“Easy? No. But definitely possible.” He looks at me, a ghost of a smile on his face. “Your mom says he grew up nice. He’s always been a good kid.”
I get what he’s trying to tell me—he and Mom don’t mind anymore if I want to be friends with Ethan. More than friends, even. He drove Tobias and me to the hospital and stuck around the entire time, so obviously, his intentions toward me are good. He cares about me, and that’s good enough for them.
Can it be enough for me too? I think about what he said in the shed that day, weeks ago, after our second kiss: I’m done with hiding. I thought I was done hiding too, until it turned out I wasn’t. Not entirely. When I returned to Hyde Creek last August, I thought I was prepared for what was to come. And I was, for the most part. I knew it wouldn’t be easy. I knew things would never be like they were.
But I hadn’t been prepared for Ethan. After everything I’ve taken from him, after all the pain I’ve caused, he still believes I’m someone worth loving.
Maybe I can be that girl again. The one Ethan still sees. The one my father believes still exists inside me. Someone who’s brave and worth loving. Someone who’s finally ready to be done with hiding too.
After I help my dad install the new hoses, I bundle myself against the cold and walk over to Hunter’s house. With any luck, the band will still be practicing.
They are. As I approach, I can feel the thrum of the bass under my feet. It’s familiar now, like a welcome. I wait for a break between songs and pound on the door instead of walking right in, because I haven’t been here in a while and it seems less presumptuous to knock first.
Kel answers the door, guitar still strapped to his chest. “Hey, Dara,” he says casually, as if I’m just returning from a bathroom break. He motions me inside, and I gratefully step into the warmth. Everyone’s here today, band and girlfriends, but as usual, my attention goes directly to Ethan.
He’s wearing the same T-shirt he had on the first day I saw him at school back in September, the Iron Maiden one. I remember how surprised I was to see him in it then. Now I’d be surprised to see him in anything else. I’ve grown accustomed to the changes in him.
“Hey,” he says, surprised.
“Hi,” I say back, sitting on the couch next to Noelle, who gives me a quick sideways hug in welcome. On her other side, Julia glances up from her phone and flashes me a smile before dropping her gaze to her phone again. No one acts like it’s a big deal, my being here. That’s what I like about this place—even I can blend in. Because here, it’s all about the music.
“Okay, one more and then we gotta quit for the day,” Hunter says from behind the drums. “I have a huge physics test tomorrow I haven’t even fucking studied for yet.”
Everyone agrees, and they launch into an original, one I’ve heard many times and often find stuck in my head. As usual, I watch Ethan as he plays. Today he seems distracted, like he’s going through the motions more than anything. I wonder if he’s been like this the entire practice or just since I arrived.
When the song is over, they take their time packing up, stalling their inevitable departure from the cozy warmth of the shed.
“We’re gonna go raid Hunter’s kitchen for food,” Noelle says, nudging me with her elbow. “Want to come?”
“Um . . .” I look over at Ethan as he secures his guitar inside its case. Noelle follows my gaze, smirking. She probably thinks I’m going to jump him the second they all leave.
She pats my knee and stands up. “See you later.”
I nod, my eyes still on Ethan. He glances up at me, and like the day we had our second kiss on this very couch, he quickly catches on that I want to be alone with him. Only this time, there won’t be any kissing. At least not until after we settle a few things.
Ethan drags out collecting and packing up his belongings until everyone’s gone and it’s just the two of us, alone with our unresolved tension.
“I thought you were grounded,” I say to fill the silence.
“I am, but my parents have barely been home all weekend so they don’t even know I’m out. I don’t really care, anyway.” He snaps his guitar case closed and joins me on the couch. “How’s Tobias?”
“He’s fine.”
We’re both quiet for a few moments, so quiet I can hear the faint hiss of the space heater in the corner. My mind scrambles for something to say, something smart and profound that will magically transform our relationship into something effortless and normal. But there’s nothing, because our relationship will never be effortless and normal. Our memories of Aubrey won’t ever fade. My part in her death will always be between us, and that’s something we both need to accept if we’re going to move forward.
“Ethan,” I begin. “I came over here because I wanted to talk about—”
“Wait.” He touches my arm, stopping me. “Before you say anything else, I need to ask you something.”
I shut my mouth and look at him, waiting. He lifts his hand from my arm and shoves it through his hair.
“What was the last conversation you had with her? Right before she . . .” He swallows and shuts his eyes for a second. “What did you guys talk about? You’ve never told me.”
My mind immediately flashes back to that day, and it’s like I’m there again, reliving it all. The humid June heat. Our flip-flops, slapping against the pavement. Aubrey’s blue-painted toes. Justin’s a douchebag.
“Justin,” I say, my voice cracking. “We talked about Justin and all the chances she gave him. She talked about what she accomplished that year in spite of all the drama we went through. I apologized to her, and she apologized to me. We . . . we made things right again.”
He nods like he’s known this all along. “She forgave you.”
Truce?
Truce.
“Yeah. Of course she did. Aubrey was the most forgiving person in the world.”
“She was,” he agrees, his gaze steady on mine. “You were her best friend and she would’ve forgiven you for anything.”
Wide, frightened eyes. A lacy white skirt, soaked through with blood.
“Not anything,” I say, tearing my eyes from his. They’re so much like Aubrey’s. Sometimes I can forget, but now, with her presence surrounding us, it hurts me to see her in them.
“Yes,” he says firmly. “Anything, Dara. Even that.”
My gaze flicks back to his face. He can’t actually believe what he’s saying. Aubrey was compassionate, sure, but she wasn’t a saint. “How can you possibly know this?”
“Because I knew her. Because that’s the way she was. What happened to her was a terrible accident. She never would’ve held you responsible.”
“But you do, right?”