My first instinct was to pull away. That hand belonged to Dan and no one else. The thought was irrational, and I would have never voiced it. It only took me a half a second to realize I liked the comfort it offered. "How did Mackenzie do it?" I asked, pleased my tone hid the malice.
"Mac?" he asked, removing his hand from mine. "I don't know. She's just hardwired differently. I envy her."
I shook my head incredulously. "How can you say that after what she did to you? She tossed your relationship away like it meant nothing."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "She had no choice. I threw her out of my room after the accident. I refused to answer her letters. I basically turned my back on her. I wasn't the only one," he reminded me. "It was a coward's way of dealing with my guilt."
"I told you that you shouldn't feel guilty. It wasn't your fault."
Zach's eyes moved around the room, focusing on anything and everything except for me. "The accident might not have been my fault, but being in love with someone else in that car was."
His eyes met mine and I finally understood the anguish that mirrored my own.
"Jessica?" I asked, not quite believing.
He shook his head. "Tracey."
Ten
The name hung in the air between us. Zach had been in love with Tracey. How had we not known? We were a unit. We knew everything about each other, but a small voice taunted me that wasn't necessarily right. The others didn't know Dan and my plans for later that night. I wondered who else in our group knew about Tracey and Zach. I shuffled through the memories I normally wouldn't allow myself to think about trying to pinpoint an incident that would reveal a crucial piece I'd missed.
"Did Tracey love you?" I asked, trying to fit all the pieces together.
Zach's eyes burned with an agony I could relate to. "Yes. We didn't intend for it to happen, and planned on telling everyone after graduation, but Mac found out that night."
"She did?" I asked, marveling at Mac's ability to mask her feelings. "She didn't tell us."
"She wouldn't have. You know how important graduation night was for her."
I nodded. I did know how important it was. Mac had driven us nuts with all her plans for grad night, but secretly we all loved her for it. Her excitement over us becoming adults had been contagious. "How long were you two together?" I asked.
"Almost six months. We tried to fight it at first. We didn't want to hurt Mac. She didn't deserve our betrayal. At times I tried to justify it. Mac and I were together for convenience. Neither of us wanted to be alone senior year. We agreed to be each other's plus-one until we headed off to college. The summer going into senior year it seemed like a solid, sensible plan. Typical Mac fashion." His voice was flat but his eyes burned, lost in another time.
I nodded. We'd all known Mac and Zach stayed together more out of habit than anything else. Dan and I were partially to blame for their relationship of convenience. Double-dating had been a no-brainer, and we'd all gotten along so well. The situation had suited all of us, or so I thought.
Zach ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end. He looked mad. It was surreal watching him. Everything about him mirrored how I felt.
"The more Mac threw herself into graduation and college prep, the less time we seemed to spend together. She stopped going to my games and buried herself in her schoolwork. Tracey was there. It was fucked up. I know I should have broken it off with Mac, but would you believe me if I said I didn't want to hurt her?" He gripped my hand. I could feel his fingers biting into my skin, crushing it to my bones. I did not shy away from it. Pain was welcomed. "We should have told her. If we would have told her, we wouldn't have had to hide our feelings. We could have spent every moment together those last six months." His voice shattered into a million pieces as sobs wracked through his body. It was a knife in my heart, dissecting and cutting pieces away until only a bloody pulp remained. I was the selfishest of bitches. I'd assumed I held the market on heartbreak.
Without thinking, I leaned in toward his chair and dragged him into my arms as his anguish filled the room like a morbid bloodbath. His wheelchair made the embrace awkward, but I paid it no mind. Having the handle digging into my side was an insignificant price to pay.
Zach cried until his tears ran out. I had the feeling this was the first time he'd let his anger go enough to fully grieve. It was ironic that my own grief had morphed to anger, while his seemed to be opposite. Each survivor dealt with things in their own way. Even Mac. I'd spent the last few months hating her for moving on while Zach and I were chained to the past. I'd assumed she was the lucky one, that she hadn't lost anything. I realized now how wrong I was. Mac had lost perhaps more than all of us.
I stayed with Zach until I had to leave for work. I could tell he was embarrassed about his meltdown once he was done. I didn't mention it and merely handed him his controller when he finished.
Driving home later that evening I ran Zach's confession over in my head. For the first time in two years I pitied someone other than myself. Losing Dan had nearly gutted me but at least I'd had years of memories and special moments with him stored up. I may have locked them away, but they were there to be pulled out any time I was ready. Zach and Tracey's relationship had been cut down before it could even get started. Life wasn't fair.
Pulling into my neighborhood, I bypassed Fred's. I felt emotionally wrung out but drinking held little appeal. I knew in a few days I'd be singing a different tune as a date I tried to forget loomed ahead of me. Last year, I'd spent the particular day huddled up on my bed with a bottle of Jack Daniel's trying to get through the painful reminder. I was pretty sure I'd do the same this year. Thankfully I didn't have to work that day.
Pushing the thoughts to the back of my head, I pulled into the lot of the complex, groaning at the lack of parking places. I circled the lot before finally conceding defeat and parking on the far side of it in the least desirable area, which was due to its distant location and lack of lighting. I climbed from my car silently cursing Hank, the superintendent, for the darkness. I'd sent him multiple complaints about the outside lighting that needed to be replaced. I swore as the toe of my shoe caught an exposed root, proving my point. I needed to get in the habit of carrying the industrial flashlight my sensible dad had given me for Christmas since it was obvious Hank wasn't going to fix the lights. Breaking an ankle on the uneven pavement held no appeal.
In the dark, I could hear the buzzing of cicadas in the few trees lining the cracked sidewalk and the rustling of lizards as they scampered across the leaves. I ducked my head, hurrying my pace. I wasn't necessarily scared of bugs, but I also didn't want one falling out of the trees on top of my head.
Carlos was on his patio, as per usual, but he wasn't alone when I finally made it to my building. Carlos' posture wasn't as relaxed as it usually was. I couldn't hear the exchange between him and his guest. As I a
pproached, apprehension slithered up my spine, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Everything about this stranger screamed trouble, and not in the typical "bad boy" way most women panted after. He was covered in amateur tattoos that were either lopsided or misspelled. I knew I was profiling but everything about him pointed toward criminal. For the first time since moving into the complex I saw Mom and Dad's perspective. They'd have a heart attack if they were here.
I knew I was probably being ridiculous, but I couldn't help clutching my bag as I scooted along the sidewalk as close to the far edge as I could get. My eyes met Carlos' for a moment and for the briefest of seconds a veil of worry seemed to cloud his pupils before he turned back to his guest. A rapid string of Spanish left his mouth, and I had the distinct impression he was trying to deflect attention away from me. More nervous than I probably should have been, I willed myself to remain calm.