Thirty-seven
I don’t know how I was expecting to spend my first official day of suspension.
Maybe I’d sleep in, take a bubble bath, wallow in self-pity. Probably the latter, to be honest.
I never anticipated being woken up by the doorbell at the ass-crack of dawn.
I blink my eyes open with a groan, burying my face into the pillow. I don’t move for a beat, hoping like hell that my dad hasn’t left for work yet and he’ll be able to get it. But, when it rings again - and again - it’s pretty obvious that’s not gonna happen.
Curses fly from my mouth as I force myself out of bed, my movements jerky and aggressive as I yank on a pair of shorts and stomp down the staircase. My breath leaves me in angry puffs, fists clenched as I get ready to chew out the mailman or the delivery man or whoever the fuck is at the door. But, I stop dead when I open it, seeing Peyton standing there.
“What are you doing here?” I blurt.
Her smile slips, a nervous laugh bubbling up her throat. “Ouch. Just the reaction I was hoping for.”
“Sorry. I— Not a morning person, I guess.” I step back, holding the door open wider. “Come in.”
She follows me inside and takes a seat on a stool at the kitchen counter. I grab two mugs, filling them high with coffee from the pot my dad must have brewed before he left. She smiles in thanks as I hand it over and sit down next to her.
“How come you aren’t at school?” I ask.
“I’m heading there after this.” She lifts the mug to her lips, taking a sip, wincing when she looks up at me again. “I heard about the suspension. I’m so sorry.”
I shrug. “Yeah, it sucks. But, what can you do?”
“Chad told me about the Golden Bears scout, though. California, huh? That’s really exciting.”
My face falls and I duck my head. “It was.”
She frowns. “Was?”
“I don’t think it’s gonna happen for me anymore. I mean, even if these charges against me are cleared, what school’s gonna want someone who was arrested for attempted murder? And I, uh…” I swallow hard. “I’m not sure if it’s what I want now, anyway.”
“Why not?”
“I was supposed to go with Oakley, but…” I stop, shake my head. “His injury, it— he can’t remember who I am. It’s over.”
Peyton freezes. “So, it’s true. About you and him. That you… love him.”
“Yes. It is.”
Her head drops, hands gripping the edge of the counter until her knuckles turn white. Her back rises and falls with shuddering breaths and… is she crying? My brows furrow, shock rendering me immobile for a beat. I don’t know what to do, what to say. In the end, I settle for running a hand over her back in gentle circles.
“Hey, what’s…” My words trail off as realization hits. We were supposed to be together. Even if it was fake for me, it wasn’t for her. And after everything that’s happened, I completely forgot. God, I’m a piece of shit. “Fuck, Peyton, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I—”
She jumps to her feet, knocking my hand away and moving so fast that the stool topples over. I leave it, following her as she wanders halfway across the room, her head in her hands. When she finally looks at me again, her cheeks are flushed, tears streaming. The devastation on her face guts me.
“Jesus, you have no idea how sorry I am. I never meant to—”
“Just stop,” she cries, holding her hands out. “Please. Stop apologizing to me. I don’t deserve it. Not after what I…” She lets out a sob. “Not after what I did.”
My blood turns cold, eyes narrowing. “What did you do, Peyton?”
“Oh, God.” She tries to catch her breath and I shift on my feet, patience running thin. “I-I knew, okay? I knew about you and Oakley.”
“What?”
“I saw you together. Twice. The first time was at the carnival. We were looking for you and I heard a noise and…” She shakes her head. “I couldn’t believe it, that you and him were really—”
“Get back to the point,” I snap.
She flinches. “Right. Sorry. I kept it to myself, didn’t say a word to anyone. But, then your dad came to us. He was a mess, completely worried about you. He practically begged my dad to agree to that deal, the one they’ve been going back and forth over for years about us getting married. My dad refused unless I agreed.”
“So, why did you? Why would you even think about saying yes to that when you knew about me and Oakley?”
“Asher, you…” She sighs. “You don’t understand. I’ve been crazy about you since we were in, like, the second grade. But, you’ve never even looked at me twice. Do you know how hard that is? To love someone so much, but they act like you don’t even exist? I’d have agreed to anything if it meant being with you.”
“Peyton, that’s…”
“Pathetic,” she guesses. “Sad. Trust me, I already know.”
“When was the second time? You said you saw us together twice.”
She chews on her bottom lip, hesitating a beat. Somehow, I already know what she’s gonna say before the words even come out. “At the game. In the locker room. I saw Oakley leave and… I don’t know. Something told me I should follow him.”
Jesus Christ. I pace the room, scrubbing my hands down my face. I can’t fucking believe this. “How much did you see?”
“Everything.”
Fuck. My hands land on the counter, head dropping between my shoulder blades. I count to ten, trying to breathe past the nausea. A feat that seems impossible with Peyton’s next words.
“That’s not even the worst part.”
