Wreckless (22 page)

So there it was. Leah had gone after him.

“I dropped you off one night and was bringing her home since she lived so much closer to me.” He wasn’t lying. It had been my idea to not have to drive back and forth since I lived so far out. “We were laughing and talking, and then... Things went too far, and then they went further.”

“Yeah, I don't need the details.”

“It was hard because whenever I was with you, I
wanted
to be with you. You were cute and sweet and funny and smart, and every second I wasn't with you I was wondering what was wrong with me that I wanted Leah, too. That's not an excuse. I realize that. And I realize that I was completely in the wrong, start to finish. And I wanted to let you know that it definitely wasn't you.”

“You weren't laughing at me the whole time?” I barely heard my own voice. I didn't mean to let it slip out, but it was one of my worst fears.

“No. God, no, Bridget.” He stood and came toward me, his face etched with dark circles and lines I'd never seen there before. “Never. Actually, the guys gave me a horrible time about it and none of them like Leah for it. She's taking the brunt of this, which isn't fair to her since I was involved, too. You were…you
are
great. I was stupid and greedy.”

He looked past me and I was trying to piece it all together in my mind. What he was saying, what he wasn't, how he felt.

“Leah was just too much.”

“You mean she threw herself at you?”

He smiled and it was the first time I'd seen him look sad in an adult way. Like he knew things now he hadn't a week ago.

“No, sweetheart. No. It was like…it was like when you meet someone and they push you all the way through yourself. You're not sure it's a good thing, but you can't seem to stop feeling and reaching and stretching toward them and away from them at the same time.”

I hadn't realized I was crying until he focused on me again.

“Bridget, stop. I'm sorry. I didn't mean...”

“No. It's okay. I mean, it's not okay you cheated on me and made me feel horrible and made me the laughingstock—”

“No one was laughing at you.”

“That's not what it feels like.”

“Well, I promise it’s true. If it makes you feel better, I was so far from laughing I had stomachaches all the time.”

But he couldn't give Leah up, and he didn't know how to break it off with me.

“I know what you mean.”

“What? About the stomachaches?”

“No. About that person...” I stopped, the sadness rolling through me again.

“I was kind of wondering what happened with the rest of your weekend and the guy who was kissing you in the morning and getting an earful in the afternoon.”

Now I was crying in front of the last person I needed to do this with.

“Maybe you can let him fix it."”

“This isn't fixable.”

He took both my hands in his and gave them a light squeeze. “I’ve had a rough week. A week looking at how I’ve screwed up a lot of things, hurt you, and damaged your friendship with Leah. If I’ve learned anything this week, it’s that people make really stupid mistakes even when they know they’re making them. And that everything is fixable if you want it bad enough. Maybe you should figure out if you have enough forgiveness in you for that bridge you need.”

Wow.

“Anyway.” He let my hands go and stepped away. “As lame as this sounds, it was never you. I felt so lucky to have you. It was me who messed this up because...”

He shrugged, and it dawned on me that he was a bigger idiot than I'd thought, because he really didn't know why he'd messed it up.

“Thanks, you know. For letting me apologize.”

He didn't even wait for me to say it was okay or that I accepted his apology. The Tanner a week ago would have. This new Tanner just needed to apologize. He didn't need to get approval or acceptance. Just to do the right thing.

How sad that the Tanner after me was a better guy than the Tanner who had been with me.

“Tanner, have you considered that your groveling plan might have been for the wrong girl?”

He stared at me a long moment and shook his head.

“You're something else, Bridget Larson.” He pushed open the door and stopped as he stepped into the hall. “Think about that bridge, okay?”

I nodded. I wasn't sure how much forgiveness I had in me. I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out.

# # #

“Hey. I have something to say to you.”

Leah looked up, her eyes haunted. She looked like she'd dropped a dress size this week and hadn't slept in four. I wonder if I'd missed the signs of stress and guilt on her for the last month, or if she hadn't felt anything until she’d been found out.

“First, why did you do it?”

