give a fuck that everyone knows. Two – I’m not a virgin. I haven’t been for months and three – Hudson is not my friend, he’s my boyfriend.”
He ground his teeth. “Fucking cunt. He’s your boyfriend who will be in jail but then again, so will you. Breaking and entering is a crime. But you know what I don’t understand – why did you do it?” he growled.
He took a couple of steps toward me and fear curled in my belly. Evan was huge compared to me. Even sick, I wouldn’t be able to fight him off. I skirted around, putting the coffee table between him and me.
“Evidence,” I said, hoping to buy time. I could make it to the front door before he got to me if I was fast enough.
His eyebrows slammed together. “What evidence?”
“About what an asshole you are,” I said as I made a run for the door.
He was right behind me, and I managed to get the front door open before he grabbed the hood of my jacket. I twisted out of his grasp and ran down the sidewalk to my car. He didn’t follow as he bellowed my name. I had what I needed but now came the hard part.
Hudson’s fingers circled my clit in slow, teasing strokes, but no matter how skilled he was, my body refused to cooperate.
A frustrated sigh escaped his lips, and he leaned back, searching my face. “Pres, what’s going on?”
I buried my head against his chest, my voice muffled. “I don’t know.”
His touch fell away, and he brought his hand to his face, inhaling the scent of me. It was an intimate gesture, one that usually left me flustered. But tonight, it made me feel exposed.
“By now, you’d be begging me to fuck you,” he said softly, but the hint of amusement in his voice quickly faded.
Tears burned the back of my throat, just as they had for days. I blinked rapidly, willing them away. “I’m just… not into it tonight.”
Hudson adjusted himself, his erection a painful reminder of how deeply I’d shut him out. “It’s fine,” he said gently, though I caught the flicker of disappointment in his eyes. “I enjoy having you here. Especially now that there’s no competition.”
I shook my head, swallowing hard. “Huddy, there never was.”
He tipped my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. His hazel eyes were sharp, searching for the truth. “It felt like it.”
I couldn’t hold his stare. I rolled out of his arms, sitting on the edge of the bed. My hands fidgeted in my lap. “Hudson… did the police ever get any leads on your dad’s murder?”
He froze. “Why are you asking that?”
“I just—” My voice cracked. “I just wondered.”
The weight of what I needed to say pressed against my chest, making it hard to breathe. Hudson shifted closer, his hand gripping my shoulder.
“Pres,” he murmured, his tone more serious now. “Is that why you’re acting so weird?”
I stared at the floor, unable to meet his eyes. “I know who killed your father,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
The bed creaked as he sat upright. “What did you say?” he barked.
Tears spilled over as I grabbed my phone with trembling fingers. The screen lit up, and I pulled up the photo I’d taken of Mrs. Braddock’s confession. Without a word, I handed it to him.
Hudson’s sharp intake of breath was followed by a guttural, feral noise. He shot to his feet, his fist slamming into the wall with a sickening thud. The drywall cracked, and his knuckles split, blood trickling down his hand.
“Hudson, stop!” I cried, rushing to him.
But he wasn’t done. His fist met the wall again, harder this time. The force left a deeper dent. I grabbed his arm, my voice trembling. “Huddy, please!”
The phone slipped from his other hand, landing on the carpet. He didn’t need to say anything. The words on the screen had already shattered him. His father’s name was there, scrawled in Mrs. Braddock’s handwriting, alongside every detail of the accident.
Hudson’s breath came in ragged gasps. I threw my arms around him, pressing my cheek against his back. He stood rigid, trembling with rage and grief.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he rasped. His voice broke, and when he turned, tears streaked his face.
“I didn’t know how,” I sobbed. “I’ve been trying to tell you for two weeks, but I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“You’ve known for two weeks ?” His voice rose, his words dripping with disbelief and betrayal.
“I’m so sorry.”
He tore himself away from my embrace, his fists clenched, the blood smearing onto his shirt. “You should have told me the second you found it.”
“I know,” I whispered, my voice cracking.
