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  “Bake cookies?”

  My eyes pop open. “Serious?”

  Aidan grins, shrugging. “We never bake anymore. I miss it.”

  “All right. Cookies it is. Chocolate chip?”

  “Yeah.”

  I sling my arm around my brother’s shoulders as we walk from my room and squeeze him to my side. I love this kid more than shit.

  ***

  I stride down the street, clenching and unclenching my hands. I need to do something, go somewhere, hit something, anything. I need to get rid of this energy. I need to erase her. Lily has moved on. I’ve seen her around town with Sam Lorenz, a guy who graduated last year and is going to school for accounting. Most recently, I saw her leaving her house about five minutes ago with him. She was laughing, smiling. She didn’t even glance my way. I can’t believe how much it hurts. It feels like my heart is gone from my chest, shredded. I need to fill the hole inside me with something. Anything.

  Full red lips and smoldering gray eyes flash in my head, and even though I’m repulsed by the thought, I’m also slightly turned on. Ironic that I’m standing right by her place. I stop at the corner of the sidewalk, staring at the apartment above the bar located across the street. Why am I doing this? Don’t do this. Why am I doing this?

  I’m crossing the street and going up the stairs before I can let myself change my mind. As though she was waiting for me, the door swings open. Zoe has on a tight white tank top and tiny blue cotton shorts. I can tell she isn’t wearing a bra. Her short blond hair is wild around her face and her eyes are hungry as they go up and down the length of me. My body immediately reacts and I close my eyes as she yanks me into the apartment.

  No words are spoken, no looks exchanged. I close my eyes to block out her image and am instead tormented by Lily’s. It’s angry and crude and I hate myself even as I find release. It doesn’t obliterate Lily like I wanted it to. Instead it makes her larger than life—in my head, in my heart, in the immediate, overwhelming regret that slams into me.

  “Until next time,” Zoe coos, giving my ass a light tap before walking naked to the bathroom, her tanned and toned body shimmying as she goes.

  There won’t be a next time, I know that. I pull my pants up, sickened by the fact that I didn’t even take my clothes off, I didn’t even wait to get to a bed, and that I have no respect for or even like the woman I just screwed. My hands are shaking as I run them through the shaggy locks on my head. I feel like I’m going to puke and take a deep breath, trying to keep the nausea at bay.

  Stumbling out the door and down the steps, I retch into the grass along the side of the bar. Not the first time someone has puked next to it, I’m sure. An acrid taste in my mouth and a burning sensation in my throat, I straighten; eyes down as I hurry toward home.

  I feel dirty and I know it’s my head and heart more than my body that needs to be cleansed, but I do what I can, lingering in the shower, covered in soap, until the water is cold and I’m shivering. I close my eyes, taking shuddering breath upon shuddering breath. I just lost a little more of me and I mourn it. Waves of pain slide over me, relentless and continuous. The urge to go to Lily is strong and I am even more disgusted with myself for wanting to go to her after what I’ve just done.

  Dressed in gray athletic shorts, I collapse on my bed and stare up at the stars, dizzying grief sweeping through me. Each time I do something to try to remove her from me; I take away a piece of me instead. I can’t stop though. Pretty soon there will be nothing of me and instead it will all be her.

  Sick as it is, I am consumed by Lily Jacobs.

  I tell myself I shouldn’t feel guilty. I tell myself she is moving on without me. She broke up with me, she won’t speak to me, but it doesn’t alleviate the remorse. Because I know she didn’t want to move on, I know she didn’t want to break up with me, and I know she doesn’t want this silence between us. But none of that changes what is. None of that changes the fact she is dating Sam Lorenz.

  Fumbling in the drawer of the nightstand, I pull out the slim white envelope. Inside it is a ticket with a short note: In case you change your mind. The ticket is dated two weeks from now. Closing my eyes, I inhale slowly, deeply. I’ve already decided. As soon as I saw Lily with Sam my mind was made up. I had to make it irreversible for me to change my mind. And I just did with Zoe. The envelope weighs practically nothing, but it feels heavy—heavy with choices and possibilities and finality.

