72. Chapter Seventy-Two
“Chris? What are you doing here?”
“Nice way to greet your best friend,” he comments with a smile. The tip of his nose is bright red, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his poofy jacket.
“Shit, sorry. You surprised me.” I gesture for him to come inside, then hug him. “I was just making tea. Do you want some?”
“Nah, I’m good.” He looks around my little apartment with a small smile on his face. He takes off his jacket and puts it on the coat hanger. Rubbing his hands together to get the chill out, he adds, “This is nice.”
“Thanks,” I say proudly. “It’s coming together. There was nothing in here when I got it, so...”
He nudges me with his elbow. “It’s so you.”
He drops onto the couch just as the kettle whistles, so I go finish my tea. Once it’s done, I take my mug and sit beside him, setting it on the coffee table atop the ceramic coaster.
“Not that I’m ungrateful you’re here, but why are you here? Why didn’t you call?”
He grins at me for a long moment before saying, “Figured you’d like a surprise.”
“I don’t hate it.” I stare at him, then shake my head, unable to believe he’s here. “You were the last thing I was expecting when I opened that door. How long are you staying?” I reach for my tea but pause halfway when he speaks.
“Not sure yet.”
“You’re taking an indefinite vacation? Why? Did you and Cole have a fight?”
He holds my gaze, a strange smile on his lips. I have no idea what it means or why he’s looking at me like that.
“I wouldn’t call it a fight,” he says casually, shrugging a shoulder.
My stomach sinks. “What would you call it?” I ask carefully.
Chris rests back against the couch and looks upwards. He waves an arm in the air as if he’s trying to find the right word, until he says, “A heart to heart.”
Okay, this is strange.
“About?”
He turns toward me, and he’s still smiling. It’s kind of creepy now. I’ve never seen this sort of smile on his face. “You.”
The breath catches in my lungs. I blink a few times but hold Chris’s stare. He doesn’t look angry. Doesn’t look happy either. He’s just… there.
“Me?” I finally manage to get out.
Chris turns his gaze back to the ceiling, his jaw working. The words that come out of his mouth next would have me flat on my ass if I were standing.
“I remember.”
He remembers? How much? What? Everything? Why is he so calm? Is he here to beat the shit out of me? He looked like he wanted to last time, maybe now he will.
“Chill, Bryson. I’m not mad.”
Why can I hear him but not see him? Why can’t I see anything?
My chest hurts. I think I’m having a heart attack.
“Bryson, relax.”
There’s his voice again.
A hand on my shoulder.
“Hey, look at me.” Chris gives me a little shake. I jerk my head up and meet his concerned gaze, blinking a few times. “You good?”
I shake my head, jerking out of his grasp and getting to my feet. I swallow hard and focus on breathing.
“You remember?” I choke out. He nods once. “When?”
He sighs, sitting up straight and running a hand through his hair. As I wait for him to answer, I think I’m going to die. I fight off the panic, but it’s not easy.
“Since before you left.”
“Since before—” I snap my mouth shut and start to pace. He remembered while I was still there? We spent time together, and he knew I’d fucked his dad? Or rather his dad fucked me? Or I guess he didn’t know either of those things because he had no idea who was fucking who, but that isn’t the point!
Chris looked me in the eye, didn’t freak out on me, and he knew. He remembered. And I had no idea.
“Relax,” he says firmly.
“I can’t,” I admit, turning on my heel and walking toward my kitchen. I pull open my cabinet and take out the bottle of whiskey. Glancing at Chris, I curse under my breath and shove it back. I go to the fridge and get a cold bottle of water and press it to my head for at least a minute before opening it and drinking it.
“I’m not mad,” Chris says. That’s really hard to believe. He isn’t mad? How can he not be mad?
I drink half the bottle, panting when I’m done. My chest is burning from the cold, and my teeth ache. I put the bottle down, press my palms to the counter, lean over and breathe.
In and out.
In and out.
This is my worst fear. I was so worried about him remembering, and… He did. He remembers it all.
Breathe, Bryson. Just breathe.
I don’t know why I’m panicking. Actually, I think I do.
I had my best friend back. Things with me and Chris were good. And now, what? He’s going to hate me again? Hate his dad again? Go back to drinking? Succeed in killing himself next time? I can’t handle this. Everything was going so well. Has been for months, but—
Fucking hell, he’s known since before I left!
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, whipping my head up and meeting his gaze. I walk over to him, stopping in front of him. “Why didn’t you tell me you remembered when I was there?”
“I was confused,” he answers.
“About what?”
