I nod, feeling the burn of tears in my throat.
"So what happened to Tyler? Why did he pull away like that?"
"He blamed himself," I say. "He was grieving, and he didn't know how to do that and be with me."
"Is that what he told you?" Suzanne pulls out a stool to sit next to me. Her hand reaches out to clasp mine.
"No. He didn't speak about it. He just…his friends told me."
"So he still doesn't feel able to communicate with you," she says. "That must have been tough."
"I understand it, though." I pull my hand away and distract myself with my coffee.
"Did you tell him about you?" Suzanne asks, finally getting around to asking me the question that I know must have been burning on her tongue.
"How could I?" I say. "Tyler already blames himself for what happened to Jake. He'd never forgive himself if I told him what happened when he left."
Suzanne nods, and she inhales a deep breath, which slightly flares her nostrils. "Do you think you'll ever tell him?"
"I don't know. Before, when I didn't know where he was, it didn't seem like something I'd ever have to think about, but now…"
"Now you feel that not telling him isn't fair?" Suzanne guesses.
"Kind of. I mean, he deserves to know. But I feel like holding this all inside me is protecting everyone. As soon as I let it out, it could be like a bomb going off. I don't want to drag everyone down."
"I understand what you're saying." Suzanne takes a bite of her muffin and chews it with a frown playing between her eyebrows. "I can't say I haven't thought about what might happen if Tyler ever came back on the scene. It's a scenario that's been with me for the past few years. I've even dreamed about it a couple of times."
"You have?"
Suzanne tucks a strand of chestnut hair behind her ear. It's the first time I've noticed that she's wearing Mom's pearl earrings. I guess she must be feeling less resentful than she used to. Maybe she's right. Time does change us. "How could I not?" she says. "So much of our lives have been wrapped up in what happened between you and Tyler. It's not just about you, is it?"
"No. It isn't."
"So, what are you planning to do?"
I don't know what to tell my sister because I have no idea. I'm a piece of driftwood, bouncing on tumultuous waves in the middle of the ocean. I can tell Suzanne wants to probe more, but she knows me well. I'll tell her in my own time. We don't usually keep secrets from one another.
Except, I don't think she'd react well to finding out what I've been doing for the past few days. She already thinks I have an innate need to self-sabotage. Maybe she's right. Feeling happiness can hurt when it's layered over unresolved pain. Maybe that's why Greg's bruising hands are those that settle me the most.
"I'm planning to try to get my life in order," I tell her.
It is my plan.
Take the easy way out.
Leave everything behind and pretend it never happened. Pretend I can wipe the slate clean and be a new Sandy. A Sandy without baggage.
It's what I've been good at. I'm a pro at pretending.
And I think they'll let me walk away, even though what we had together was so good. Tyler will let me because he doesn't believe he deserves me, and the rest will do it out of loyalty to the man who brought us together in the first place.
32
DAMIEN
I knew that when Sandy drove away, she wasn't planning to come back. There were tears in her eyes that she tried to hide, and a hunch to her shoulders that only comes with sadness.
Since then, I've had hunched shoulders too. The memories of our time together are too sweet for me to think about without wanting to punch something, and I'm not the only one. The whole house is seething with angry, frustrated men who've had a taste of paradise and have been tossed back down to earth with a thud.
Tyler hasn't said a word about it, and none of us have discussed it in front of him. We're all treading on eggshells, wondering if he's going to change again.
There's a race tonight, and I'm worried. It shouldn't be Tyler's turn, but he's racing anyway. I'm not going to tell him he can't, and neither are the rest of the boys. If this is what he needs to do to burn out his frustration, then so be it.
I can think of worse ways.
Drugs, alcohol, gambling, women; there are other vices more dangerous for the soul than racing.
But with his mind out of the game, he's going to be more prone to making mistakes. The cars we race are kitted out for the worst, but people are fleshy, and cars, roads, and walls are hard. There is only so much you can do to prevent injury when you're traveling at such high speeds.