“Like I said, we’re friends,” I say, forcing my voice to remain calm and my body to stay disciplined rather than squirm under Donna Has-been’s glare and innuendo. I don’t give a fuck if she’s right—me and Maddy, that’s our business. And sharing what we are happens on our timeline.
“Evan would like that you both remained close, wouldn’t he?” she says, crossing one of her long legs over the other and settling into her chair. Donna was probably a mediocre swimmer, but she’s a great tabloid reporter. I’ve reached my limit with her. It’s happened to me before, but it’s never been over questions about Maddy. Usually it’s pot use, my DUI, losing my license—I can’t handle the way the reporters beat my worst moments to death, asking me question after question on the same indiscretion. But I’d do rounds of those questions before I sit here and put that spotlight on Maddy. I don’t like where she’s leading this.
“I don’t really care,” I finally say, crossing my leg over my knee and folding my hands on top of my ankle, tapping my thumbs together while I wait for her to try to salvage this.
She blinks rapidly, flipping through the cards in her lap before looking up at me with one eyebrow quirked.
“You and Evan…did you…get along?”
I smirk and chew at the inside of my mouth. I’m done. All I do is shrug.
Her glare narrows as her lips part. She finally blinks a few times, looking up at her cameraman, drawing a line with her finger across her neck. When he drops his headphones around his neck, I stand and drop the mic pack from my pocket, leaving it in a pile of cords on my empty seat.
“Will, we’re not done,” she says.
I tilt my head and twist my lips, my eyes catching a glimpse of Curtis and the Cumberlands behind her. They’ve gotten enough juice, and they know it. I let my gaze fall to Donna, still perched on her chair, waiting for me to come back and fulfill my duty. I’ve given enough.
“Actually, we are,” I say, walking toward Maddy, who is now standing near the door, next to my uncle.
My heart is angry—it’s pounding against the walls of my chest, and I can barely contain my desire to scream. But I see her. Maddy’s face is calm, she’s sure and safe—she’s home.
“Come on,” she says, tugging my arm toward her as she takes steps to the front door. “Let’s get out of here.”
Responsibility…promises—that weight is pulling at my back, clawing at me and reminding me that I should go back, finish what I promised and find a way to make everyone happy. But I’m tired. I’m so tired, and I don’t trust my decisions anymore.
I let Maddy lead, unknotting my tie from my neck as we walk through the parking lot to her car, on our way handing my jacket and the tie to my uncle. He doesn’t ask questions, and nobody follows us, or begs us to stay. They’re done with me, and I’m done with them. I’m not pretending for Evan anymore. I just need to set the story straight for one more person.
“They’re going to start talking about us…romantically,” I say the second I shut the passenger door.
Maddy turns over the engine and fastens her seat belt before twisting to look me in the eyes.
“Let them talk,” she says, her expression resolved. She’s done, too.
“You and Evan…they’re going to talk about that, too,” I say.
“I know,” she whispers her response. Her eyes linger on mine for a few seconds before she leans back in her seat, checks her mirrors, and pulls us into reverse.
Evan’s perfect legacy…it ends here.
Maddy
The boy I used to chase—his speed, his drive—that boy is gone. The anger and resentment—the fumes that Will has been using to push himself in the pool, through life—it’s all gone, too. He has carried it all for years, and he’s finally hit his limit.
He hasn’t asked where we’re going. I turned right onto the highway, and I’m pretty sure he knew. These secrets, sorting out who needs to know what, who can handle what truths—it’s killing him. It ends now…here…today.
I find the familiar street easily, turning from the highway and winding down the neighborhood road lined with houses and dirt lawns, cars parked in yards, and dogs chained to stakes out front. I stop near the gray one, the ramp in front—Dylan’s ramp. The van is parked outside, which means they are both home. I haven’t gotten to know Tanya well, but I know enough from her spirit to be sure that she and Dylan are never—ever—apart if she’s at home.
I park quickly along the curb and turn to Will, his eyes locked straight ahead, just as they’ve been for the last hour.
“This part is for me to tell. This isn’t yours, Will,” I say. His head leans toward me and his hand slides over mine, squeezing.
“It’s all mine, Maddy,” he says.