Shaking my head, I smiled, because she was honestly the best thing that had ever happened to me.
Confession #23: I could make myself feel guilty over pretty much anything.
So Reese kept her word and saved the birthday party. Apparently, a little makeup and spider-murder were all thirteen-year-old girls needed to bond. Before the afternoon was over, Sarah’s three classmates seemed to adore her. Reese transformed the kitchen into a dance floor and turned up the music so they could all spin her chair around the linoleum floor.
Reese even managed to get rid of Patricia early. I have no idea what the two said to each other, but Patricia approached Reese in the kitchen, and after they shared a few words, Patricia took off. That was unlike her. I’d never seen anyone make her retreat before.
So, that’s when Reese became my hero.
The only problem with the rest of the party was that Reese took off early too when I wasn’t looking. I was hoping she’d stick around. She was the type to help with cleanup. I thought I’d get to talk to her then and make up for all those weeks I’d stayed away. But she disappeared, and then Mom took off to who-knew-where, so it ended up being just me and Sarah left to pick up the mess.
The next day was Monday. I’d planned to invade Reese’s table at lunch and eat with her, but my U.S. Politics professor had assigned us to fill out some online quiz and turn in our results the next time class met, so I spent my lunch break in the computer lab, figuring out if I leaned more toward imperialism or isolationism, populism or elitism, globalism or nationalism. By the time I finished that, I had to hurry to my last class of the day, then get ready for work at the Country Club right after that.
Tuesday through Thursday pretty much followed the same pattern, which frustrated me to no end. I don’t know what was up with these needy professors, suddenly wanting shit done from us, but I couldn’t wait to spend some time with Reese already. We texted, but it wasn’t the same. I wanted to be able to see her infectious grin and hear her laugh when she said something that amused her.
On Thursday night at the Country Club, I’d just parked a car in the garage and was returning to the valet station to hang up the customer’s keys when someone accosted me from the dark, popping out from the side of the building where he’d been waiting in the shadows for me to exit the garage.
“You lousy son of a bitch,” he growled, surging forward to shove me, making me stumble off-balance and trip away from him.
“What the hell?” I hissed catching myself and straightening into a defensive stance, ready to swing back if the shadow came at me again.
“What the fuck did you do to my mother?”
Wincing through the dark until I figured out who was even talking to me, I groaned when I realized it was only Ethan Riker.
“Jesus Christ, you moron.” I clutched my chest and blew out a relieved breath, straightening and no longer intimidated. “You gave me a heart attack.” Then I realized what he’d just said.
“Wait. I didn’t do anything to your mom. Why?”
I held my breath, worry mounting before he snarled, “Because she tried to kill herself and we had to check her into a mental health unit.”
“Oh, shit,” I breathed, running my hand through my hair and trying not to freak out. “When? Is she okay?”
What day had it been that she’d so insistently tried to get a hold of me?
I’d ignored her, just as her family had always done. Was I to blame for this? Why hadn’t I just answered one stupid text? Amanda was never any problem. It would’ve been nothing to just give her the hug she wanted and listen to her talk.
God dammit.
I’d messed up bad.
In front of me, Ethan ignited. “You have no fucking right to ask me that question.”
I scowled, really disliking this prick. “Believe it or not, your mom is my friend. I can worry about her if I want to. How bad did she hurt herself? Is it life-threatening?”
I couldn’t even imagine what route she’d tried to take. Probably pills. She would’ve been too scared of guns or hangings, and all the blood involved in wrist cutting would turn her stomach. Christ, Amanda, why’d you do it?
Her son rasped out a bitter laugh. “Friends?” he repeated. “You and my mom? Why the hell would my mother befriend someone like you?”
I shrugged. The fuck if I knew.
Ethan snorted. “Then how do you expect me to believe that shit?”
“I don’t know,” I snapped. “The world is full of weird anomalies. I’d never believe someone as nice and sweet and kind as your mother could possibly have such a dick for a son, but here you are, anyway.”
“I broke into her phone,” he growled, stepping close and lowering his voice. “And she left you nineteen messages the night before she overdosed.”
“Fuck,” I said quietly, closing my eyes as regret washed over me. I rubbed my face with my hands, trying to remove the burn of guilt. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I should’ve just answered her.”