For the Rush (Playing for Keeps #3) Page 13

  Numb.

  Broken.

  Dead.

  “Hey.” Holden squeezed my hand. “Everything’s gonna be all right.”

  This made me feel even worse. I should be comforting him. Not the other way around. He’d lost his best friend today. Not to mention the fact that he’d been injured. “I’m so sorry. I just can’t believe this happened.”

  “I know.” Holden’s eyes darkened. It was the first time I’d seen him look sad since I got here. When I first arrived, his mom was hovering. Super weird way to meet her for the first time. If only it had been under different circumstances. But I could tell that he was putting on a brave face for her. He kept smiling and assuring her that all was well. He seemed to be good at that. At comforting others.

  And I wanted to do that for him. “How are you feeling? Do you need me to get you anything?” I glanced at the doorway that his mom had exited a few minutes ago to talk to his doctor. I prayed it would be good news. His arm was clearly broken, but he’d had x-rays to be sure it wasn’t more serious than just a simple break. I hoped with everything inside of me that he’d be able to play football again.

  “Having you here is all I need.” He drew a circle in my palm with his thumb. Lifting his head, his gaze slid over my shoulder, landing on the window. A wistful expression passed over his face. “I’ve never been here as a patient, but I’ve visited Ryan here multiple times. He was always the one getting injured, not me.”

  Nausea rolled over me. “Oh, Holden. I wish I could say something to make this better, but I don’t know what.”

  “I don’t expect you to say anything. I was just talking, I guess.”

  I knew then how I could make him feel better. “He was the risk taker out of the two of you, huh?”

  “Oh yeah.” Holden grinned, his eyes glassy as if lost in his thoughts. “He was always doing crazy shit. Making bike ramps and jumping off them, leaping from tire swings into the lake, trying to do flips on his skateboard. I wasn’t like that. Football is as risky as it gets for me.” His face grew serious, and he chomped down on his lower lip. “And that was partly because I knew Ryan would always have my back, the way he did at the last game.”

  I nodded, remembering. It was the closest I’d come to actually liking Ryan, and it made shame rise in me again. Funny how when someone died it was easy to forget the bad about them. I had sort of hated Ryan for most of the time I’d known him. Yet now that he was gone, I felt oddly sympathetic toward him. But I knew that it wasn’t just because he died. It was because he meant something to Holden. I think my sadness had more to do with my feelings for Holden than my feelings for Ryan.

  “He was larger than life, you know?” There was a catch in Holden’s voice. “It doesn’t seem real that he’s gone.” His eyes shone, and it broke my heart.

  I swallowed hard, keeping my emotions in check. It wasn’t time to lose my cool. It was time to stay strong for Holden’s sake. Scooting forward, I put my hand on Holden’s good shoulder. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

  His head lowered to my hand, and a tear slid down his cheek. I slipped my hand behind his neck and drew him closer. His shoulders shook slightly as I held him. My fingers lightly touched his hair, and I dropped my head to his. We stayed like that for several minutes. The only sound in the room was Holden’s sniffles and deep breaths. I knew he wasn’t the type of guy to show emotion like this, and I was grateful that he felt comfortable enough with me to release it. When he pulled back from me, he frantically wiped at his face with his hands. He forced a smile, but his red, swollen eyes were a reminder of the pain he felt.

  “I know Ryan brought this on himself, but it doesn’t make it any easier,” Holden said, and his words were like a punch to my gut.

  It all seemed like a senseless tragedy up until now. He was right. Ryan tormented Preston. This wasn’t a random shooting. It was targeted. And most likely premeditated.

  I thought of Preston’s words when we spoke at the game on Friday. He said that I’d chosen my side. And he said it again today as he pointed the gun at me. Was his plan to shoot me all along? A chill skittered up my spine. Oh, god, this really was all my fault. My gaze landed on Holden’s arm, and my heart pinched. Breathing deeply, I stared out into the hallway.

  “I wonder why it’s taking your mom so long.” If it was good news wouldn’t she be racing back here to tell us? “Did the doctor give you any indication about how bad it is?”

