Pretty When She Cries - Black Mountain Academy
Carson tips his head back and swallows the painkillers, chasing them with a fresh can of beer. I wonder how many he’s taken today. Nobody’s ever around to monitor him. His dad works long hours and travels a lot. He’s pretty much always here by himself.
“My side of things?” His eyes cut to mine. “You made up your mind about my side of things a long time ago, remember? Does it even fucking matter anymore?”
“It matters.” My palms flex against my thighs, and he reads me like an open book.
“You couldn’t stay away from her, could you?”
“I just need to know what the fuck you wanted to tell me about that night,” I grit out. “Come on, man. Let’s put this shit to bed.”
“Are you fucking her?”
“Don’t go there,” I warn him.
My indignation doesn’t make any sense. I don’t owe Kail anything, and I shouldn’t give a shit what anyone says about her anymore. But despite everything that’s happened, I still feel some sort of fucked-up loyalty to her. Will I ever get her out of my system?
“You’re pathetic. You know that?” Carson shakes his head in disgust. “Just admit it. You’ve been obsessed with that girl since the day she walked into your life. It doesn’t matter what the truth is. If you came here looking for confirmation so you can go back and screw her without guilt—”
“I told you not to fucking go there.” I rise to my feet and curl my fists at my side, trying to contain myself.
“What do you want to hear?” He throws out his arms. “That I took her for a joy ride all night long while you passed out like a little bitch?”
“What the hell is your problem?” I snarl. “You want another smashed knee? Because if you say that about her one more time—”
“Just get the fuck out.” He tosses a throw pillow at me. “Don’t come here asking me about her now. I’m not a priest, and this isn’t your confessional. If you want to absolve yourself, do it somewhere else.”
He reaches for the bottle of pills again, and I hesitate. Carson’s always prickled easily, but I’ve never seen him like this. As much as he’s trying to piss me off right now, I can’t leave him this way.
“Who’s monitoring your meds?” I ask.
He snorts and swallows another pill. “Don’t act like you give a shit. My football career is over now in case you didn’t get the memo. Let me deal with my own shit. You just worry about yours like you always do.”
I snatch the bottle from the sofa, and he lunges for it at the same time, but I’m quicker, and my leg isn’t all fucked up. The name on the label has been blacked out. These aren’t even prescribed to him.
“What the hell are you taking?”
He eases himself back into the cushion and readjusts his knee pillow. “What are you my mother now?”
“Are you in that much pain?”
He stares at the wall, ignoring me.
“Let me take you to the doctor. Or bring one here. If your knee hurts, then—”
“It isn’t my goddamned knee.”
The rest is left unsaid. He’ll never admit something’s eating him up inside, but after all this time, I expected him to get better, not worse. Maybe I missed the signs. Maybe it was there all along, but we were too busy pretending everything was fine.
“Carson, I know things have been screwed up, but—”
“You could never understand,” he cuts me off.
“Then make me.” I clear away some of the trash on the sofa so I can sit down beside him, but he just scoots farther away when I do.
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he says. “I’m sick of this fake bullshit.”
“Then lay it on the table right now. Let’s hash it out.”
“You think you want that.” He flexes his jaw. “But you’d never want to speak to me again if you knew the truth.”
Heat prickles my skin, and I’m trying to keep it cool, but a thousand different scenarios are playing through my mind, and none of them are good. Did something really happen that night? Did I get it all wrong?
“Whatever it is, we can sort it out.”
“Don’t bullshit me.” He squeezes the beer can in his hand. “And don’t bullshit yourself. There are some things people just don’t overcome. You still haven’t forgiven me for that night, and you never will. Because when it comes down to her and me, you’re always going to choose her.”
I want to tell him that isn’t true, but it would be a lie. I chose Kail when I decided to punch him in the face. I chose Kail when I let that night taint every waking minute of my life after it happened. When my car rolled over and over, nearly crushing me to death, I was thinking of her. I’m always thinking of her. Even now, when I should be able to deny it, she’s contaminating my thoughts. She betrayed me. She lied and schemed to get what she wanted and then ran back to Hawaii with her cash bonus. That’s what happened. So, why is there still a weakness in me grasping onto what Carson isn’t saying? I know there’s more to the story. At least his side of it. But he isn’t willing to give up the pieces.