Chapter 47
Hayes
22 years old
Rain starts to fall as we drive back home.
For weeks, I’ve felt unsettled, unable to change things for my best friend and the girl I love, but things are finally settling into place for MJ and me. As far as Langston—we’ll figure it out. Staying close means I can help him figure it out.
I made the decision to trade weeks ago, but I didn’t want to say anything to MJ until I knew. I got the call this morning, and I wanted to tell her right away. Then we fought, and she threatened to leave me.
I felt my whole life spiral out of control in that second.
It all means nothing without her, and even though I’m still not sure about telling Langston, I will if it’s the only way I can keep her.
By the time I pull into her apartment complex, the rain is so thick it’s hard to see the road. MJ is asleep, her head tucked against my shoulder, and I dread ending our night.
I want every night with her. I was serious about marrying her right now if she would let me, but we’ll start by telling her brother.
She seems to think he will be okay with it, but I’m not so sure.
Knowing that the chances of me finding a parking spot in the front are slim to none in this weather, I steer my truck toward the back. When I’m parked, I shut off the engine and jostle my shoulder.
“Hey,” I say, turning my head to kiss MJ’s forehead. “We are here. You’ve got to wake up now. We’ll have to make a run for it because it’s pouring.”
She hums in her sleep, and I kiss her again. “Come on. You can go back to sleep when we get in your apartment.”
“Promise,” she murmurs, still half asleep.
I chuckle. “Yes, MJ. I promise.’
“K.” She lifts her head from my shoulder and yawns. Her eyes dart around, trying to adjust to her surroundings. They pause when they land on her apartment, going wide. I follow her stare, noticing the red and blue lights flashing in front of her building for the first time.
“I wonder what that’s about.”
I shake my head, a bad feeling settling into my stomach. “I don’t know. Come on. I’ll walk you to your door, and we’ll find out.”
Opening my door, I step out into the rain and hold out my hand for her to follow. She places her hand in mine, not arguing, and we run into the rain.
That bad feeling in my stomach amplifies when I spy MJ’s parents’ car sitting in a parking spot near the cop car, but I tamp it down, not wanting to scare MJ.
The rain soaks into our clothes, chilling to the bone.
My whole body is numb when we reach the sidewalk, still standing hand in hand.
And when an officer steps out from the stairwell that leads up to MJ’s apartment, her parents on his heels, I wonder if I’ll be numb forever.
For once, Abigail Harrison’s face isn’t set into a mask of indifference. Mascara runs down her face, and Dr. Harrison’s arms are around her like he’s the only thing preventing her from hitting the ground.
“Mom?” MJ’s voice comes out, shaky from beside me. I wrap my arms around her and brace myself.
Something is wrong—very, very wrong.
“Mom, what are you doing here?” MJ asks.
I see it then, the way that Dr. Harrison’s hands shake as he holds his wife, the pale face of the cop standing beside them, Abigail’s red-rimmed eyes, and the only piece missing is Langston.
“Where is he?” I ask, the word in my throat. “Where is Langston?”
MJ’s head whips to me, her mouth hanging open. “What do you mean? He’s at home. Right, Mom?” Abigail’s sob wracks her whole body.
“Right, Mom? He’s at home, right?” MJ is yelling now, begging anyone to deny what I already know.
Langston is at home.
“Ma’am,” the officer says, stepping up so he’s in front of MJ, “your brother was in an accident.”
“No,” MJ says, shaking her head. “You’re lying.”
I hold her tighter, afraid if I let go, we both will shatter.
“He’s lying, Hayes. Tell him he’s lying.”
“Baby,” I say, my voice broken. That’s all I can get out. I don’t have the words to make this better, not when I’m reeling.
I did this. I did this. I did this.
I should’ve done what MJ asked. We should’ve gone right over and told Langston that we were dating. Why didn’t I do that?
Turning to the officer, I ask, “Wh—what happened?”
He clears his throat, looking uncomfortable. “He’d been drinking and driving. He went off the side of the road and over-corrected. He was gone before we had a chance to save him.”
For the rest of my life, I’ll remember the sound of Mallorie Jade screaming, her red hair plastered to her face from the rain.
I’ll never let myself forget that I did this to her—to Langston.
______________________
“Hayes, you have to talk to me.”
It’s been a month since we found out about Langston, and my life is quickly going downhill.
I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can hardly breathe.
All I can think about is that if I had just been honest with my best friend and told him I was dating his sister, I would’ve been there that night.
But instead, I lied to him, and it ended his life.
“I don’t have anything to say, Mallorie Jade.”
Her face tightens, scrunching up. She looks as bad as I feel. There are dark circles under her eyes, and she’s lost weight. Her clothes hang off of her, making her look frail.
“Don’t call me that,” she snaps.
We are back to fighting, or rather, she’s back to fighting, and I stay silent.
I sigh, running my hands through my hair. “Can we not do this?”
“Do what, Hayes? Try to talk? Because my answer is no. We have to talk.” I shake my head, but she continues. “Fine. I’ll talk, and you listen. You’re self-sabotaging.”
Snorting, I ask, “And you aren’t?”
“It’s not the same. You just quit the NFL. The NFL, Hayes. You’ve been working for that your whole life. You didn’t even talk to me about it—just walked in and said you quit. What’s your plan now? Or am I allowed to know that?”
Shrugging, I stare out the window. “You can know, but you won’t like it.”
I don’t look at her, but I can hear the heartbreak in her voice when she says, “Just tell me, Hayes.”
I hate myself for doing this to her—for bringing every bit of heartbreak to her life. But this will be the last time, and then she’ll be free of me.
“I’m going home. To Benton Falls.”
“Temporarily?” Her voice breaks, and it nearly breaks me.
“No.”
I grip the edges of the window to keep myself from turning around and begging her to come with me.
“I can’t–I’m not—I won’t go back there,” she stutters.
This time, I finally meet her eyes and let her see what I’ve been holding back.
It’s the end.
The end of us.
The end of our friendship.
The end of it all.
“Don’t. Don’t say it. I don’t want you to say it,” she croaks, tears streaming down her face.
But I don’t offer her comfort. I don’t reach out and wipe the tears away or pull her into a hug. I don’t do any of the things that my fingers itch to do because that would be unfair to her—to the us we could have been before her brother’s death.
Clenching my fingers at my side, I say the words that will break us. “I didn’t ask you to.”