  He shook his head.

  “I wish you hadn’t tackled him. I’ll never forgive myself if you can’t play football again.”

  “Don’t say that. Your life is worth more than my arm, Chloe.”

  He was so sweet, and that should make me happy but for some reason it made me feel worse. “But it’s my fault.”

  “No, it’s not. I chose to save you. This was my doing. Not yours.”

  I shook my head. He didn’t understand. “No. You don’t get it.” My voice shook, guilt choking me. “This entire thing is my fault. If it wasn’t for me none of this would’ve happened at all. Ryan and that other kid would be alive, and you wouldn’t be injured.” I still didn’t know anything about the kid who had jumped in to save us, but I felt sick every time I thought about him and the way Preston shot him without giving it any thought. Agitated, I stood and started pacing. I felt restless, pent-up energy threatening to explode. By the time the police found Preston, he was dead. The shot we’d heard outside of the cafeteria was him shooting himself in the head. Closing my eyes, I felt sick at the sheer senselessness of it all. And I wished once again that I’d been able to help him.

  “What are you talking about?” Holden sat up a little, readjusting his position.

  “I promised Preston that I would help him.”

  “You did help him. I saw how kind you were to him. You were his friend. No one else at the school can say that.”

  “Exactly. I was his friend.” The heaviness of the day fell on me, and I almost buckled under the weight of it. “But I let him down. I didn’t stop the bullying. In fact, when I started seeing you, I practically ignored him.”

  “Chloe, trust me. None of this is your fault.”

  I peered at Holden. At his rich, dark eyes and brown tousled hair. My eyes rested on the hospital bed he lie in, on his broken arm. I dropped my head in my hands, wishing I could scream. Wishing this was all a nightmare that I would wake from any minute, but knowing that it wasn’t. This was reality. As awful as it was, I knew that was true.

  “I have to go,” I mumbled, feeling lightheaded.

  “Chloe, wait,” Holden called after me as I started for the doorway.

  “I’m really sorry about everything, Holden.” With blurred vision, I hurried down the hallway. I weaved in and out of visitors, nurses, and doctors until finally I made my way outside. Not until I was in my car did I allow the rest of the tears to fall. Then I sank into my seat and sobbed until my throat was raw, until tears painted my cheeks and rolled down my chest.

  I cried for Ryan and Holden.

  I cried for the end of innocence. For the end of life as I knew it.

  And then I cried for Preston, begging him to forgive me for letting him down.

  Later that evening, I received a text from Holden. The doctor had told him that he’d been lucky. The break would heal in time. He’d be out this season, but most likely would be able to play next year. I breathed out a sigh of relief upon reading that, and texted him back a smiley face. After sending it, I stared down at the emoticon, wishing I could take it back. It seemed to taunt me with its large grin, and it made me feel like a liar. I wasn’t smiling like that. Nothing about me felt happy. But I didn’t know what else to say to Holden. I was glad for his good news. But did I feel smiley? Not even a little bit.

  When he followed that text with another one, I shut off my phone and crawled into bed. It wasn’t cold inside my house, but for some reason I couldn’t get warm. Pulling the covers up over my head, I cocooned myself inside. Jasmine and Gianna had been c
alling and texting earlier, but I couldn’t bring myself to respond to anyone. I knew I’d never be able to fall asleep, but I longed for it. Longed to lose myself in sweet dreams. To drift into nothingness.

  I wondered if that was what Preston wanted. If he desired the same thing. Was that what drove him to do what he did? And more importantly, did he find the peace he desperately wanted? I hoped he had.

  “Chloe?” Mom’s muffled voice came from outside my bedroom door.

  “Yeah?” I called from under the covers.

  “Can I come in?”

  “Sure,” I responded, because I knew she wouldn’t go away even if I asked her to.

  I heard the click of the door as it opened, the shuffling of her feet on the carpet. My bed sloped when she sat on it. “Honey, you okay?”

  “What do you think?”

  When her hand rested on my legs from outside the comforter, I was sorry for my rude remark. “Wanna talk about it?”