“You’ve been lying to me every day since then.”
“I didn’t lie. I?—”
“You lied by keeping it from me!” he roared, pacing the room. His fury was cold, sharp, and devastating.
I reached for him, desperate to make him understand. “Huddy, I wanted to protect you?—”
“I don’t need your protection, Presley!” he snapped. “I needed the truth. I needed you to trust me.”
His words cut deeper than any blade. My knees felt weak, but I forced myself to stand, my voice trembling. “I love you, Hudson.”
He stared at me, his jaw tight, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. “Go home.”
“Hudson, please?—”
“Go!”
The finality in his voice broke me. Tears blurred my vision as I pulled on my jacket, my hands fumbling with the zipper. I paused at the bathroom door, the sound of the faucet running on the other side.
“I love you,” I whispered through the door, knowing he wouldn’t answer.
I left without looking back.
It all unraveled so quickly. The aftermath was a blur, each moment leaving a deeper wound than the last.
Mrs. Braddock’s arrest happened without resistance. She confessed everything, as if unburdening herself at last. Evan vanished from Ryland, his parents sending him off to a private school upstate. And Hudson? He cut me off entirely, dropping out of Ryland High to finish his classes online.
I’d broken him all over again.
The rest of my senior year passed in a fog. I drifted through the halls like a ghost, eating lunch alone in the art suite, avoiding my friends, avoiding life. Hudson’s absence was a hollow ache I couldn’t escape.
Occasionally, I caught glimpses of him—picking up coffee, grabbing a burger at Fromby’s. Each sighting was like a punch to the gut. Some nights, I’d find myself driving slowly down his street, hoping to catch him outside, smoking a cigarette like he used to. But he was never there.
I still loved him. That didn’t matter.
In August, I’d be leaving for college, a chance to start over in Manhattan. NYU had always been my dream, and with my mom’s legacy status giving me a nudge past the admissions gate, the studio apartment near campus was already waiting for me. The idea of a fresh start pulled at me, but even that wasn’t enough to dull the guilt.
I was deep in my final English paper when Neil’s sharp knock jolted me from my thoughts.
“What?” I called, barely glancing up.
The door swung open, and there he stood in his dirty baseball uniform, cleats in one hand and his mitt tucked under his arm. His hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his expression was a mixture of hurt and irritation.
“I thought you were coming to my game,” he said.
I avoided his gaze, guilt prickling under my skin. “Neil… I’m sorry. I lost track of time.”
“That’s what you always say,” he shot back, his voice rising.
I kept my eyes on my laptop, hoping he’d take the hint and leave. Instead, he stepped farther into my room, his presence impossible to ignore.
“No one blames you, you know,” he said softly.
His words hit harder than I expected. My throat tightened, and I forced my hands to stay steady on the keyboard. “I blame me,” I muttered. “I handled it wrong.”
“That’s stupid,” he snapped, his frustration bubbling over.
I glanced at him then, taking in his flushed face and clenched jaw. He was only fourteen—how could he possibly understand the weight of what I’d done, of what I’d failed to do?
“To you, maybe,” I said, my voice barely audible. “I’ll come to the next game. I promise.”
Neil let out a harsh laugh, slapping his mitt against the doorframe. “Yeah, right.”
Before I could say anything else, he turned and stomped down the hall, his footsteps echoing with anger.
I sat frozen for a moment, the weight of his disappointment settling over me like a second skin. Slowly, I stood and closed the door, leaning against it as a whisper escaped my lips.
“I’m sorry.”
But the words, like everything else, felt too little, too late.
“You’re going,” Reagan hissed, her eyes narrowing.
I shot her a look and shrugged, twirling a pen across my fingers. I’d already forgiven her for sleeping with Evan when he was mine—didn’t even care. If she wanted him, she could have him. “Not interested.”
With a sharp yank, she snatched the pen from my hand, stabbing the tip down on the desktop with a loud thud. “What’s wrong with having fun?”
I leaned back, folding my arms. “Who said there was anything wrong with it?”
