Chapter 22
Nine Years Ago
Holland
“This is stupid,” I say, tugging the neckline of my dress up so it will cover more skin.
The dress I’m wearing doesn’t actually belong to me. It’s my roommate’s, because I can’t afford to buy a fancy new outfit if I’m only going to wear it once. So she let me borrow one of hers—a little black dress that hits just above my knee, fitted, with a sweetheart neckline and thin straps. It’s simple, which I prefer, and it’s definitely better than the other option she presented me with, which was mossy green with lace.
“It’s not stupid,” Trev says, his voice blaring into my room as we chat on speaker. “And what do you have to complain about, anyway? I bought your ticket. You’re basically just getting free food, Holl.”
“My dress is too tight,” I grumble.
“Suck it up,” he says, as cheerful as ever. “We’re almost to your place. Come wait outside.”
“It’s raining?—”
“But we’re like two streets away. Come outside. I don’t want to wait thirty minutes for you to walk down three flights of stairs in heels. ”
“Fine.” I hang up on him, grab my little black purse, and leave my room, waving goodbye to my roommate.
It doesn’t take me thirty minutes to get down all three flights of stairs, but that’s only because I take my shoes off to walk. Trev isn’t far off on his guess; I love cute dresses, but I’ve never been good at heels. The staircase is outdoors, so I’m already contending with the wind and the rain; no need to stack the odds against myself.
Trev and Phoenix are just pulling up when I get to the ground floor. I walk carefully through the light rain, dreading every step that takes me closer to Trev’s black car.
Phoenix and I haven’t seen or spoken to each other since the disastrous closet kiss two weeks ago. I wouldn’t say I’m avoiding him, exactly, but I’ve been happy not to see him. Since he’s Trev’s roommate and best friend, however, that can’t last forever.
Trev pops out of the driver’s side, looking dapper in his suit. His light hair blows in the wind as he jogs over to me. “I need to use your bathroom really fast,” he says, and then he goes right past me. I hear him taking the stairs two at a time, an obnoxious clang-clang-clang sound that I’m sure my neighbors will appreciate, and I roll my eyes as I climb in the back seat of the car.
Phoenix doesn’t turn to look at me; he doesn’t even speak. All I can see of him is that he’s wearing a suit, like Trev, except his is probably tailored and more expensive.
When I finally can’t stand the silence anymore, I clear my throat. “You didn’t say anything to Trev, did you?”
Phoenix’s eyes jump to mine in the rearview mirror. “No,” he says, sounding horrified. “And you can’t either. Don’t even think about it, Holl, or I’ll?—”
“Threaten me? Are you serious?” I say, scoffing. “Or are you going to blackmail me? Because if you do that, I’ll have no choice but to tell Trev about the tampon incident.”
Phoenix snorts. “He wouldn’t care about that.”
“Yes he would,” I say. “You were a total jerk, and I’m his beloved little sister.”
Silence from the front seat, accompanied by his dark-eyed glare in the rearview mirror.
“We’ll both keep our mouths shut about anything that’s happened between us in the past,” I finally say. “Tampons and closets included. No threats or blackmail will be necessary. Deal?”
Phoenix just grunts, which I take to mean yes .
Trev fills the car with his chatter as we drive to the event. He’s always talkative, but more so tonight; he’s part of the university’s outreach organization, so he’s been helping plan this benefit gala for months, and he’s more excited than I’ve ever seen him. All proceeds will go toward local disaster relief, which I guess is a good cause.
I just wish he hadn’t dragged me along with him. But he paid for my ticket and begged me to come, so here I am. I can only assume he forced Phoenix to come too, because Phoenix doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who enjoys dinners and galas and fancy events.
A shame, because that man in a nice suit is a sight to behold.
When we arrive at the hotel where this thing is taking place, an actual valet takes our car and gives us a ticket. I’ve never used a valet in real life; it’s counterintuitive to me, letting a stranger drive away in your car, but Trev doesn’t seem to mind. He just hops out, and we follow suit, taking the ticket and then going in.
There’s a large sign that points us in the right direction, but Trev obviously knows where he’s going; he and Phoenix stride across the lobby like they were born to stride across lobbies, and I scurry along after them in my uncomfortable heels, following until we reach the entrance to Ballroom A.