  I shook my head even though I wasn’t sure she’d be able to tell what I was doing. The covers lifted from my face, my mom’s face coming into view. The genuineness of her expression and the love in her eyes broke me. It was like when I was a kid and I scrambled into her bed after having a nightmare. Back then I thought there was nothing my mom couldn’t fix. And when I got older and kids were mean to me at school, all seemed right with the world when I came home to have an afternoon snack with Mom. She was the only one who could console me the first time I’d had my heart broken by a boy.

  And, in this moment, I needed her.

  “Mom.” I sat up, shoving off my covers. Then I reached out my arms.

  “Oh, sweetie.” Without hesitation she scooted forward and wrapped her arms around me. I slumped against her, pressing my face into her chest. As I cried, she stroked my hair and spoke soothing words. Tears streamed down my face, soaking her shirt and the ends of her hair. But I couldn’t stop.

  When I was around ten years old my cat Otis died. I was devastated when Mom told me. Yet, I attempted to stay strong and not cry. But Mom encouraged me to cry. To release my emotions. She told me it was healthy, my body’s natural way of dealing with pain and loss.

  So that’s what I did today too. I allowed myself to grieve. To feel loss. To feel sadness. To feel pain.

  CHAPTER 23

  Holden

  School was closed the remainder of the week after the shooting. Counselors were on-site for parents and students to talk to, but I had no desire to set foot on that campus. I knew I would have to next week, but I was in no hurry to get back. Just the thought of being in that cafeteria turned my stomach. I’d hardly slept since the incident. And when I did sleep it was plagued with nightmares of guns, blood, and dead bodies.

  Today was Ryan’s memorial service, and I was dreading it with every ounce of my being. Over the last few days there were moments when I could pretend this was all a dream. That I’d run into Ryan next time I went to school. He’d be an ass, and I’d call him on it. Then he’d razz me about football or something. But I knew that after today there would be no pretending. The service would make it all too real. And I wasn’t sure I was ready for that.

  My arm still hurt like crazy, but it was nothing compared to what I felt inside. Not only had I lost my best friend, but I felt like I’d lost Chloe too. The truth was that I wasn’t sure I ever really had her. But I wanted her. And now it didn’t seem like that would happen. She hadn’t returned any of my phone calls or texts since the night of the shooting. I knew she blamed herself, and I wished there was some way I could make her see that it wasn’t her fault.

  I wasn’t sure it was any one person’s fault. It seemed to be that the culpability lie with all of us. We all had a hand in what happened this week. Sure, I’d never bullied Preston, but I hadn’t stopped it either. Ryan teased the poor kid endlessly. But did he deserve to die for that? I didn’t think so. Then again, I knew Ryan in a way no one else did. So maybe I was biased. I felt bad for Preston, but I didn’t think anything justified what he did. Still, I wish I could go back in time and do things differently. I wish I had the opportunity to help Preston. Maybe even be his friend. Too bad it had to take this kind of tragedy for me to feel this way.

  But I’d never been as kindhearted as Chloe. That’s why it killed me that she thought this was her fault. She was the kindest person I knew. She didn’t deserve to feel the way she did right now. Honestly, I understood why Preston went after Ryan. Sure, I didn’t agree with it, but I got it. He must have been plotting his revenge against Ryan for years. But I’d never understand why he went after Chloe. She’d done nothing but treat him nicely.

  “Ready, Holden?” Mom entered my bedroom wearing a simple black dress, her hair swept back.

  “Can you help me with my jacket?” I asked.

  “Of course.” She snatched my black jacket off the bed and assisted me in putting it on. Having full range of motion in my arm was something I’d never take for granted again. I wondered if I’d ever get used to this damned cast. I had to wear a short-sleeved shirt since my dress shirt didn’t fit over it. And now the jacket didn’t either, so Mom draped it over my arm and helped me secure the sling. It looked stupid, but it would have to do. “You look nice,” she said, and I figured it was the obligatory mom thing to say.

  James appeared in the doorway. “We better get going.”

