"See you, Jack." My cheeks were on fire, my heart racing from the surprise of his gesture, and he smiled at me once more with his hand on my cheek before turning and walking away.
I took a deep breath and tried to put it all behind me. I'd cleared the air with Jack, spent the morning compositing my thoughts, and now I was ready to face Wade, to talk to him, to tell him how I felt.
Nerves flitted around my chest, and I smiled. I was in love with Wade, and there was a chance he was in love with me too. Seven years had disappeared into thin air at the thought.
I climbed the steps and knocked on the door, my hope sliding down into my shoes when it swung open to Wade, shoulders square and eyes sharp and flinty as steel.
"H-hi."
He said nothing, just turned and walked away, leaving the door gaping.
I stepped inside and closed it, my heart clanging, my uncertainty shaking me. He'd walked into the living room and to several stacks of books, which he sorted through, stacking them with noisy thumps. One slipped off the top and hit the ground, and a swear word hissed through his lips as he reached for it, slamming it on another stack.
I crept into the threshold of the room. "Are you okay?" I asked quietly.
He didn't turn or look up. "No, I'm not fucking okay." Another book stacked with an angry thud, but it was too much force, knocking the pile off center, and the stack fell over.
I moved toward him, hands outstretched for the books. "Let me help you."
He blocked me with his body, still not looking at me. "I don't want your help."
I pulled my hands back, wounded, somehow still surprised that he would once again shut me out. But clarity washed over me — of course today he would be different.
He was as unreliable and inconstant as the weather, and I stopped myself from reeling, recognizing the situation for what it was. Last night he'd just been caught up in the moment, emotional, sentimental. Wade was upset about his father; nothing about what happened had been about me.
I was through guessing which version of him I'd get when I walked through the door. I was through being pushed and pulled and toyed with.
But even still, I wanted to help him. Even still, I wanted to heal him.
"What's wrong, Wade?"
At that, he looked over his shoulder, his eyes full of hurt and anger. "What's wrong?" He stood, turning to face me like a brick wall. "What's wrong? Everything is wrong, Elliot. I've been sitting in this house for a week waiting, just waiting. Waiting for the seconds, the minutes to count down until the end. I've got my dad to think about. I've got my sisters to think about. I've got everyone to think about before myself. So no. I'm not okay. And no, I don't want your help."
I couldn't breathe, the shock hitting my lungs, freezing them as he blew out of the room, snatching his coat off the peg before opening the door, disappearing just before it slammed behind him. Ben glanced at me apologetically as he trotted toward the door, coat in hand, and the door opened and closed once again before I could finally take a breath.
Sophie hurried in, concern on her face, and she reached for me, pulling me into a hug. "My God, what happened? I'm so sorry."
I shook my head numbly. "I … I don't know. I just tried to talk to him and he just … just …"
"Ben will bring him back. He'll apologize, I know it — he didn't mean it."
I pursed my lips to stave off my tears, not believing that his frustration with Rick was all there was to it. The realization dawned on me that the room overlooked the street, that he could have seen outside. And Jack had kissed me.
I pushed the thought away, wondering if I would have a chance to talk to him. Wondering if he would listen to me if I did.
She pulled away, her eyes searching mine. "Elliot, I'm sorry."
"You don't have to be sorry. You didn't say it."
She shook her head. "No, I'm sorry because I haven't been here for you. You've been suffering too, and I've missed everything. Something's going on between you two, isn't it?"
"I … I don't even know. But please," I pleaded. "Please don't do that. If I needed you, I'd tell you."
"No, you wouldn't. Not right now."
I marveled at the change a few words could make, how they could take me from the top of the world to the depths of emotion with a string of syllables and punctuation.
I pulled Sophie back in for a hug. "No, I wouldn't. You're right. But I'm all right. I'm here for you, not for me."
"But I'm not the only one in pain. Who will help bear yours?"
My chest ached from the weight. "Don't worry about me, Sophie. I'll be all right." I whispered the lie, wishing it were truth.
Wade
My jaw ached, clenched so tightly spots swam in my vision as I barreled down the sidewalk, ignoring Ben, who called my name from behind me.
I hadn't been watching for her out the living room window, not exactly, but I'd found myself at the front of the house more often than usual, my thoughts on her, my eyes searching for her beyond the windows to the city as I recited the admissions, the truth about how I felt about her, the apology for hurting her over and over.
And instead of making it better, I hurt her again. I was destined to hurt her forever.
What I'd hoped for was a homecoming. What I'd wished was to tell her everything in my heart. What I'd expected was the sweetness of forgiveness, for which I'd waited so long.
What I didn't expect was him. I didn't expect what I'd seen. I didn't expect to have my wishes, my hopes, exploded with napalm, detonated by a kiss that wasn't mine, laid on lips that were.
I couldn't see what all happened — she was blocked by his body — but I didn't need to. The image of her hands in his, of her flushed cheeks when he pulled away and I could see her again, it was all too much. Last night, I thought she'd made another promise to me. I thought she'd promised herself to me.
Wrong again.
"Wade," Ben called after me. I walked faster.
My intentions hadn't been as clear as I thought. Or they had, and they didn't mean to her what they meant to me. I should have told her the night before, when the truth was laid out in front of us. And because I didn't, I had no idea how she felt or what she thought. I hated myself for thinking we could be more, that we could go back or forward or anywhere.
I was too damaged, too broken, and I'd only keep hurting her.
"Stop," he said, grabbing me by the arm. I spun around, ripping my arm from his grip.
"What?"
His eyes narrowed, and he squared his shoulders. "What's the matter? What happened?"
My nostrils flared as I pulled in a breath. "Doesn't matter."
His jaw ticked as he flexed it. "You're not getting out of this. What happened?"
I swallowed, not wanting to admit anything, not wanting to say it out loud for fear it would make it more true. So I stood there silently for a moment, grappling with the words.
Ben shifted, folding his arms.
Another deep breath, and I said it. "Jack kissed her. I saw it."
"Jack?"
"The guy."