  Soon I will be out of this house, out of this town, out of Lily’s life. Two weeks to go and I’m gone, pursuing the dream that tore my heart out. I wonder if one day I’ll look back and decide it was worth it, or if I’ll look back and simply miss what I left, even forced as I was. I sit up and grab a pen and notebook from the nightstand next to my bed as lyrics form in my head.

  I don’t remember when or how I came to write music. All I remember is writing down words to express how I felt about situations in my life that were out of my control, and somehow forming them into a song. I taught myself how to read and write music and I learned to sing from listening to songs and matching my voice to the tone of the performers. There were no music classes, no school choir, no vocal lessons. There was just me and my need to get all of my feelings out and songs were the way that worked best for me. Still are.

  You tug at me and a little piece of my soul unravels, right into your hand.

  Soon there will be nothing left to me.

  You smile and tell me to stay. Another piece of me splinters, right into you.

  Soon there will be nothing left of me.

  You say you love me and my being is cracked, because I love you too, and I willingly give you another bit of me.

  I fear one day there will be nothing left of me.

  You told me to go and I couldn’t, because there was nothing left of me. It was all already yours.

  Now there is nothing left of me.

  I am gone, dissolved, disappeared, all of me some part of you.

  There is nothing left of me.

  Even when I’m destroying myself, I have to be in control. Then I have no excuses—I have no one or nothing to blame but me and that is the way I want it. This is all me. I did this. I toss the pen and paper to the side of the bed and clasp my head between my hands, my throat and chest tight. What did I just do? Hot tears blur my eyes. I ended it. I ended any chance of reconciliation between Lily and me, not that there was a chance anyway. But now I know. Now I have no reason to hope, to wish. Hollow, numb, I finally destroyed the old Grayson.

  I can leave now.

  ***

  A soft knock at the door lifts my attention from the plane ticket. The ticket is thin, small, and has the power to change my world. I look at it almost daily, counting down the days until I’m gone from Wisconsin.

  “Come in,” I call out, my eyes going back to and lingering on the ‘one way’ proclamation. Am I really doing this?

  My dad, looking customarily rundown, leans against the door. Wearing black pajama pants and a gray tee shirt, he is ready for bed. “How’s it going?”

  I sit up and lean my back against the headboard. “Wonderful.”

  He crosses his arms, sighing. “Are you sure, Grayson? Is this what you really want? I mean, I can’t tell you no, you’re an adult, nor would I, but…do you really want to do this?” Rubbing his face, he straightens. “Are you doing this for you? I guess that’s what I’m asking.”

  “Who else would I be doing it for?” Lily’s words swim through my head: You do this, Grayson. If you can’t do it for yourself, then you do it for me. I swallow, setting the ticket on the nightstand beside the bed.

  “I don’t know. This just seems sudden. One minute you’re going to college in a few months and the next you’re signing a record contract for Rebel Records. Did something happen?” Concerned brown eyes search for the truth in my expression.

  I shrug. “No. I just can’t say no to this. The odds that this even happened in the first place are unheard of. It’s the only chance I’ll prob
ably ever get. I have to take it.”

  “What about your education? What if this isn’t what you really want? What if you do this and then wish you hadn’t?”

  “Dad.”

  His lips close and press into a thin line as he waits.

  “I’m doing this.”

  Seeing the determination on my face, he finally nods. “Be safe, Grayson. Make sure you be safe.”

  “Got it. Do you want the check back?” At his blank look, I specify, “The one you gave me for a graduation present, for college.”

  “Oh, no. No, Grayson. That’s for you. You keep that. You might need it at first.” The way he hesitates is a good indication he has more to say. I wait him out and it doesn’t take long for him to reveal what else is on his mind. “Your mom…she told me about your confrontation a while back.”

  Shoulders stiffening, I shift my jaw as I stare at the blanket on my bed.

  “Your mom and I…we have problems. We have a lot of problems. Everything you said was true. I didn’t want to hear it, I don’t like thinking it, but it is true. You’re right. I’m not here enough. Your mom needs help. I’ll work on it. I’ll be around more. And your mom—I’ll find a way to help her too. I don’t want you to be worried about Aidan when you’re away. We’ll do what we need to do to make everything okay.”

