Chapter Twenty-Three #2
“I’m not!” I’m yelling. He’s deflecting. Displacing. Or whatever this is. He’s throwing it back on me, like I don’t understand what’s right. “But you’re lying to yourself if you think that Hal hitting Jonathan is okay.”
“Truth is subjective.” His voice is dark without a hint of the boy I’ve trusted since we were kids.
“What does that even mean?” I bite back. “Collin, you can’t talk circles around this like you do with everyone else. You can’t hide your guilt with riddles.”
“Guilt? What do I have to feel guilty about?” Now his voice is raised. I stand in front of him so he can’t avoid me anymore.
“You let your best friend be hurt by his father. You saw it and did nothing.”
He yells into my face, “You don’t know what you’re talking about! You weren’t there! And you have no room to talk!”
We stare at each other. Collin’s cheeks are flushed with anger.
He blinks it away, uncomfortable. We’ve never fought before.
Never argued about anything, other than what toppings to put on a pizza.
It’s why he’s been the one I go to all of these years.
The one who listens without judgment. Who uses humor to heal.
Or deflect.
And now I look back at all of those times with a new perspective.
“Just because you didn’t want to see it, it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.” My words are low, almost sympathetic. But I’m still holding him to account. And he knows it.
Collin stacks bolts on the workbench, his back to me.
“That’s just how dads are with boys. You don’t understand.”
“How would you know?” My words are slicing. And I know it as soon as I unleash them. I close my eyes and bite my lip, wishing I could take them back.
Collin raises his head, and his eyes shine with hurt. “Go.”
“Collin… I—” But it’s too late. I went too far.
“Go home, Sadie. I don’t want to talk to you anymore. Not about this. Not about anything.” His jaw flexes as he attempts to rein in his emotions. “Get the fuck out, Sadie.” His voice is low, but his words nearly knock me over.
I stumble toward the door. My blood is racing with anger. My heart aches. I don’t know if I should apologize to make this better or scream at him to open his eyes.
A truck pulls in next to my car before I can reach it.
I can’t do this right now.
“Sadie…” Jonathan is a mess. His face is streaked with dirt or grease. His shirt is rumpled. His hair looks like he’s been pulling at it. “What did you see?”
He steps toward me. I take a step back.
Jonathan narrows his eyes. “I know you’re upset. But you don’t understand…”
His words are the same as Collin’s. I don’t understand. Yet neither boy is helping me to see clearly. All I know is what I witnessed with my own eyes. And it scared me.
Jonathan takes another step toward me. I force my feet to remain still, but my pulse thrums with adrenaline.
He grips his hair, his eyes glassy with emotion. I brace myself for him to scream into the sky, to release whatever it is that’s made him desperate and feral. “Let me explain. Okay?” He reaches out his hand for me to take. There’s blood on the back of his knuckles.
I gasp. “I saw what you did.”
He inspects his hand and rubs them on the back of his jeans. “I don’t think you did. Not really.” Then he sees the horror on my face. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“You’re telling me you didn’t hit him? Are you telling me I didn’t see you punch your father?”
Jonathan runs a hand through his hair. “You don’t understand. He was…” But he can’t find the words to explain it away. I can feel his frustration building. It presses against me, setting my heart into a panic, begging me to leave.
I look to my car, trying to figure out how to get by him. Before I can move, he’s in front of me, blocking my way.
“I have to explain, but don’t know where to start.” His words are a rush of panic. He’s desperate for me to stay. As desperate as I am to leave.
“Can you though? Explain why you hurt each other? Why it makes him someone you despise, but it’s fine when you punch him in the face?”
He stands perfectly still. “What?”
“I saw it.”
“But you didn’t see the truth!” There’s force in his words, the pressure needing a release—and I’m the one standing in front of him.
My words are a hiss. “You don’t get to tell me what I saw.”
I begin to walk past him. He steps to the side, keeping me corralled between his truck and my car. “Don’t do this. This is exactly what he wants.”
“Let me go,” I spit out.
Jonathan slams his hand on the hood of the truck. I startle and instinctively cower, my body reacting in fear all its own. The storm’s encroaching in his dark eyes. And I need to get away before it reaches a point where I won’t be able to look at him the same again.
“He’s trying to turn you against me,” Jonathan says in a clipped tone. I can hear it in his voice. His control is at a breaking point. “Don’t let him do this to us. You know me.”
Tears drip from my lashes. Because right now, I’m not sure I do.
I search his eyes—eyes that have held me captive, made me feel seen. I try to find the boy I love. But there’s only darkness staring back at me. He dips his head, breaking our connection. I take this opportunity to step past him to my car.
He raises his hand.
I flinch reflexively.
He becomes cemented to the spot.
I slowly peer up and am struck by the pain flooding his dark eyes. Eyes that I’ve never been able to read, until now.
“You’d think I’d hurt you?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
He shakes his head and blinks back the shimmer of tears. He knows what he saw too.
Collin is standing in the frame of the open door.
This time, when I walk away from him—from them both—no one tries to stop me.