Chapter Twenty-One Evan
On the two-hour drive to my dad’s house just outside the city, Scarlett doesn’t mumble any more than five words.
I keep looking over to her every couple seconds to find her head pressed against the cool window, watching the city whizz past in the night.
She squeezes my hand a few times, cold fingers wrapped around my warm ones.
I knew when Kennedy called me yesterday that something was wrong. I hadn’t heard from Scarlett since Christmas Eve. I didn’t expect her to text after what happened between us in the library, but still. I just wished I wasn’t so far away. I wish it hadn’t taken me so long to get to her.
I pull into the gravel driveway of my dad’s house, taking in the mountain-style home illuminated by soft orange lights along the large stepping stones.
The rustic-lodge style of the house always comforts me.
It reminds me of days back in high school when my dad would wake me up as early as possible to go on a run through the woods that surround our house.
Mornings making pancakes and eggs. Evenings playing piano and chess and falling asleep to a movie on the couch.
Beside Vermont and visiting my cousins, this is the only place I’d want to be during the holidays.
And I think it’s exactly where Scarlett needs to be right now.
I turn to look at her, reaching over to rest my hand on the knee she has pulled up to her chest. “Are you okay?”
She nods, dropping her chin to her knee and turning to me. “I feel like all I’ve done is sleep, but I’m still so tired.”
I smile, nodding slowly. “Let’s get you inside.”
I open my door, slipping out into the cold night air before opening the trunk of my car and pulling out Scarlett’s bags as well as my suitcase. I carry them all up to the house and Scarlett follows behind me.
I unlock the security system on the screen outside the door—the only real touch of modernity in this place—before sliding my key through the lock, instantly greeted by the smell of pine cones and fresh laundry.
Even though we haven’t been home in almost two weeks, the house still smells the same, maintained by our housekeeper, Leah.
We step into the foyer, and I hang up my coat on the hook, gesturing to Scarlett for hers. She narrows her eyes at me as she slips off her coat, toeing off her shoes at the same time. “Your house is . . . not what I expected.” She hands me her thick coat and I hang it up beside mine.
“It’s only me and my dad that stay here, so he didn’t see the use in investing in a huge property.
It’s snug, but it’s home,” I explain, and she hums softly, taking in the exposed wooden beams, the rough-hewn furniture, and the deep browns, beiges, greens and oranges that decorate the house as we pass the living room on the way to the stairs. “The bathroom’s this way.”
I take her to the bathroom that connects my bedroom and the guest room, placing her bag beside the door. Scarlett sits on the lid of the toilet seat, and I sit by the edge of the tub, inspecting the different bubble baths before pouring one into the running water.
Scarlett stares at her palms in her lap, and when I notice they’re shaking slightly, I press my hands over hers to steady them. She lets out a deep breath when I look up at her, keeping my hands firmly pressed against hers. Her eyes shine and I take my own deep breath.
“Look, I know you don’t want to talk about what happened, but can I say something?”
She sniffles. “If you must.”
I know she’s teasing me, to cover up how she truly feels, but I need her to know I’m being sincere.
I squeeze her hand once. “I’m on your team, Scarlett.
I know it might not seem like it, but I always have been.
I’ve always got your back, no matter what.
If I have to keep embarrassing myself to prove to you that you can trust me, I’ll do it.
” I swallow hard, staring at her hands. “You . . . You’re important to me, alright? ”
Like I expected, she doesn’t say anything when I look back up at her. Her mouth opens and closes a few times like she’s searching for the right words, but they never come. I stand from the tub, squeezing her hands as I pull her up with me. The bath is full now, steaming and filled with bubbles.
Scarlett looks at the water and then back to me.
“Do you . . .” I clear my throat, scratching the back of my neck. “Do you want me to stay or . . . ?”
She smiles weakly. “I just need a minute.”
“Okay. I’ll be downstairs. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.” I nod once. Then twice. And a third time before I finally turn to walk out the bathroom, but Scarlett’s voice stops me.
“Evan?” My heart thrashes in my chest, and I can tell she’s crying without even looking at her.