“What else?” I bite out. “Damn it, Peyton. What else is there?”
“I didn’t know what to do. I was pissed that you’d lied to me and I just… panicked. I waited until you both left and I took your phone from your locker. I was going to text Oakley from it, tell him that you never wanted to see him again. But, the Chief didn’t think it was a good enough idea and—”
“Wait.” Blood rushes through my ears as I stare her down. “Chief Farrow knew?”
Peyton crumbles, a fresh onslaught of tears rolling down her cheeks. “I told him. I knew he didn’t want you two together as much as I did. I thought he could help.”
“What did he do?” When she doesn’t say anything, I march over to her, barking, “Peyton, tell me what he did.”
I already know. Of course I do. But, I need to hear her say it.
“He took the phone, told me he’d take care of it. And when he showed up to your party, he gave it back and just said he’d fixed it. But, I saw the look in his eye and there was blood on his shirt and…”
I don’t hear the rest of what she says.
Like somebody’s flipped a switch, all those blurry memories from the night at the party suddenly become crystal clear.
My house filling with people. Music blaring. Drinks being poured. I was pissed that I couldn’t find my phone, running to the door every five seconds hoping Oakley would show up. Then, Peyton was there, handing me a drink. I told her I didn’t want it, but she insisted. You’ve earned it, she’d said. I caved and gulped down half in one go. The room started spinning. Peyton disappeared. I found her outside, in the driveway. Red and blue flashing lights. Chief Farrow’s police cruiser. He was there, talking to her. I stumbled out of the house, tried asking him where Oakley was, but my words were all slurred, jumbling together. Peyton took me inside, helped me upstairs. I fell into bed, Oakley’s face the last thing I saw in my mind before I passed out.
“You drugged me,” I whisper.
Peyton’s face turns ghostly pale. “Asher, I…”
“You stole my phone, gave it to Chief Farrow, let him use it to hurt Oakley and then you fucking drugged me so I couldn’t do a thing to stop it.”
“I’m sorry,” she sobs. “I just wanted you to forget about him. I thought the Chief really would fix it, I didn’t know he’d try to kill him.”
I bite out a curse, spinning on my heel to throw my fist at the kitchen door. I hiss at the pain that shoots up my arm, shaking out my hand before examining my red knuckles. This whole thing is so fucked up. Every time I think nothing else could happen, the situation seems to get impossibly worse. I can’t keep up with it. Can’t take much more of it, either.
“You have to believe me, Asher,” she says. “The last thing in the world I wanted to do was hurt you. When I found out you were arrested, I went to the station to try and talk some sense into him, but he wouldn’t listen to me. Said you were collateral damage. I didn’t know how else to help, so I—”
I move toward her. “You could start by telling the truth about what really happened. Go to the police, tell them everything you know. About him taking my phone, going to meet Oakley, the blood on his shirt. Everything. That’s how you can help.”
“I can’t,” she chokes out.
“Why the hell not?”
“My dad did some illegal stuff a few years ago. Stole some money from a couple of clients, wrote it off as business expenses. Chief Farrow knows all about it. If I talk, my dad goes to jail. I can’t let that happen, Asher. It’ll tear my whole family apart.”
Of course. Of fucking course. Somehow, that fucker has something on absolutely everybody. Everyone who could help, could put him away, has a reason to be kept quiet and he uses it against them. I’m sick to fucking death of it.
“And what about me?” I scream, slapping a hand to my chest. “Huh? What am I supposed to do? I’m fucking torn apart! There’s nothing left of me anymore, except the hurt and the pain. You say you wanna help, but you won’t even do shit.” I shake my head, turning away. “You know what? You should just go. Just leave. I’m done talking to you.”
“I do wanna help,” she urges. “That’s why I took this.”
She rushes to her bag, pulling out a book and handing it over. The black leather cover has faded some, the pages all curled at the ends from overuse. And when I open it up… the first thing I see is me. My eyes, my smile. The dimple in my cheek. I know right away what this is, the importance of what I’m cradling between my palms.
“Where did you get this?” I breathe, moving onto the next page.
“Chief Farrow’s office at the station. He left to take a phone call and I saw this sitting on his desk and I… I don’t know. It looked important, so I took it. I thought that maybe it could help.”
I keep looking for another minute, feeling my heart burst just a little bit more with each new drawing I find, until my eyes blur with tears and I have to stop otherwise I’ll just break down. I slam the book shut, tucking it into my side.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice hoarse. “For bringing this to me. And for telling me what you know.”
She steps closer, reaching out a hand to cup my cheek. I jerk away from her touch and she ducks her head, swallowing another sob. “I really am sorry.”
Then, she leaves.
My brain feels like it’s about to explode, too much information being piled into it at once. I’m not sure about anything anymore. Who to trust, what’s the truth and what’s all lies.
But, there’s one thing I know for certain.
I have hope again.