Chapter 32
Emmett
D
rew doesn’t release her eyes from mine, anger still pooling in the warm hazel rings that contradict the coldness she is showing me. One of my hands is resting on her shoulder, but she makes no move to reciprocate my touch. I drop my arm back to my side, and it takes everything in me not to reach for her again.
She must not be able to see that I never want to let go.
She must not be able to see that I want every part of her, even the tears and the anger, and it scares me how those tears and that anger make me want to destroy anything and everything that makes them fester.
I don’t want to have this conversation with her, not now. I don’t want to let Riley ruin any other moment I have with Drew.
But Drew deserves the truth.
I exhale. “Her name is Riley. She’s my ex.”
“Ex-girlfriend?”
“Ex-fiancé.” Drew’s mouth slightly opens, as if she was physically affected by the words.
“You were engaged?” She looks hurt, caught so off-guard, and I want to pull her into my chest and tell her I would give those months with Riley back in a heartbeat if it meant I could’ve spent those months with Drew.
“We broke things off a few months ago. We wanted different things, and I thought I could be who she wanted, but it was doomed from the start.”
I see Drew ponder, wrapped up in her thoughts, not saying anything else. She goes to sit back down on the couch, and I follow her.
“What are you thinking?” I ask, trying to bring her down from the whirlpool I can tell is happening in her brain.
“If you broke things off, why did she come over that night?”
I’m not exactly sure what Drew wants me to say at this moment, so I just go with the truth, “She wanted to talk about reconciling,” Drew’s reaction to my words is apparent, flinching at the words. “But I told her we were never going to work, and it’s true.” I look down at the floor, my voice growing less confidence the more I talk about this. “We wanted different things, but I think we got too comfortable in the relationship, neither of us wanting to start over.”
“So, you weren’t happy to see her?”
“I was surprised, but not happy,” I explain. “For a second, I felt what I thought was happiness, but I was more pissed than anything else. I was mad she showed up unannounced and interrupted our night together.”
“Why did you ask me to leave instead of her?” I can feel Drew’s eyes burning into the side of my head. I can no longer say the edge I heard in her voice tonight with Reed has never been directed at me.
I know I have to meet her eyes, so I angle my face up to see hers. I almost instantly regret doing so because it feels like a punch in the gut. Her wet hair and freshly clean face. Her features look so soft, but her expression is sharp. This is the last conversation she should have to be having after what just happened to her. But I know I owe her the truth.
“Honestly, I needed to end things between Riley and me once and for all. Riley has always had a way of pushing me away just enough, so she can reel me back in.”
Drew nods her head as if she knows exactly what I mean.
I continue, “I had to admit to her, and myself, that we were never going to work, and that….” I pause, not sure if I should admit to Drew what I admitted to Riley that night. What I’ve barely admitted to myself.
“That what?”
“That even though I’ve known you for a less amount of time than I’ve known her, you make me feel things she never made me feel.”
Drew lets out a exhale she must have been holding on to for a while and doesn’t say anything for a minute or two. I watch as she processes everything I told her, looking down at the floor. Her expression slowly begins to soften, her eyebrows no longer furrowed, her shoulders no longer tense.
Finally, she meets my eyes again, and she says, “I know what you mean.”
I let out an exhale of my own because I am relieved to hear her voice, hoping that there’s not “but” on the tip of her tongue. “Thank for telling me,” she says. “I know how hard it is to let go of someone you thought you knew.”
And this is where we leave the conversation, knowing that I put it all out there, and she still forgives me. Another part of our histories that somehow complement each other, allowing us to understand the other even more.
The brief moment of silence between us is interrupted by her phone vibrating, making her break away from me to check it.
I watch as she reads the message that popped up, a reminder of some sort.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. It’s just an alarm I set for myself.”
“Oh, do you have something to do? I can get out of your—”
“No, it’s not that. I just…” she pauses, eyes still on her phone. “My therapist gave me some homework, and I wanted to set aside time for myself to do it tonight. It’s actually part of the reason I invited Reed over,” I fist my hands hearing his name come from her lips. “I wanted some help with it.”
She turns to me but quickly looks away.
I’m sure she’s contemplating on how to wrestle the hurricane of events she’s been through in these few weeks and whether or not I make things worse for her. I’m not sure if she wants me to offer, but I offer anyway because I want nothing more than to be what she needs. “I can help.”
Her eyes are on her lap, but I see a hint of a smile form on her perfect lips. To my surprise but making my dreams come true, I hear, “I’d like that.”
We spend the next few hours on her laptop and we read through news articles and watch news reports on what happened at Northshore Middle School at 10 AM on Friday, December 22nd. Drew sits with her legs up on the table in front of her couch, her feet crossed at the ankles next to the books I gave her. Her laptop in her lap, and I sit next to her, close, but not wrapped around her like I want to be. There’s a distance between us, one that she is sure to keep. The outside of our thighs being the only parts of our bodies to occasionally touch, sending heat throughout my entire body every time.
Drew is tense and nervous, and it takes everything in me not to shut the computer and take her in my arms because I want to protect her. I can see her hands shake as she types or moves the cursor, and my heart aches. I watch as she experiences moments of despair, moments of fear, and moments of anger as the events unfold right in front of her… Again.
We stick to articles that don’t talk about the identity of the shooter or who was hurt or injured, saving that for when she feels ready.
After spending an hour or so reading the different accounts of teachers and students who provided statements and police officers and first responders who were interviewed, Drew says she is ready to read about the shooter.
We find an article about the shooter and his upcoming trial. When she reads the name of the guy her jaw drops. “I know him.”
I feel like I was just punched in the stomach.
“What?” I ask.
“He’s my student’s brother. My student Cole.”
Fuck.
This is the last thing she needs.
When will this girl catch a fucking break?