This is What Goodbye Looks Like (32 page)

Every single logical thought flees from my brain, leaving me with no words. I want to punch whoever hurt Brie, I want to cry for her, I want to take away her pain. But I can’t do any of it. So instead I just force myself to stutter out a response.

“That’s... that’s brave of you.”

She bites her lip so hard it looks painful. “I’ve almost told him I’m his mom so many times,” she admits. “Every time something bad happens to him, I want to tell him so badly.”

“Your parents... They won’t let you tell?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Brie says, shaking her head. “My parents let me make the major decisions about Bailey. Really, they’ve always been amazing about him. I mean, my mom even took an entire year off from work so we could live in Florida with my aunt, and I could have Bailey there. She and my dad let everyone think that Bailey is theirs. And I guess he is, in a way. They love him so much. I really couldn’t ask more from them.”

She sniffles a little and rubs her temples. “Really the only thing they insist on is Harting. Four months a year, I get to be home with Bailey, but the other eight months, I have to be a normal kid at a normal school. I hated them for it at first, but honestly, I think it’s the only thing that’s kept me sane.”

I hesitate. “Are you ever going to tell him who his mom really is?”

“No,” she says, blurting out the word forcefully. “Never. And it doesn’t really matter, anyway. I don’t care where he came from, he’s still the most precious thing I have.”

She hugs her arms against her chest and shudders. I hesitate for a long moment, unsure if touching her would make her feel better or worse. But I’m aching to try to comfort her in some way, so I stand up from the desk and hurry over, wrapping my arms around her shaking shoulders. She freezes, every muscle stiffening. But just when I’m thinking I should pull away, Brie leans into my shoulder and heaves a ragged breath.

“He
has
to be okay,” she whispers.

“He will be,” I insist. “Almost everyone survives appendicitis these days. He’ll be okay.”

“But his fever is so high,” she says, her voice rising with panic again. “They’ve been trying for hours to get it down, and—”

“Brie,” I say softly, cutting her off. “Stop. You need to get to the airport and get home. Don’t let yourself break down before then.”

She nods and takes a shaky breath. “Right. You’re right.”

Brie stays in my arms for a moment longer, just letting me support her. Then she suddenly rushes back to her suitcase, scrubbing tears out of her eyes as she continues packing.

“Please don’t tell anyone what I just said,” she says. “Seth is the only other person at Harting I’ve told, and I want it to stay that way.”

“I promise I won’t tell a soul,” I say. “But Brie?”

She sniffs. “Yeah?”

“I meant what I said. You’re brave. Really, really brave.”

“That doesn’t fix anything.”

“No, but it makes things a little better.”

She smiles a bit, although the expression is pained and wobbly. “You’re a good friend, you know that?”

“It’s hard not to be good to someone like you.”

Her smile turns wistful, and her gaze drifts over to the photo on her nightstand. “Remember what you said when you first saw that picture? How we seemed so perfect?”

“Yeah.” I remember the jealousy that had churned through my stomach that day, and I feel sick for it.

She makes a humorless, airy sound that I think might be an attempt at a laugh. “You were pretty far off the mark.”

“I don’t think so.”

She wipes away the last of her tears so she can shoot me an incredulous look. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s sweet how your dad calls all the time to check on you. And how you’re so close to your mom, and how she’s always keeping you updated about Bailey, and how you guys all talk constantly. To me, that’s a perfect family. Not a flawless one, and definitely not a painless one. But still perfect. You know?”

Brie smiles at that, a real smile this time, even though it’s thin and on the verge of crumbling. “Yeah. I think I know.”

Then she glances at the clock on the nightstand. “I need to get going. I’m not even sure if I’m going to make the flight I booked, but I’ve got to try.”

“I’ll take notes for you and get your homework and stuff,” I say, scrambling for some way to reassure her. “And I’ll make sure someone else does it in the classes we don’t share. So don’t worry about school. Just get home and take care of Bailey.”

She nods and starts zipping her suitcase closed, but pauses long enough to give me a grateful look. “Thanks. Family first, right?”

I nod. “Always.”

Chapter Thirty

When Brie leaves, our room falls back into suffocating silence. It’s Friday afternoon, so most of the senior girls are already out, and there’s none of the usual chatting and laughter and music coming from the other rooms. After being here a couple months, I’ve become friendly with most of the girls in the senior dorm. But “friendly” is a large step away from “friendship,” and I’m kind of regretting that now. I could really use a shoulder to cry on. I’m almost desperate enough to call Jeremy for comfort, but I settle on using the clock as therapy, watching the numbers slowly tick past.

I wonder if Brie will make her flight. I wonder if Bailey’s fever will go down in time. I want answers, but none of them exist yet, and the uncertainty of the whole thing gnaws at my stomach with icy claws.

I’m considering going to sleep early when my phone buzzes with a text from Seth.

“Where are you?”

Shit. I’ve been staring at my clock ever since Brie walked out the door, but the time didn’t really even register in my brain. I’m supposed to already be down in the parking lot to meet up with the others for dinner, and of course this has to be one time Seth’s not late.

“Give me three minutes,”
I text back.

I hurry to grab my stuff and throw on a few extra layers of clothing. My whirling thoughts make me even more fumbly and slow than usual, and it ends up taking more like ten minutes. I make sure to grab my cane before I leave, knowing there’s no way my aching knee can hold up tonight without it.

