15. Another Chance
“Jonathan, I'm so sorry. I promise I’ll be better.”
My eyes blinked open, only moments after they'd finally shut. I remained still, listening.
“Please, don’t leave me,” her words were broken with emotion. Footsteps creaked down the stairs. Cries filtered through my door. I didn’t dare move, fearing they’d know I could hear them.
“I won’t leave,” he stated from the bottom of the stairs. His voice didn’t hold signs of promise, but consoled with a defeated breath. “I need to clear my head, okay? But I’ll come back tonight and we’ll talk about it.”
“You promise?” she asked, in an elevated voice that was stressed with desperation. His answer wasn’t verbal because the next thing I heard was the door shutting, followed by gasping sobs at the top of the stairs.
It was difficult to listen to her. My insides ached, wanting to take away the hurt―but I didn’t. I pulled up into a ball and waited. Waited for her to find her breath and put herself back together. Her whimpers only quieted with a click of her door.
I crawled out of my bed and dressed in running pants and a long sleeved running shirt, pulling a fleece over it. I needed to get out of the house, away from the consuming emotions. I tied my sneakers and slipped on gloves, hiding my hair under a baseball cap. The brisk air filled my lungs as I stepped out the door.
The sun was out, and the temperature was above freezing, melting away the edges along the shoveled sidewalk. I eased into a jog and breathed deep, releasing the tension in my shoulders as I followed the concrete squares beneath my feet. I forgot my iPod, which would have been ideal to distract me from playing the previous night over and over in my head. Instead, the racing thoughts remained trapped.
I explored the intertwining neighborhood, finding a park a few streets away. It was filled with kids in snowsuits jumping off whatever they could into the thick mounds of snow. Their laughter and squeals were a welcome sound in contrast to the cries that echoed in my head.
As I rounded the corner of the park, my jogging slowed at the sight of the blue pick-up truck. When I saw Jonathan sitting on a bench staring at nothing, I stopped. I considered turning around and running in a different direction, pretending I didn’t see him. But then he spotted me, and I wasn’t going anywhere.
I walked toward him, tucking my hands in my fleece pockets.
“Hey,” I offered, standing in front of him. “It’s not bad out today. It’s not California, but it’s not bad.”
Jonathan nodded lightly. His eyes remained troubled. I sat down next to him on the wooden bench. Neither of us said anything for at least a minute.
I was contemplating getting up to continue my run when he spontaneously confessed, “My father didn’t like me very much. I wasn’t submissive like my mother. I didn’t worship him like my younger brother. I didn’t let him control me, so he’d do anything he could to break me. My life's been complicated, and I can't...” The words trailed away and he stared into the distance.
“I can’t do this. This… drama.” He took a breath and finally looked over at me. “I need my life to be simple. I need to know what’s coming, to be in control. I don’t handle the unexpected very well.” He dropped his gaze.
“I understand. So does that mean you're done? That you're leaving?"
"Why? You think I should?" He waited for me to answer.
"I don't think I'm the person to tell you what to do. But I don't want her to hurt either.”
"Emma, I promise that I don't want to hurt you... I mean, her." I turned toward him, confused by his stuttering sentence. His eyes flickered in apology. "I don't want to hurt Rachel," he emphasized. "You believe me, right?" His dark brown eyes delved into me the way that they did, invading my thoughts and leaving me too vulnerable to resist. He held me captive until I was able to pull away with a shiver. "Right?"
I nodded, staring down at my lap.
“My aunt didn’t like me very much either," I blurted out of nowhere, redirecting my gaze toward the house across the street. "Actually, I’m pretty sure she hated me. I mean, you don’t strangle a person if you like them even a little, do you?”
Jonathan’s eyes widened in surprise. I guess he hadn't seen that coming.
“Wow, that was kind of a messed up thing to say,” I admitted with a nervous laugh.
“Yeah, a little,” he said with a slight chuckle.
"I can't believe I just told you that." I shook my head in embarrassment. "You'd think that I'd be over it by now. I mean, she's in jail. But I can't seem to let it go."
"Believe me, I understand. My father's been dead for years, and he still gets to me."
Any remnants of a smile fell from my face. "I'm sorry."
“I’m not.” I was taken aback by the conviction in his voice. His face was emotionless and smooth. And in that moment, I was envious. I shifted uneasily, struck with guilt for wishing she were dead for even that one second.
