Maybe One Day, page 26
I stayed silent, digesting her words. Somehow, she’d answered another question I hadn’t even verbalized, and that admission alone felt like a bruise that still ached.
Did that mean I was supposed to trust that Jace had also made his choice because it was the only way forward that he saw right now? And, more important, was I supposed to hope that maybe one day he would come back to me too?
twenty-three
Winter break couldn’t come quick enough.
For the last two weeks of the semester, I’d been a mess, barely keeping it together. My heart felt scorched and raw. I’d breezed through my finals, only because I’d spent every waking moment of my miserable existence studying. I’d thrown myself into my last few days of classes. Hanging out at the computer lab for hours, I’d second-guessed every one of my designs, and buried my nose in thick textbooks, trying to memorize all the history and theory we’d covered. Anything to keep me distracted. I’d been so determined not to fail, considering everything that had happened lately.
The court hearing was tomorrow.
I’d lost my boyfriend and said goodbye to my best friend in the same week, and it was lonely as hell.
Whenever I thought about it, it was like reopening a wound—a sucker punch straight to my chest. Amelia had pleaded with me to understand. Traveling and finding herself was something she needed to do. She promised that she’d be back from Europe in six months, that we’d still talk to each other every day, but that didn’t mean letting her go was any easier.
When I’d gone with her to the airport, watching as she’d disappeared through the terminal, time had drifted to a standstill.
Jace had said his goodbyes the night before as he’d had a final that morning. And it had dawned on me with terrifying clarity just how alone I was now. Amelia, Jace, and Tom—my three childhood sidekicks—were gone. I’d had to squelch the very real, plummeting grief.
Time was frozen, no longer flying by at warp speed. It had reverted to how it was just after Tom died, every minute stretching into what felt like an eternity.
But mostly, I’d been determined not to fail my finals because of Jace. I refused to let him affect me this much—to let my grades dip because of a guy.
I hadn’t spoken to him since our breakup. Staying at home and commuting to school meant that I got to avoid him for the most part, but there were unlucky days. As if seeing him in Concepts in Design wasn’t hard enough, he popped up around campus every now and then. He was always with Piper and Owen.
One morning, our gazes had collided for a fraction of a second, and the intensity and despair I’d seen in those blue-gray depths had robbed my breath. Sadness clung to him like a shadow, and the circles beneath his eyes had darkened. He was suffering, too, and it should’ve made me glad that I wasn’t the only one hurting, but it didn’t. Despite weeks of trying to forget about him, I still felt consumed by him. I still loved him.
The only silver lining to the mess that was now called my life was Eden.
The nights I couldn’t drive home, she’d let me stay in her dorm, and whenever I would cry, she’d hug me tightly, staying until the tears dried. She’d witnessed some of my epic meltdowns, but never once did I glimpse pity or discomfort in her expression.
Eden didn’t judge me or tell me how to grieve, and in the quiet moments that hung between us, I sensed that she’d been through something similar before, or that she understood how I felt more than she was willing to let on.
She reminded me of the good things and helped me divert my attention from all the bad.
My world had been torn apart for the millionth time, and I was still trying to piece it back together, but there was no use in pretending that things would be okay. Sometimes certain things just didn’t get better, no matter how much you wanted them to, and that truth was as bleak and cold as the weather.
I tightened my coat around me now as the chilly December wind picked up and made my way across campus for quite possibly the last time.
After winter break, I was going to take my classes online. I couldn’t keep driving here every day. Aside from being impractical, I’d probably burned through enough fuel to fly ten fighter jets.
And I couldn’t stay in my dormitory, unable to remember a time I’d felt safe there.
I just had to accept that, in this reality, studying on campus wasn’t a good idea. Not right now, anyway.
Keeping my head down, I made tracks for Thompson and wished that I’d arranged to meet up with Owen outside the coffeehouse nearby. I hadn’t been to my dorm room since the morning Levi had ambushed me, and I hated that I was jumpy all the time, but I knew I had every reason to be on high alert.
There were things I needed to get from my dorm, and I’d asked Owen to help me carry some of the heavier boxes to my car. He’d jumped at the chance, and I’d been too desperate to question it.
Most students had headed back to their respective homes last Friday and walking through the grounds now was like journeying through a ghost town. When I swiped my key card and pushed through the glass doors of the redbrick building, I tried to ignore the way my muscles tensed.
The lobby was eerily silent, and as I scaled the stairs, I felt the hum of my phone vibrating. When I slid it out of my pocket, Owen’s name popped up on the screen, and my thumb hesitated, hovering over the message.
Sorry, something came up. Gonna be late. See you around 6 pm.
Sighing, I walked down the hallway, and the sound of my Converse scuffing along the carpeted floor grated on my ears.
Quickening my pace, I stopped in front of my dorm and rummaged around for the set of keys in my bag.
Slipping inside, I shut the door behind me and locked it again.
Being back here, I was well and truly outside of my safety zone. I wasn’t prepared to take any chances.
I tied my hair into a messy ponytail and got to work.
