Page 76 of Twisted Minds

“Whatever. You don’t know shit.” I take a sip of my juice. “Your turn. Tell me some shit about you right now. It’s only fair. I’ve shared enough today.” Whatever it is, I just want Jamie to start talking to someone.

Taking a deep breath, Jamie looks annoyed. He combs his shaggy black hair with his fingers. “What can I say? I’m responsible for the deaths of my best friend, my girlfriend, and my sister. What is there to say, Hunter?”

“That you’re not responsible.” Because he wasn’t. No matter how hard the trauma that’s gripped him all his life sinks its black claws into his brain. It was not his fault.

“This isn’t a hell I’d wish on anyone. The only time I feel okay is when I’m high.”

“You didn’t force them to get into that car.”

Jamie’s face hardens and I want to take it back. I pushed. Fuck. “Tell me I’m not responsible again, and I’ll walk out of here and stop talking to you altogether.” I let it go. Whatever. I’m too fucked up to have this conversation right now anyway. “For what it’s worth, I think he loves you. He just did something really shitty.”

“If I can’t say shit to you, don’t say shit to me. You don’t understand the situation about as much as I don’t understand yours.” Jamie sighs, finishing up his food and leaning back in his chair.

“Fine.” He taps his spoon against the table. “I’m going to say one thing, but if you repeat it to anyone, I’ll deny it and dump your body in a river.”

“You don’t have the arm strength.”

He glowers before swallowing hard and looking away. Oh, sappy Jamie, okay. “Look, this last year has been hell on all of us, and I know I don’t make any of it easier. In fact, I know I make it worse. I just want to say thank you for sticking by me. I don’t like that you’re sad, and if you need to talk about this shit with freedom screecher, I’m here to talk. I just don’t want to talk about my shit. There’s nothing to say. Nothing will make my situation better, but I’ll help if you need to make yours better.”

Well, shit.

Getting up, I walk over to him, and he frowns before I put a hand on his forehead. “Are you sick?”

“Fuck off.” He slaps my hand and I laugh, feeling better than I have all week.

After breakfast I’m too pent up with energy. Lying stationary all week is getting to me. After emailing my professors and coach, I get one more day of depression before I have to return to real life. Still, as I take the twenty-minute walk to Sawyer’s mother’s house, I hope he’s home.

Anxiety itches my skin, but I need to do this. Their brick apartment comes into view, and I see Jane sitting on the steps. Sawyer’s sister is gorgeous—tall and slim, with long black hair that falls in a silky curtain around her shoulders. Her heart-shaped face holds dark pretty eyes and pillowy red lips. Jane is pretty and sweet looking, but she can be downright vicious, especially if you mess with her brother.

Which makes me wonder what the hell she saw in Derrick. Jane graduated last year with a degree in art history. One day she wants to open her own gallery. “Hunter.” She waves, getting up and running to give me a hug. “Does Sawyer know you’re coming? He didn’t mention it. He’s helping Mama right now.” Since their restaurant closed down and they’ve been waiting on the insurance money to reopen, their mom has taken up catering. Jane’s big eyes fill with warmth as she looks at me. “Sawyer told me you got Derrick kicked off the team.” She squeezes me harder. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. I mean that. I didn’t text him. I just came to say hi. Mom’s in the kitchen?” She nods.

“If you hurry, I’m sure they’ll send you home with somekhao soi.” I grin, my mouth watering at the thought of the spicy sweet soup. “Oh, she also made sticky rice for Jamie. How is he doing?”

“Still about the same, I guess. I want to say better . . . it feels better some days.”

“That’s good, I’m glad to hear it. Still obsessed with me?”

I laugh. “As always.” She laughs back. “Thanks Janey.” I give her a kiss on the cheek before going inside. Walking into their house without knocking, I take my shoes off.

“Jane?”

“Ah, no Ma, it’s Hunter.” She rounds the corner as Sawyer looks up with a smile, to gather me in a hug. She’s a short woman, with gray streaking through her black pinned-up hair. Her eyes crinkle, smiling at me. She is warmth personified, and I know if my mother had lived long enough to meet her she would have adored her.

“So good to see you.” She squeezes me tighter. “I was just telling my son you need to come for dinner. Tell me you’re staying. We’ll make a space for you.” I smile. She loves to feed people. The thought morphs into something sour when Iremember why I had to come here today. The reason why she currently can’t feed people is my fucking boyfriend.

Ex . . . ex-boyfriend.

“Mama.” She turns to Sawyer with a smile, but I can see he knows something is off. “I’m going to talk to Hunter quick, alright?” Sawyer switches languages, speaking Thai and pointing to the stove, but he looks at me. What does he see on my face? I’m trying so hard to keep it together, but I feel like I’m crumbling from the inside out, and my skin, muscles, and bone are doing their best just to keep me together. She glances at me with a small nod, before he kisses the top of her head, leaving the kitchen with me. I follow him upstairs.

Sawyer has a dorm room, but he comes home every weekend. I know his dream consists of a fancy culinary school, but he doesn’t want to leave their mother alone here. While Jane has officially moved out, she’s always here as well. “So why do you look like you’ve been to hell and back? You’ve missed the whole week. I don’t buy the stomach bug.”

With the day I’ve had—Jamie’s words, my own poisonous thoughts, and the very real fact that I miss Mark so fucking much—I collapse onto his bed with my head in my hands. I just cry. I can’t stop. Sawyer loops his arm around me, tugging me close, but I dread having to tell him this next part. Sawyer is family. His mother, his sister, they’re my family too. I was here after the fire, cleaning out the restaurant, trying to find anything salvageable. I was here for the tears, the defeated looks, the fear in all their faces that this would happen again but to their home. “I have something to tell you.”

“Okay, you’re scaring me.” Taking a breath, I look at my best friend. His black hair is messy, his shirt stained with flour. Sawyer is classically good looking, clean cut and handsome. He used to run equipment and after one game night we both wentout. We just clicked, and he’s been my person, my . . . my Noah ever since. “Tell me. You know I’m here.”

I take a deep breath and steal my spine. “I found something out, and I need to tell you.”

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