Chapter 16
Daniel
Waking up at six in the morning for work feels like a blessing. To be ordered around and lift heavy things until I’m soaked in sweat is exactly what I need, to keep my body busy and my thoughts at bay.
But for some reason, work isn’t as good of a distraction as it used to be. My thoughts keep straying, and I go for a run in the afternoon to clear my head. Despite my attempts to stop them, my thoughts start spinning again as my feet pummel the ground.
How the fuck am I supposed to get past this? It was hard enough when I was eighteen. With nothing but a few words, Nathan can rip my heart from my chest, throw it to the ground, and step on it with his steel-toed boots. I knew this from the start. So why the hell did I think it was a good idea to open myself up to be hurt again?
There’s one difference though: This time, it was my choice to leave. That should give me at least some relief, but it doesn’t. If anything, it makes the whole thing feel like a waste, because now Nathan is hurt too. I opened the floodgates to the most painful parts of his past, and then I left him alone to drown in it.
For all that I’m pissed at him, it wasn’t fair to do what I did. But what else was I supposed to do? He hurt me. He hurt me by tagging me along in this game of his—by pretending we have something special when we don’t.
George was right. Nathan cares only for himself, and he doesn’t love me; he’s incapable of love. All he cares about is his own needs being met, with no regard for the consequences or who he might hurt along the way.
He expected me to open up my heart to him without bothering to do the same in return. He knew damn well how capable he was of upending my life, and he didn’t care—that’s fucking apparent. Maybe he does deserve what I did. Maybe I made the right choice in leaving him to do what he does best: looking out for number one and wreaking havoc on everyone else’s lives in the process.
I was an idiot for thinking I could get him to stay here and an even bigger idiot for thinking he wanted me—for me and not for some twisted way of dealing with his trauma. For the hundredth time, I wish he would’ve told me what he’s been through. It would have made things easier. But at the same time, part of me wishes I could have gone on unknowing, blissfully unaware.
Now that I know what he’s been through—what he’s still putting himself through—I refuse to be a compliant piece of the puzzle. I refuse to be one of his abusers, and I refuse to accept that I might be one already because of what happened at the grad party . . . Because of what I did to him . . .
I run and run until I feel sick, until I feel like I’m gonna pass out. Hunched over, I grip a lamppost with both hands and yell an incoherent curse. Once I’ve caught my breath, I keep running. And running. And running.
Dinnertime comes and goes. By nine, there’s a knock on my door.
It’s April. She carries a plate of spaghetti carbonara with George on her heel.
“Hey,” she says in a soft, careful voice. “You didn’t come down for dinner, so we thought—”
“Have you been crying?” George asks gruffly.
“No.”
“But something’s gone down, right? With him ?”
My glare probably isn’t as convincing with my eyes glazed over with tears. George and April exchange a look.
“Called it,” George says.
“Do you want to talk about it?” April asks.
I glance between the two of them. “I’ll talk to you,” I say, nodding to April. “But not to him.” I don’t feel like enduring his I told you so ’s on top of everything else.
George huffs. “She’s my girlfriend; she’ll tell me everything anyway.”
April shrugs and smiles apologetically. “He’s right. But we’re here for you, Daniel. Zero judgments,” she adds, giving George a look.
“Yeah,” he says with a nod. “Zero judgments.”
“You really expect me to believe that?”
“Come on, Daniel. You’re like my baby brother, you know that. I haven’t seen you like this since . . . you know. If it’s something Nathan did, if he hurt you . . . You know I won’t hesitate one second to give him what he deserves. But if you just want to talk, then I’ll keep calm, all right? We’ll just listen if that’s what you want.”
I step back, inviting them into my room. “Okay.”
It’s not like they can fix anything anyway. Everything’s already said, done, dusted, and ruined, and Nathan is probably on his way out of town as we speak.
George fiddles with a set of my drawings on my desk while April sits in the lotus position next to me on the bed.
Where do I even start? “So, uh . . . Nathan and I had a fight.”
“Yeah,” George says. “That’s pretty fucking obvious.”
April glares at him, then looks back to me and speaks in a gentle tone. “What happened?”
It’s not my place to tell them, but if I don’t, I’ll have to live with the knowledge myself, and I’m not sure I can do that. So I tell them everything I know: the photographs, Theresa, and the abuse Nathan suffered at the hands of those men. But I leave everything about the grad party unsaid.
George grimaces. “Well, shit. Poor bastard.”
“That’s horrible,” April says, face pale.
