Chapter 22
Chapter twenty-two
Hendrix · Now
Disenchanted – My Chemical Romance
What the hell just happened?
I rack my brain, trying to pinpoint the exact moment it all went wrong.
Things were going well between Cole and me. The music was flowing, the tension light. It was … nice. Until it wasn’t.
Nothing sticks out. No sudden shift, no clear reason for his mood to drop so fast.
My engine idles.
I tighten my hands around the steering wheel. Heat blasts through the vents, swaying the orange-scented air freshener dangling around the mirror. I glance toward the hotel but can’t bring myself to get out of the car.
Instead, I snag my phone and pull up my texts.
I really should just go inside, debrief with Riley, and call it a night.
I don’t.
Instead, I open a thread from a couple weeks ago and tap out a message.
Know a good place to skate around here?
Slow seconds stretch into minutes as the text goes unanswered.
The hum of Bad Omens filling the car keeps me company while I stare down at the black screen.
My knee bounces.
I close my eyes and sigh.
Guess everyone’s agreed shutting me out is the way to go today. Not like I can blame them.
I grab my bag from the passenger footwell and start to turn the key when my phone vibrates. Saint doesn't bother with small talk—no hi, how are you, or why, what’s up?—just a postcode sent in reply.
I punch it into the sat nav, shoot a quick text to Riley so she won’t worry, and shift the car into reverse.
The park is quiet when I pull up.
A couple teenagers mill about the grass, drinks in their hands, cigarettes dangling between their teeth.
My mouth tilts as I roll past them on my board. The scene is reminiscent of too many moments in my life where I was doing the same back home.
I spot the metal ramps and steer myself in that direction, pushing the volume on my phone until the only thing I can hear is the music pouring through my headphones.
Rolling up the half-pipe, I drop my knees and twist the board beneath my feet when I reach the top. Wind whips my hair, slicking it to my lip-gloss. I roll back down, only to pause when I spot a figure leaning against the quarter-pipe.
Shrouded in shadows, hood tugged deep over his forehead, a lit cigarette burning between his teeth, Saint watches me.
I kick the board into my hand, tug my headphones off, and bridge the distance between us. “What are you doing here?”
“Not a fucking clue.” He cocks his head, a smirk on his lips.
He jumps up on top of the ledge, his legs kicking out in front of him.
I eye the spot next to him warily.
He chuckles. “Come on, Rix. I won’t bite.”
“That remains to be seen.” I hand him my board before planting my hands against the edge and hoisting myself up. He offers me a joint and I shake my head. “No, thanks. I’m driving.”
“When did you get boring?” he teases.
“Right around the time I got old.” I chuckle.
I dip my gaze to his hands, to the white-gold ring, and Teddy inked across his fingers. My stomach knots when I spy the purple and black beaded bracelet wrapping his wrist.
I don’t know how I missed them yesterday.
He clocks my notice, arching a brow.
“You held on,” I say.
He nods, eyes glinting under the evening sun. “You didn’t.”
I swallow down bile as it crawls up my throat. The accusation in his voice, the tone at which he delivers the blow is precise. He means it to taunt, to hurt, and it does.
I don’t say anything.
His ring clinks against the metal as he raps his knuckles. Smoke curls in the air, wrapping around us, the sound of his drags filling the quiet.
“What happened today, Rix?” he finally asks.
I narrow my gaze. “What makes you think something happened?”
“You only skate when the world is too heavy.” He shakes his head. “Not to mention Cole having a face like a slapped arse when he stomped out of the studio.”
I frown, my stomach twisting. “I don’t know. Everything was fine. And then it wasn’t and he practically shoved me out the door.” I drop my board, jump down onto it, and roll toward the base of the ramp. “It doesn’t matter anyway. We got what we needed.”
“Then why are you still here?”
“Here? As in this skate park or…”
“Here.” He calls after me. “Why haven’t you run off home yet? Disappeared like you do best when things get too hard.”
“That’s not fair,” I whisper, the words bitter on my tongue.
“Isn’t it?” he quips, his voice ice cold. “You want to pretend like that’s not what you did?”
“Don’t.” I shake my head. “Saint. Please.”
“You didn’t see him after you left. You didn’t have to pick up the pieces of the boy you broke.”
His words hit me like a knife, searing my skin as ice slithers down my spine.
Saint doesn’t relent. “And you won’t be the one who has to do it when you leave again.”
“What am I supposed to do? Stick around in a place I no longer belong? Beg for scraps because it’s all I deserve.”
“Who’s fault is that, Hendrix?” His steps are clipped as they follow behind me. “You walked away. You disappeared. And then you come back and expect him to what? Just be okay with you? Work in harmony as if you didn’t rip his heart out ten years ago and refuse to hand it back?”
“I didn’t ask for this, Saint.” My muscles lock. “He came to me.”
A dull laugh wraps around me. “But you didn’t say no.”
The board slips beneath my feet.
I kick it into my hand, my fingers clinging to the tail in a death grip.
“Why didn’t you say no?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes you do,” he presses, the weight of his words heavy in the air.
My eyes burn.
“I just…” I slam them shut as I feel Saint approaching me. “He was there. He was right there in front of me, asking me.” My board crashes to the floor as I hug my arms around my waist. “And I just couldn’t say no to him.”
“Did you try to say no?”
A choked sob spills from my lips. “I didn’t even think to.”
I hear him suck in a drag and blow it out, not once, but twice.
“Okay, then."
“Okay, then?” I spin, zeroing in on Saint. “That’s all you’re gonna say?”
“That’s all I’m gonna say.” He lifts a shoulder, shoves a hand in his pocket, and spins on feet.
He saunters away, hips swaggering, frame light.
A part of me wants to chase after him, to tell him that whatever he’s thinking is wrong. Another part of me wants nothing more than to turn around and do exactly what he said I do when everything gets hard.
I stay rooted to the spot, doing neither.
Then he halts.
Twisting slowly, he drags his eyes down my face.
“You know what,” he shouts across to me. “I have one more thing to say to you.”
I scoff. Because I can handle one more hard truth from the guy I once called a brother. “Throw it at me.”
He does—literally.
Keys arc through the air.
I snatch them before they can hit me square in the face.
Cold metal bites into my palm. I glance down at the silver microphone dangling from the keyring.
I flick my gaze to Saint and my gut churns in confusion.
The corner of his mouth is curved softly, blue irises swirling like the ocean. “Don’t fucking blow it this time by letting go.”