The Revenge Plan, page 27
Without waking her, I fetched a large trash sack and began filling it. It was stuffed full to capacity by the time I finished, so I tied it closed and carried it outside, straight to the complex’s dumpster.
Haven didn’t wake the entire time I worked, so I paused by her to place my hand a few inches in front of her mouth until I felt her warm breath on my palm.
“Dammit,” I muttered to myself, shaking my head as I stormed back to my room.
Now I was reduced to worrying about her even being alive. This couldn’t be good. How much further was she going to spiral? I knew she’d lost her college friends, but surely one of her family members would step in soon. I didn’t know how much longer I could take watching her do this to herself.
When I walked in the door Monday after classes, work, and practice, dog-tired, I was surprised to realize she was playing SpongeBob instead of Night Court. Pausing, I watched a pink star chasing a jellyfish with a butterfly net.
“Get tired of Night Court?” I asked, slicing her an amused glance.
She merely shook her head. “Watched them all.”
My eyebrows rose. “All of them?”
She nodded and opened a package of string cheese with her teeth. A bit of it broke free from the rest and fell onto her shirtfront, the same shirt she’d been wearing for a week straight.
She didn’t even notice.
Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair and retreated to my room to immediately grab my laptop. After looking up Night Court, I learned it had run for a total of nine seasons with each season typically containing twenty-two to twenty-four episodes. Being a math geek, I did the numbers, and at approximately twenty-four minutes an episode, I calculated that she’d watched over forty-five hundred minutes of Night Court in the last six days.
“Holy shit,” I breathed, staring at the sum. She definitely couldn’t have gone to class anytime between all those episodes.
I started to sweat with worry. How long could she miss classes before it started to hurt her prospect of graduation? She only had months left before she was finished. Now was not the time to drop out.
I returned to the front room and watched her from the doorway without her even noticing my presence. Chewing on my thumbnail, I tried to think of the safest way to ask about college without upsetting her.
An idea struck. “Hey, do you need me to pick up any homework assignments from any of your professors, or anything, for you?”
“Nope,” she answered, tossing her string cheese wrapper onto the coffee table to pick up a slushy cup with a logo on it from the convenience store at the end of the block and take a long drink through the straw. “I called and told them my grandma died and I wasn’t sure when I’d be back.”
I frowned, remembering what she’d told me the first night she’d moved in. “Didn’t your grandma die before you were even born?”
Finally glancing at me, she sent me an annoyed frown. “Well then I didn’t lie, did I? She’s definitely dead.”
When she went back to watching SpongeBob, I ran my hand over my mouth and then squeezed my lips, keeping everything I wanted to respond with inside.
By Wednesday, I was at my wit’s end. I knew a week-long funk was probably incredibly minor in the grand scheme of things but I was about to climb the walls. I absolutely could not watch this go on much longer. Something needed to change, or I was just going to snap.
What’s worse, Nicholl was extra snide in practice that evening, tossing barbs my way every time he spoke.
“What the fuck is his problem?” I asked Cannon, ready to pop the bastard in the mouth the next time he even looked at me.
“Rumor is his dad reamed his ass for how poorly he played on Saturday.”
I made a face. “Really? What’s the big deal? We won. We’re still going to playoffs. It’s not like he’s trying to get into the professionals or anything and has to impress any scouts.” When Cannon lifted his eyebrows meaningfully, I snorted. “Wait. Is he?”
“That’s what I’ve been hearing.”
I shook my head. “Wow. Well, good luck to him,” I offered bitterly, knowing it’d never happen. Topher Nicholl just wasn’t NFL worthy.
After practice, I stopped by my sister’s dorm at Dandridge for my weekly check-in.
“How’s Haven?” she asked as soon as she opened the door for me.
I sent her a perky smile as I stepped inside. “I’m great,” I answered sarcastically. “Thanks for asking.”