She closed her eyes and leaned back against her locker. Tears leaked out from under her lashes, and I could tell she was trying really hard not to let them flow.

“I don't know. It wasn't that I was jealous of you. It wasn't that. Or that I wanted to hurt you. It was just that the more time we spent together, the more I needed him.”

I waited. That wasn't enough. You don't cheat just because you need something. I sometimes feel like I need an iPad but you don't see me walking into a store and just taking one.

“I don't know how it started. I felt so close to him that sometimes it felt like
you
were the other woman.”

“I—”

“No. Wait. I know that's not right. I
know
it. But, I was just…I don't know, Bridget. I screwed up. Big time. I wanted it all. I wanted you to be happy. I wanted to spend time with both of you. But I wanted him for myself, too. I just thought, in one crazy moment, that I could have it all if we didn't tell anyone. That we could all have it all. That we could all be happy. And somehow, I made myself believe that. Every time I stopped believing it, I told myself it was true over and over. Until I stopped having to convince myself. And then you saw us and I felt sick and dirty and horrible.”

She stopped. But really, what else was there to say after that?

“I forgive you,” I said. “I don't know if I can be friends with you. It will be a long time coming if I ever can. But I forgive you, because there's too much hurt in me right now to keep hating you.”

She broke down. She covered her face and wept like I hadn't seen anyone weep since Christy died.

I guess she had only one thing left to say.

“Thank you.”

Chapter Nineteen

“Bridget, it's for you. And it is none of those she- or hes-that-shall-not-be-mentioned.”

My parents seemed to be taking the
harass her into happiness
route. It was starting to grate on me, and it was only Thursday.

“Hey!”

I pushed my door shut and collapsed on my bed.

“Hey, Rayla. What's up?”

“You're still going to the game tomorrow, right?” The question was out before I’d even settled in to chat.

“Yup.”

“You're still going with your dad?”

“Yup.”

“You're still not going to sit with me and Jamie?”

“Nope.” Yeah, because enough hadn't happened this week that sitting with our rival's team would go really well.

Plus, I liked Friday nights. Letting my father yell at the refs and buy me a hot dog—we’d been doing that since I was five. Before everything changed and changed again. It was a tradition—a good one. Those nights had been some of my favorite parts of fall.

“Fine. You're still coming out with us to Dairy Queen after, right?”

This had been an ongoing battle all week.

Rayla had no intention of letting me not hang out.

I had no intention of hanging out anywhere near Jake Moore or his football buddies or their stupid players’ club.

She'd promised they'd be too busy drinking at whichever house was open that weekend.

“Yes. Fine. As long as you guarantee no
accidental
football run-ins.”

She did her typical Rayla squeal that always made me smile. She was so sunny it was hard not to smile around her.

“Jake will
obviously
be at the game Friday.”

I love how she had these leading statements that were really questions.

“Yup.”

“And you might, you know, run into him.”

“Not unless I took up football in the last twenty-four hours.”

“Maybe before or after the game, then.”

“You mean, are we going to stall after the game to bump into him before we go to Dairy Queen, don't you?”

“Um...”

“Rayla, I really can't deal with him this week. I've had to deal with catching my real boyfriend cheating with my best friend, confronting them, patching things up with them, forgiving them, and now practically setting them up. They'll probably get married halfway through college at this rate. Dealing with Jake is the last thing I need to add to that list.”

“Okay. Got it. Avoid Jake and all Jake-related activities.”

“I'm not kidding, Rayla.”

If I saw him—besides on the field—I was afraid I'd throw up. Or hyperventilate and pass out. Or cry.

It was amazing that, while I was still hurt and embarrassed about Tanner and Leah, I was absolutely destroyed by what had happened with Jake.

I didn't want to find out what the step below
destroyed
was.

“So, he and Mish—are they…?” I didn't want to know. That was the truth of it, but we played Fairview every third Friday, so I might as well get used to it. “Never mind. I don’t want to know anything about him and that—”

“Seriously? No. No way. He's been all mopey guy. She keeps trying to be sweet, understanding girl. And he finally told her she wasn't even a consolation prize.”

