Chapter 26
Twenty-six
It had been raining all day. Water poured off the broken gutters on the side of my house, and even though I was under the porch, droplets still plopped onto my arms and head.
Stella stood in front of me, rocking back and forth on the heels of her sandals.
She wore no makeup, her face pale and her eyes tired.
She must have noticed the disdain on my face, because she huffed out a breath and looked down. Thunder rumbled the porch.
“I promise I’m only here to give you your makeup bag.” She handed it to me gently. “And to get Brooklyn’s car.”
Over her shoulder, Charlie waited in Stella’s car. When he noticed my glance, he lifted his hand to give me a small wave.
“Thank you,” I muttered, dropping the keys to the Jeep in Stella’s hand. I was about to go back inside when she stopped me.
“Wait.” She put her hand on my arm. I turned to face her, crossing my arms over my chest. I didn’t know if I should feel angry or sad or some combination of both, but it unsettled me either way.
“I want to say how sorry I am about everything. I really should have told you my suspicions. I know you’re angry, and I’ll take full responsibility for it.
You should have never had to see what happened the other night.
” She paused and let out a sharp exhale.
“I don’t want you to think that he didn’t love you. He did. He does.”
I wanted to not care. I wanted to rip Brooklyn out of my system, even if that meant ripping out my own heart, for my own self-preservation.
But I couldn’t help myself. I had to ask. “Where is he?”
“I can’t tell you. He didn’t want me to. But—” She produced an envelope from the pocket of her sweatshirt. “He wanted me to give you this.”
I quickly took the envelope from her, trying to hide my trembling hands.
“Anyway, that’s all. I’ll let you go now. Goodbye.” Stella turned and walked back to her car, handing the keys to the Jeep to Charlie. I stood on my porch and watched them drive away, realizing that was probably the last time I’d ever see them.
I darted back up to my room and shut the door behind me, clutching the envelope to my chest. All it had was my name on it, and that was all I could seem to focus on. Nat, the way he’d say it with that self-assured smile.
I don’t know how long I sat on the floor of my bedroom, running my fingers over the black ink of my name in Brooklyn’s scratchy handwriting.
I put the envelope on my bedside table before grabbing my phone.
My thumb hovered over my favorites list in my contacts for a few moments before shakily hitting Brooklyn’s number.
It only rang once before the chirpy automated message came through.
“I’m sorry, this number has been disconnected or is no longer in service. Please try—”
I hung up the phone and threw it onto my bed.
Tears that had been begging to come out spilled down my cheeks, staining my pillow.
My head ached and throbbed as every raw and ridiculous emotion surged through me like the dam I’d been so desperate to keep constructed had finally given.
I cried and cried and cried until I had no more tears left.
Things from the other night I thought I’d forgotten came to the forefront of my memory, and every time I closed my eyes, I saw Brooklyn in that hospital bed.
I was sure it would haunt me for a long time.
At some point (though I wasn’t sure exactly when) I stopped, and took deep, heaving breaths in some kind of attempt to land back in the safety of my bedroom and not all the dark places my mind was wandering through.
I lay in my bed quietly for what felt like hours, until the darkness of the night crept through my bedroom window. It was still raining.
I blotted my face with the sleeves of my shirt before turning back to face my room.
What was normally a clean haven for me had become a crime scene.
Shoes had piled up in the corner by my dresser, and various articles of clothes strewn across the floor had seemed to multiply, turning small piles into mountains.
My desk chair was barely visible underneath another pile of clothes.
I shakily got up from bed and poked at a stray shirt with my foot.
When I bent down to pick it up, my chest tightened and more tears threatened to well up in my throat.
The bright-blue Clayton baseball T-shirt Brooklyn had given me still smelled like him.
I gingerly folded it and set it down on my bed, swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat. I picked up another shirt that sat at my feet, folding it the same way and setting it down in a new pile.
Soon enough I began shuffling along the floor of my room, picking through piles of shirts and adding them to the folded pile on my bed.
Eventually I did the same for my sweaters, grabbing bunches of hangers and placing them back in my closet.