She rolled her eyes and smacked my arm as she shut the door behind me. “I know you’re fine, doofus. I would’ve already heard if you weren’t. You just mentioned that she’d missed class last week when I saw you, so I was wondering if she was any better yet.”
I chewed on my lip a moment, kind of wanting to keep Haven’s business private. But then, I just couldn’t take it any longer, so I pretty much blurted everything.
“I don’t know what to do, Iz.” Pacing her room, I ripped my hand through my hair and glanced at her for advice. “It feels like this needs to stop. But it’s not like she’s drinking or doing drugs. No substance abuse or cutting or suicide attempts. She’s just…watching TV. Decompressing. How is that so wrong? She needs some time to get over everything. To process and build herself back up again. Why should I interfere with that? How is it honestly my place?”
I knew I was arguing against interceding in Haven’s life while doing nothing was actually the last thing I wanted, but I was kind of hoping my sister—who loved to contradict me—would step in right about now and fucking contradict me.
“Well, who else is going to take care of her?” she argued. Yes! I knew I could count on Izzy to plead for the case I was arguing against. “As her roommate, you may be the only person who really knows what’s going on with her?”
I shook my head. “Her phone buzzes, people are reaching out to her. And I see her respond. I’m not the only person. Her family checks in and keeps tabs. It isn’t my place to say anything.”
“I don’t know, Wick. A week of it feels like a long time.”
No fucking shit.
“Maybe this is what she needs,” I mumbled miserably. “I don’t know.”
Instead of driving home an excellent point of why I should do something, though, Izzy just sent me a cringe and agreed, damn her. “Yeah. Maybe,” she said.
Fuck.
Now I didn’t know what to do.
How long was it okay for Haven to do this? How long should I continue to let her do it?
When I got home that night, I stood in the doorway of the front room with my arms folded over my chest as I watched her without her realizing I was there.
Her phone buzzed. She reached for it, read the message, answered it, and then tossed it on the armrest of the couch in order to keep watching the show.
Frowning, I stepped forward to snoop. I just couldn’t seem to help myself.
Before the screen went dark, I was able to read that it was her mother who’d been checking in on her. And her response had been that she’d gone to classes that day and everything was fine.
“You lied to her,” I cried, blinking back my shock, and unable to believe my eyes.
Haven jumped before looking up at me. “What?”
I pointed to her phone. “That was your mother,” I accused. “And you fucking lied to her. You didn’t go to school today. You haven’t gone to a single class since last fucking Tuesday.”
She sent me a dirty look and sniffed. “Like it’s any of your business.” Then she returned her attention to the television.
“That’s it,” I said.
I was done.
Limit reached.
I stepped forward and snagged the remote from the coffee table. When I turned the whole damn thing off, she sat up straighter and cried, “Hey! I was watching that.”
“Well, now you’re not,” I shot back. “So get off the couch, go take a shower, and put on some fresh damn clothes.”
“Excuse me?” Her back straightened and eyebrows shot sky high. “Did you just tell me to go bathe?”
“Yeah,” I countered. “Because you fucking stink.”
She gasped, her eyes as wide as quarters. Pain entered her expression, but I couldn’t seem to stop exploding.
“This entire fucking apartment reeks,” I went on, pointing at the overflowing coffee table. “You haven’t left this couch for an entire week, and I’m done letting you trash the place. This pity-party, moping session, or whatever the fuck you want to call it, is over. You got that? No more.”
For a moment, she just stared at me, her mouth falling open. I had to admit, I was alarmed by what I’d said too. Even I knew I’d crossed a line. But it felt as if I’d been pushed over it. I just could not watch her do this to herself a minute longer.
“What the fuck ever!” she finally bellowed, glaring at me. “You can’t tell me what to do. You have no say in my life whatsoever.”
