This is What Goodbye Looks Like (23 page)

“Don’t be snarky,” Brie says, wagging her nail polish brush at me. “You’re too pretty to be such a pessimist.” She goes back to painting, but her eyes suddenly narrow, and she pins the bottle of nail polish with a disappointed look. “This is sparkly. It’s supposed to be glimmery. The label says so.”

I briefly consider throwing my book at Brie’s nail polish collection, but then tuck it safely in the shelf where it belongs. “Is there a difference?”

“Yes, there’s a difference! Just like there’s a difference between Seth wanting help with his homework, and Seth wanting to make out with you.”

“We are
not
kissing,” I say.

“Yet.”

“Ever.”

My phone buzzes, and I slip it out of my hoodie pocket. An increasingly familiar warmth fills my chest as I see Seth’s name on my screen, along with the icon I’ve uploaded for his contact. It’s the first picture I took of him by the gate, with his head tilted back and the sun breaking through the clouds to shine on his face.

His text message is another one of his incessant either-or questions, which he hasn’t bothered to stop asking, even though he’s officially run out of relevant questions.

“Hot dog or banana?”

I read over the text a couple times, trying to make sense of it.
“How am I supposed to interpret that?”
I text back.
“Kinky or just plain weird?”

His reply comes almost immediately.
“Landon and I are going into town in a couple hours.”

“So... kinky?”

“Har-har. We’re going to the diner for half-off hot dog day. You and Brie want to come?”
There’s a short pause, and then,
“You have to order a banana milkshake with your hot dog. Town tradition. No exceptions allowed.”

I smile a little at that. Hendrickson is chalk-f of these silly little traditions, although I have to wonder how many of them Seth just makes up on the fly.
“If you order them together, why are you asking me to choose one or the other?”

“You’re being difficult.”

“Proper phrasing is important.”

“Fine. Ugh. Hot dog AND banana?”

“You seriously need to find a less kinky way to ask that.”

“You’re impossible. Will you come or what?”

“Oh my god,” Brie says, breaking into my conversation. “You’re texting him, aren’t you?”

I offer her a shrug, and she rolls her eyes at me.

“Seriously? You’re sitting there telling me how uninterested you are in him, and then two seconds later you’re wearing that goofy little smile. Come on. Just admit it. You like the guy.”

I stare down at my phone, looking over our chain of texts from the last couple of weeks. It’s gotten way longer than I ever anticipated. Brie’s right—I like him. I more than like him, which is making lying to him about my identity even harder.

“Look, I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I know you think we’d be a good couple, but I’m not right for him. We’re just friends. Nothing more.”

She sighs. “Yeah, whatever. But can you at least tell him you’re not interested? Because I don’t want him to get his hopes up. The last thing he needs right now is a broken heart.”

“There’s no need to worry about that,” I say. “He’s not interested in me, really.”

“He’s refusing to let Landon comment on your looks, because he says he imagines you as being perfect, and he doesn’t want anyone to ruin that image. I’d say that qualifies as interested, Lea.”

“And delusional,” I mutter.

“You are so weird,” Brie groans. “You do realize most girls would die for an opportunity to date him, right? I mean, not only is he hot as hell, but he’s impossibly sweet,
and
he’s blind.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Being blind is a turn-on for most girls?”

“Well, duh. Getting to wear sweatpants and no makeup all the time, and never hearing a single complaint? That’s called an opportunity of a lifetime.”

I smirk and shake my head. “Sorry, Brie, but it’s not happening.”

“
Fine,
” she says, drawing the word out into a whine as she gives me a pouty look. “But just know that you’re no fun. At all.”

I hold up my phone and waggle it. “Seth’s asking if we want to go into town with him and Landon to grab dinner,” I say. “A very platonic, very boring dinner with no fun and hot dogs.”

Brie perks up at that, although she makes a face of exaggerated disgust as she says, “He’s totally going to make me order one of those banana milkshakes. They suck.”

I smile a little, slightly surprised that the banana milkshake tradition is actually a real one, and text Seth that we’ll come. Outside, sleet has been pattering against the window for nearly an hour, and my stomach turns a little at the thought of driving in this weather. But I still don’t want to turn down his invite.

Seth texts back telling us to meet in the parking lot in an hour, and I don’t even get a chance to reply when my phone starts vibrating with an incoming call. I groan. It’s not like talking to Dad is optional, but that isn’t making me dread this conversation any less.

“Is that your dad?” Brie asks, already moving toward the door. I’ve never asked her to leave our room—it still feels like I’m borrowing this dorm from her, and it’d just be weird to boot her out. But she picked up pretty quickly that my conversations with Dad are mostly unpleasant, so she’s usually nice enough to give me privacy.

“Yeah,” I say.

“Cool.” She waddles toward the door, her toes spread awkwardly as she tries to keep her freshly-painted nails from touching. “I’ll pop over to Hannah and Maddie’s room for a bit.”

“You don’t have to go,” I say, just like I do every time. Honestly, I half-wish she’d stay, just so I’m less inclined to argue with Dad.

“No, it’s not a problem.” She holds up her own phone and points to it. “I need to check in with my family, anyway. But just try not to get disowned while I’m gone, okay?”

I stick my tongue out at her as she hurries outside, and she flashes me an apologetic smile right before the door closes behind her. I tap the “answer” button on my phone, holding it to my ear right before it hits voicemail. “Hi.”

There’s a long pause on the other end of the line, and then a quiet voice says, “Hey, Little Lee.”

All the air rushes out of my lungs. Dammit. I should have double-checked the caller ID before I picked up, although it’s not like I had any reason to expect Jeremy to call now. But my brother’s soft voice is unmistakable, even though it’s taut with anxiety. I force myself to breathe, but the air I draw in just seems to fuel the anger uncoiling in my chest.

