Revelry

They didn’t know how I’d drunkenly berated her for everything that made her who she was, that I’d pushed her and made her think she needed to change, that I was the reason her lifeless body was pulled from that river. No one in their right mind would have tubed it that day, not with the water the way it was, but I’d made her feel like she had something to prove.

She was the one person in my life who showed me what it was to have a family, the one person who cared enough to slap some sense into me when I was throwing my life away.

But that night, the drugs had been too strong. I’d told her it was her who needed to change, not me. And it had been those words that killed her.

Part of me wanted to tell Davie and Yvette and Sarah and everyone else, just so they’d maybe begin to get it, but the other part of me hoped they’d never find out.

Because then they’d blame me, too.

Catching up with Davie was my favorite part of the night. We sat by ourselves for a while, reminiscing, but the later it got, the more everyone else wanted to hear what Davie had to say about “the old Anderson,” and before long, everyone joined in.

“And then Anderson just comes barreling around the corner, naked as the day he was born, clutching his clothes between his legs and screaming for me to start the truck,” Davie said, tears in his eyes as he laughed with everyone else around the fire at my misfortune. “I’ve never seen the son of a bitch run that fast before.”

“Yeah, well, a pissed-off dad with a loaded shotgun is surprisingly motivating,” I pointed out. Everyone just laughed harder, including Wren, who watched me with curious eyes.

Yvette clapped her hands. “Oh! Remember the time you threw that giant party when Aunt Rose went out of town? Huge rager. People still talk about that night.”

“Yeah, do they talk about what Aunt Rose did when she came home early to find fifty drunk high schoolers in her cabin?” Momma Von pursed her lips and looked pointedly at me.

I just threw my hands up. “What? I was caught, I had to try something.”

“You told her she was dreaming and tried to convince her that to wake up, she had to drive back into town and stay in a hotel for the night,” she deadpanned.

Sarah chimed in then, and it was the first time I’d realized she was even there. “Yeah, but Aunt Rose got him good with the punishment.”

“Oh my God! That was when she made you perform at the senior talent show, wasn’t it!” Yvette laughed, clutching her stomach. “What did you do again?”

Davie jumped up, baby monitor strapped to his hip. “I’m a little teapot, short and stout!” He danced around the fire, stopping to dig his knuckle into my head while everyone joined in for the second line. “Here is my handle, here is my spout!”

I punched him in the ribs and he yelped, but the laughter roared right along with the fire, and he grinned at me the whole way as he limped back to his seat.

Sarah started in on a new story, but I didn’t hear a word of it because Wren popped up from where she’d been sitting next to Tucker and fell down in the chair next to me, instead.

“Hi again,” she said, swiping her hair away from her face. I thought she’d say something else, but she just watched me with lazy eyes.

“Hi again to you, too.”

She tilted her head just as another round of laughter ensued. Someone smacked me on the knee, but I didn’t look away from Wren, and she didn’t look away from me.

“You seem to have stolen the show tonight.”

I snorted. “Not intentionally, I assure you.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that at all,” she said with a giggle. That giggle was enough to undo me. “You should tell a story.”

My eyes widened at that and I immediately shook my head, but she leaned in and nudged me.

“Come on, everyone else has so much to say about you, but you haven’t said anything at all.” Her eyes were glossy, and her words slurred a little, blending into each other in one smooth stream. “Tell me something real.”

I frowned.

Something real.

The only thing that came to my mind when she said “real” was Dani, and I didn’t have anything to say about Dani. Not to Wren, at least. Not now. So I scrambled, trying to think of something—anything—to tell her. The longer I stared at her, the more my brows furrowed, and her eyes softened. She leaned back, not even a centimeter, but I felt the distance as if there was a string tied between us and she’d pulled it taught.

Too long passed without an answer, and she sighed, eyes finally breaking contact with mine like she was disappointed. She likely thought I didn’t want to talk to her, but the truth was just that I didn’t know what to say. I watched the lazy happiness drain from her eyes momentarily, but then they lit up again as they focused on something behind me.

“Rev!”

The buzz around the fire ceased, as if a bucket of ice water had been thrown over all of us. My heart kicked in my chest, hard, and when Wren looked back at me, smiling and unfazed, she must have seen it—my fear, my anger, all of it on display. Her face fell instantly, just as the same stray cat I’d seen in her cabin the week before jumped in her lap. She wrapped it in her arms, but wouldn’t stop looking at me, brows bent, like she didn’t realize what she’d just said.

She’d heard the stories, but she didn’t know me. No one called me Rev anymore, and of everyone there who had a right to, she was last on the list.

I stood, knocking a full can of beer over with my boot as I did. All the eyes around the fire were glued on me, and I felt the sticky weight of them as I turned for the drive. My hands jutted into my pockets to keep from pulling at my sweater. It was too hot. It was too loud. I needed to leave.

I shouldn’t have come at all.

“What is your problem?”

Her small voice had grown in size, and it stopped me in my tracks.

“I ask you to tell me something real, and you run off like it’s the worst thing you’ve heard?” Momma Von tried to quiet her, but she kept going, and I kept my back to all of them. “All night, everyone is telling all these stories about how fun you are, how crazy you are, but I don’t see it. I don’t know who that person was or why he changed, but whatever the reason, it doesn’t give you the right to be an asshole to me.”

“Alright, Wren,” Yvette said this time, and I turned, watching as both she and Momma Von moved in on Wren. Yvette touched one arm, and Wren swayed a bit, steadying herself when Momma Von was close enough to hold onto. She was messed up, and my nose flared as her eyes hardened on mine again.

“No,” she slurred. “No, I’ve taken enough shit from assholes in my life.” She stood straighter, like she had something to prove, and opened her mouth to say something else. But she stopped, huffing, as if it wasn’t even worth her time. She turned to Momma Von. “I want to go home.”

“Okay, peaches, let’s get you home, then.”

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