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A split-second glance at me, and then Drew focused back on the screen. “Nothing personal, my dear. I wouldn’t mind at all, except for the inconvenient fact that my brother’s still in love with you—and you’re not in love with him.” His voice was indisputably bitter. “You know that I saw you both?” he continued. “Last January. You and that punk street kid. I was coming into the city in a cab, and you two were walking the footpath over the bridge, in the opposite direction. We passed head-on. You saw me, too.”
“What? Drew, what are you talking about?”
“Like you don’t know. You can’t fool me, Ember. You’re the walking wounded, broken up with the street kid—or maybe he broke it off with you—and you’re rebounding with my little brother. Giving it another shot because you know he’ll do anything for you. How much plainer can I make it?”
“I’m not—” The Brooklyn Bridge, a shred of clouds, a bitter breeze, the weak winter sun on my face—it was kaleidoscopic. Yes, I had seen Drew that day—his face tight, shadowed through the taxicab window. I’d felt him staring at me, and I’d turned. And I’d been stricken with guilt as he’d held my eye, even though Holden and I had been over for months. It all came back to me in an electric pop.
“Holden might be your runner-up, but what really gets me is that you’ve always been his first choice.” Drew reached for me so quick I didn’t expect the grip of his fingers around my wrist. “So if you had any heart about this, you’d do the right thing and go home.”
“Hey, come on. Enough.” I shook off his damp hand. There was an acrid taste in the back of my throat. The sound of my boots, the view of the skyline—I was in it again, that beautiful day.…
But Drew wasn’t done. His face was a sneer, and I’d never disliked him so much as in this moment. “Just one more thing.” He paused for effect. “Do you ever think about her?”
“Who?”
“Cassandra. The girl who’s losing her chance with Holden because you’ve decided to keep him on your back burner. He likes her. A brother knows these things. And I know you’re sabotaging it for both of them.”
“I’m not! I haven’t done anything like that.”
“You are—you know you are—by being too weak to cut ties.”
It was beyond hurtful. But was it true? “I probably should thank you for being so blunt,” I said, recovering my speech a little as I stood up to go, “but let’s just agree that you don’t need that particular compliment.”
Leaving the room, I nearly collided with Holden in the doorway.
“Hey—what’s wrong?” When I didn’t answer, Holden put down the water bottles and followed me as I skimmed up the stairs. “Seriously? You’re going? It’s Drew, isn’t it? What did he say? Some cheap-ass shot, right? But you can’t go because of him, he’s always—”
“No, no, this time he’s right—and it’s not his fault.” I spoke over my shoulder; I couldn’t stop moving, but at the front door Holden sidestepped in front of me, blocking my way. “Please stay. Please, Ember.” He moved closer, taking up my hand. “This is bigger than Drew. I really want to give us another shot. Last week, maybe we pushed things too quick. And I’m not trying to rush or force anything with us, really. I want us to come back together naturally. I’m betting hard that we can.”
Drew, Rachel, my parents, Holden himself—everyone thought we had a chance, because I hadn’t been strong enough to make a decision. Drew was right. This wasn’t fair to Holden. I had to take responsibility.
“Holden, you know that you’re one of my very favorite people who has ever come into my life.” It was getting harder to breathe, my words felt so clumsy and misshapen to this moment. “But honestly? I think that the best that you and I can be is friends. That’s how we make the most sense. That’s who we should be for each other.”
“Wait—are you for real, Ember?” Though he released my hand. “I know how much of a strain you’ve been under, trying to get back on track…but I guess I thought I was one of the beneficial side effects.”
“You are; of course you are.”
“So what is it? What’s wrong?”
“It’s not that anything’s wrong. But it just can’t go back to the way it was.”
“I’m not that stupid. I don’t want it the way it was.” But Holden knew what I was delivering. He leaned into the support of the doorframe, his voice softening. “It’s only…after everything we’ve been through, I feel like we could be stronger.”
Why was this so hard? Because I wasn’t making the right choice? Was there any way to be one hundred percent sure? “After everything we’ve been through,” I said, “I think we’ll just become ourselves again.” I took a breath. “I’m so sorry, Holden. And I’m really sorry that it took your brother, of all people, to realize how much I was hurting you.”
The moment struck me as nearly unbearable. I was ready to run—my usual solution. But Holden knew that. He caught me, his arms folding me into a hug as true and loving as anything I’d ever known.
And so I let myself drop into it, and it seemed that our whole world together was held within it, along with the knowledge that just because things have to end doesn’t mean that they didn’t matter, because they will always matter, and whatever we’d been to each other would build the next phase of what we were supposed to become, apart.
It was all there, and it was nearly impossible to let go, but I did.
30
Sooner than Later
Late that night, sleepless in bed, I craved my clicker again. I hadn’t thought about it in so long, but my morphine clicker had been a critical part of those early couple of weeks, when pain had been deep and sudden as a flashing knife, or throbbing like a constant scream trapped in my body.
“The patient usually best understands her own pain management,” one of the faceless nurses had told me, wrapping my fingers around the metal instrument that was no bigger than a piece of chalk, the communicator between my vein and my IV drip. “Each time you press the button, this activator releases the morphine. Try not to do it unless you feel it’s absolutely necessary. You don’t want to get dependent on the drug.” She patted my shoulder. “And I bet you’d rather get outta here sooner than later, am I right?”
