Every Little Piece (22 page)

Noah grips the bottle, his knuckles turning white. “What happened?”

“Nothing really.” Haley doesn’t need her brother knowing everything, so I decide not to tell him what happened.

Noah laughs, but it comes out harsh and brittle, like an old man’s. “I doubt that. When Haley’s upset, it usually has something to do with you.”

He’s tense, but beneath all that I sense he’s scared. There’s a note of desperation behind his questions. What happened with Haley?

I steady my voice. “Where’s Haley?”

He shrugs and takes a long pull on the bottle, which I notice is just root beer.

I try a different approach. “You know that’s not the answer.”

“Don’t even bother lecturing me until you’ve made things right with my sister.”

“That’s fine. Where is she?”

Noah snorts. “Who knows.”

My pulse increases. My skin prickles with fear of the unknown. “I know you hate me. But if something’s wrong with Haley, you have to let me know.”

“Why?”

“Because I might be the only one who can reach her, who can understand,” I say. “What happened?”

He sighs. “Fine. I made a mistake and she’s mad at me. But she’ll get over it.”

The fear grips my heart. Haley might’ve been able to handle a mistake Noah made but what he doesn’t know is that I made a mistake too. I pissed her off. I reach for my phone.

Me
: Hey where are you?

I slide the phone back in my pocket and pray she answers. Noah finishes off his drink and looks at me for the first time. Shadows darken his eyes, and the misery drips off him.

“Find her,” he says.

That’s all I need. I don’t wait for a text back. I grip Noah’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

I race to my car and head back to the shore. I’ll start at the restaurant and then check the ocean. Maybe Justine knows where to find her. If she’s carrying this weight on her, and I’ve made it worse by returning to town and trying to fix her the easy way, then I need to tell the truth right away.

Everything.

Even if she hates me forever once I do.

I love her too much. An ache resides in my heart, and I slam my hand against the dashboard. I want to take her pain. All of it. It was all my fault.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’ll make it right.”

I press my foot on the gas and speed through the streets. Everything I’ve known rushes past. The elementary school playground where Kama, Brin and I drank wine coolers the end of our junior year. The rec fields where we played soccer once with the guys. I stifle a sob and a laugh as I think back on that one afternoon. Seth, Carter, and Jamie, playing dirty, losing their shorts. I pass the pool hall. I can’t even begin to go through all the memories I have in that place.

I take slow deep breaths. I miss that. I crave that. I just want to go back in time, push rewind and take back the last year, because last year at this time my friends and I were hanging out. I was considering my future with Seth. All it took was one event to trigger the whole night and the disaster that happened.

What if Justine didn’t have a party? What if I hadn’t fought with Seth? What if it hadn’t been raining? What if. What if. What if. The words scream inside my head. The grief swirls inside, pushing, pressing, wanting release. It’s been bottled up for months because I’ve refused to let it out. I’ve refused to cry or scream or even utter the words that life is unfair, because I was the one who lived. I’m the one still breathing, moving, and living life. I still have my future ahead of me. If I want, I have the chance to go to college, to get married, to have kids, to play with grandkids.

If I want it.

But I don’t.

Because life isn’t fair. I should’ve died that night. I might as well have because my life ended even though my heart still beats in my chest, even though every second of every day of every month I breathe air in and I breathe it out. I move through life, an impostor, someone who shouldn’t be here.

Someone lays on the horn, and I swerve the car and press the gas at the same time. I drive right through a stop sign. My heart shoots up into my throat and the pulse roars in my ears. I suck in ragged breaths to get control. But living on the edge like this, pushing the envelope of life feels good.

I’m out of control. And I like it.

Noah and Tate’s words ring through my head. Even though I went out with Tate and pretended to have a life, it was a lie. Noah asked him to be my friend and act interested so I’d get out and live.

The rage pulses through my body. It’s not something I can define. It’s not as simple as being angry at my brother for playing a prank on me. He created a life for me that wasn’t real. He tried to sugar coat my days so I’d forget. But doesn’t he realize that that moment stays with me every second of every day? It’s always there, pulsing in the background, reminding me. Taunting me.

If minutes go by and I forget? The shame falls fast and heavy. I can’t ever forget what I did and what I left behind.

I leave the perimeter of my town, of my memories, and slam my hand against wheel. My eyes are swollen and the tears have been streaming down my cheeks even if I’ve been too caught up to recognize them. This pain is different. It’s raw and exposed. It breaks through the frozen layers of my heart. I need it. Desperately.

I careen down the road, taking corners with a screech and barely paying attention to where I’m going. I spin the wheel to turn right toward Shore Drive and I lose control. The car can’t quite make it, and I zoom forward.

I see the telephone pole and slam on the brakes, for as much as I talk about not deserving to live, I’m scared to die. Deep down I’m a coward. I ran from everything. I didn’t talk to anyone. I didn’t apologize. I just ran.