“Do you think Wayne knew about this?” I ask with a glare directed at George, who shakes his head.
“I don’t know, Daniel. If he did, he hasn’t mentioned it to me. My mom found out about the stuff with Theresa, that’s the only reason I know.”
I smile bitterly. “Well, even if he did know, he would’ve incriminated himself if he told anyone.”
“Again,” George says, “I don’t know.”
“Your mom knew, yet they’re still together?”
“That shit is complex, Daniel.”
“You’re the one who thinks Nathan is a horrible person just because he doesn’t follow society’s rules to a T.”
“It’s not just society’s rules he doesn’t follow. It’s social cues too. Manners.”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”
“Let’s get back to you and Nathan,” April says. “So you found out about the photos. What happened next?”
“Well, it sort of led to us talking about graduation day.” This is the bad part—the part I’d like to forget. “So basically . . . We had sex at a party that night. I thought he wanted it at the time, but turns out he didn’t.”
“But . . . he was drunk, right?” April asks.
“Yeah, like hell. We both were.”
“So even if he said he wanted it, you know he couldn’t consent, right?”
“I . . . I know that.”
“So you get what this means? You understand what you did?”
“I . . .” I close my mouth. At some level, I always knew that what happened between us wasn’t right, but the gravity of what I did, how badly I hurt him . . . I didn’t get it. The pain of him leaving me always overshadowed the guilt of my own actions, but I did worse to him than he ever did to me. I didn’t understand—not until now, so long after the fact.
What I did makes me no better than his abusers. Worse—because he trusted me, and I betrayed that trust out of my own selfish needs. I chased Eric and Tyler away, yeah, but that should’ve been it. I should have gotten Nathan dressed and taken him out of there. But he reached for me. He kissed me, and I was so elated at having him—responsive and pliant, his hand fumbling for my fly . . . I thought he wanted me, and I wanted it so badly to be true.
So I took him. I forced my own twistedness onto him when he couldn’t reject it.
I hurt him.
“God. Oh god.” I press the heels of my hands into my eyes and shake back and forth. Tears seep into my sweaty palms, and I can barely breathe through the tightness in my throat. “I’m . . . I’m such a fucking idiot.”
“You kind of are,” George says. “But . . . we all do stupid shit when we’re drunk. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
“What do I do?” I whine, the world a cold and horrible blackness behind my stinging eyes. “What the hell do I do?”
April puts a hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay. You made a mistake. You were drunk, and—”
“It’s not okay. Fuck, it’s not okay.”
Nathan needed me to protect him and care for him, but I not only failed to do so—I did the opposite. He can’t forgive me for that, not when I can’t even forgive myself.
“There’s something I don’t get,” April says. “When he came back to town, the first thing he did was get in touch with you. If you hurt him, why would he have wanted that?”
“Because of convenience,” I say, sniffling around a sob. “Because he needed someone to sleep with while he was here. He told me so himself.”
“I’m not so sure that’s the whole truth.”
“Well, the alternative is worse.” That he used me to hurt himself.
George shrugs. “Yeah, I dunno. Dude’s a little fucked up.” He does a loop-the-loop with his finger by his head. “Who knows how his weird little brain works? Maybe he just thought you were hot. Don’t overthink it.”
“I’m fucked up too. More fucked up than he is.” At least Nathan only picks on people his own size. To everyone else, he’s got a good heart in him. To Jessie. To animals. And to an extent, to me. Again and again, he’s shown me he’s not the heartless jerk he makes himself out to be at first glance. Meanwhile, I’ve been stuck in my own head, thinking he didn’t care enough about me. As it turns out, I deserved everything he’s done.
I deserved to be left and abandoned for five years. All I wish is that he would’ve talked to me, but at the same time, I understand why he couldn’t.
Even if we find a way back to each other, how can I make sure I don’t hurt him again? Maybe the only way I can have him in my life is by keeping my distance. I definitely shouldn’t be having sex with him. Perhaps we can be friends, then. Distant friends. But that’s not the way we are; we burn together, hot and bright. The heat we generate burns scars into him and into me. How can I help him heal when he doesn’t want to? How can I soothe his burns instead of making them worse? Nathan is charred to begin with; he doesn’t need any more fire to burn his flesh.
“I hurt him,” I say, head hanging pitifully to my chest, “and now I can’t make things right.”
“Don’t be so sure,” April says. “Maybe you guys can still work it out. People who love each other usually do.”
“Nathan doesn’t love me.”
