The Year We Fell Apart (15 page)

What I need to focus on are the things I can change. I didn’t let it get too out of hand with Kyle tonight; that’s a start. Earlier this year, it might have been a different story. All spring long, I made carbon copies of the same mistake.

But that’s over with. And all I have to do now is figure out how I’m getting home. The way I see it, I could wait for someone to call me back (unlikely), or I could call my parents (even less likely), or . . . I could bite the bullet and try that last number.

I take a sip of coffee and eye my phone. I can’t call. He might still be with Mackenzie. My eyes screw shut and I rub my temples and try very hard to erase the image of them alone in his bedroom.

It’s not like he would actually answer if she were over. And besides, I’m pretty sure he already hates me. So, what have I got to lose?

It starts ringing before I even fully commit to calling him. Then I start praying he won’t pick up. Then he does.

“Harper?”

“Hey.” I squeeze my coffee mug. “Are you busy?”

Declan hesitates. “Not really.”

“You’re not with anyone?”

“No . . . why?”

My eyes close again. “I was wondering if you could meet me at Frank’s? I kind of . . . need a ride.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah, I guess I could do that. Just give me a few minutes?”

“Sure. Take your time.”

We hang up, and I set my phone back down where it was before. I pick it up again, and check my reflection in the screen. Grabbing a napkin, I try to wipe some of the eyeliner from under my eyes, and then run my fingers through my hair, untangling it.

A little while later, my waitress comes by to refill my coffee. When she moves away, Declan is standing in the doorway.

He spots me and slowly makes his way over. He slides into the seat across from me and studies my face. I look away first.

I can’t stop tapping my nails against the edge of my mug. I sit on my hands. “Thank you for coming.”

“No problem.” He checks the time on his phone.

“Are you in a hurry? We can go.” I take a gulp of my coffee and reach for my bag.

“No, it’s okay. Actually, I’m kind of hungry. Mind if we stay for a bit?”

“Oh. No, that’s better, actually. I could use a few more minutes before going home.” I grab a couple of menus and hand one to him. “Get whatever you want. It’s on me.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

He takes the menu and flips it open. I set mine down again. I know Frank’s menu backward and forward.

Our waitress, a stocky middle-aged woman with a frizzed-out beehive, waddles back over. “What can I get for you two?”

Declan gestures for me to go first. The waitress scribbles down my order, then Declan’s, giving him a wink before she leaves. And then our table gets too quiet.

Declan tucks his menu behind the napkin dispenser and leans forward. “Are you okay? Did something happen tonight?”

“Fine.” I lick my lips and look back down at my coffee. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

He watches me a few more seconds before relaxing back into his seat.

“So, did you have work today?”

Declan nods. “Yeah. Early shift. Caddying tomorrow, too.”

“Nice. Keeping busy . . .”

We fall back into silence, but thankfully our food arrives, lightning-fast since we’re about the only customers. Declan smirks at me.

“Solid choices,” he says.

“Shut up. Sweet potato pancakes totally go with fried pickles.”

“Uh-huh.” He dabs hot sauce over his eggs. “Forgive me for not taking your word for it, but I have seen you dip one of those pickles in peanut butter, so.”

This ease is what I miss most. Moments like this, I can close my eyes and almost convince myself nothing has changed. That it’s still him and me.

“That was delicious,” I say. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

He cracks a smile and I take a bite of my food. Another lull settles in while we both eat.

I’m having trouble looking at him again. Because I keep seeing him the way he was a year ago. Up in that tree house. The more I want to stop thinking about it, the fresher the memory of us holding each other becomes.

The necklace originally belonged to his mother.

He’d held it above me, sending the pendant spinning around and around. “Something to remember me by.”

“Like I need a piece of jewelry to remember you.” I smiled and traced the infinity symbol. “But thank you. It’s beautiful.”

Color crept over his cheeks. “I figured it was at least better than one of those cheesy broken heart, best-friends-forever necklaces.”

“Much better.”

He helped me put it on, and then his face grew serious. “You and me.”

“Forever.”

Across the table, he checks his phone again. Probably waiting for a text from someone he actually wants to be spending time with.