Jonathan exhaled audibly. “Wow, we’re depressing as hell, aren’t we?”
I laughed at the tension breaker. “Pretty pathetic.”
“So, what are you up to today?” he asked, averting the heavy topic that threatened to devour us.
“Well, I guess I’m going to finish this run,” I answered. “Then… I don’t know. And you?”
“Exercise sounds good,” he acknowledged. “Maybe I’ll go for a swim. Then, I guess I’ll be back over.”
"What are you going to do?" I asked, fearing his motives to return.
“Don’t worry,” he assured, “no more drama. Despite what happened, I don't freak that easy. I'm not going to break it off.”
“Good.” I smiled lightly, finding myself hoping my mother wouldn’t continue with her liquid therapy and end up pushing him away for good.
I left him on the bench with words of seeing him later and returned to my run. I had a hard time making sense of what was happening, connecting with someone through shared misery. I didn't get it, but I wasn’t ready for him to leave either.
I returned to the house cleansed with sweat, and discovered that I’d missed a call from Casey. After stripping off the layers and guzzling a glass of water, I called her back.
“Will you go to a party with me tonight?” she asked, straight to the point.
“Uh,” I stumbled, not expecting the question. “I don’t know.”
“Please, Emma,” she begged. “Jill and Sara are away, and this party is supposed to be amazing. I don’t want to go by myself.”
I sighed, having a feeling I was going to regret saying, “Fine, I’ll go.”
“Yes!” she exclaimed loudly. “I’ll pick you up at nine, okay?”
“Sure,” I agreed. “Where are we go―” She'd hung up. I supposed it didn’t matter. They were basically all the same anyway.
“That’s a cute sweater,” my mother noted as she watched me concentrate on brushing my lashes with mascara. It was the first time I'd seen her. She'd stayed in her room most of the day.
“Thanks,” I responded, twisting the tube back together. “It’s really warm though, so I hope I don’t get too hot.”
“Cashmere does that. Wear a nice tank top underneath. I have a white one that would look great if you needed to take off the sweater.”
“Okay, thanks," I replied, glancing at her reflection in the mirror.
She hesitated and said, "I keep f*cking up, huh?" I turned to face her as she let out a disheartened sigh. "I'm sorry."
Before I could respond, she went to her room and returned holding a ribbed tank top with a sweetheart neckline.
"Thank you," I offered, not sure how to recognize her apology. I pulled off the hooded green cashmere sweater and slipped on the tank.
“Fits perfectly,” she admired. “Where’s the party?”
“Not sure exactly,” I admitted. “Do you want me to call you?”
“No,” she replied with an indifferent shrug. “You’re not the troublemaker kind, too much like your father.” She smiled gently and turned to walk away.
"Mom," I beckoned, "I mean, Rachel." She turned back toward me, her face worn and sad, even though she was trying to hold a semblance of a smile. "Are you okay?"
My mother blinked away the tears that formed in her eyes. She cleared her throat and tried to laugh. "I can't believe I'm acting like this." She swiped a hand over her lids. "I'm behaving like a sixteen year old." Then she quickly spurted, "No offense."
I smiled.
"I knew he was younger. And I knew that I get attached easily," she explained. "I shouldn't be surprised that I freaked him out." She appeared distraught as she confessed with a pained voice, "I just like him so much, Emily."
"I know." I smiled in sympathy absorbing the crushed look in her eyes. I wanted to tell her that it would be okay. That he wanted to be with her too, but I wasn't convinced that was the truth. So instead I offered, "You're stronger than this."
My words left her without her own. She appeared surprised, and a tear seeped down her cheek.
We were interrupted by a honk.
"Oh, that's Casey," I stated. Then I paused, "Do you want me to stay?"
"No," my mother smiled, smoothing her damp cheek with a shake of her head. "Go. Have fun. Besides, he should be here any minute."
Jonathan was on the walkway as I headed to Casey's car.
“Party?” he confirmed.
“I guess,” I shrugged. “See you later. Oh, and be good to her,” I said lowly as he passed me. I turned away before he could answer.
When I opened the door to Casey’s Mini, electronic beats were released into the quiet neighborhood.
“Hi,” she yelled, not making an effort to turn down the music that reverberated through my chest. I just nodded in return.
