Her smile is thankful as she presses the glass to her lips and gulps down the water. We were on the beach for over an hour in the heat, and I have a feeling she definitely didn’t stop by any of the refreshment stands to keep herself hydrated.
“Sit down,” I tell her, taking the empty glass away from her. I nod over her shoulder to the couch behind her. I’m not really sure what exactly I’m supposed to be doing, but getting her off her feet seems like a good place to start. I place my hand on her shoulder and lead her over, pushing her down onto the couch.
“It looks so pretty,” she murmurs as she focuses her gaze back on the windows again, at the picturesque Santa Monica in front of us. She sinks back against the cushions, and the sunset casts an orange glow across her face. “Doesn’t it?”
“Sure it does,” I agree as I walk back over to the sink again. I fill her another glass of water from the faucet and bring it back to her, drying my hands on my jeans. She is sitting cross-legged on the couch now, and I don’t really know what to do with myself, so I just sit down on the edge of the couch next to her. “You need to sleep this off,” I say as I watch her desperately chugging that water again. I’m trying to think of all the things people tell me to do when I’m too drunk, and usually, I am forced to drink water and sleep. I don’t think it actually works, at least not for me, but I am willing to try anything with Eden. “Come on,” I say, gently taking the glass from her again and setting it down on the coffee table. I reach for her hand, interlocking our fingers as I stand up, taking her with me. Just in case she topples over again, I clasp her waist with my other hand. “You good?”
“Good,” she confirms.
I take her across the apartment, her hand still in mine, and I guide her into TJ’s bedroom. Luckily, he keeps it tidy, and Eden seems desperate to climb into the huge bed in the center of the floor, because she is already kicking off her shoes. I don’t know why, but I find myself sliding my hands under her thighs and lifting her up again. She wraps her legs around me once more, her arms over my shoulders, her chest pressed to mine. I carry her over to the bed and gently set her back down again. I walk around the bed, fumbling with the sheets, pulling them back for her.
“I’ll go get your water,” I tell her. The silence of the apartment is getting a little awkward now, not because we are uncomfortable, but because we are alone and I still have no idea what I’m doing. I’m just glad it’s me who is looking after her and no one else.
I head back to the living room, grab her glass from the coffee table, then top it back up at the sink. I may have been tipsy earlier, but I am completely sober now. I don’t think Eden would have had a drink since we left Dean’s place, so I’m pretty sure she won’t be getting any more intoxicated than she already is. From this point onward, she can only sober up.
“Here,” I say as I walk back into the bedroom, and Eden flinches at the sound of my voice. She has stuck one of her fake eyelashes onto the bedside table, and I bite back laughter as I set the water down next to it. “Water and sleep: The only way to sober up and minimize your hangover as much as possible,” I explain with a laugh. I hope I can lighten the mood a little so that she doesn’t end up hating herself for this tomorrow.
“You should take your own advice sometimes,” she says as I’m closing the curtains, shutting out all of the bright lights from the pier. “Next time you’re drunk, I’m just gonna chant, ‘Water and sleep, water and sleep.’ ”
I smile at her as I turn back around, shaking my head. God, I really do like this girl. “Get some sleep, Eden,” I say softly.
Eden lets out a warm, gentle laugh as she scrambles under the sheets, fluffing up the pillows and pulling the sheets up to her chin. She lies on her back, getting comfortable, and so I head for the door, ready to give her some privacy to sleep off the alcohol, but I end up lingering longer than I mean to. Does she want me to leave or does she want me to stay? Should I give her some space or should I watch over her?
“Are you going back to the party?” she asks, lifting her head up.
“I don’t know,” I admit. I look down at the floor. Tyler Bruce doesn’t really leave parties early. “I mean, Tiffani’s probably looking everywhere for me.”
“Oh,” Eden says, and I can almost hear her heart sinking.
“I’ll let you sleep,” I say as I glance back up at her. I give her a small smile, one that lets her know that I’m here, I’m looking after her, I care about her.
