Page 34 of Keeping Mr. Sweet

The image is so clear. I touch my forehead and stare at my fingers as though I expect them to be covered in sticky brown blood like they were when I came to. Copper floods my senses, and something acrid burns my nostrils. Pine needles pop and snap around us. I’m sitting in a pool of what I’m pretty sure is my own wee. Talon’s head is in my lap and my skirt is ruched around my hips and my panties are knotted around my ankles. I start screaming.

Summer grabs my hand, jolting me. “I can still see the twisted angle of his body.” The steering wheel breaking his neck was the only thing that kept him from being thrown through the window. Not that it mattered. “He was gone.”

“Jesus,” she whispers. “Ash, I can’t believe you never told me any of this.”

“I was driving. It was my fault. How do you tell someone something like that? There isn’t a card for that.” I can barely get the words out, each one becomes more and more high pitched and whispered until I choke on them. “I’m so glad we’re friends, but I have to tell you I killed someone.”

“It must have been an accident.” Her nails cut into my skin. “Otherwise the police would have charged you with murder.”

“I don’t remember any of it. One minute we were laughing and talking about stealing a car for the hell of it.” It doesn’t matter how hard I try or how hard I push, I can never remember past Talon joking about stealing the car. It’s like my own mind knows I can’t handle knowing the truth. Am I a coward for thinking that might be for the best?

“The next I was arrested for DUI, possession, and manslaughter. Then by the time Sam came to get me all the charges were dropped. I can only assume my dad got involved, but we’ve never talked about it.” I can never bring myself to ask. “Sam took me home, and I stayed with him while I got better.”

“I’m so sorry.” She throws her arms around me and drags me into a hug until I have to fight to breathe. “That’s horrible. I wish you had told me, so I could have been there for you. I’m so glad you at least had Sam. Losing the person you loved and thinking you’re to blame must have been so awful.”

“I didn’t love him,” I say.

“It’s okay to say you did,” she tells me. “Sometimes we love people that aren’t good for us. But you never have to pretend with me. I want you to know that. You don’t need secrets with me. We’re practically sisters.”

“I didn’t love him,” I repeat. In some ways that makes it worse, because at least if I’d had feelings for him it would have made sense of why we together. But he was just another distraction. “I didn’t love him, because I couldn’t fall for anyone. But I killed him. That was my fault.”

Sam clears his throat as an advance warning, and we turn to the sound of his voice. His pained gaze catches mine as he joins us. How much did he hear before he decided to interrupt? “Pizza’s ready. Sum, can you give us a minute?”

“Sure.” She smiles fondly at her brother and pats his bicep on her way past. “Be kind to my friend, she’s fragile.”

We watch her leave the room. “I wasn’t going to tell her about us.”

“I wouldn’t care,” he says. “If you want to tell her then tell her, but you might want to be certain that you’re done with anything that will take you from me again before you share that news. I have a feeling it might not be so easy to break up with me with Summer around.”

Want to stay, stay. Want to love, love. I’m so used to fighting these emotions. I’m so tired of waiting for someone else to keep him from me, and dying inside when they do. But this isn’t uncomplicated. Love isn’t a splendid thing. It’s chaos and pain and trying not to screw up, and I am so very good at screwing up. “We should go eat.”

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