Wreck (Sphere of Irony 4)

I shake my head. “It was my fault—”

“Fuuuck!” Gavin leaps to his feet, towering over me. The flat tone is gone from his voice, his face contorted in anger. “It wasn’t your fucking fault!” he roars. “You were seventeen years old! You think you’re the only kid to ever call his parents for a ride?” He looks up at the sky, laughing out loud. “Jesus, Hawke. Is this what you want? To pay penance for the rest of your life for a fucking accident? For surviving?”

I stare at the ocean, unable to meet Gavin’s eyes. He swipes his towel off the ground, shoving it into his bag. I’m fully expecting him to storm off and leave me stranded here. I wouldn’t blame him if he did. Instead, he drops to his knees and grabs my hand.

“What—?”

Gavin opens my palm and puts the stone in the center, curling my fingers around it and holding them shut by wrapping both of his hands around mine.

“You need it more than me now.” He lets go and climbs to his feet. “I’ll meet you at the car.”

Gavin trudges across the sand, hitching his surfboard under his arm. I turn back to watch the waves crash on the beach, dark green and swirling with white foam tips. They call out to me as the ever-present anxiety raises its shadowy head. I tighten my fist around the smooth object, determined for once to beat back the blackness inside. If not for me, then for Gavin, for Abby, for everyone I’ve failed.

My throat tightens as the fear continues closing in. Somehow, I swallow past the rising swell of panic until my pulse is no longer drumming in my ears. I squeeze my hand and hold Hannah’s stone for the first time in over ten years.

Maybe I can do this.

Abby

I’ve got to be crazy to be diving headfirst into dating, but I know it’s the right thing to do. It’s way past time I move on and find someone to spend the rest of my life with. Someone who isn’t running away from me at every turn. Someone I don’t need to “fix” to make up for my failures with my brother.

I stand in front of the mirror in my bedroom for what feels like the millionth time in the last ten minutes. Hair? Check. Hanging in perfect blonde waves. Clothes? Check. Sexy but not slutty light blue halter dress. Face? Meh. Makeup light and in place without smudges, but the expression on my face is pathetic. In fact, it’s downright depressing.

I look sad, something no amount of makeup will fix.

Discouraged, I force my legs to turn around and march out of the bedroom so I can stop obsessing. Instead, I get my phone from my purse to continue a different obsession. My finger hovers over the contact info for my date. I run through all the different reasons I should cancel. Mostly, because I’m a mess and clearly in no condition to go out tonight. When I notice the time and realize he’ll be here in fifteen minutes, I freak out.

Too late. I’m going on a date whether I like it or not.

I’m contemplating having a pre-date drink to calm my nerves when the doorbell rings.

Crud. He’s early.

I shove the half-empty bottle of wine back in the fridge and smooth out my dress. Taking a deep breath, I put on my best smile and open the door, only to have the wind knocked out of me.

Holy crap, it’s not my date.

Hawke is standing on my front step. “Hi,” he says quietly, his eyes darting all around, never quite landing on me. His hands are stuffed into his pockets, his shoulders hunched over.

After an uncomfortable silence, I push past the shock and find my voice. “Hawke? What are you doing here?”

He glances up and chews on his lip ring. “Can I come in?”

This is not a good idea, but I can’t leave him out on my front step. Paparazzi could have followed him over, or heck, they could still be following me even though I haven’t seen them in several days.

“Sure.” I step back so he can enter, making sure to keep a respectable distance between us. Friends distance.

Hawke walks into my tiny living room slash kitchen, looking around as if he’s never seen the inside of my house before. He has yet to actually make eye contact with me or tell me why he’s turned up unannounced on a Saturday night.

Since it doesn’t seem like he’s going to be speaking anytime soon, I decide to go first. “What do you need, Hawke? I’m going out in a few minutes, so if you have something to say, say it.”

My no-nonsense tone gets through to him, because he finally meets my gaze. Those two-toned eyes flick up and down my body, sending a flush of warmth across my skin.

“You look nice.”

I want to smile, to say thank you, to laugh and joke like we used to, but I can’t. I have to stay strong so I can move on. I’m done letting Hawke suck me in only to spit me out in pieces.

“What. Do. You. Want?” I repeat, crossing my arms over my chest. I glance at the clock. Crap. Ezra is going to be here any minute. Hawke hesitates again, and I lose what little remaining patience I had. “Listen. I’m waiting for someone who is due to arrive any second. You need to leave. We can talk tomorrow.”