Almost (40 page)

“Oh, I think I do. And, if we're sticking to the truth, then you can correct me if I'm wrong,” I say. My voice, breaking.

I step even closer so I can see his face under the street light before I continue, “Tell me it wasn't you in the nightmare I just had. Say that you weren't there,” I whisper, letting my gaze memorize every line of Gray's face. The dark curls on his forehead, his wide shoulders, the chin divot—and those terrible, lying lips.

I press on, “Tell me that I didn't beg you to stay with me in that room. That you didn't cover me with a white sheet like I was some sort of corpse. I was alone, afraid, naked, and tied to a bed! And you left me there after I begged you to stay. If you can say that person wasn't YOU—
then
—we can continue this conversation.” I gasp, working to control my voice and the next wave of tears welling up inside my whole body.

I never waver from Gray's gaze, wishing with all my heart he will deny what I've accused. But know the truth. I know these green-gold eyes and every stupid gold fleck inside each one. I've seen them in my nightmares for so long.

Dr. Brodie said I'd know when my memories were real.
And I know.

I choke back a sob.

A tornado of emotion crosses his face. “It's what happened. That was me. And I'm sorry.”

Michelle gasps.

Gray seems to be shaking as hard as I am. He holds his hands out like he wants me to take them. “Jess…please. We've got so much—”

I put my hands over my ears. “Stop. Just stop! Don't you see? I've hated you for three years! Every single time I've had that nightmare, you've been in there. In my head! I've hated you all along, and for years. And now, after this summer?”

My legs almost buckle as the enormity of my whole summer with him becomes clear. “Oh my God. That letter. You totally
knew
I'd hate you. How could you possibly think I wouldn't?”

“I had hope.” He drops his hands and looks away.

I turn my back on all of them so they won't see how badly I'm crying now.

And I run.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Gray

Nobody moves until she's disappeared.

“Shit. Porter. What the hell? Should we follow her?” Corey asks.

I'm just able to get control of my breathing. I don't want to bawl like a baby in front of them. “No.”

“Is all that true?” Michelle whispers.

“And then some. She has every right to hate me forever. I totally suck…I was a selfish bastard.” I shrug, crossing my arms, trying to absorb some of the pain thudding through my whole body.

“You never told us
anything
,” Michelle says, sounding half pissed, half overwhelmed.

“Like I said, I'd made a promise not to talk about it. I keep promises. The entire thing was so messed up.”

“Obviously,” says Corey.

I shoot him a glare. “And if you ever tell anyone what you know about Jess's past, or the contract. Or any of this entire summer, I'll personally shred every ounce of your stinking ass—”

“I won't. Jesus. I won't, you freak. Chill.” Corey balls his hands into fists. “I should be royally pissed that my own
best friend
had me so out of the loop. I feel like I'm looking at a stranger right now. You took her money even though…wait a minute! Gray…holy shit.” Corey lowers his voice. “Jess Jordan is why you quit the hockey team? Why you got your ass kicked freshman year?”

I look away. “It wasn't directly her fault. But yes.”

Corey continues, “You're the best ice hockey player in the state. But you have no team and no scholarship money. And it's all because of that whacked-out girl? And you still set up a deal where she'd be your
girlfriend
for the whole summer?” Corey whistles. “Like I said, I think I have no idea who you are. Dude, you're insane.”

“Corey. He's not. He's in love. Didn't you hear him?” Michelle puts her arm around me. “I'm so sorry. I can't believe Jess would strike a deal like that in the first place.”

“She was desperate.” I push her arm away. Annoyed they both seem to want to blame Jess for a situation that is my fault. I have to make them understand. “Her parents weren't going to let her go to college unless she could prove that she'd finally become ‘better’ or ‘normal’ or whatever lame prerequisite they came up with for her. I found out about her plan and signed on. How could I not. Knowing what I knew, I felt obligated to try to help her. She didn't remember me. I thought it would be okay…until I wanted more. This is my fault.”

“It's pretty clear she's not even close to normal,” Corey breathes.

“Don't ever say that. She's perfect. You got to know her pretty well. Aside from her being tired all the time, she's the most amazing person I've ever met. And you guys liked her too. So what if she has bad dreams? Everyone has something. Doesn't mean they can't still be awesome.” I feel completely empty and worry Jess must feel the same. Worse. I put my hands on my face, and groan. “I let her down in so many ways at that party. And tonight I just let her down again. Crap. Do you think there's any chance of me ever getting her back?”

“Maybe you can catch up to her in the Mental Ward, because that's where you're heading dude, if you try to follow up on this one.”

Michelle steps between Corey's face and my fist just in time.

“Guys. Do not have this fight. Let's go home before we all do something we will regret.”

“You mean something
else
,” I say.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Jess

I stop running when I reach my front steps. I sit, taking in a deep, very quiet, breath. Rather than fight against the dream—the memories—I do something I've never done in my life.

I welcome the voices, the images, the sounds, and the smells from the nightmare. From the worst night of my life.

I play it over. Sifting and sorting it into consecutive order until the entire memory solidifies and makes sense. Start to finish.

I even piece together what my parents said at the hospital that night. Every word uttered when they thought I'd been asleep is now burned into my brain.

...

Mom. Crying: “The doctor told me nothing happened. She doesn't remember how she got upstairs in that house. They think she might have been drugged. But we'd need to test for that.”