  My dad walks into the room further and stands before the bed. He looks at me, then away, and then turns his gaze to me again, tapping his fingers on the footboard of the bed. “I should have seen how much this was affecting your brother and you. I guess I didn’t want to see it. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you both were suffering along with your mother and me. I hope this isn’t why you’re leaving.”

  I look down, knowing the truth will only upset him, knowing no good will come of it. So I lie. “No. It has nothing to do with that.”

  He nods, looking unconvinced. “I set up an appointment with a counselor for your mom, me, and Aidan if he wants to go.”

  Throat thick, I struggle to swallow. “Good. That’s good.”

  “I loved your mother once.”

  My head shoots up.

  With a sad smile, he says, “It wasn’t always like this—time, miscommunication, lack of communication, distance, all of that contributed to what we are now. But our love for you, for your brother, that was never in question, Grayson. I hope you know that.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “And now?”

  I swipe my arm across my stinging eyes. “I think I’m starting to know.”

  Sighing loudly, he backs away toward the door. “Well, that will have to be enough then.”

  “Dad?”

  He pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “Yes?”

  “What happened? To Mom?”

  His shoulders slump. “I wish I could tell you, but it’s not my story to tell. It wasn’t you or Aidan, it wasn’t me, it wasn’t any of this. At least know that, Grayson.”

  “Was it her parents?” I have to know. I have to know why my mother is the way she is. Until I do, I’ll never be able to accept what she is instead of what I wish she was.

  “Your mother…she doesn’t do well with grief. She’s lost more people than she could handle. It’s made her…distant. And her drinking is a way for her to deal with grief. That’s all I can say.”

  It isn’t much, but it is something. Even that tidbit of information soothes the wound—intrinsically, but even that is a balm against the ever-present ache. I also realize there is a lot about my mother I do not know, a lot she has kept hidden. It makes me wonder how differently things would be, if she’d only opened up instead of relying on booze to exist.

  Pulling on the frayed hemline of my jeans, I ask, “Do you think you can love her again?”

  My dad looks away, blinking his eyes. “I don’t know. But I’ll give it my best.”

  “I guess that will have to be enough then,” I respond.

  Chapter 17

  She has always been there for me—in any way I needed her to be. She accepted me as I was and I wonder if I’ll ever have that again—that unconditional love, that endless faith I never deserved. Lily always told me I could do it, told me I could do anything I wanted to. And Lily’s eyes, her eyes always saw me. I miss her. I miss her so much it’s like half of me is gone, like I’m not a full person without her. Her scent, making love to her, her smiles, the sound of her voice—I ache for it all.

  I eat the asparagus, somehow thinking I’m getting back at her as I choke down each bite, which is pathetic. I can’t even enjoy asparagus anymore. It tastes bitter. I drop the fork to the plate and sit back. She has ruined it, ruined everything, ruined me. Lily ruined me by setting me free. What a pitiful, worthless irony that is.

  There are so many things I want to talk to her about and I cannot. I want to tell her about my mom and my dad. I want to tell her about the possible career waiting for me in California. I want to tell her I miss her and I love her and that I am so sorry for all the mistakes I’ve made, known or unknown by her. But I can’t. Lily is unapproachable, out of reach.

  So this is what it feels like to lose someone you love. It bites. And I wonder, once you lose them, do you ever get them back? Do you ever get that part of yourself back that you gave to them? I don’t think so.

  I should be happy for her. Sam Lorenz is a decent guy. He goes to school, comes from a nice family, and works part-time at the accounting firm he’ll take a job at when he’s done with college. He’s likable, safe. I put my head in my hands. The guy is all wrong for her. And the thought of them having sex—I want to vomit thinking about it, and I have no right to be upset. It’s not like I didn’t royally fuck things up that way myself.

  All I want is to have her back. I know it won’t happen, but I can’t stop the yearning regardless. I am pretty sure it won’t ever go away, nor will the ache, not completely anyway. It’s weird, this numbness inside me. There is this huge void, this part of me missing. I can function, but it hurts. I am like a robot, doing the motions, but not feeling anything.