“Everything?” he says, throwing his arms up. “Angry. Hurt. But then guilty because I remember how I acted. Put that together with what you said to me in the hot tub about being sorry and not doing it again. You being so worried I would remember and be upset with you. My dad being all fucking mopey. The two of you being weird with each other. It was all just a lot, and I needed time to process. A lot of time. I didn’t know how to handle something like this, and it’s not like I had someone to talk to about it.” He sounds as stressed out as I feel.
“And you thought flying across the country to tell me face to face was the best way to tell me this?”
Chris gets up, puts his hands on my shoulders, and gives me a firm, “No.”
“No?”
What does he mean no? Why else would be here then?
He shakes his head. “I didn’t want to come here and do this. Honestly, I wanted to send you a shitty text. But Mila talked me out of it.”
“Mila knows?”
He nods, dropping his hands. “I needed to talk to someone.”
“And…”
“And we had a very in depth and adult conversation about it. She let me vent to her. She listened to me. Everything I said, she understood. I felt validated and listened to. She listened to my anger, my confusion. She took all of it and didn’t judge me. And when I got all that out, we just… talked it out.”
That’s Mila. I love her so much for it.
“I went back and forth from wanting to kill both of you to wanting to drink an entire bottle of vodka.”
I wince. “You didn’t, right?”
He scoffs. “No, asshole. I didn’t.”
“So, you came here to talk to me about it then? I’m confused, Chris.”
He takes a deep breath and looks upwards. “It really fucking sucks not being able to drink.”
I move toward him, putting my hand on his arm. “I’m glad you’re not, and proud of you for being strong enough not to.”
He meets my eyes and mutters a “thanks.”
When he doesn’t say anything else, I add, “I meant what I said in the hot tub. I wouldn’t do it again, and if I could go back, I would. You mean more to me than anything, and I never want to do something to hurt you again.”
Chris chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment before going to the couch and sitting. He pats the spot beside him. “Sit.”
Hesitantly, I do.
He clasps his hands together, leaning forward with his forearms on his knees. I wait for him to speak, knowing he wants to—needs to. But it’s not easy. My leg is bouncing a mile a minute, my head is spinning. Pretty sure my heart is about to explode.
“You are my best friend, Bryson,” he begins. “We’ve been best friends for years, and no one could ever take your place in my life. Ever. First, I want to apologize to you for the way I was when you went home. It was bullshit.”
“Apology accepted,” I say quickly. I could argue with him that I don’t need an apology, but it isn’t true. And his apology is as important to him as it is to me.
“I talked to Dad about what I was pissed about. We cleared it all up, which made me feel really stupid because what I thought had happened was wrong. He did hook up with Roger, Tomas’s dad, but it was after he and my mom split up.”
“Why did you think that anyway?” I ask, wanting to know his side of the story but also just wanting the truth because I’m not sure I’ll get it from Cole since we don’t talk.
“You don’t want to know,” Chris says, running a hand down his face.
“I do,” I say. “Please tell me.”
He frowns at me, then sighs. “Your father told me.”
I suck in a breath, gritting my teeth.
“He’s also the reason I went to the house that night. On your birthday. He said he saw you and Dad together and hinted toward… you know, stuff.”
The anger swirling within me right now is crazy. If my father were in front of me, I’d kill him. He really is trying to ruin my life. The man clearly wants me miserable.
Chris continues. “I never should have listened to anything he said, and I’m sorry for that, but I wasn’t in the right headspace. I was doing everything wrong, I know that. But I want to make up for it. I feel like an idiot.”
Taking a deep breath, I slowly let it out. “I’m not mad at you for that. And I’m really glad you finally figured things out with Cole. Your relationship with him is important to me.”
Chris nods.
“I felt even more stupid—and really fucking guilty—when I learned that you never told Dad what I was mad about. That even after I was so cruel to you, and you two were—” He pauses, shakes his head and clears his throat. “Thank you for being my friend, even when I didn’t deserve you.”
“Chris…”
Emotion clogs my throat, and I don’t think I can say much more than that.
He turns his head to face me. “I’m serious, Bryson. I’m lucky to have lived through that accident. Even more lucky to have the friends and family I do. Not many people do, and I know you know that firsthand.” I nod, but don’t speak. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I remembered while you were there, but I couldn’t. I knew I couldn’t handle the conversation, and I needed to figure out what was going on in my head before I tried to talk about it with anyone.”
“I understand, and I’m not mad at you. Not at all. I just hate that you’ve been figuring this out on your own. Being there for you is important to me, because you’ve always been there for me.”
He nods again, turning his attention back to the floor.
“I took some time to work things out in my head. Then I talked to Mila about it. Then I talked to Dad. Now I’m talking to you.”