I stacked my shoes in pairs against the wall by my dresser, finding sandals I thought I had misplaced at the beach and a pair of chunky heels Nikki had been looking for weeks ago.
A pile of Brooklyn’s clothes had its own place on my bed, from a teal Clayton University hoodie he had given me after a night on the beach to an old Montgomery Prep Football long-sleeve shirt that had thumb holes cut out at the ends of the sleeves.
I scowled at the pile before shoving it on the top shelf of my closet.
“You’re up.”
I whipped around to see Nikki standing in the doorway. It was so easy to forget that we were technically still in a fight, and suddenly all of that seemed so meaningless and inconsequential.
“How long have you been standing there?” I asked.
“Long enough.”
She made her way over to my bed and sat on the edge, patting the space beside her and beckoning me to join her. “How are you?”
I blew a piece of hair out of my face and made my way to my sister.
The bed squeaked as I sat down. I leaned on my knees and rubbed my face with my hands.
“Terrible.” I almost wanted to laugh. “It’s amazing how someone can do something awful and still make you feel like you’re the one who did something awful. ”
Nikki chewed on her bottom lip before she spoke. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about what happened?”
“No,” I replied quickly. “I mean, yes, I’m sure. No, I don’t want to talk about it. It’s exhausting to even think about.”
“We don’t have to, then.” Nikki pulled at the sleeves of her colorful knit cardigan. “You can talk to me when you’re ready. But can I say something?”
“Even if I say no, you’re going to anyway. So go ahead.”
“I’m sorry about the way I’ve acted the past few weeks.
I overstepped. A lot. I shouldn’t have said those things to Brooklyn, and I shouldn’t have tried to manipulate you or the way you felt.
Part of me wanted to protect you, but the other part .
. . there was probably some kind of mixture of pettiness and jealousy. ”
I lifted my face from my hands, my cheeks still hot and sore from rubbing at them. Unshed tears in the corners of my eyes blurred my vision every time I blinked. “You don’t have to apologize. You were right, all things considered.”
“Well, I am surprisingly way above saying I told you so here.”
We shared a soft, genuine laugh—the kind that lets you know all has been forgiven even without saying it—and she leaned her head on my shoulder like she did when we were kids on long drives.
“You were really jealous?” I asked her.
She’d been crying, and I only realized that now when she reached up to blot the corners of her eyes with the sleeves of her sweater.
“Yeah, I was. Not only that you had somebody to love, but that somebody loved you. Because for all the people I’ve kissed and dated and done whatever with, I never found that with anyone.
I push people away—Alec, case in point—and you do the opposite.
You make people feel so loved, even without expecting it in return. ”
I shook my head, letting a stray tear run down my face. “Maybe that’s the worst part about all of this. All the love in the world still couldn’t have saved him.”
“You couldn’t have saved him no matter what you did, and I know you know that.”
“Didn’t stop me from trying.” I sighed, and felt something leave my body when I did. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I felt lighter.
“Maybe it’s finally time you started thinking about saving yourself. You’re the only one who can do that.” Nikki gave me a hug, one of those long, lasting ones where you feel like you could eventually melt into the person, before leaving my room.
Without allowing myself even a moment to have second thoughts, I finally ripped the envelope open.
Nat—
I don’t even know where to begin, but I’ll start with I’m sorry, even though I know I won’t be able to say it enough.
I’m sorry for lying to you, and for putting you in a situation you never should have been in.
I’m sorry for letting you down. I’m sorry for not telling you how I felt about you when I should have.
I’m sorry for so many things but I don’t have the space to write them all.
Most importantly, I’m sorry that I couldn’t be everything you deserve, because you deserve the world.
You deserve the world and the moon and the stars and everything in between.
You were the peace that I craved in my fucked-up life, and like a true addict, I became completely addicted to you and the way you made me feel.
You made me feel invincible. But it was selfish of me to hold on to you when I knew I was doing all the wrong things.
The time I spent with you will never have been enough for me, but you’re enough.
You’re more than enough. You’re everything.
Love, Brooklyn