It’s huge. So big, and there are so many people, and all of them are wearing fancy dresses and suits. There’s vaguely familiar classical music playing, and there are even a decent number of couples dancing.
“Food,” I say as my eyes find the table on the other side of the ballroom, full of silver platters with what look to be appetizers. There will be an actual meal served later, but for now…
“Have at it,” Trev says with a smile. “We’ll go get settled at the table.”
“Are there assigned seats?” I say, looking around.
“Yeah. We’re over there somewhere, I think,” Trev says. He points to one corner of the ballroom, and I nod.
“I’ll meet you there.”
I hurry to the table of appetizers—hors d’oeuvres, if we want to be fancy—and fill one of those nice plastic plates that look like scalloped glass. I grab mini cheese balls, a mini puff pastry with spinach, and I even brave some sort of mushroom cap. Then I head back to the table where Trev and Phoenix have seated themselves; Trev is speaking animatedly to an older couple at the table, while Phoenix nods politely.
My plan of action is to pretend I’m invisible and somehow will it into being, so I can sit and eat my food in peace. I hold my plate in one hand and try to discreetly pull up the neckline of my dress with the other as I make my way to our table. My feet are definitely suffering in these shoes, but I remain as steady as possible.
I more or less collapse into the chair next to Phoenix, letting out an embarrassing little oomph as I land. Phoenix looks over and raises one dark brow at me; I’m sure to him I seem like a cavewoman wearing heels for the first time, but whatever. These death traps are four inches high. Mr. I-Sleep-In-My-Suit can suck it.
“Stop staring,” I snap at him when I notice in my periphery that his eyes are still on me. “I’m sure you have better things to look at.”
“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” he says.
By the time I turn my head to glare at him, he’s already looking away.
I make my way through my plate of food—the mushroom caps aren’t my favorite, so I leave them—and then stare wistfully when everything is gone. When the people Trev is talking to meander away, I turn to ask him if I can get seconds, but he speaks before I have the chance.
“All right,” he says, standing up. “I need to go mingle. You two—go dance or something.”
When Phoenix and I just stare at him, he waves his hand.
“Dance!” he says again. “Go dance.”
And I don’t know why neither of us protest; it’s clear we don’t want to dance, much less with each other. But that’s part of Trev’s magic; he’s hard to say no to, because he’s so enthusiastic and excited about everything.
“Go,” he says when Phoenix and I both stand as slowly as humanly possible. “Come on; go dance. We need people to dance or it will just be an awkward empty dance floor.”
He shoos us away from the table, and we grudgingly go, weaving around tables until we reach the dance floor.
“We don’t have to dance,” I tell Phoenix as he positions himself in front of me. “Trev isn’t actually going to force us.”
“It’s fine,” he says.
“It doesn’t seem fine,” I say, my voice skeptical. Because his expression is blank, his body stiff as he rests one hand on my waist and holds the other out for me; I take it, putting my other hand on his shoulder. “You seem like you would rather be tortured than dance with me right now.”
“I don’t like to dance,” he says. “But I can stomach one song.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m flattered,” I say. “Really. You know, maybe Jewel is here tonight?—”
“Don’t start, Holl,” he says, and he rolls his eyes too. “It was a mistake. I’m sorry. But there’s nothing else I can do.”
I don’t respond, because he’s right.
“Sorry,” I say—though I have to force the word out.
“It’s fine.” He doesn’t look at me as we sway back and forth to the music; in fact, his eyes are everywhere but on me. “You’ll find someone, you know? Don’t worry about it.”
“Hang on.” I stop before remembering we’re on a dance floor, and we have to keep moving or we’ll look weird. So I resume dancing, letting Phoenix guide me as I speak. “You seem to be under the impression that I’m—I’m pining for you or something. Is that what you think is happening?”
“What? No,” he says, his gaze finally resting on me. “I didn’t say that.”
“Because I’m not,” I say with a little frown. “I was vaguely interested in you, Phoenix. I wasn’t in love. You’re not the only fish in the sea.” I’m not even lying. I had—maybe still have—a crush on Phoenix, but that’s it. I wasn’t naming our future children. I wasn’t planning our wedding.
Phoenix shifts uncomfortably, his hand flexing on my waist as the slow drone of music continues to play around us. “I’m not sure how I feel about you making out with someone you’re only vaguely interested in, but okay?—”
“I can kiss who I want.”