“I meant what I said about never doing it again,” I blurt out for the second time. “I’m sorry that it happened. It shouldn’t have. It was stupid, and I was weak. And it was a mist—”
“Don’t,” Chris warns, glaring at me. I frown, not understanding why he’s so mad all of a sudden. “Do not say it was a mistake, because I know that’s a lie.” He huffs out an annoyed sound. “Don’t lie to me about it.”
My frown deepens.
“Chris, my friendship with you means everything to me. Risking that was not okay. It was a mistake,” I explain softly.
“Maybe taking that risk was a mistake, but loving Cole isn’t. He’s a good person.”
My throat tightens and I force myself to swallow. I glance at my bottle of water that I left on the island, wishing it were closer so I could grab it. I go for my tea instead, even though it’s the last thing I want to drink right now. Feels weird to have this conversation while drinking fucking tea.
“Okay,” I say carefully, putting the mug back down. “Thank you for all of this. Right now, I’m a little thrown off, but once I process everything, it’s going to make me feel better. This has been weighing me down for a long time. Being able to clear the air with you is relieving. I swear I’ve been waiting for my phone to ring and you to flip out on me again, so I appreciate you not doing that. Coming here to talk to me was better than a phone call, that’s for sure.”
He looks at me and smirks. “I didn’t only come here to talk to you.”
I huff out a laugh. “No? Just missed me then?”
He gets to his feet and offers out his hand. “I came here to bring you a gift.”
“A gift?” I frown, looking up at him.
“Yeah. Late birthday present. Late housewarming gift. Early Christmas present. However, you wanna look at it.”
“Okay?”
He grabs his jacket and puts it on. “Get your jacket on. We’re going for a walk.”
My head is spinning, probably worse than before, but I do as he says and put my coat on. I bundle up good, because it’s late and probably single digits now. The Charles River isn’t far and maybe he plans to throw me in. Hopefully not…
We head out of the building and down a few blocks, stopping in front of an Irish pub that Westley and I have visited a few times.
Chris sniffles, his nose red from the cold. His hands are shoved into his pockets, his shoulders up to his ears to keep warm. He obviously wasn’t expecting it to be so cold here. Boston weather this time of year is colder than back home. It’s brisk, the cold air sharp. It feels like a slap to the face.
“Okay, what are we doing here? You buying me dinner?”
He shakes his head. “Nope.” He gestures down the block with a tilt of his chin. “I’m going to walk a few more blocks back to my hotel, where Mila is waiting for me.”
“Mila is here?” I blurt, looking down the street as if I’d see her. I want to. Why is he only telling me now that she’s here?
He nods and says, “But you’re going to go in there to have a conversation with my father.”
I jerk my head back to Chris, my jaw dropping. My heart does a flip and I look back at the pub doors.
Cole is here?
I blink a few times, then bring my gaze back to Chris. Is he fucking with me?
Chris smiles. Like an actual happy smile. He pulls his hand from his pocket and points at me. “And that look right there tells me it wasn’t a mistake.” He takes a few backward steps, putting his hand back in his pocket. “Text me later, yeah?” He grins, turns on his heel, and walks away quickly. I watch him for as long as I can, but it doesn’t take long for him to get lost in the dark.
I turn toward the pub, my heart pounding.
This can’t be real.
The door opens, and out steps a few college kids, laughing. They shiver when they step onto the sidewalk. One of them shouts, “coldah than a witch’s tit!” with a heavy Boston accent. Something that I would usually find funny, but right now? All I can think about is the fact Cole is inside this pub, waiting for me.
I glance down the sidewalk again.
Chris is here too. With Mila.
Am I dreaming?
I walk up the few stone steps and pull open the door, the scent of fried food heavy in the air. Without even having to search, I find him like a beacon. Right there, sitting at the bar, his suitcase beside him. I take a breath and move inside. My heart pounds faster, my chest growing warm.
He’s really here.
My feet move on their own until I’m right there. I take the empty seat beside him. The one that looks like it was meant for me.
“You look lonely,” I say, unable to hide my smile.
“I said those exact words to a guy at a bar once,” he says, reaching for his drink.
I roll my lips between my teeth. “Did you?”
He nods, picking up his beer. “Best decision of my life.”
My eyes fall closed as those words sink in.
This is really happening.
“I’d have to agree with you,” I say, opening my eyes to take him in. He’s already staring at me, that heated look in his eyes.
“I won’t leave in the morning this time,” he says huskily.
“I’d kick your ass.”
He chuckles. “I’d love to see you try.”
Cole finishes his drink, putting the glass down on the bar top.
I get to my feet, knowing we’re playing a game here. One we’re both going to win this time.
“Don’t bother getting a room.” I offer him my hand. He smiles as he takes it. “I already have one.”