She sinks back down into the pillows and rolls over, hugging the sheets around her. Reluctantly, I leave the room, pulling the door closed behind me. The apartment is in silence and I find myself paralyzed outside the bedroom. I squeeze my eyes shut and rest my forehead against the door, exhaling.
Going back to that party is the cowardly way out. Do I really care about what people think of me? Do I really return to a party just to prove to everyone that I’m there, that I’m happy? I’m stronger than that, I know I am. I don’t need approval from anyone. I don’t need everyone to think that I’m fine.
Fuck Tyler Bruce. I hate that guy. For the first time, I think I may actually like myself better. I like who I am with Eden, but around Eden, I am only being me. The real me, the me who has all of these secrets and all of these insecurities and all of these ups and downs.
Forget the party. I am not going anywhere. I’m staying right here with Eden, because she matters more to me than what my friends think of me.
I push open the door and step back into the dark bedroom. Eden is already asleep, because she doesn’t even stir as I walk across the room. I sit down on the floor in front of the window, resting my head back against the wall as I watch her. I wish she knew I was here, that I haven’t left. I will sit here and watch her for hours if I need to, just to make sure she is safe.
I think that’s the moment I realize I’m in love with her.
53
FIVE YEARS EARLIER
Officer Gonzalez doesn’t take me home. He doesn’t know where it is. I won’t tell him. So he has taken me to someplace even more terrifying: the police station downtown. It makes me regret ever agreeing to get in the car with him in the first place.
There’s a phone ringing loudly throughout the office. The air smells of coffee. There are officers drifting back and forth between desks. I am sitting at a row of seats against the back wall, anxiously squeezing the bottle of water that Officer Gonzalez has given me, my gaze darting all over the place, trying to keep tabs on everything. I tried my best. I refused to give them my surname. But one of the lawyers here in the office right now knows my mom and has given away my true identity.
Which means that my parents have now received their second phone call of the day about me. First from Principal Castillo, and now from Officer Gonzalez. And if they weren’t happy about getting the phone call from school, then they definitely aren’t going to be happy about answering a phone call from the police. In the space of one day, I have gone entirely off the rails, and even I can’t explain what’s wrong with me. Mom is going to be so disappointed, and Dad is going to be so furious.
“So,” Officer Gonzalez says as he appears again. He sits down next to me with a cup of steaming hot coffee, and he takes a long sip of it. I look sideways at him. “You’re lucky. Your parents didn’t even realize you were missing, so you didn’t send them into a spiral of panic for the past hour. They’ll be here any minute.”
I turn my eyes down to the floor. My stomach hurts from how sick I feel. I shouldn’t have stopped by that stupid tree. I should have kept walking. I should have got on the bus. I should have really left town.
“Are you alright?” Officer Gonzalez asks when I don’t reply.
And the truth is, I’m really not. But how do I tell him that? I feel so weak, my body is aching, my head is spinning, my sight is blurring with the tears that are threatening to fall. I am so, so scared. I lift my head and turn to look at him. My eyes meet his, and I am begging him to really, truly look at me, to see the fear and the pain in
my eyes, to tell me everything is going to be okay, that he’s going to protect me. I want to tell him the truth, but I can’t find the words to explain just how broken I am.
But the truth is in my eyes. I am telling him. I am trying.
I am broken, I am in agony, I am scared.
But he doesn’t see it. He doesn’t say anything at all.
I look away, fighting back the tears, tilting my head back down to the floor again. “I’m fine,” I say.
“I’ll keep an eye out for your parents,” Officer Gonzalez says. He gives me a reassuring pat on the back of my shoulder as he stands, then he walks away again, sipping at his coffee, nodding to fellow colleagues as he disappears back out of the office.
I slump back against my seat, squeezing my eyes shut and pressing my hands to my face. I flinch from the pain, then quickly push my hands back into my hair instead. I pull on the ends in frustration. I’m so exasperated, so lost. How am I supposed to handle this mess now? Every day, my life seems to spiral more out of control. Every day, I feel more helpless. Every day, I grow weaker.