Casey wasn’t a non-stop talker and messenger of all things gossip like Jill. She usually got the stories mixed up or completely wrong, so she’d listen and repeat what she didn’t understand―which was most of it. She was genuinely a good person, but carrying on a conversation would take patience I didn’t possess at the moment―so I just let the music do the talking.
We zipped through the winding dark roads of Weslyn, venturing into the neighborhood lined with iron gates. The houses hidden were set within the hills, displaying all their grandeur while overlooking the rest of us below. I knew this was going to be quite the party.
Casey turned the music down as we entered a long drive. The electronic gates slid open when we pulled in front of them. She eyed me in expectation.
“Are you mad?” she asked, biting her lip―preparing for my reaction.
“Uh, no,” I replied, eyeing her suspiciously. “Why would I be mad?”
“You’ve never been here?” she questioned in surprise.
I watched the stone castle emerge before us as we crept up the wide circular drive filled with cars. It even had a tower in the center, with wings upon wings spread out on either side. The flawless structure was built with large round stones. It was impressive, but emitted a cold, fa?ade.
“I would remember this place,” I gawked. “Who lives here?”
Casey stopped the car for the valet and put it in park. “Drew.”
Before I could react, she was out of the car and taking a number from the guy in the black
jacket.
Now I was mad.
“Why are we at Drew’s? What made you think this was a good idea? And why would you invite me to come with you?” I barraged, shoving my car door open.
“Geez,” Casey sulked. “He never has parties, and I really wanted to see the inside of his place. We’ll leave in an hour, okay?” She looked like a pathetic puppy who got scolded for chewing on the furniture, her blue eyes big and her brows tilted down―I released an annoyed sigh.
“Fine, an hour,” I grumbled. “But don’t lose me, okay?”
“I promise,” she chirped, all perked up again. I almost expected her to jump up in the air and clap.
I followed her through a large wooden door with a cast iron knocker as large as my head. We entered the open-ceiling foyer, where a large table displaying an enormous floralscape centered the space.
There wasn't much of a crowd yet. The people we passed could have come from anywhere, since most were unrecognizable to me. Casey paraded through, handing her jacket off to someone behind a closet door. I followed after her loose bobbing curls, but she made a turn down one of two halls and disappeared.
I turned the corner, and the space opened into what must have been the family room. There were dark brown leather couches pushed against one wall. And a sleek, handcrafted twenty foot bookcase climbed up another wall, displaying books and artifacts of various shapes and sizes. Large arching windows spread across two sides of the room, and on the far end, lights were suspended on poles, flashing on a dance floor. Tall, thin speakers framed a guy standing at a computer with large black headphones on his nodding head.
The room was scarcely populated―a few people sat on the couches and a few more stood around the perimeter talking. But Casey was nowhere to be found.
“Where’s the bar?” I asked the first random person who passed me.
“Down those stairs,” the girl pointed then continued after her friends.
There was an arch in the wall, barely noticeable as the hall rounded a corner. I entered to find wide curving stairs―leading down to the dungeon, I presumed. I followed the polished wooden steps around the bend, into the largest rec room I’d ever seen. There were several pool tables, two bars, couches, televisions, foosball tables and a basketball shooting game. Soft lighting filtered through sconces around the perimeter of the stone walls.
There were more people down here than upstairs, but it still wasn’t crowded―or maybe the space was so large it didn’t feel like it was. I thought I spotted Casey at the bar at the far end of the room, and I crossed several groups of people to get to her.
“Emma Thomas?” a girl questioned behind me. I turned to find a group of girls in glittery tops holding martini glasses, gawking. “I never would have expected to see you here. This is crazy.”
I looked from one to the other, not recognizing any of them.
“We graduated two years ago,” the petite brunette stated when it was evident I didn’t know who they were.
“Oh, hi,” I offered, not coming up with anything better to say.
“How’ve you been?” the girl with black curly hair and full red lips asked.
“Um,” I stumbled, not really believing that they cared, but decided to answer with, “Great, thanks. I’m actually looking for Casey Straus. Have you seen her?”
“No,” she offered apologetically. “We should totally catch up later though, okay?”
“Definitely,” I forced a smile as they waved and walked away. What had I gotten myself into?
I turned toward the bar again, but the blond curls had disappeared. I collapsed on one of the stools, not wanting to chase after her all night. I figured after the hour was up, I’d text her and meet her wherever she was.