I want to turn around. I want to take her in my arms and tell her that I’ve got her, over and over again, but I also know she needs this time alone.
I swallow hard. “Yes?”
“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “For everything.”
“Of course.”
I tear myself away from her, slipping through the door and making it downstairs.
I immediately make myself useful, tidying away half-finished board games from before my dad and I left for Vermont. I’d let Leah know I was going to be home early, and I’m grateful she restocked the fridge with plenty of fresh produce.
I take off my layers, folding my sweater into a neat square and placing it on a kitchen stool until I’m left in the white undershirt I had underneath. I pull out all the ingredients to make a garlic-based pasta with chicken.
The simplicity of the routine relaxes me a little, and after I’ve finished, I make my way into the living room and light the fire in the stone fireplace before wandering over to the piano bench.
I flick through the pages of my sheet music, landing on a mellow Christmas song, and start playing.
I get lost in the music and the quiet house, feeling the tension ease its way out of my shoulders and roll off my body like a wave.
I feel free when I play, both focused and lost at the same time.
I don’t know how much time passes before I open my eyes to see Scarlett standing on the other side of the piano, her dark hair damp and tucked behind her ears.
She’s wearing the same Sims pajamas she wore the day she was late to the library, and I hide the smirk that is threatening to overtake my face.
I drop my gaze to my hands, quickly flicking over the page of music. “I never would’ve pegged you as a gamer.”
“I’m full of surprises,” she mumbles, leaning against the piano. I chuckle, happy that some of the warmth has filled her cheeks again. “How the hell do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Talk and play at the same time.”
I shrug, showing off by taking one of my hands off and just playing the right-hand melody. “I don’t know . . . I’m just really talented.”
“Har-har.” I gesture to the piano bench, scooching over to give her room to sit.
She thinks about it for a second before eventually sliding in beside me, our thighs pressed together as I continue playing.
I nod toward the mug of tea I prepared for her on the small coffee table beside the piano, but she doesn’t take it.
“So, you’ve always been a fan of The Grand Brew?” she asks skeptically.
“I may or may not have been inspired by seeing the label hang out one of your flasks once,” I admit shamelessly.
“What?!” she splutters, a contagious laugh spilling out of her.
“I haven’t even tried it. It’s stupid, I know.”
“So you lied in Denver,” she says, and I shrug. She scoffs. “You’re so sly, you know that?” I shrug again, and she laughs even harder. “So . . . what? You just have a constant supply at both your houses to . . . impress me?”
“I like to support small businesses,” I say coyly. “Besides, it would take a lot more than tea to impress you, Scarlett.”
She holds up her chin confidently. “True.”
“But I did get them just in case.”
“Just in case of what?”
“Just in case you needed me,” I admit. Her eyes soften and she looks at the tea again. This time, her eyes wander a little and she takes in the open living room, frowning when she turns to me. “If your dad’s still in Vermont, then why are you here?”
I pause, thinking if I should lie and tell her this was always our plan or if I should tell her the truth.
Her eyebrows are pinched together in that adorably concentrated way that makes me smile.
All I’ve wanted is for Scarlett to trust me, to see me as someone she can talk to and open up to.
Not just the person she can bicker with in class. So, I tell her the truth.
“I came back for you.”
Her eyes widen, pink lips popping open. “Evan, you—”
“Shh,” I whisper, bumping my shoulder against hers. “Just let me do something nice for you, yeah?”
For a second, I think she’s going to put up a fight about it. Demand to know why I would cut my trip short just to be with her, but I think she already knows the answer. Instead, she drops her head to my shoulder, placing her hands between her thighs as she watches me play.
“But I’m so mean to you,” she mumbles.
I bark out a laugh. “I know.”
“And you still do these nice things for me.”
“That’s because I like you, Scarlett.”
“You like me?” she whispers, like she’s getting her first taste of the words. I nod, dropping my head on top of hers. “Like . . . as a person?”
“As a person, as a friend, as a class partner.” I take in a steadying breath, not sure what I’m saying. “I like you a lot, believe it or not.”
She nods. “I believe you.”
“Good.”