“Do
not
call me that,” I hiss.

Another pause. “But I’ve always called you Little Lee,” he mumbles.

“And you’ve always been the big brother I could count on. You’re not that anymore, so don’t you
dare
use that name.”

He clears his throat. “So...how are you?”

“Jeremy, is there a point to this call?” I demand. “Because I’m not just going to chat with you like everything’s normal. You haven’t called me in
six weeks.
”

He lets out a ragged sigh. “I’ve been...busy. I have school. And a job.”

“Know what you also have? A family. Camille’s still in a coma, by the way. Dad says you never call home, so I’m assuming you haven’t even bothered to check on her.”

“I call her hospital twice a week,” he says, but his tone is more pleading than defensive. “I tell them I’m Dad and ask for an update on her. So I do know how she’s doing.”

Some of my anger drifts away at that news, but it’s quickly replaced by even more hurt. He’ll check on Camille, but not me?

Jeremy lets out a small sigh when he doesn’t get a reply from me. “And I don’t call home, you’re right,” he admits. “But I did talk to Dad earlier today.”

“Seriously?” I say, not bothering to hide my shock.

“Yeah, seriously.”

“You said the next time you spoke to him, it’d be when you guys were bunking together in hell,” I remind him. “ You said that to his
face
.”

“I know what I said, Lea. Believe me, I remember.”

Of course he does. I’ll never forget the rage on both their faces when they had that final argument. Jeremy had been living at home and commuting to his private college, which was only about twenty minutes from our house. After the accident, he wanted to move away and live in the dorms. Dad wanted him to stay, to keep my brother within his reach, to keep everything whole, just like it’d always been.

I don’t think either of them expected the explosive argument to send them so far apart. At worst, I think Dad figured Jeremy would rent an apartment and commute to school from there. He never expected my brother to transfer to the University of Denver, get a job, and completely strike out on his own half-way across the country.

“Did Dad convince you to come home?” I ask.

“Lea, I
am
home. It’s nice in Denver. I have a girlfriend, and I have a job, and I’m getting decent financial aid for school, and one of my friends even set me up with an internship at his uncle’s tech firm. I start next month.”

I grit my teeth. “Well, that sounds just peachy.”

“It is,” he insists, ignoring my sarcasm. “I can breathe out here, Lea. There’s no one trying to strangle me with secrets.”

“If everything’s so wonderful, why couldn’t you spare two seconds to pick up the damn phone and return my calls?”

He lets out a long breath, and I can picture him closing his eyes, his forehead crinkling just like it always does when he’s upset. “Why do you think, Lea?” he mutters. “Because I finally managed to scrounge up something close to a normal life. And I knew if I called you, it’d just spark more family drama.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I just close my eyes and press my fist against my forehead. I want to start shrieking at him, but if I do that, it’ll just be more proof that Jeremy’s right. That our family is messed up. That
I’m
messed up. That nothing can ever fix the messiness, no matter what I do or how hard I try.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner, Little Lee,” Jeremy says, his voice softening. “That was wrong of me. Really, really wrong.”

I swallow back the jagged lump in my throat, and my voice is shaky as I ask, “What made you call now?”

“Like I said, I talked to Dad. And I just...” His voice suddenly goes ragged. “I figured you’d need someone to lean on. And I know I’ve been a really shitty brother the past few months, but I’m here for you now, okay? I’m right here.”

“I’m in Vermont,” I snap. “We’re hundreds of miles away, and you’re definitely not ‘right here.’ And you know what? I’ve been doing just fine without you, so don’t pretend like I desperately need you just because you suddenly want to make up for being a total douche.”

He meets my outburst with silence. I pinch the bridge of my nose and heave in a deep breath, forcing myself to sound calmer as I say, “You scared me. I thought you were going to completely cut me off like you did with Mom and Dad. I thought you’d ditched me.”

“Never, Lea,” he says, his voice breaking a little. “I was being selfish and stupid, and...yeah. I should never have ignored you for even a second. I’m sorry. Really.”

I loosen my grip on my phone, knowing I’ll break it if I keep holding it this tight. “Our family has a really bad habit of doing that, don’t we?” I mutter. “Being selfish and stupid.”

“Stop it,” he says. “Stop it right now. I can tell you’re feeling guilty again, and you shouldn’t.”

“I could have told the truth,” I murmur. “I could have given the Ashbury family some peace. They know I lied. That has to be torture for them, to know Parker never got justice.”

Jeremy lets out a long, exasperated sigh. “Yeah, you could have told the truth, but not without directly disobeying Dad, and not without making everyone in our family hurt even more.”

“I know,” I say, but the logic doesn’t seem nearly as convincing as it had before I met Seth.

Jeremy’s voice softens a little. “I have to admit, you’re dealing with this a lot better than I thought you would.”

“Yeah. I’m doing fine. Coming to Vermont wasn’t a totally bad idea.” He doesn’t reply right away, so I bite my lip and hesitantly add, “I can kind of understand why you went to Colorado. It’s been nice to have some distance. I mean, obviously I miss Camille like hell, but Dad isn’t even letting me visit her in the hospital, so there was no point staying in San Diego. Right?”

I hold my breath, hoping he’ll tell me I’m right. Every day, I wake up and miss Camille, and, every day, I wonder if I made a mistake by leaving her. But Jeremy will tell me I did the right thing. He has to.

Silence stretches between us for so long, I think he’s hung up. But then Jeremy quietly murmurs, “He didn’t tell you, did he?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Dad. Have you talked to him recently?”

“Of course. He makes me talk to him a few times every week.”

More silence. The pattering of sleet outside suddenly sounds like an ominous drum, and I want to slap my hands over my ears, block it all out.