“You did,” she countered, giving me that don’t-try-to-dodge-me stare. “For months now.”
She wasn’t wrong. Since everything had fallen apart, guilt had been gnawing at me from the inside out. I hurt someone I loved, and now it felt like every little indulgence was just another reminder of what I didn’t deserve. All I could think about was getting away from here.
“Maybe,” I murmured, my gaze drifting out the window.
“Not maybe. You’re going,” she insisted, a fierceness in her voice. “This is it—the last party of the school year. Our last party before we graduate and leave this place behind.”
I snorted. “The field will be packed with summer parties. This is just one of a dozen I’ll be skipping while I’m getting ready for NYU. There’ll be plenty of fun in the city.”
Her lips twisted in a frown, and I knew why. Reagan would be at FIT but commuting from home. She’d once hinted about us rooming together, but I couldn’t bear the thought. I wanted a clean break, a chance to erase every part of this life.
“Come on,” she said, following me out to the parking lot, trailing close as if I might bolt. “I wish you hadn’t signed that lease already. We could’ve looked for a place together.”
I slid my keys out of my pocket, focusing on the silver glint instead of her disappointed expression. “I had to. That apartment’s practically on top of NYU’s campus. Besides, it’s just a one-year lease. Maybe next year we can find something together.”
Her face lit up, the sour look vanishing. “That would be awesome! I hate the train, and my mom’s always on my case. Living with you would be so much better.”
“Yeah, I get it,” I said, slipping into my Jeep and shutting the door before she could keep the conversation going. The idea of rooming with Reagan wasn’t bad—just…not what I needed right now.
She knocked on my window, and I rolled it down. “Want me to pick you up tonight?” she asked.
“No, just text me where to meet you,” I replied, already backing out of the parking lot, leaving her standing there, watching me drive off. If I was going, I’d need my own car. I couldn’t risk being stuck until Reagan decided to leave. That field was too far to walk back if I needed an out.
When I got home, the house was quiet—Neil was still at baseball practice, and Mom was off running some charity drive. I went straight upstairs, pulling a notebook from under my mattress. Not Mrs. Braddock’s, but Evan’s—a collection of secrets he and his buddies scribbled, truths they thought no one would ever see.
I’d toyed with the idea of doing a full-on Regina George, copying pages and scattering them all over the halls. Part of me wanted those girls to know exactly who they’d wasted their time wanting to date. Exposure would be sweet.
But I’d given up on revenge. Evan was gone, out of Ryland for good, and I’d already hurt too many people. There was no point. Instead, I planned to burn it in the backyard firepit, strip it page by page until all that remained was ash. A final absolution.
I spent the next hour in silence, putting the last touches on my English paper, my mind slipping in and out of the hollow feeling that had haunted me for months. Just three more days of class, and then it was all over. I’d thought about skipping graduation, but my parents would never allow it. They’d barely tolerated my withdrawal these past few months.
Through the window, I saw Mom’s car pull up around five, the familiar red-and-white bags from Fromby’s in her hands. Fridays were our takeout nights—usually the only time we sat down as a family without a restaurant’s background chatter.
Neil came up the stairs, pausing briefly at my door, then heading down the hall. A few minutes later, my mom called for dinner. I dragged myself to the kitchen, picking at my food in silence. Neil, sensing my distance, finished my half-eaten burger and even downed my chocolate shake.
“Where are you going?” my mom asked as I stood up to leave.
“Some party,” I replied, shrugging.
Her eyes widened. “A party?” There was a glimmer of surprise—maybe even hope—in her gaze.
I held up my hands. “Don’t get too excited. It’s just to appease Reagan. I’ll probably be home within an hour.”
“You should try to stay longer,” she said, her tone softening in a way that made my chest tighten.
I half-expected a lecture, but she just sipped her Sprite, watching me. I nodded, uncomfortable under her gaze. “I’ll be home before curfew.”
“It’s fine if you’re late,” she called as I slipped out the door, keys in hand.
The words lingered, her silent permission hanging in the air as I headed into the night.