“What can I get for you?” the guy in the white oxford asked from behind the bar. I couldn’t believe there was an actual bartender, but then again, there was valet parking.
“Something with caffeine,” I requested. As he reached for a liquor bottle, I corrected with, “Non-alcoholic.” He nodded and handed me a Mountain Dew.
I looked past him to the screen suspended behind the bar and preoccupied myself with basketball highlights so I wouldn’t have to make conversation with people I didn’t know. Or people I did…
“I told him, ‘You’re a douche and you're going to wish you were dead.’”
I don’t know why I turned around. Perhaps it was because he had one of those obnoxious voices that carried through a crowd, attracting attention. It was almost an instinct, like hearing a car horn and turning to see who was honking as the car's about to hit you.
Jay’s mouth dropped open. “Shit, Emma. I didn’t know you were here. Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
It took me a moment to understand what Drew's annoying best friend was talking about. When it connected, I rolled my eyes with a groan and slid off the stool―walking past him and the awed eyes that surrounded him.
There was a steady stream of people flowing down the stairs, so I continued to the other side of the room, keeping my head down. I found a sliding door leading to a stone patio next to the other bar. I unlocked it and slipped out before anyone could say anything else to me.
I wasn’t sure why I bothered to keep coming to these parties. I blew out a cloud of frustration into the frosty air and shoved my hands in my pockets, trying to decide my next move.
I pulled out my phone, recognizing I still had an unbearable forty-five minutes to go. I searched the dark, trying to spot a path that led to the front. Maybe the valet would let me sit in Casey’s car while I waited for her.
The patio connected to a stone walkway that was cleared of snow. It branched out; one way led to a pool covered in a snow-crusted blue sheet, and another to a long building with a dark wood finish. Light spilled from the small windows that lined the top of the tall walls.
I approached the door, just to peek in, but when I opened it―I was drawn inside. The distinct scent of freshly waxed floors with a hint of rubber filled my senses. I wasn’t exactly surprised to find an indoor basketball court in Drew’s backyard, but I couldn't understand why he'd never told me about it.
The court was empty, creating the perfect haven to hide for the next half hour or so. I unzipped my jacket and dumped it on the bench. Perfectly painted black lines framed the court, and two benches for the competing teams bordered one side. A professional scoreboard hung high on the wall at one end of the court. There was even a door leading to a locker room in one of the corners. I laughed, shaking my head. This was unbelievable.
I took off my black soled shoes and strode onto the court, eyeing the rack of balls along the baseline. I pulled one off and started dribbling toward the foul line. Squaring up to the basket, I released the ball, bouncing it off the back rim and through the orange hoop. I slid my feet along the floor for the rebound, then dribbled back for another shot.
I continued to work my way around the perimeter, watching the minutes tick away on the caged-in clock behind the basket. When the door banged shut I stopped with the ball poised in the palm of my hand. I spun around.
“I thought I’d find you in here,” Drew said with a soft smile, his dimples slightly creasing. “Then again, I wasn’t expecting you to be at the party at all.”
“Sorry,” I offered, my entire body breaking out in a nervous sweat.
“No, it’s okay,” he assured, walking toward me. “Just surprised when I heard you were here, not a big deal.”
Drew wore a light blue sweater that played off the color of his eyes, making them look like reflective pools of water. His black hair was swept to the side, more tamed than the surfing style I remembered, but it could have easily been mussed to resemble it.
“Where’s Sara?” he questioned.
“Cornell,” I responded.
“Then who are you here with? Because I know it's not Evan,” he mocked.
“Casey,” I shared, picking up on his teasing tone. He nodded.
I balanced the ball on my hip, trying to figure out the best way to leave without it being any more uncomfortable.
“Wanna shoot?” he proposed, holding up his hands in expectation.
"Why not." I tossed him the ball with a shrug. I thought I might as well since I had to leave in a few minutes anyway.
He dribbled in closer and pulled up for a shot, the ball sliding through the net with ease. I shuffled to collect the ball and tossed it back to him for another attempt. He took a few steps to the right and landed the shot.
“Congratulations on winning States for soccer again this year,” Drew offered, accepting the ball again.
“Thanks,” I responded, focusing on the rebounds so my nerves wouldn’t get the better of me.
“Heard the girls’ basketball team is pretty decent too,” he continued, hitting every shot he took.
“Yeah, we have a good team.”