Ouch.

“Maybe next week I’ll be ready to talk about it, but right now I just have to focus on getting over him.”

“Bridget, the guy is stuck on you. He's totally stuck on you.”

I hadn't heard from him since Monday. If he was so stuck on me, why wasn't
he
trying to build a bridge?

I wanted to have enough forgiveness in me for us to talk. I didn’t know if I had anything more than that, but I needed to at least talk. Not yell. Not fight. Just maybe have one last conversation so I could stop feeling sick all the time.

So I could start being me without this heavy pit in my stomach constantly.

Which reminded me. “Rayla, I've gotta go. I have to be somewhere tonight.”

“Oh. No problem. I'll see you tomorrow. Go Hawks!”

I laughed at her as she disconnected with a, “Woo-hoo!”

“Mama, you ready?”

She picked up her purse, her hands tightening on the handle.

“I hope so.”

# # #

I hadn't been to the cemetery since Christy's funeral. I'd always thought it was because it made me too sad, but that week I’d realized something. Something very important.

I was angry at her.

And I was angry at myself for being angry at her.

Jake had been right. I didn't blame her for what happened to her. No one should. She met a boy. He seemed nice. They went on a date. He was evil and hurt her in a way no one should ever be hurt.

He
more than broke a rule. He broke every type of law, legal and otherwise, I knew of.

But Jake was right too: Christy had broken a rule, too. She gave up. She gave up when she was part of a unit, and she left the unit behind. Decimated.

I couldn’t imagine what happened to her or how she lived through it or with it. It's not something I pondered because I knew that path would quickly turn back on me like a snake attacking its handler. But I did know that when she left us, it felt—on some level—personal.

Tanner had asked me if I had enough forgiveness to build a bridge. I hadn't realized I needed to build one here.

I laid the flowers we'd brought at the base of her headstone and sat cross-legged on the ground next to it.

“Hey, it's me, Bridget. I bet you're wondering where I've been.” I glanced across her grave at my mother, who watched me with tears running down her cheeks. “I was away because I missed you so much and because I was a little angry. But it took some time for me to see you weren't leaving me. I get that now. I'm really sorry you left. I'm sorry you felt like you had to go. I love you every day still. You're missed a lot, but I hope…I hope you're healed.”

My mom reached across the distance and I took her hand. “I love you. Okay? I wanted you to know that. I love you.”

I nodded to my mom and we stood to go. We got a few steps away and I turned back.

“I love the boots. I think about you when I wear them and they always make me feel golden.”

When I turned back, my mom was looking at me with this funny smile on her face.

“You were always both my golden girls.”

Chapter Twenty

My dad loved Friday nights. I mean, loved them like they were his second family we didn't know about. I went with him to all the Friday night games each season. Even when Tanner and I had been dating, I still went with my dad. It had just been our thing since I was little.

So when we settled into the visitors’ bleachers at Fairview, nothing felt wrong. I just had to work very hard not to strain my neck to see all the way to the bench on the other side of the field.

The game was a good one. I could tell by all the shouting coming from the man next to me I occasionally pretended not to be related to. Jake played the end of the first half. I couldn't keep from watching him. When their safety let our guy through and he flattened Jake, I cringed, feeling the bone-jar when he hit the ground.

At half time, we got our hot dogs and headed back to our seat just as Rayla caught up with us.

“Hey, Bridget. Hi, Mr. Larson.”

“Dad, this is Rayla.”

My dad smiled and held out his hand. “So you're in charge of the Dairy Queen run tonight?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your mama doesn't mind you driving all the way over to Greenville to drop Bridget off?”

“No, sir. She gave me fifteen minutes on the curfew and said if I got in late with that, I'd lose an hour next Friday.”

“Fair enough.”

We half-watched while their cheerleaders did some complicated routine and my dad asked Rayla questions about her family…and her driving.