I don’t know how I’ll ever get over him. For Christ’s sake, I was thinking about him while I was with another guy. Nine months is too long to still be thinking about him that way.

Of course, the only other thing I can think about is Kyle’s hand on my head. I can just imagine what he told people when he went back into that party. And they’ll all believe anything he says. Because it’s me, and because that’s how it always goes. Someone will say they walked right by the car, saw it happen. By tomorrow, everyone will have heard the new scandal.

I stab my pancakes with my fork.

“Were you with him earlier? The not-boyfriend?” Declan taps the end of his spoon against the table. Over and over.

I hate the idea of discussing what happened tonight with Declan. But I also hate lying to him. “Yes.”

He nods slowly. But it abruptly changes to a shake of his head. “I really don’t get what you see in that guy.”

I really don’t get how it’s any of Declan’s business. It’s no secret he doesn’t like Kyle. But Declan’s the one who rejected me this time around. Now he’s simply throwing salt on the wound.

“Could we not talk about him?”

Declan drops the spoon. “I just thought you’d want to know your friends are wondering about you.”

“My friends.”

“Yeah. Cory, the girls. The people who care about you.”

“Wow.” I pick up my coffee and set it down again. “That’s great.”

Declan sighs at my sarcasm, clenching his jaw like he regrets saying anything.

“No, really. Your concern means so much.” I push my plate away. Suddenly this booth feels too cramped. “So, what, you guys all just sit around like some Sunday-afternoon book club and talk about me behind my back?”

“No, it’s not like that—”

“Sure sounds like that.”

“Hey, maybe Mackenzie was right. Maybe we should all hang out together, get to know him better.”

“Like a double date?” I ask. Declan crosses his arms. “How is Miss Pinup tonight?”

“Do you have a problem with Mackenzie or something?”

The air is thick—difficult to breathe. And it’s so hot, my thighs are sticking to the vinyl seat. I wipe my palms on my skirt.

“No.” Under the table, I snap the elastic band around my wrist to keep myself calm. “You brought her up.”

Declan rubs his eyebrow and sighs. “All I’m saying is I don’t like seeing you this way.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing you’re leaving in a month.”

I regret it before it’s even past my lips. A pathetic, self-serving remark. But somehow it slips out anyway.

His expression shifts from angry to hurt and then he isn’t wearing any emotion at all. He’s closed off and quiet for too long. I clutch the infinity pendant until my nails dig into my palm, and I try to focus on that pain as ten seconds drag by. Eleven. Twelve, now.

He pulls his hand through his hair and shakes his head.

“Nice, Harp.” He takes his wallet out and throws a few bills on the table. “I’ll be in the car.”

  *  *  *  

The drive home is awful. We don’t speak, don’t even turn on the radio, and the silence roars in my ears. I hold on to opposite elbows so tightly that my knuckles cramp, trying to make myself as small as I feel. Trying to figure out a way to undo this night.

Declan pulls up to my house before I’m ready. He leaves the car running.

“Thank you,” I say.

He adjusts the rearview mirror. “Sure thing.”

I open the car door. Hesitate. Shut it again. “I’m sorry about what I said before.”

“Okay.”

“Okay”?
Does that mean he accepts my apology? He’s still staring out the windshield, brushing his thumb across his bottom lip. It doesn’t look like he forgives me.

I can’t leave it like this.

“No, I got overly defensive, and I don’t know where that comment even came from. I was having a terrible night and it really meant a lot that you came to get me, and I guess I’ve just been tense lately because of my mom—”

“Don’t do that.” Declan shakes his head and turns toward me.

“What?”

“Don’t use her as an excuse. You make your own choices. And you’ve been selfish a lot longer than she’s had cancer.”

In the hushed moment that follows, my thoughts all blur together. Declan thinks I’m selfish. I am selfish. I knew that already so it shouldn’t hurt, but it does because it’s Declan who said it.

Declan has never said anything like that to me before.

My hand is shaking. I miss the door handle once and then pull it open. “Good night, Declan.”

“COME OVER. IMMEDIATELY. I NEED
feminine input.”