  “You okay, Grayson?” My dad watches me from the doorway to the living room. He looks better, not so strained. It is amazing what the ease of inner turmoil can do to a person’s outward appearance. Same goes for the reverse—I look like shit.

  “Sure,” I mutter, sliding the plate away.

  Hesitating, he steps into the room. “This was in the mailbox.” Waving a white envelope in the air, he offers it to me.

  With a frown on my face, I take it, staring at the unmarked white of the paper. It barely registers that my dad has left. All I see, all that means anything, is this stinking envelope and whatever is inside it. Nerves going haywire, my fingers shake as I fight the war to open it. I know who it is from. Do I really want to torture myself more? Apparently I do because I lose the battle against my better judgment, tearing it open. The frown deepens as I tip the seemingly empty envelope over and shake it. I grit my teeth as the flattened piece of foil floats out, landing on the table before me.

  “Are you fucking serious?” I growl. I jump to my feet, fisting my hand and slamming it against the tabletop. “Bull shit! This is absolute bull shit!” I swipe the wrapper up and squeeze it into a tiny ball until it is demolished to the point of unreadable, storming from the house, the door hanging open after me. Stupid Dove chocolates and their stupid, stupid sayings.

  ‘Do not look back and ask why, look forward and ask, why not?’

  A snarl leaves me and I bang my fist on the front door of her house. How can she do this? What does she think she’s doing? Is this some righteous shit to make her feel better by thinking she is making me feel better? Well, she’s not! All Lily is accomplishing with these little messages that are supposed to mean something is showing me how meaningless they are, just tossing them my way whenever the whim strikes her—an act to pacify her conflicted soul. She knows she was wrong. She knows it. We should be together. I know it. She knows it.

  The door opens and Scott is staring at me. “Grayson? W
hat the hell happened to you?”

  “Where’s Lily? Is she here?”

  “Uh…yeah.” Frowning, he says, “But she’s busy. And you look mad.”

  “What gave it away? The maniacal gleam in my eye?” I jab a finger to my eye, not even flinching when it makes a connection. “Busy with what?” I grind out when he doesn’t respond.

  I’ve always liked Scott. He’s a couple years older than me and slightly anal retentive, but he’s always been a good brother to Lily, if overprotective. He has always talked to me, even been a distant friend, someone I could laugh with. When he crosses his arms and widens his stance, his brown eyes narrowing, it doesn’t matter how nice he’s been to me in the past. I will kick his ass if he tries to keep me from Lily.

  “With her boyfriend. Who isn’t you. I’ve seen Lily happy and I’ve seen her sad, but I have never seen her broken, not until you decided to play with her heart.”

  “What?”

  “She didn’t have to tell me. I know. You two messed around, you told her you loved her, and now you’re leaving her. You broke her heart. And you’re not seeing her ‘cause you’ll just break it again. She’s finally starting to smile again, finally acting close to the old Lily. And I know it’s because you haven’t been around. I plan on keeping it that way. So why don’t—“

  It doesn’t even register in my brain what I’m doing until I already punched him. He goes limp like a noodle, not even making a sound as he drops to the floor. I shake my tender hand and step over him, desperation and insanity prodding me on. Voices from the back of the house steer me in that direction and I pass through the dining room and kitchen to the patio doors. They are sitting on the deck, Lily next to Sam, her parents, and Cindy, Scott’s girlfriend. It isn’t Lily who notices me first. It’s Sam, her boyfriend. His black hair is short, his eyes brown, and he’s shorter than me, more muscular. He is the opposite of me, basically. In all ways.

  He starts to stand and I move, not about to let someone else try to put me off from this confrontation. I barrel through the sliding doors, conversation halting as my presence becomes known. The tinfoil is digging into the flesh of my palm as I clench my fists. Lily sucks in a sharp breath and slowly rises, her face paler than usual, her eyes darker, smudges beneath them. I haven’t seen her close-up in weeks, so I didn’t realize how drawn she looks. I swallow, some of my fury deflating.