  Mom nodded and moved toward him. After one last glance in the mirror, I followed them. When I got in the hallway, James stopped me. Mom was already nearing the front door.

  “I know we’ve gotten off to a rocky start,” James said, “and I know I’m not your dad, but if you ever need a man to talk to, I’m here for you.”

  I cleared my throat, not wanting to lose it quite yet. I’d save that for the ceremony. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

  “You guys coming?” Mom called.

  “Yes,” James answered her, and together we headed down the hallway. It was grey and dark outside, clouds looming overhead. As I shivered, I thought about how fitting it was. The day of the shooting it had been warm and sunny. It seemed wrong that the sky could be cheery when something so horrific was happening. Normally I hated colder weather, and I despised the rain and wind. But I found myself hoping for rain today. Hoping the heavens would open up and pour water down on us. Flood the whole damn town. I didn’t care. Maybe it would be good.

  Maybe it would wash us all clean.

  However, it never rained on the way to the church. When we arrived, the parking lot was full. I recognized many students from the school huddled together. Near the entrance to the church I spotted Ryan’s mom, and my heart stopped. I’d been to Ryan’s house countless times over the years, and while I couldn’t stand his dad, I always got along well with his mom. She was friendly and easy to talk to. But I had no idea how to speak with her today. What did you say to someone who’d just lost their son?

  I exited the car and mournfully headed toward the church. I caught sight of Bethany, but when she waved in my direction I lowered my head and ignored her. The last person I wanted to see right now was Bethany.

  “Hey, man.” Sawyer slapped me on the back.

  “Hey.” It was odd seeing Sawyer in a suit. Even odder that Ryan wasn’t here to call him Riddles. Everything about this felt wrong.

  “How’s your arm?”

  Mom and James passed us. Mom threw me a look to make sure I was okay. I waved her on.

  “It’s all right. It’ll heal. Not in time to finish up this season, but hopefully I can play next year.” It worried me that I’d been injured my senior year. My goal had always been to play college in football, and now I wasn’t sure that would happen. But my concerns seemed insignificant when I was about to attend my best friend’s memorial service. Ryan would never go to college. He’d never throw a football again. His injuries would never heal.

  “Sorry about that, bro.”

  “Thanks.” I sucked in a breath. People were making their way inside.

  Sawyer glanced at
the church. “It doesn’t seem real, does it?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I wish it wasn’t.”

  “Me too, man.” I took a step forward, steeling myself for the service when I saw her. She was walking from the parking lot wearing a short black dress, her head down, her hair obscuring her face. “Hey, I gotta take care of something. Head on in. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Sawyer nodded and walked off. I raced toward Chloe as fast as I dared with my injured arm. I had to be careful not to jostle it too much.

  “Chloe,” I hollered as I neared her.

  Her head whipped toward me. “Holden.”

  Hearing her say my name was like a balm to my soul. For the first time in days I felt my chest expand. “I’m glad you came.”

  She looked around nervously. “I wasn’t sure if I should, but it felt like the right thing to do.”

  I stepped forward, my fingers closing around one of her arms. She flinched, but didn’t pull away. “Have you watched the news at all?”

  “Not really. I don’t need to. I know what happened.”

  I knew the demons in her eyes reflected my own. We’d seen unspeakable things. Things no one should ever have to see. And I understood her need to not be reminded of it. “Preston was sick, Chloe. He’d been obsessed with violence and revenge for years.”

  Agitated, she shook her head. “I don’t want to hear this. It’s not why I came. I just want to put it all behind me.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to help you do.”

  “By throwing it in my face?” Her voice rose and her gaze shifted. A few people looked over at us. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t want to cause a scene. Why don’t we go inside and pay respects to your friend?”

  Music sounded from inside. I sighed. “Sit with me.”

  She paused.

  “Please?”

  “Fine.”

  I snatched up her hand and guided her inside. We found some empty seats in a pew near the back and slipped into them. Chloe tugged on the bottom of her dress, pulling it down over her legs. The black dress against her pale skin reminded me of the first time we met – of her black bikini. If only we could go back to then. Go back to when things were simple.