Page 22 of Four Simple Rules
I could say the same thing about him. He lies about what he drinks. He lies about where he goes.
Without another word, he sits beside me, thrusting his arm around my shoulders. The warmth of his breath spreads across my face as he kisses my temple tenderly.
“Were they going at it again?” he asks with beer stinking up his breath.
“As always. She’s drunk. He’s mad.” I shrug it off like it doesn’t bother me. But it does.
“They’re just sad,” he whispers, leaning his head on mine.
“Like us,” I whisper, snuggling into him further.
“Yup. Just like us, Tulip,” he rasps with a shuddering breath.
Exactly like us. Sad. Lonely. Depressed. Lost in a haze of grief we’re too young to understand.
“Come out, come out, Little Tulip,” Jesse taunts, loitering on the other side of the tree in the present, knocking me out of our memories, not daring to show his face. “I know you’re hiding in there. How you still fit, I have no clue.”
My face twists as I scoot away from the names as I’m hunched over, nearly falling over debris under my feet. I yelp, falling on my butt in the tiny space, knocking the back of my head against the hard wood. I swear stars burst behind my eyes, and darkness takes over my vision. Pain erupts in my skull, and I groan.
“Fuck, Tulip!” he shouts, crouching in front of the tree's hole.
Or I think he does. I rub my skull, squinting when warm fingers palpate the back of my head, angering the injury more.
“There’s two of you,” I mumble, trying to bat his hand away.
“There’s not. You’d really be in trouble then,” he chuckles.
“Go away,” I grunt, squeezing my eyes shut.
“Not until you and I talk. We’re adults now, Tulip. It’s time you and I act like it.”
Peeking an eye open, I settle my gaze fully on his face. Finally, there are not two of him staring at me with concern.
“Fine,” I grumble, finally batting his hand away.
He chuckles, all too happy to plop his tushy in front of the hole, blocking me from leaving my safe space.
“Is your head, okay? Did you hit it hard?” he questions, leaning in again and touching my arm.
“It’ll be fine. I fell over…” My fingers probe the leaves and dirt under me, swiping around until I hit several heavy objects. “This,” I say, trailing off when a brightly colored cylinder comes into view. “What the heck?” I grumble, fiddling with the newer-looking capsule until it pops open.
“Ah, you found them,” he says softly, snatching it away before I can get a proper look. Jesse hums, opening the cylinder with a pop and groans. “Of course, it’s this one,” he grumbles, shaking his head.
“What is it?” I ask, leaning forward and avoiding his gaze when it snaps to me.
“Ah, another thing that hasn’t changed. Do you still get angry when the streetlights don’t turn fast enough? Count the seconds it takes to change?” He raises a brow when I finally peer into his hazel eyes and frown. “I’ll take that as a yes. Now, listen up, Tulip.”
“Dear Tulip, I know it’s been a few weeks since I wrote to you…”
“You wrote me?” I ask, interrupting him with a frown. “I never...”
“Shh, don’t ruin it,” he whispers, clearing his throat. “You’ll never believe what happened. And if you knew, I’d hope you’d be there with me. I made everyone promise not to send word to you, so you’d continue to live out your dreams. Rhett came to see me. He cried. It was weird. But the others? Nah, I know you’d be there, though. You’d come to see me even in my worst moments. Something I wish I could have promised you…”
My brows furrow when he folds the paper and sets it beside him. “What were you talking about? I don’t understand.” I shake my head when those hazel eyes connect with mine. Chills spread through my body when his lips roll in. I swear disappointment sparks in his eyes, and he sighs.
“I was in the hospital after graduation, Tulip.”
“Wait. What?” My heart drops into my stomach as a sense of foreboding makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Forget about hating him. Something big happened, and I wasn’t there for him. In fact, I cut contact with everyone. Shut off my phone and moved on with my life.