“Well, I just made a say.” Stepping closer, I pointed to the floor between us. “Because over my fucking dead body will I let Topher Nicholl reduce you to this! Do you hear me? He does not win this one. You are so much more than this, Haven. You are a bright, beautiful, charming, smart girl, and you are going to get over this breakup. I don’t care if I have to drag you there by the hair. You’re overcoming it. And he stops controlling you right now.”
Haven stared at me a moment longer before the defiant spark in her eyes dimmed and her chin trembled. A moment later, tears flooded her lashes and she was full-on crying. Burying her face into her hands, she curled her shoulders in around herself and shook with huge, overwhelming sobs.
“Fucking hell,” I hissed, feeling like the asshole I knew I was. “HayHay.”
Voice breaking, I reached out.
But as soon as my hand touched her arm, she snapped into action, slapping me away. “Don’t you dare touch me.”
I lifted my hands and took a step back. Then I clutched my head, feeling as if I was going to shatter. I’d hurt her. I’d really fucking hurt her. It was the last thing I’d ever wanted to do.
Why the hell had I gone off on her like that? Why…?
A shudder of regret tore through my chest. Dropping my hands, I tried to catch her eye. “Haven, I—”
But with a hard expression, she refused to let me apologize. Muttering, “Excuse me,” she brushed past. “I have to take a shower.” Marching down the hall and entering the bathroom, she shut the door with a quiet click.
A minute later, I heard shower water running.
I sighed, weary and defeated, telling myself I definitely should not have interceded. Then I got to work, filling another trash bag full of food containers, wrappers, and disposable cups.
I swear, she spent forty-five minutes in the shower. By the time she opened the door and exited, I had everything cleaned up in the front room and real food ready for her in the kitchen.
With bare feet and wet hair, wearing a T-shirt that wasn’t as large and baggy as the one she’d been in all week plus a pair of jeans, she shyly stepped into the kitchen.
I nodded toward the table. “I made you some supper.” My voice was low, apologetic.
She eased closer to study the spread of saltines and homemade vegetable soup. When she glanced up again, all she said was, “Comfort food.”
I shrugged. “It’ll be good for you. Better than…” I trailed off, not sure how to put—
“The shit I’ve been eating all week?” she said for me.
I rubbed my face, leaning heavily against the counters as she sat at the table. “Haven, I’m so fucking sorry for the way I went off on you. I don’t know why I—”
“It’s fine,” she murmured placidly, not looking at me as she took a tentative sip from her spoon.
“No.” I shook my head. “It’s not fine. I was an asshole.”
She glanced up and agreed softly, “Yeah.”
“And I was scared,” I added.
Her brow furrowed. “Scared?”
“Fuck yes, scared,” I hissed. “You’ve been like this for a week. A freaking week. And I’m the only person who knew, who truly knew it. You’re telling your family everything’s okay, making them believe you’re fine and going to classes every day. Your teachers think you’re with family. But you’re not any of that. And I wasn’t sure what was going through your head. Jesus, what if you were suicidal, and I came home one of these days to find you…gone. That would’ve been on me.”
She frowned, thinking about that. Then she shook her head. “I’m not suicidal.”
“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know that?” I exploded.
“I’m not your problem, Wick.”
“I don’t fucking care,” I growled. “It hurts to watch you hurt. Okay? I couldn’t just do nothing.”
When she gulped and glanced at me sadly, I fisted my hand and pressed it against my heart. “I made you a promise that I wouldn’t let you drown, except that’s exactly what I did.”
Shaking her head, she said, “No. I just needed some time to process everything.”
I drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Alright then. I… I’m sorry I butted in where I didn’t belong.” I wiped a hand over my face. “It’s just really hard to watch you go through this.”
Finally, for the first time in eight days, her mouth tipped up in a smile. A maudlin, regretful smile, but a smile nonetheless. “Even though you didn’t have to do anything, thank you for interceding.” Nodding, she blew out a long breath. “I think it was exactly what I needed. I’m not sure I would’ve been able to pull myself out of that slump.”