By the time I’d finished wrangling all my clothes from the closet and shoving my belongings into the recycled cardboard boxes, it was nearly nightfall. It had taken me just over an hour to pack everything away—the upside of having only been in the early stages of moving into my dorm room when Levi had run me out of it.
Then I started to carry the boxes out, balancing them in my arms as I traipsed back and forth between my dorm room and the top of the stairs. It wasn’t until the third trip that I noticed some boxes had shifted a few feet from where I’d left them; one had even tipped on its side. Magazines, textbooks, and my New York snow globe were scattered over the carpet.
Unsettled, I stared down the deserted hallway, my brows knitting together.
“Hello?” I called out. “Is someone here?”
A beat of silence ticked by.
Okay. I was really losing it.
Blowing out a breath, I turned away and trekked back down the hall to my dorm. Retrieving my phone from on top of my dresser, I sent Owen a text: Are you here? Did you move some of the boxes outside my dorm?
Placing my phone back down, I bent to pick up the last overpacked moving box. I stepped into the hall again, using my hip to nudge the door open wider, and my gaze skimmed over the corridor, wondering why I still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong. Then it hit me.
The door to the dorm room opposite mine was ajar and the early evening light spilled in from the open window as the cold draft rattled it. As the door swung back and forth, creaking on its hinges, my eyes zeroed in on something shiny sitting on top of the desk in the corner of the room.
Disbelief hurtled through me, and I almost stumbled to the side, the cardboard box teetering in my arms.
Before I could stop myself, I’d lowered the box to the floor and my feet were moving, carrying me inside the small, single dorm that looked almost identical to mine. At that moment, my curiosity was greater than the voice inside my head, telling me to wait until Owen arrived. Both impulses converged, making it impossible to think clearly.
The room should have been warm now that the heater was fixed, but the vent was closed, and the air inside felt damp and cold, sticking to my lungs. The space felt barely lived in, empty.
“What the hell?” I wondered out loud, and my fingers reached out, curling around the all-too-familiar locket that was coated with a fine layer of dust. Slowly turning it over in my trembling hand, I pressed my lips together as a small whimper escaped.
The engraving of Tom’s words, the chip in the corner, the broken clasp—it was all there. It was my necklace. The one that had been stolen.
I lifted my gaze, glancing around the uninhabited room with a frown.
And then I registered it, like my brain had finally gotten on the same wavelength as my body and processed what I was seeing.
There were hundreds of photographs—all pictures of me.
Some even featured Jace and Amelia. They were tacked up on the wall, concealing the chipped paint underneath.
I tasted bile, the acid in my stomach bubbling.
There were photos of me on campus, me studying in the library, and me eating lunch in the dining hall. There were photos of Jace and me kissing. There were even photos of me back home in Port Worth, of me in my bedroom. Photos of me sleeping.
I’d never felt so creeped out and violated. Just seeing all of them made me want to vomit.
My throat seized up when I realized that not all of these photos were taken this year. Some dated back to high school, well before I’d even graduated. I couldn’t have been more than sixteen.
I swallowed back hot tears and the terror that was threatening to choke me. A particular photograph captured my attention. A dark image, obviously taken at night. Upon closer inspection, I suddenly realized—really understood—what I was looking at.
It was a closeup of me, peering outside my bedroom window.
It was the night of Amelia’s birthday party, not long after I’d heard footsteps crunching over the front lawn.
A swaying rush of confusion and disgust rose in me. My mind raced a million miles a minute, trying to understand what was happening, to come up with a rational explanation, but I had nothing.
I hadn’t even met Levi until I’d moved to Delaware, so how did he know where I lived? Why were there photos of me still in high school?
Another photograph caught my eye, and everything slowed down, my scope of vision narrowing.
It got worse.
It was Jace and me, wading in the lake together, all those years ago. His head was blurry, likely from turning, following the noise he’d sworn he’d heard from the shore.
I inhaled sharply, the realization pouring over me like a bucket of ice water: there really had been someone watching us that night, even back then.
Someone had been following me for years.
I jammed the necklace into the front pocket of my jeans, and I knew—I just knew—I needed to leave. I needed to call Officer Bedford, and get down to the police station. I was in very real, immediate danger.
But before I could move, I saw a familiar, dark figure in my periphery, and I bristled.
I wasn’t alone. There was someone up here in this room with me.
A fissure of dread cut through me.
It was too late.
The hair along my neck prickled when a sound came from behind me—ominous footfalls puncturing the quiet. I heard the creak of the door closing, then the unmistakable click of the latch.
Someone exhaled a ragged breath, and when they spoke, their voice was hair-raising, dull. Worse, it belonged to him. “Since the day I woke up, all I’ve seen is you.”
Levi’s cryptic and downright creepy remark sent a shiver skating down my spine.
Was I dreaming? This was not real. But when I spun around and opened my eyes again, oh God, he was here. And he was blocking the doorway.
“Who are you?” The words spilled out in an agonized rush.
“You still don’t know?” Levi stared at me for a moment. “Wow.
That really hurts my feelings, Hayley.”