I just want it all to stop.
I want Dad to stop.
I’m tired of lying. I’m tired of protecting him. I’m tired of pretending I’m okay.
But I just can’t find the words to make it all end.
“Tyler!” I hear Mom’s voice echo from somewhere in the distance, but the reality is that she’s right next to me, because suddenly her arms are wrapping around me and she’s pulling me in close, squeezing me tight as though she’s afraid I’ll disappear again. “What were you even thinking?!”
I open my eyes, suffocating under Mom’s hold, and she is planting kisses into my hair. I try to look at her out of the corner of my eye, but it’s impossible to see her face when she’s clinging onto me so closely, so I remain paralyzed in place. I look up to see Dad’s expression instead, but he’s not here. My eyes dart all over the office in search of him, but only Mom has turned up.
Officer Gonzalez is watching us closely, his arms folded loosely across his chest, and he gives me a reassuring nod. “He was over in Wilshire on Twelfth Street,” he explains. “Kid posted up by a tree? I thought I better check it out. Turns out he was worried you were mad at him for that fight at school.” He lets out a small chuckle. “I didn’t realize he was your son.”
“Oh, Tyler,” Mom says, exhaling a long breath of air. She releases her hold on me now and leans back, delicately cupping my busted-up face in her hands, her fingertips brushing my bruised skin. She looks even worse than she did earlier. More worried, more stressed. Her eyes are wide as they pierce mine. “Don’t ever do something so stupid ever again.”
I glance down at the floor and give her a small, single nod. I didn’t mean to upset her again. Now I feel even guiltier. Today is officially the worst day of the entire year, and I just want Mom to take me home so that I can crawl straight into bed and sleep the rest of the night away.
“Thanks for picking him up,” Mom says, straightening up in front of me and turning to face Officer Gonzalez. She shakes his hand, then gently reaches for my shoulder. It’s our cue to leave, so I grab my backpack from the floor by my feet and stand up.
“No more fights at school, Tyler, alright?” Officer Gonzalez tells me with a teasing smile. I am staring back up at him, and although he is still being nice, I wish he could have been more. I wish he could have helped. I wish I could have told him how to.
Mom guides me through the office, back toward the station’s reception. She gives small nods of acknowledgment to some of the officers and detectives that she’s acquainted with, but she definitely doesn’t stop for any small talk. It’s almost like she’s embarrassed, because her pace is much faster than usual, and she is quick to lead me through the reception and out the main entrance. As soon as the door falls shut behind us, Mom comes to a halt and steps in front of me, crouching down so that we’re eye level. She reaches for my hands.
“Tyler,” she says sternly, searching my expression for answers. “Why would you even do such a thing? What is wrong with you?”
“You and Dad were mad at me,” I admit quietly, staring down at my hands in hers. I try to pull away, but she tightens her hold. I didn’t mean to worry her.
“Of course we were mad. You were in a fight, Tyler!” She closes her eyes, tilts her head down, and releases a frustrated sigh. She is quiet for a few seconds, as though she is thinking, and then she opens her eyes again and looks at me with a small smile. “I’m sure as you get older there’s a lot of things I’ll get mad at. I’m your mom. It’s my job. That doesn’t mean I don’t love you, and it doesn’t mean you should run away. Okay?” She squeezes my hands again.
“Okay,” I say. I swallow and dare myself to ask, “Where’s Dad?” I’m relieved he hasn’t shown up, but also worried that the reason he isn’t here is because he is too angry to look at me.
“At home with your brothers,” Mom tells me as she lets go of my hands and straightens back up. “He doesn’t know, so let’s keep this between us. I told him you walked to Dean’s, so he’s still not pleased with you for sneaking out, but at least he doesn’t know why. You know how protective he is.”