“I could’ve done it a little more tactfully at least,” I muttered regretfully.
“Well, yeah,” Haven agreed. “You did make me cry.”
I winced. “Gah, don’t remind me.”
She held up a finger. “But…” she went on. “I think it was exactly what I needed. Kind words wouldn’t have shaken me from my trance like what you did. So…thank you.”
I groaned and let my head fall back. “Please don’t thank me for making you cry.”
With a shrug, she broke into the package of saltines. “Well, I’m thanking you anyway. Sometimes, the brutal truth is what a person needs most to really jostle them into seeing what’s really going on.”
I sighed without responding, just glad she was out of the living room and not watching TV. I think the voice of SpongeBob might just haunt me forever.
Watching her eat, I nodded and decided to go out on a limb.
“I, uh…” Clearing my throat as she looked up at me and hit me full force in the chest with those insightful blue-gray eyes of her, I started over. “A couple of years ago, I hit a low point, too. Went off the rails and was out of myself for a few days.”
“When you broke your hand?” she asked.
I frowned. “What?”
She blushed and ducked her head. “Sorry, I just now remembered that. Freshman year, a couple of months after I started dating Topher, I think. I remembered seeing you for the first time. You had your hand wrapped, and you looked so…angry.”
Wanting to forget that era in my life entirely, I tensed and held my breath. “Angry,” I murmured. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”
“Topher said you punched a locker and broke your hand. A couple of lockers, actually.”
Five lockers.
“Was it because he took over as the starting quarterback?”
I tilted my head, confused. “What?”
“Is that why you punched the lockers?” she prodded. “The sportscasters who were talking during the game the night you were suspended said you were the starting quarterback for the team before Topher was.”
I nodded, totally hating the direction these questions were headed. But I answered honestly. “No. I didn’t punch a locker and break my hand because he became the starting quarterback. He became the starting quarterback because I punched a locker and broke my hand.”
“Oh,” she said, lifting her eyebrows thoughtfully only to pause and frown again. “Then why did you punch a locker, to begin with?”
I sighed and glanced at the ceiling.
Realizing she’d overstepped her bounds with me, Haven waved her hands. “Sorry. Never mind. I’m prying too much. Go ahead and say whatever you were going to say.”
I blinked at her, totally having forgotten what I was going to say, so Haven helpfully reminded me. “You hit a low point a couple of years ago.”
“Right.” I nodded. “Anyway, afterward, when my friend slapped me back into shape, one thing that helped me not slip back down into that hole again was football. There was a defensive position open, and I took it without question. It was something to focus on. Something to push myself toward. So I pushed with all my might and put everything I had into it. I exercised more. I ate better. I lived and breathed ball. And it seemed to help. That’s when I started jogging almost every morning too. So, if… I’m not sure if it would be for you, but if you want, you can run with me in the mornings. We can go at any pace you like. It’s just… I thought it would be something to work toward and help get your mind off…things. It’s always helped me clear my head, anyway.”
She stared so thoughtfully long at me that I began to squirm inside, feeling like an idiot for even offering.
But then she nodded slowly and even gifted me with a half smile.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll give it a try. Thank you for the offer.”
29
Haven
No. Oh my God, no. Never again! Running was so not the thing for me.
“Break,” I gasped, clutching my cramping side. “Let’s take another break.”
Though I was freezing my ass off in the early morning chill, sweat poured down my face, while my throat felt as dry as the Sahara.
This was just unnatural. And inhumane. Why did people willingly do this?
“Just two more blocks and we’ll be home again,” Wick encouraged from next to me. “You got this.”
I sent him a glare. I absolutely did not have this. I didn’t have shit.
And it was his fault. He’d talked me into this damn crazy idea.
Hey, let’s get up at the butt crack of dawn and submit ourselves to continuous physical torture for the next half hour straight. Yeah, it’ll be fun, said the lunatic hottie.