More confusion swirled, and I watched him as he took another measured step toward me. I studied his face, those harrowing eyes, and tried to place where I might have seen him before moving to Delaware. We’d known each other at some point, that much was clear, but I still couldn’t work out the connection. I’d been trying to figure it out since that day in the quad.
“I still remember the first time we spoke,” he continued, his sick smile sliding into place. “I’ll never forget it. You were sitting beside my hospital bed, the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”
Hospital bed?
Oh my fucking God.
An old repressed memory tumbled forward, and I almost couldn’t breathe as I remembered it—remembered him.
Suddenly it all made sense.
twenty-four
Against my better judgment, I was at Port Worth’s Medical Center. I just couldn’t stay away. Even though I knew I’d never shake the guilt—my constant companion since we’d cremated Tom—this felt like the right thing to do. What he’d have wanted me to do.
Courtesy of the nurse seated behind the front desk who’d directed me, I followed the short, narrow walkway until I reached the end—his hospital room. My feet stopped, and they felt rooted to the ground. What was I even going to say? Honestly, I hadn’t thought that far ahead.
I inhaled a steady, calming breath. It didn’t matter. I could do this. Just showing up was enough.
My heart was pounding loudly in my ears, a heavy drumbeat that drowned out everything else—the hiss of pain from an open door across the hall, the urgent voice over the intercom, calling out a code.
Before I could second-guess what I was about to do, I knocked on the door and crossed the threshold that separated me from the
blond-haired boy who’d miraculously survived the accident that claimed his entire family. The same accident that had killed my brother and Derek.
I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. It had been two months, but when I registered Aaron’s scrawny, pale body, the bandaged limbs, black-and-blue flesh, and the hollowness of his cheeks, I fought for composure. He looked like a ghost himself, teetering on the brink of death.
My eyes darted to the chart hanging at the edge of his bed, and I recognized key words: internal injuries, head trauma, countless surgeries to correct broken bones. I swallowed against my suddenly dry throat.
He was asleep and hadn’t heard me enter his room, no doubt used to people coming and going as they pleased. My fingers played nervously with the edges of my sleeves. For the first time, there was embarrassment, then uncertainty, spreading in my stomach. Maybe Jace was right. Maybe coming to see Aaron hadn’t been the smartest idea. How would he react when I told him who I was? He’d probably hate me.
I’d come this far, though, and I couldn’t turn back now. It would only add to the guilt that festered. Aaron deserved a visitor. An apology.
Slowly, I sank into the chair beside his bed, grateful to have an opportunity to collect my thoughts. To think about how I was supposed to start such a difficult conversation. This was something life provided no guidebook for, and I was completely out of my depth.
I gnawed at my bottom lip.
“Do I know you?” said the weak, disembodied voice, and I turned my head to meet deep-set blue eyes. Aaron was looking up at me so expectantly, but his expression was unreadable.
“No,” I told him. “We’ve never met. I’m . . . well, I . . . uh, my name’s Hayley.”
Nothing.
My gaze stayed glued to him, studying his face, waiting for a reaction. “Hayley Donovan,” I continued carefully.
The second he heard my last name, the puzzle pieces clicked together. Recognition settled into his features. He was completely immobile in the hospital bed, but he gulped visibly, his throat bobbing. He closed his eyes. Sympathy, followed by a pang of regret, fluttered through my belly.
“Do you want me to go?” I asked, glancing at the flat-screen TV
on the wall. A muted commercial played, and the smell of his get-well-soon flowers tickled my nose. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how I was still sitting here, so completely overwhelmed by my surroundings and yet numb beyond belief. Ever since the accident, I’d felt like I was in a daze, trying to shake off the vestiges of a bad dream, only to realize that this was just my life now. I could only imagine how Aaron felt. “I wanted to . . . I know it probably sounds silly, and maybe I shouldn’t have felt like I had the right to come here and say this to you, but I wanted to apologize.” I turned my attention back to him, willing my brain to find the words I desperately needed to take away his pain, his loneliness, his grief. There were none. “I’m so sorry for what happened. I know it’s not enough, but I am. My brother would’ve been too.”
His eyes snapped open, and I reflexively looked away. I felt like a coward, but I couldn’t bear to look at him. I was so scared of what I’d see—the painful emotions I’d glimpse.
Touching my cheek, I was surprised to feel moisture there. I hadn’t even realized I’d been crying.
I could feel Aaron watching me, tracking my movements. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, and I stood, realizing he probably wasn’t going to respond. I hadn’t expected him to accept my apology—to dole out his forgiveness so willingly—but no acknowledgment at all stung a little.
What I’d said earlier? I was wrong. The right words mattered so much, and I hadn’t been able to find them. I’d come here on a whim, and it felt like I’d made a foolish mistake.
“It’s Hayley, right?”
The sound of his voice halted me, stronger this time. I paused in the doorway and turned my head. His blue-eyed, curious gaze pierced into me.
“Yeah.” I mustered up a tight smile.
He nodded infinitesimally, and then I walked out, accepting that that was the little closure I’d get.
I tried to block the memory out, but it kept flashing through my mind, and emotion welled up in my throat.