“I know you can,” he says with a sigh. “And I guess I don’t care. Just—be careful. ”
“You be careful!” I laugh incredulously. “You were the one kissing the wrong girl.”
He snorts. “Believe me, I’ve learned my lesson.”
His lesson. Perfect.
“Let’s stop talking,” I say. “I’ve now been referred to as a mistake and a lesson, and while I get what you’re saying, my pride is severely wounded.”
His exhale seems to take several inches off his height. “Holland?—”
“I’m serious,” I say, swallowing the knot in my throat. “ Please let’s stop talking about it.”
I don’t look away as his gaze darts over my face, because my shredded dignity won’t let me; I just hold his eyes until finally he nods.
“Fine,” he says.
We finish the dance in awkward silence, and when the music ends, we let go of each other as though we’ve been electrocuted. Though we don’t discuss where we’re going, somehow we both gravitate toward Trev, who’s waving to someone and smiling as they head for the ballroom doors.
“I need to keep mingling,” Trev says when we reach him. “I still need to go thank a few of the donors who weren’t here yet earlier. Come with me,” he adds to Phoenix, looking anxiously around the room. “Stand next to me and look dignified and wealthy.”
“Dignified and wealthy,” Phoenix says in a dry voice, a hint of a smile flitting over his lips. “Got it.”
“We’ll be back, Holl,” Trev says. “Eat some more hors d’oeuvres.”
“I ate everything but the mushroom ones,” I say. “Am I allowed to get more of the little cheese balls?”
He nods and waves toward the long table in the back of the ballroom. “Go. Get more cheese balls. ”
More cheese balls. Excellent.
I lose track of how long I sit at the table by myself, but it feels like forever. I’m too embarrassed to get a third helping of cheese balls, so I don’t; a while later dinner is served anyway, and everyone returns to their seats. I eat my salad quietly and speak only when someone talks directly to me; the hours pass painfully slowly until finally, finally, people begin to leave.
Not us, apparently, but other people. Trev, Phoenix, and I stay until we’re some of the last, and my toes are numb in my shoes, and there are blisters on my heels.
The blisters feel bigger than they actually are—like they’re covering my entire heel—and by the time we’ve helped take down a large portion of the decorations, they’re throbbing painfully. I’m also feeling very stupid, because this must be the real reason Trev begged us to come along: he wanted help with take-down duty.
When we finally head outside and get our car from the valet, Trev passes me the keys.
“We’ve both had champagne,” he says when I look blankly at him. “So you’re driving. Why are you glaring at me?”
“Have you ever tried driving in a dress and heels?” I say to him, narrowing my eyes. Then I sigh. “Get in, I guess. Come on—everybody in.”
“You don’t need to herd us,” Phoenix says with a frown. “We’re not completely inebriated.”
“Just say drunk like the rest of us,” I mutter under my breath. “Get in; I’m tired. I want to go to bed.”
The shoes finally come off when I’ve settled myself in the driver’s seat, Phoenix in the passenger seat and Trev in the back .
“Take care of my sister up there,” Trev says sleepily from his seat, patting Phoenix on the shoulder.
“I promise,” Phoenix says, his voice dry.
I give Trev ten minutes before he’s asleep.
We begin the drive home, the car dark and silent. The roads aren’t great; it’s not raining anymore, but there’s standing water that makes me nervous.
A tickle of foreboding crawls up my spine.
I slow our pace, and Phoenix either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care; I think he’s awake, but he’s staring out the window.
I slow some more. He glances at me briefly, but he doesn’t speak.
We’re only a few miles from home when it happens.
Rain begins to fall.
And rain is fine, rain is normal, but there’s something about this night that feels different; an icy hand squeezing my lungs. Visibility is worse now, and although I’m driving slowly, it doesn’t seem to make much difference. We’re halfway over the river when the wheels catch a patch of water, and awfully, horribly, terrifyingly—I lose control of the car.
“Phoenix,” I say immediately; I don’t know why his is the name that comes to my lips.
I grip the steering wheel tighter, dig imprints of the seams into my palms, but everything is happening in slow motion and I don’t know what to do. We’re hydroplaning as though we’re weightless—the middle of the road, the edge of the bridge, and horror like I’ve never known in my life?—
Screaming, yelling, shouting, a cacophony of wordless terror?—
And finally darkness as the car crashes through the guard rail and plunges into the river below.