I check the time. It feels too early for Cory to be in crisis mode. And to be honest, I’m not sure I have the patience for it today. I was up all night, replaying my drive home with Declan. So in addition to being sleep deprived, I’m in a foul mood.

“What’s the problem?”

“JUST COME OVER.”

Yikes
. “Okay, fine, I’m on my way.”

I cross the lawn and let myself in. The downstairs is quiet, and I head straight up to Cory’s room.

“They both look pretty similar to me,” a familiar voice says.

Pausing on the top step, I close my eyes for a moment. This is just so typical. I can’t go a single day in this town without running into someone I don’t want to see.

“Not to worry, the feminine input has arrived.” I cross the threshold and send Declan a chaste, totally friendly, not at all resentful smile.

“Great, which shirt?” Cory is holding a blue button-down in each hand. They are literally the exact same shirt.

“The one on the right. Definitely.” Out of the corner of my eye I catch Declan grin surreptitiously. “So are you going to tell me what’s got your panties in a bunch?”

“I have a date,” he says with a dopey smile.

“Aww.”

He points a finger at me. “Don’t get all girlie on me.”

“Isn’t that why you invited me over?”

“Oh. Right.”

“So who is this mystery girl?”

He pushes his glasses up and grins. “Mackenzie.”

Before I can stop myself, I look at Declan. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“You’ve got a date with Mackenzie?” I ask.

“Yeah. Declan set us up. You’re sure about this shirt?” He holds the hanger in front of him, inspecting the collar.

Cory is going out with Mackenzie. Which means Declan isn’t.

“Uh-huh,” I say. “It’s perfect.”

“Good. Great.” Cory darts out of the room. The faucet turns on in the adjacent bathroom.

I’m still processing. This doesn’t make any sense.

“I thought . . .” From the way Declan’s avoiding eye contact, it’s clear he knows exactly what I thought.

He’s the one who let me think it.

“Should I put gel in my hair?” Cory asks from the bathroom.

“No!” Declan and I chorus.

We hold each other’s stares for a beat. Then we both turn away again.

I don’t understand why Declan wouldn’t have said something to me about this. Did he ever like Mackenzie? Or was this his intention all along?

Cory comes back in the room before I can ask any of these questions. He keeps shaking the loose change in his pocket, pacing around his room like he’s lost.

“Where are you taking her?” I ask.

“She wants to go bowling,” he says. Then his eyebrows shoot up. “You guys have to come with me.”

Declan straightens. “Dude, I don’t think you want us crashing your date.”

“Right,” I say. “This is your chance to spend some time alone with her.”

Cory shakes his head. “She’s always talking about hanging out as a group.”

Neither of us says anything. Declan rolls his neck and fixes his gaze on the ceiling. I turn to face the window.

“Guys, come on.” Cory looks from Declan to me. “Whatever is going on between you, I need you to drop it for one night and just do this for me. Please.”

“Yeah. Of course,” I say. Last year, when Declan and I first became more-than-friends, Cory never let it get weird. And, I mean, it must have been weird for him. But even when he joked about being a third wheel, I could tell he was just happy we were happy.

After all the support Cory’s given me, I can hardly say no to bowling.

I’m not that selfish.

  *  *  *  

The smell of stale popcorn and cigarettes hits me the moment we walk into Regal Lanes later that evening. Pins crash together and bad eighties jams blare from the bar. I kind of love it. I pick up a pair of size nine shoes and slide onto the plastic bench across from Cory to lace up.

Declan sits beside me. We drove here together, so Cory could pick up Mackenzie. We’re getting really good at sharing stone-silent car rides.

Cheers erupt from lane three. Jake Thornton and his crew. Perfect. They’re exchanging high fives and taunting one another after every frame, impossible to ignore. I yank my shoelaces tighter and tie a knot.

“This town is too small,” I mumble to Cory. He shrugs, not taking his eyes off Mackenzie.

She bowls like such a girl. Her full skirt swishes like a bell as she rolls the ball granny-style between her legs. She spins around and claps after she knocks down five pins.

Declan turns to me. Of course we’re on the same team. “Would you like to go first?”

“No, you go ahead.”

He bowls a strike. Then Cory gets a spare. And I follow their act with two gutter balls. Awesome.