Page 158 of Redemption
Turning to the officer, I ask, “Wh—what happened?”
He clears his throat, looking uncomfortable. “He’d been drinking and driving. He went off the side of the road and over-corrected. He was gone before we had a chance to save him.”
For the rest of my life, I’ll remember the sound of Mallorie Jade screaming, her red hair plastered to her face from the rain.
I’ll never let myself forget that I did this to her—to Langston.
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“Hayes, you have to talk to me.”
It’s been a month since we found out about Langston, and my life is quickly going downhill.
I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can hardly breathe.
All I can think about is that if I had just been honest with my best friend and told him I was dating his sister, I would’ve been there that night.
But instead, I lied to him, and it ended his life.
“I don’t have anything to say, Mallorie Jade.”
Her face tightens, scrunching up. She looks as bad as I feel. There are dark circles under her eyes, and she’s lost weight. Her clothes hang off of her, making her look frail.
“Don’t call me that,” she snaps.
We are back to fighting, or rather, she’s back to fighting, and I stay silent.
I sigh, running my hands through my hair. “Can we not do this?”
“Do what, Hayes? Try to talk? Because my answer is no. We have to talk.” I shake my head, but she continues. “Fine. I’ll talk, and you listen. You’re self-sabotaging.”
Snorting, I ask, “And you aren’t?”
“It’s not the same. You just quit the NFL. The NFL, Hayes. You’ve been working for that your whole life. You didn’t even talk to me about it—just walked in and said you quit. What’s your plan now? Or am I allowed to know that?”
Shrugging, I stare out the window. “You can know, but you won’t like it.”
I don’t look at her, but I can hear the heartbreak in her voice when she says, “Just tell me, Hayes.”
I hate myself for doing this to her—for bringing every bit of heartbreak to her life. But this will be the last time, and then she’ll be free of me.
“I’m going home. To Benton Falls.”
“Temporarily?” Her voice breaks, and it nearly breaks me.
“No.”
I grip the edges of the window to keep myself from turning around and begging her to come with me.
“I can’t–I’m not—I won’t go back there,” she stutters.
This time, I finally meet her eyes and let her see what I’ve been holding back.
It’s the end.
The end of us.
The end of our friendship.