April and George share a look.
“What?” I ask.
April smiles knowingly. “I don’t know if you’ve met the guy, but he’s head over heels for you.”
I stare at her, jaw slack.
“Oh, come on,” she says. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And the way you talk about each other . . . There might be pain there, and frustration. But there’s love too.”
“Yeah,” George says with a cough. “The dude is down bad for you, tell you that much.”
“How do you know?”
“Well, he’s an open book, isn’t he?” April says.
“Is he?” George and I ask in unison. Nathan is a lot of things, but an open book is not one of them.
“His face is really expressive, isn’t it?” Her bracelets jingle as she gestures to her own face. “He’s so easy to read.”
“Enlighten us,” George mutters.
She leans forward, gesturing carefully with her hands. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? He’s been hurt, and he’s put walls up to prevent being hurt again. He pretends nothing affects him, and he seems strong, but underneath all that, all he really wants is to love and be loved in return.”
In the corner of my vision, I see George sort of . . . deflate. His crossed arms fall, and he stares at April as if he’s never seen her before.
“He let you in,” April continues, pointing a finger at me. “Twice, if you think about it. I suspect it’s not something he’s used to, and it’s a gift not easily given. Right now, he probably feels like you didn’t acknowledge the courage it took for him to hand you that gift.”
I look down in my lap, frowning. “It took courage for me too.”
“Yes, you were both very brave. But if you truly love him, you must be even braver. Nathan needs someone to accept him for who he is, flaws and all. I think, deep down, he trusted you to do that, but . . .”
“But I didn’t,” I grit out, clenching against the tears that threaten to spill anew. “I let him down.”
“It doesn’t mean it’s too late to fix it.”
“What if he doesn’t want me to?”
She smiles softly. “I think you know the answer to that question.”
“Shit.” Panic shoots through my veins as I remember. “He might’ve already left town.”
“Well, in that case, what are you waiting for?” George asks. “Yeah, I said it,” he mutters at my perplexed stare. “Go on. Get him back. And since you won’t be finishing this . . .” He grabs my forgotten dinner plate and spins a fork into the spaghetti.
“Okay,” I say after a deep, determined sigh.
I’ll go to him. Even if I have to chase him down on the highway, I’ll beg for his forgiveness and tell him I do accept him, messed-up past, flaws, and all.
I can only hope he’ll accept me in return.
I drive like a madman, feeling both time and my newfound hope slip from my fingertips.
What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if he turns me away? What if he’s already left?
I won’t be here waiting for you.
Oh god. He didn’t mean . . . did he?
Suddenly Theresa’s death doesn’t feel like an accident. Don’t tell me he’ll follow in her footsteps . . . No, please no . . .
The driveway is empty when I arrive. I bang on the door and call for his name. No reply. Shit, shit . . . What do I do? Where is he?
I turn around with my hands raking my hair. The old neighbor with the dog is passing by the road, and I hurry over to them and yell, “Hey! Have you seen Nathan?”
“I thought I told you to keep an eye on that boy.”
“I lost him, I’m sorry.” I gesture to the road. “Did you see what direction he went?”
“Well, why don’t you look at it like this: Where would he go if he was feeling lost?”
If he was feeling lost . . . Shit, he’s there , isn’t he?
“I think I know where to find him now. Thanks.”
“Don’t lose him again, boy,” the old man says, waving at me as I speed away.
When I arrive, Joshua and some other guy I don’t recognize sit by the entrance. They both stand as I approach, and the guard dog—still leashed to the wall—starts growling and barking.
“Where is he?”
“Where’s who?” Joshua drawls, a bottle of beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
“Who do you think? Nathan. I need to see him.” I take a step closer, but Joshua and his friend block my way.
“Whoa, who said you were invited?”
“I need to talk to him.”
“He looked pretty messed up when he stumbled in here, you know. What did you do to him?” Joshua takes a drag on his cigarette and blows smoke in my face. “Thought you two were an item.”
“We are.”
“If you were, he wouldn’t have come here, would he?”
“Are you gonna let me in or not?”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to see you. Maybe he’s busy, doing what sluts do best.”
“Move, or you’ll be sorry,” I growl.
His face breaks into a grin. “Hey, you found out? No wonder the guy’s a little messed up in the head, am I right? Who knows what went on out in that house. Ain’t no one ever seen who the baby daddy was.”
My hands ball into fists. “Step. Aside.” Nathan is in there, and there’s no way I’ll let these assholes stop me from seeing him.