Guzzling vodka and pretending I have the guts to walk up to that door and knock on it, to remind Scott that I’m eighteen now and no longer a student at Balsam High, effective last Thursday, so no one can stop us anymore.
Fuck it. I’m just going to do it.
I begin moving toward the forest-green door, my heart pounding in my chest, my fist clutching the bottle so tight that the plastic crinkles.
What the hell am I doing? Have I finally lost it?
I need to leave.
I’m fifteen feet away from the cabin door when it swings open without warning. Scott steps out onto the rickety wooden stoop, a joint pinched between his lips.
He finally notices me as he’s working to light it, startling slightly. “Catherine?” He reaches inside and suddenly the driveway is bathed in light, highlighting his deep frown. “What are you doing here?”
I don’t answer.
He glances around. “How did you get here?”
“I rode my bike. I left it in the bushes, at the end of the driveway.” I’ve brought the rumors to life. I am now officially a crazy stalker girl. “I should go.”
“You’ve been drinking.”
I wave the bottle. “A bit.”
He pauses. “Who knows you’re here?”
“No one.” I hesitate, searching for my bravery. “And it doesn’t matter if they do anyway.”
A sly smile stretches across his lips. “Because you turned eighteen two days ago.”
He remembered. “And I don’t go to Balsam anymore.”
The gravel crunches under his boots as he approaches me unhurriedly, his worn Metallica T-shirt speckled with yellow paint. “So I heard.” His gaze roams over my face as he finally lights his joint, takes a haul off it. He hands it to me, our fingertips brushing. My breath catches. “So, why’d you come here, Cath?”
I savor the joint, stalling answering his question. When I finally look up, I meet a knowing look. It’s so easy to get caught in those flirty eyes of his, and I do, reveling in them as we pass the joint back and forth wordlessly. It’s just a small one, finished in a minute. Scott prefers a light buzz over being outright stoned.
“Where’s Linda?”
“Probably baking cookies or praying in church,” he mutters. “Don’t know, don’t really care right now. Truth is, we’re close to being done.”
Relief swells inside me.
He pushes a curly lock of coffee-colored hair off his forehead. “I don’t like the idea of you going home in this state. You should come inside and sober up a bit.”
I fight my overwhelming excitement as I trail Scott into the small cabin. The kitchen is to the left, the main room ahead.
He leads me to the right.
To the bedroom.
I know it’s Brett who’s climbing the stairs to the third floor without having to look, his steps slow and careful.
“They must have placed this skylight here intentionally,” I murmur into the darkness. I’m sprawled out on the hardwood floor, staring up at the glowing full moon above me. Imagining how amazing it would be to sleep right here. “Is Brenna in bed?”
Brett eases himself onto the floor next to me with some difficulty. “She’s arguing with Jack and Keith about crating Stella. She wants to sleep with her.”
“She can’t. The dog will pee all over the house.”
“That’s what they’re trying to explain to her.” Brett’s soft chuckle echoes in the room. “But that kid has an answer for everything.”
I should really be down there, dealing with it. But I’ve been hiding out up here for the past hour instead. Trying to hold on to everything for just a little while longer.
“I’m sorry.”
He sighs. “I know you are, Cath.”
“The day I found out I was pregnant, I was in the restroom at Diamonds, in the middle of my interview. It all happened so fast, and when Misty assumed it was Matt’s baby, I just went along with it. I didn’t want to admit that it was Scott’s. That I’d gone and slept with him after he let me take the brunt of that scandal. How I’d been stupid enough to think he’d leave Linda for me.”
“Did he tell you he would?”
“Not in those words.” I think back to that night, to what he did say and to the look in his lust-filled eyes. “He definitely played me, though, to get what he wanted out of me. Lied right to my face. But I was so sure that I was going to get what I wanted.” The last laugh, when my mother and all the assholes who swore Scott Philips would never be interested in me saw us strolling hand in hand down the sidewalk, talking about where we should live in Philly. Of course, I kept quiet about it after that night. Waiting for Scott to call, to show up at Misty’s doorstep for me.
And then, I heard a week later that Linda and Scott were engaged and they had both accepted teaching jobs in Tennessee, effective immediately. Linda hadn’t been baking cookies and praying that weekend. She’d been down in Memphis, arranging an apartment for them.
“It’s still embarrassing, thinking how pathetic I was.”
“You were seventeen.”
“It doesn’t feel like a good enough excuse.” I shake my head. “Honestly, I didn’t think the lie would last, but I was happy when it did. I’d had enough of people talking about me and Scott Philips. I figured, who cared if people thought it was Matt? He wasn’t going to come around. There was no connection, other than DJ.”
“But Scott Philips has money. His family has money. You wouldn’t have had to struggle like you did. Plus, if you came out with this, he wouldn’t be able to deny something going on between the two of you.”
“And then I’d be tied to them forever. And so would Brenna.” I’ve never met Melissa Philips, but Lou had a run-in with her over a property and confirmed she’s a controlling, uppity bitch. And I trust Lou’s judge of character. But I do know Mr. Philips—Brenna’s grandfather. Just picturing him, glowering at me from across the desk in his office, makes me tense. “If his father was willing to corner and coerce a seventeen--year-old girl using his authority, what else would he and his wife be willing to do for their son?” That those two are Brenna’s grandparents makes me shudder.
I still haven’t found the guts to look over at Brett, but I hear his teeth clench beside me.
“I know that he manipulated me, and he has manipulated others. I don’t want a man like Scott in Brenna’s life.”
“I don’t blame you.”
I feel the bitter smile touch my lips. “And yet I wouldn’t have her if it wasn’t for him. It’s hard to hate him, when she’s what I get because of it. It almost doesn’t seem right, that I’d be rewarded with a kid like her.”
Silence hangs between us.
“But I can’t even blame him, completely. I’m the one who rode my bike over there that night. And I’d like to say that I wouldn’t have slept with him if he hadn’t lied to me about Linda and him. But if I’m being honest, I don’t think it would have mattered. I was in love with him. I would have convinced myself that it was okay no matter what.” I’ve never admitted that out loud to anyone, including myself. “What kind of person does that make me?”
Brett sighs. “A person who has made some big mistakes.” His tone is impossible to read. Is he angry? Sad? Frustrated?
Or is that simply the sound of resignation?