He tossed the ball back in my direction, allowing me to take some shots. I dribbled out to the three-point mark and let the ball go, nailing it.
“Nice,” he admired, bouncing the ball to me. I stepped up to receive it and set up for the shot; it bounced off the backboard and into the basket.
“Syracuse ball, huh?” I concentrated on the basket, not looking at him as I spoke. "How come I never knew they picked you up? That's pretty huge."
“No one really did,” he responded. His indifference caught me off guard. I hesitated, flashing him a quick glance, before taking the shot. “I didn't want to make a big deal about it. My dad brags enough for the two of us. Besides, I’m red shirted this year, so I don’t play much.”
“Right,” I nodding, still not understanding how the entire school wouldn't have known he was a prospect when they scouted him during his junior year. It made me wonder just how important basketball was to him, since it was obviously a huge deal to his father. I squared up to shoot. Drew moved in quick, intending to tip the ball out of my hands. I pulled it down and when his hand sank, I popped back up to hit the shot.
“Nice try,” I taunted, rushing in to gather the rebound. Drew hurried after the ball, bumping alongside me. He was quicker, having the shoe advantage.
He grinned cockily and dribbled the ball back out. I took a defensive stance in front of him. He made a move on the inside, and I followed in tight, jumping when he released it. But it sailed over my fingers into the basket.
“Lucky,” I jeered.
My anxiety dissipated with each shot. Drew pulled off his sweater revealing a grey t-shirt with a surfing logo. I was beginning to sweat myself, so I took off my sweater too and tossed it next to his on the bench. As I turned back toward the court, Drew shifted his eyes down from the fitted white tank top. I ignored the slight grin on his face.
He checked the ball back out to me and I dribbled, deciding where to make my move.
“How come we never played before?” he asked, jabbing his hand in to attempt a steal. I turned to block him with my shoulder, letting out a wicked laugh.
“I don’t know,” I responded. I spun around to release a quick shot over him, slicing through the net. “How come you never told me you had a basketball court in your backyard?”
“Graduation present,” he explained. I nodded my head in understanding, knowing we hadn't been exactly speaking, nor was I in any condition to play ball, when he graduated last June.
“I can’t play in socks,” I decided after sliding after the ball. “Barefoot rule.”
“Fine,” Drew agreed, kicking off his shoes and stripping his socks.
We continued with the one-on-one match, the game intensifying with each rebound and score. I shoved up against him to sneak in under the basket, and he elbowed a few times to earn space to take a jumper. I couldn’t say who was winning; we weren’t exactly keeping score.
I went up for a jump shot inside the three-point line, and Drew came in late for the block, nudging me with his shoulder. I landed hard on my right foot, and my ankle gave out under the pressure. I stumbled to the floor.
I pulled my knee into my chest, grabbing my ankle and sucking in air through clenched teeth.
“I’m so sorry,” he rushed, bending down beside me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I grunted, inspecting the damage. “Just landed wrong.”
“That would suck to take out the captain of the team right before play…” His sentence trailed when his eyes connected with the scar. “Oh, Em. Are you okay? Really?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I tried to answer lightly, playing off the strain in my voice. He held out his hand, slowly pulling me to my feet. I tested my weight and limped to the bench.
“I’ll get an ice pack.” Before I could refuse, he was jogging to the locker room. He returned a minute later with a white plastic pack, twisting it to initiate the cooling process. I rested my leg on the bench, and he set the pack on top of my ankle.
“I’ll be fine,” I stated adamantly, slightly embarrassed by his concern. “Besides, aren’t you throwing a party or something? You don’t have to take care of me.”
He smiled. “The party takes care of itself. And I wish I'd taken better care of you when I had you.”
His words stilled my chest as I remained silent.
“What I meant to say is that I’m sorry,” he said softly, sitting at the end of the bench near my foot, holding the ice pack in place. “I was such an a*shole at that party, and I wish I could take it back. So I just… I wanted you to know I’m sorry.”
I swallowed, since it seemed to be the only thing that I was capable of doing. I met his eyes, sincerity glistening in their tranquil hue. I didn’t know what to say. But I believed him.
My view shifted past him to the clock on the wall. “Shit. I’m late.”
“What?” Drew asked, my panic unexpected.
“I was supposed to meet Casey about an hour ago. I’m such an idiot.’
“She’s probably still inside,” he assured me.
