Page 64 of Just Between Us

The fire in her eyes softens and she uncrosses her arms, reaching to squeeze my arm. Now she’s looking at me with such open want, I should feel something, but I’ve got nothing. Not a damn thing to give her. “I’d be willing to give you a do-over.” There’s a hopeful note in her voice, but before I can decline, a hand clamps down on my arm.

“Liam was just leaving,” my brother’s voice sounds beside me. He’s looking at the woman with an apologetic smile.

The woman drops her hand and takes a step back. “Right, of course. Um, well, bye, I guess.”

Ryan begins to pull me toward the door, but then I remember the spilled beers.

“Wait, man.” I pull a couple twenties from my wallet, and head back to the woman who now stands at the bar. When I reach her, she turns, surprised to see me beside her. “Here.” I take her hand and place the money into her open palm. “For the beers. It’s my fault you spilled them. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” It’s not the whole truth, but maybe I’ll look like less of an ass. It’s the least I can do. “Have a fun night and be safe.”

I meet my brother back at the door and we step outside into the crowd of the city. It’s a sharp contrast from the bar, and I realize just how drunk I still am. The world seems to tilt sideways and I grab hold of Ryan’s shoulder. Among my many, many faults, getting arrested for public intoxication isn’t one of them. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I will my vision to clear.

“Easy, man. Our Uber is almost here.”

A minute later a silver Toyota pulls up to the curb, and Ryan and I slide into the backseat. While Ryan makes small talk with the driver, I lean my forehead against the cool glass of the window, watching the Nashville lights blur past. I’m tired as fuck. And not just hungover tired. Soul tired. All I want to do is get to bed and pass out.

My mind goes to that moment in the bathroom, when those guys offered me a hit. If I’m being honest, I considered it for half a beat. Just to feel something other than this never-ending pain that nothing seems to stem. The thought sends a shiver down my spine.

“Ryan?” I mumble.

“Yeah?”

“Something’s gotta give.” Lifting my head, I meet his eyes that are laced with concern. “I can’t live like this.”

Ryan nods slowly, eyes searching mine. “And how do you plan on doing that?”

I drop my head back to the glass and my eyes sink closed. No immediate solution comes to mind and the truth is, I have no idea how to move on. But I know I want to. How does a person let go of a ghost they’ve been holding onto for two years? How do I stop punishing myself for surviving when Julie didn’t? And how do I allow myself to love Cassie with my whole heart, rather than pieces and shards of one?

“Have you given therapy any more thought?” Ryan asks, dragging me from my thoughts. “You can listen to me or not, but I’ve told you time and time again, there are some things you can’t fix alone.”

The car rolls to a stop and Ryan opens his door. We must be at his house. Raising up, I rest my head against the headrest.

Ryan pauses, half out of the car. “You coming?”

I follow him up the front walk, feeling more steady on my feet. As Ryan unlocks the door and lets us in, I know what I have to do.

“I think I need to head home tomorrow.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, just slides off his shoes and drops his keys into a bowl.

“Yeah, I think you do.”

I’ve changedoutfits three times. Completely over the top for a Thanksgiving potluck, where not a soul will notice. No one will even look at what I’m wearing. But this isn’t just any town potluck.

My mom will be there. And Sam. And in the back of my mind lies a question I’ve stopped asking aloud. Will Liam show? We haven’t seen hide nor hair of him in weeks. Not me, not Penny, not Josie. I can only hope his family has. He’s simply gone, and at some point, I gave up checking my phone for his name.

Sam texted to see if I wanted to ride together, but I declined. I need to drive alone, have an escape route in case today gets to be too much.

Blowing my bangs from my face, I collect the bowl of pasta salad I made, find my keys, and head outside.

My heart rate ticks up as I approach downtown, the sign reading Singing River Friendsgiving coming into view and what looks like the entire town, milling about between rows of folding tables. At the far end of Main Street, a stage has been erected for our very own Austin James concert.

I veer off the road to park at the curb, but I don’t get out rightaway. My palms are slick with sweat on the steering wheel. From the privacy of the G-wagon, I scan the crowd through the windshield.

I can do this. Shaking out my sweaty palms, I repeat the words aloud. “I can do this.”

A knock on my window makes me jump. With a palm to my chest, I turn to see Sam standing at my driver’s door, that bright smile on his face, holding two Styrofoam cups. Grabbing the bowl of pasta, I open the door and step out, accepting one cup from him.

“It’s apple cider. It was going fast so I grabbed some for you.”