The car pushes forward on its own and I hear the crash and feel the impact as the airbag deploys and slams into me. I don’t move. The smell of burnt rubber stains the air and as hard as I push against the door, it won’t open. I turn my head to the side. It already throbs and my body pounds with pain.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. Too little too late. The tears make silent tracks and drip into my mouth and down my neck.

But then I hear the whining screech of brakes and a horn. I can’t even turn my head to see what’s coming.

I don’t scream. Not until I feel the crash and hear the twisting of metal. Pain shoots through my head and the other side of the car crunches inwards and presses against me.

I hear shouts and bangs. Someone is yelling but I can’t move. Darkness surrounds me. Blood is in the back of my throat. More banging and then the splinter of glass. A hand touches my cheek. The words are blurred and I can’t seem to get my mouth to move. Words tumble out but they are jibberish.

Metal rips with a loud shredding noise and then hands are around my shoulder and I’m being carried.

That’s the last I remember.

I jump in my car and race back toward Shore Drive. I take the streets and drive past the spots Haley might go. If she hadn’t been in town since last year, she might visit our old haunts. Maybe. I don’t want to think about the alternative. I haven’t been around her long enough to know how she’s been living. Has she been in denial this whole past year? Or living with the guilt every day? My biggest fear hovers over me, sending shivers down my back.

What if the combined efforts of her brother and me both making huge mistakes in judgment send her over the edge?

One thought taunts me. She drove. I doubt she’s barely set foot in a car this past year, never mind drive one. The urge to find her rises and it’s all I can think about. I need to see her and hold her whether she wants me to or not. I ran away last time without telling her the truth. This time, I’ll find her. I’ll tell her the whole truth so she can start living again.

Sirens wail in the distance and my heart rate spikes. I keep driving, scanning the roads. Maybe she stopped and decided to walk. Maybe she texted Justine to come pick her up. I pull over and call Justine on her phone.

“Hello,” she says.

“It’s Seth.” My voice is hoarse. I clear it and ask, “Is Haley there?”

“No. Is everything okay? Seth?”

I drop the phone on the front seat. Justine’s voice echoes but I don’t pick it up. I focus on the road and driving. Both hands on the wheel. I see the twisted hunk of metal first and I know from the horrified feeling in the pit of my stomach that it’s her. I screech to a stop and get out.

The last of interested by passers stop milling around and get back in their cars. The tow truck pulls in seconds after me.

Justine’s old Chevy is crashed into a pole, the front end crunched like a child’s toy. The other side is smashed in. It would be almost impossible to live through a crash like that. I’m walking at first and then I break into a run. Shards of glass litter the ground. My feet crunch on them. A burnt rubber smell hangs in the air, and I race to the driver’s side. My heart is in my throat, and I struggle to breathe.

I reach the side and peer through the jagged glass.

Nothing.

The window has been shattered, the door wrenched open, and whoever was inside is gone. Hopefully, whoever hit her, brought her to the hospital. I race back to my car and jump inside. Without thinking I’m on my way to the closest hospital. My hands loosen and tighten around the wheel. Pain shoots through my head until I realize my jaw is clenched tight. I try to relax but it’s impossible. Haley doesn’t have a car. She had to have been driving Justine’s.

It would be so easy to leave town. Avoid this. Go back west with Katie and pretend this never happened. This nightmare was supposed end, not get worse.

Those thoughts flicker through my mind, but that’s all they are. I’m not leaving. My love for Haley hasn’t changed one bit even though I haven’t seen her in a year. The time I’ve spent with her confirms that. We’re still tentative, but love is like that. It needs time, to heal, to forgive.

We can’t be what we were. She’ll never want to see me again. But love is sacrifice, and I love her enough that I don’t care about me. It’s only her. Her happiness. I laugh at myself but it sounds empty. It took a year for me to figure out love. Last year it was all about me and my needs and my future.

Now, it’s about hers. I don’t care about me. If she can move forward in life in peace, I’ll do anything.

I rip through the parking lot and whip into a spot. I’m pretty sure I leave my keys in the ignition in the car. Then I’m running. I weave between the cars, my feet pounding while fear does a number on me. I’m shaky and out of breath by the time I arrive in the lobby and land in front of the desk.

The lady wears bright red lipstick. That’s all I can focus on.

“May I help you?” she asks.

“Haley. What room is she in?”

“Last name, please.” She’s clicking through on her computer.

I sense the stares of the few people sitting in chairs, as if I’m bypassing their wait time. “Sparks. Haley Sparks.”

She shakes her head, her lips curved in a frown as if she already knows it’s bad news.

“She would’ve just arrived,” I say, my voice pleading. “Bad car accident.”

The lady’s face pales and she presses her mouth together as if she doesn’t then the bad news will spill out.