I pulled my foot out from under his hand and shoved on my socks and shoes. My ankle was tender, but I’d been through worse. I grabbed my jacket and headed for the door.
“Wait,” Drew called after me, grabbing his jacket and fumbling with his shoes.
I pulled my phone from my pocket to call her and noticed I had five missed calls, three of them from Casey, and a string of texts. I groaned
The last text read, Have no idea where you are, but I left. At another party across town. Call me if you’re stuck.
“Great,” I grumbled.
“What’s wrong?” Drew asked, tying his shoes beside me.
“She left. Now what am I going to do?”
“Do you want to leave?” he asked, standing up and sliding his arms into his sweater before pulling it over his head.
“No offense, I’m sure it a great party, but…”
“I get it,” he concluded. “I’ll drive you.”
“You can’t leave your own party,” I rebuffed.
“They haven’t missed me yet,” he smiled sardonically. “I haven’t had more than one beer, and I can’t say that for just about anyone else at this party besides you. Still don’t drink, right?”
I shook my head.
“Then let me drive you home.”
I took a breath to give me a moment to decide. “Fine.”
I followed Drew to the house so he could grab his keys. We shuffled through the crowd that had grown to raging proportions during our absence.
“Where’ve you been?” a girl with long, flowing blond hair and a fitted strapless top asked Drew as we neared the stairs.
“I’ve been here,” he responded without really looking at her. “I’ll be back.” We passed by, and I avoided the daggers that followed me up the steps.
A man dressed all in black stood at the top of the stairs. He looked like he was about to stop us when he recognized Drew. “Good evening, Mr. Carson.”
“Hi, Frank,” Drew greeted. “Anyone giving you a hard time?”
“No one I can’t handle,” the muscular figure responded. I noticed an ear piece in his ear, and he squeezed a small mic on his collar to talk, conversing with someone.
“You take partying to a whole other level,” I observed, continuing down the long, wide hallway.
“I know what can happen when it goes wrong,” Drew responded, stopping at a door. I remained still when he opened it. “You can come in if you want.”
“No,” I answered quickly. “I’ll wait in the hall.”
Drew smirked and entered his bedroom. He re-emerged a few minutes later with a jacket on and keys in his hand. We retreated down another staircase at the far end of the hall, with another man dressed in black posted at the top.
“I’ll be back in a while,” Drew told the guard.
“Don’t worry. Everything’s under control,” he promised in return.
The stairs led to a hallway near a side entrance, away from the crowd. We disappeared without anyone noticing. His SUV was parked on the side of the house, making for an easy escape.
“Thanks for driving me,” I said, securing the seatbelt.
“No problem,” he responded, starting the vehicle.
We were quiet most of the ride. I was afraid to say anything, not wanting to evoke a conversation I wasn’t prepared to have. As we continued, I looked around in a sudden panic.
“Where are we going?” I demanded in a rush.
“To your… oh shit.”
My heart was beating so fast, I couldn’t catch my breath. Drew opened his mouth in aggrieved apology. He pulled the SUV into the parking lot of the closed coffee shop.
I closed my eyes, trying to pull some semblance of composure together.
“I can’t believe I did that,” Drew said lowly, pulling away and putting distance between me and the house. “Where do you live now?”
I gave Drew directions to my mother’s house on Decatur Street, finding it easier to breathe the farther away we drove.
Drew pulled in the driveway behind Jonathan’s truck. He put the SUV in park and turned toward me.
“It was good to see you,” he said.
“Yeah,” I returned, unbuckling the belt.
“Hey,” he said, stopping me from reaching for the handle. “I wish I had known.” I faced him, letting him continue but knowing I shouldn't. “You know, about what you were going through,” he explained softly.
A twinge of nerves spiked through me. I closed off, determined not to let his words in.
“I know I was a dick at times, but I really did care about you.”
Those words snuck in unexpectedly, and I felt a warmth rush through me. “I know.”
“I tried to visit you,” he shared, “when you were in the hospital. But the police wouldn’t let me in. I really am sorry, Emma―for everything.”
I smiled slightly. “Thanks, Drew. No one knew, so it wasn’t just you.”
“Do you think I could call you sometime?” he asked slowly. “You know, to keep in touch?”
“It was good to see you too, Drew,” I said, without answering. “Thanks again for the ride.” I opened the door and got out. He waited in the driveway until I opened the door. I didn’t look back, shutting it behind me.