Dad, next. Shouting. Accusing: “No. No tests! What's the point? They pumped so much alcohol out of her system she could have died. She can't even remember who's to blame for this. She lied to us. Jess is lucky as hell. Lucky as hell! I hope she learned a lesson.”

“She was almost raped! What lesson is there in that?” Mom, sniffling again. More tears.

Dad. Angry. “We've told her how to behave! We've told her not to drink, and that parties are not allowed. The first chance she gets to walk out of our house as a high-school freshman and she pulls this stunt? She put herself in the wrong place at the wrong time and this is what happened.”

More sobs. Mom falls apart. “I can't believe she was almost raped.”

“Almost. Thank God. Almost. Nothing happened, right? Honey…you know I don't blame Jess. I just want to kill someone. Our poor girl—”

And then, a sound more terrible than any of the others: My father, crying.

“Poor Jess. Poor Jess. What she must have been through. I hope she doesn't remember. They said she might not. I hope that's true. I never want her to remember. I just want her to be fine.”

...

I wipe away my last few tears and pull in a long breath, wondering how long I'd been sitting out here. Wondering if I'd missed my curfew yet.

As if that matters anymore. I hope my parents ground me forever.

The safety of my bedroom is all I want right now. I swear I'll never leave this house again. My entire body feels hollow. I can't feel my heart. I can hardly feel myself.

I slowly open the front door and walk into the entryway. Mom peeks out from the kitchen, as though she'd been sitting in there waiting.

“Jess. That you? I didn't hear a car pull up,” she says, walking closer. “How was it?”

I don't try to hide my tearstained face. At least I don't have to pretend I'm upset. I need this to go quickly, so I pull in a long shaking breath and say, “Oh, Mom.”

The tears start falling all over again.

Mom ramps right in. “Honey! What's wrong?”

“I walked from the corner. We—it's over. We broke up.”

“Why? I thought things were going so well?”

“It's me. I couldn't deal with it. It was all just moving too quickly. He and I are too different.”

I can tell by Mom's expression that she's completely on board. She hugs me. I have to admit her arms feel wonderful. I cling to her, wrapping my arms tight around her and hold on for way too long. And then, I remember what I need to do.

“Mom.” I pause and sniffle again, pulling away. “Will you tell Dad? The BBQ's going to have one less guest. And I'm sorry. I just want to go to bed.”

“Oh honey, of course. I'm so sorry too.”

I cringe at those words, and head up the stairs. More tears rain down. I make no attempt to wipe them away. The lingering smell of lavender and the warm feeling from Mom's hug has me stopping and calling out to her just before the landing.

“Mom?” I turn back, she hasn't moved. “Tomorrow, if you have time, I really want to talk to you and Dad. I need to tell you some things. Some major things. Some are not so good.”

Mom's face brightens. The expectation in her eyes almost blinds me. “Yes. Of course! Dad and I had wanted to talk to you tonight, about your boyfriend too. But now, it's late and Dad's sound asleep on the couch anyhow. Maybe morning is best. We'd be happy to hear anything you want to tell us.”

“Good,” I answer, feeling slightly lighter that at least I hadn't lied on that last one.

I stop in the hall bathroom to wash away the sticky, drying tears with cold water before I brush my teeth. When I reach my room, I quickly put on the softest pajamas I own, throw my hair into a bun, and head for my desk.

Without even pausing, I take my final college application essays and throw them in the small trashcan under the desk. Maybe I can apply to some online school…

No matter how I try not to think of Gray, I can't purge all of the terrible things I'd said to him. How he must hate me now. And as much as I'd claimed to hate him.

But I don't. No matter how hard I try, I can't.

I also can't blame him for leaving me alone that night.

He'd just met me, after all. Or…I think he'd just met me. Sadly, I still can't remember meeting him. I wonder if that moment will be erased forever. Gray had tried to tell me about it. Now, I'll never be able to know the rest of that story. I picture Gray as a freshman, all scrawny and puny. I
must
have blown him off like he'd said.

I pull out my yearbook from that year and flip to my photo. I'm amazed at how young I'd been. I looked a lot like Kika does now. I'd been sporting a major set of braces too. Plus I had some big attitude that I was a complete
woman
who could handle anything. Even sneaking out to parties—drinking and talking to
upperclassmen
.

My thoughts tumble, and my head begins to hum and spin as my endless tiredness sets in.

All I want to do is close my eyes and fade into blackness…fade away.

I stand and pace the room, fighting the sleep monster. The monkey on my back.

I'm so tired of having this war with myself.

My gaze scans all of the things that usually make me feel better after I've the nightmare. First, I watch the plastic jellyfish bobbing aimlessly up and down. They swim and twirl in the changing colored light. I realize that even my pets are fake.

I sigh and move to study the movie posters: Mr. Darcy with his hand on Elizabeth's cheek does nothing for me but make me want to spit. He might love her, but for his whole life, Mr. Darcy means to be a cranky bastard. Edward Cullen, with his arms protectively around Bella while Jacob glares at them, makes me want to puke. And they named their baby
Renesme?
PLEASE. Jack and Rose from Titanic have me clenching my fists. Rose should have ditched him day one. If she had, she would have made it to the life raft. Romeo and Juliet seem like idiots to me now. They knew it wouldn't work out. Romeo should never have gone back to her balcony. It was his stupid fault. He KNEW. If he had simply not tried, they both would have lived. And who drinks stupid poison to solve problems? Lame. Pathetic. All of them.

The faces in the posters seem to be mocking me back. I should not have tried, either.