I stare at her. Protective? Dad is the one I need protection from. She really has no idea. Which is what I want, I guess. I’ve tried so hard to keep it all hidden, to keep the truth from surfacing, to protect her. I’m doing good, it seems, but it’s so, so hard. I am letting myself get hurt in order to protect my family, but if I tell the truth, then I hurt them. Either way, it feels like I can’t win.
“Mom,” I say as she’s searching through her purse for her car keys. She casts a quick sideways glance at me, raising an eyebrow and listening. But I don’t know what to say. Every time I think I might just have the courage to finally tell someone, the words get stuck in my throat. I can’t say it. I can’t admit it. So, just like I did with Officer Gonzalez, I go for the easy way out. I tell her, “I’m tired.”
“Good,” Mom says, “because you’re going straight to bed when we get home.”
My heart sinks. Even my own mom can’t hear the pain in my voice, or see the anguish in my eyes, or the bruises all over my body. Even when I want her to.
54
PRESENT DAY
I watch over Eden for hours, listening to her soft breathing as she sleeps. I have opened the curtains again and am leaning against the window, watching the party carry on without us. It’s the middle of the night, but all of the lights are still flashing, even brighter now through the darkness. I can still see the crowds down on the beach partying by the stage. Very faintly, I can still hear the music.
I hear movement from behind me, and I crane my neck to look over at the bed. Through the darkness, I see Eden stirring. She pushes the sheets away from her and rolls over, desperately reaching out and fumbling for her water on the bedside table. She props herself up on her elbow and chugs it down as though she has been thirsty for weeks. I know how it feels waking up after the night before.
“How are you feeling?” I ask her gently.
Eden stops drinking and tilts her head up, her surprised gaze coming to rest on me in the corner of the room. She stares at me for a few seconds before she finally says, “Better. What time is it?”
“Three,” I say. I glance out of the window again and let out a small laugh. “The party’s still going strong.”
As she comes into focus through the dark, I notice she has her eyebrows furrowed. “Didn’t you go back?”
“No,” I tell her. Did she think that I would? Did she really think I would leave her here alone? “I was worried that you’d throw up or something,” I admit, and my voice grows quiet. “Plus it was probably best that I just stayed away from it all.”
Around this time last year, I would have been at Tiffani’s place by now, probably suffering through my seizure with no idea what was actually going on. I seemed to totally black out, but from what my friends have told me about that night, it sounds pretty damn te
rrifying. It’s been an entire year, and I still haven’t learned from it. I’m still hitting Declan up a couple times a week.
“What’s wrong?” Eden asks as she sits up.
“Nothing,” I lie, pulling my knees up to my chest and resting my elbows on them, interlocking my hands. I have opened up to her about things before, but this is something I really don’t want to talk about. I don’t even want to imagine what she would think of me.
“I know there’s something wrong,” she says, and she takes another sip of her water as she studies me over the rim of the glass. Firmly, she asks again, “What’s wrong, Tyler?”
“It’s just . . .” I try, but I can’t get the words out. My shoulders sink with defeat. I don’t have the guts to tell her. I’m scared to.
“Just what?” she presses.
“This time last year,” I start, but it’s all I can say. I can’t tell her that I was an idiot, that I almost killed myself because I was searching for a high that would get me through another day.
“You passed out,” she says for me, and my eyes flick back up from the floor to meet hers. So, she does already know, and she is definitely sober now, because this is the Eden I know. The one who tells me the truth straight up. “Rachael told me. You passed out because of the drugs.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and get to my feet, stuffing my hands into my pockets as I lean back against the wall. “Just drink your water,” I mumble.
She tilts the glass of water to her lips again and quickly finishes it, then dumps the glass back on the bedside table before she slides out of the bed and stands up. She takes several wary steps toward me and quietly asks, “Why do you do it?”
Tonight of all nights, I really don’t want to go through this again with her. She is always pushing for an answer to that question, but it’s an answer that I’m just not emotionally strong enough to give her yet. “Why are you asking me about this again?” I mutter as I throw my hands up out of my pockets. It’s such a sensitive subject to me that already my temper is rising.