“That’s not it at all.” I kept my voice low, hoping she’d take my cue and do the same. People were starting to stare, and no wonder. Tears were rolling down my face and Aubrey looked like she wanted to kill me.
“That’s exactly it. You’ve been trying to turn me against him, telling me I can do better and maybe we’re not meant to be together. And now you’re trying to convince me he hit on you? That’s low, Dara. Justin would never do that to me.”
“Yes, he would,” Ethan cut in.
“Ethan,” Aubrey said, tossing him a quick glance. “Maybe you should go. This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
“It does, actually. I was there Saturday night, in the garage. I saw it happen. Dara’s not lying.”
She looked at him again, and this time her gaze lingered. Ethan was unfailingly honest, especially with her. She knew he was telling the truth, which meant I was telling the truth too.
After a long pause, the anger in her face softened into hurt and she turned and walked away, dodging the small crowd of nosy bystanders who’d paused to listen to our fight. They watched her until she disappeared, then spun their heads back to Ethan and me, hoping for more drama.
“I should probably go talk to her,” Ethan said, sounding apologetic. But I understood. Aubrey was his number one, exactly as she should have been.
“Thanks,” I told him, blinking back more tears. “For what you said, I mean. And I’m sorry you got involved in this.”
He shrugged as if it were no big deal and headed off to find his sister. Now it was just me, standing in the hallway and crying, wondering once again if I’d just screwed things up even worse.
twenty-five
Senior Year
“ARE YOU SURE?” MY MOTHER ASKS ME FOR THE umpteenth time this week. “We don’t have to go tonight. We can all stick around here and order Chinese food.”
“No,” I say, swirling my spoon around in my cereal. “You should go. You’ll get charged if you cancel your hotel room now.”
Mom sighs into her coffee cup. She’s been freaking out for days about leaving me alone on New Year’s Eve. Months ago, before they knew I was coming back, she and Dad bought tickets for a concert and reserved a hotel room nearby. They never do things like this anymore, and I know they need the break from work and stress and me.
“True,” Mom says with a definitive nod, and I know I’ve finally convinced her. “It would be a shame to have to pay a cancellation fee. And Tobias is really excited about sleeping over at Brock’s house tonight.”
Keeping my face smooth so she won’t see my relief, I put my empty bowl in the sink and go to my room. There’s a text from Ethan waiting for me on my phone.
Have you decided?
I stare at the screen for a moment, my mind reeling. Since the night he asked me to celebrate Aubrey’s birthday with him, I’ve been putting off giving him an answer. It’s not just that I’m worried about going to his house for the first time since she died. I know it won’t be easy, and being there will trigger more memories and anxiety than I’m probably ready to handle. That part is inevitable. What I can’t predict is how tonight will impact the new, still-fragile connection I’ve managed to build with Ethan over the past few months.
But maybe that old fierce-and-fearless part of me still exists somewhere and I can tap into it again, at least for a little while.
I refocus on my phone and tap out a response. I’m in.
When Ethan arrives at seven to pick me up, it’s snowing. Not the dry, flurry kind we’ve had until now, but big, fat flakes that stick and make the roads treacherous.
“Oops, I’ve never really driven in snow before,” Ethan says when his tires skid on the way out of my driveway. He gestures to the plastic-wrapped plate in my hands. “What’s that?”
“It’s a cake I made earlier.” I peer out the windshield at the swirling snowflakes. “I really suck at baking, but . . . Aubrey would’ve wanted a cake for her birthday.”
He smiles. “Only if she could bake it herself. From scratch.”
I smile too, remembering how picky she was about store-bought pastry and the kind that came out of a box, like this one. But I think she’d give me credit for trying.
We make it to his house in one piece, and Ethan parks his car in the empty driveway.
“Where are your parents?” I ask as we walk up to the front door. I don’t really care where they are, but I need to distract myself somehow.
“Some party at one of their friends’ houses.” He opens the door and motions me inside. “I’m not exactly sure. They hate me, so we try to avoid speaking to each other as much as possible.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling my heart start to pound. The inside of the house looks exactly the same, perfectly coordinated and impossibly neat. It even smells the same, like cinnamon and citrusy wood polish.
A surge of dizziness passes over me.
“You okay?” Ethan touches my arm and gives me a sympathetic look. Of course he understands. Getting used to living here without Aubrey must have been much more difficult for him than this brief visit is for me.
I let out a breath and nod. “I think so.”
“Come on.” He takes the cake out of my hands and leads me toward the kitchen. “I have something that’ll help.”
The “something” turns out to be an almost-empty bottle of vodka that he digs out from a bottom cupboard. He sets it on the counter beside the cake, finds two shot glasses, and fills them both, shaking the bottle to get the last few drops.
“Cheers,” he says, sliding my shot toward me and picking up his own.
I’ve never liked alcohol—probably a good thing, as I might have drowned myself in it after Aubrey was killed—but I’ll do pretty much anything to calm this shaky feeling in my stomach. “Cheers,” I echo, then tip the shot in my mouth like I did at Paige’s party so long ago. This one is only marginally better. Ethan gulps his at the same time, wincing as it goes down.
“So,” I say, leaning against the counter beside him. “Why do you think your parents hate you?”
He tosses the empty bottle in the trash. “Because I rebelled, or whatever. Stepped out of the box they kept me in. They’re just pissed I started living for myself instead of for them.”
I feel my muscles start to loosen, warmed by the vodka in my belly. The dizziness has passed. “I doubt they hate you. If your parents hate anyone, it’s me.”
“What makes you say that?”
“They charged me with criminal negligence, Ethan. I’m pretty sure there are some hard feelings.”
He gets quiet for a moment, his fingers absently tapping against the counter. “They dropped the charge, though.”
“Yeah, and I still don’t know why.”
An odd expression crosses his face, like embarrassment mingled with pride. He turns away to get a glass of water, suddenly unable to look at me, and that’s when it sinks in.
“You convinced them to drop it?”
He downs a mouthful of water and then offers the glass to me. I take a small sip, studying him carefully over the rim.
“I told them you’d already been through enough,” he says, meeting my eyes. “And if they didn’t back off and leave you alone, I’d find some way to fuck up their lives even more.”