When I finally get down to the parking lot, everyone’s already piled into Landon’s SUV. Landon and Maddie are in the front, and Hannah is all the way in the back, leaving room for me next to Seth and Koda in the middle. Usually, Cameron comes with us, too, and sometimes a couple of Brie’s other friends join us. But tonight it looks like it’s just going to be the five of us.

As I climb in the car, the others stay silent, but Seth keeps talking into his cell phone, his shoulders tense. Then he says a quick goodbye and hangs up, concern tightening his expression. I glance at the others and find the same look on their faces.

“That was Brie,” Seth says, nodding at the phone. “She made her flight. She’s boarding in just a couple minutes.”

We all let out a sigh of relief. Then Landon fiddles with the knobs of the heater, and there’s silence in the car as he pulls out of the parking lot. I lean against Seth, and he pulls me close to his side and kisses my forehead. His touch makes me feel warmer than I have all day.

“She’ll be okay,” I murmur, because it seems like at least one of us needs to say it.

Maddie nods as she gazes absently out the passenger seat window. “Yeah. She’s Brie. Of course she’ll be okay.”

Koda pops up from where she’s been lying at Seth’s feet and rests her head on my lap. I rub her ears, letting her silky fur tangle around my fingers while I twine my other hand with Seth’s.

From the backseat, Hannah hesitantly starts talking about the substitute teacher in her World History class, pushing away the subject of Brie. The others quickly chime in, letting the benign topic of school take over. I don’t have the sub for any of my classes, which gives me an excuse to not talk and just focus on leaning into Seth’s comforting embrace.

Outside, sleet pelts against the window, making me flinch whenever a chunk of ice bounces off the windshield. I want to close my eyes against the sight of the snowy road, but I can’t make myself do it. So I just breathe in and out, in and out, letting Seth’s scent fill my lungs and warm my chest.

We enter town, but Landon passes the pizza parlor without stopping, leaving me with no clue where we’re going.

“Aren’t we getting something to eat?” I ask.

“We’re heading to the diner this week,” Landon says, nodding vaguely toward the other side of town, where the gas station-turned-restaurant is. “Pizza isn’t the only thing this town has to eat, you know.”

I bite my lip, doing my best to hold in a protest. Honestly, I’ve been getting a little sick of pizza, but going to the diner means staying on the road longer. Seth gives my arm a comforting rub and gently kisses the top of my head. I rest my cheek on his shoulder and try to focus on his warmth, on his soft breath against my neck and the strength of his arms around my waist. I stay like that for the rest of the drive, and maybe it’s stupid to feel safer this way, but I do.

No one says much when we get to the diner, and howling wind fills the silence as we file inside and grab a table. There’s a surprising amount of customers inside, the tables crowded with families all bundled up in warm sweaters and sipping from steaming mugs of coffee and hot cocoa.

Tanya’s just as chipper as she was last time, and when she sees me and Seth holding hands, she launches into a long speech admonishing us for not telling her sooner that we’re dating. Her lecture involves a surprising amount of pen-wagging and order-pad-shaking, considering she’s trying to tell off a blind dude.

We end up assuring her like ten times that we’ve only been dating for a short time, and then she finally calms down and lets us order. I get a burger, but only because Seth sits right next to me and shoves a menu in my face, refusing to move until I take it from him. My appetite has been nonexistent the past few days, and Seth has made it his mission to get me to eat enough.

The meal seems to pass faster than normal, and it’s not until it’s nearly over that I realize why. I’ve been zoned out the entire time. Usually, our Friday night dinners are enough to distract me from anything gloomy, but not tonight. The stricken look on Brie’s face haunts me, dominating my thoughts, and I keep wondering if that’s the same look I’ll be wearing soon. Dad told me it’d be a little over a month until Camille’s life support was terminated, and that was weeks ago. Her time is running out.

I’m not sure if I’ve spoken one word since I ordered, and my burger is untouched, except for a single bite and some areas where I picked the seeds off the bun. I blink a few times, trying to clear my head, and look up to find everyone at the table staring at me.

“What?” I ask.

Landon sighs. “Well, that answers the question.”

I rub my face, determined to get the strangling cobwebs out of my brain. “Sorry, what question?”

“Seth asked if you’re okay,” Hannah says. “But obviously you’re not listening to him, and if you’re not hanging onto his every word like usual, that means something bad is up.”

“I’m fine,” I say.

“You always say that,” Seth replies, his tone bordering on accusatory. “You never mean it.”

I shake my head. “I just feel bad for Brie. That’s all.”

“No,” Seth insists. “Something else is wrong, isn’t it?”

I shoot him a warning glare, not wanting to delve into my personal issues in front of other people. Seth and Brie are the only ones at Harting who know Camille is sick, and even they don’t know the true details. I’d planned on keeping it that way, but Seth obviously doesn’t see my warning look, and I get the feeling it wouldn’t stop him from bringing it up, anyway.

“Did something else happen with your sister?” he asks.

I lean away from him a little. I know he’s trying to help by making me talk about Camille—he keeps saying saying it’s not healthy to hide my problems away. But if he’s trying to make me feel better, it’s really not working.

“No, it’s all fine,” I mumble.

Landon raises an eyebrow. “So then you’re brooding because, what? PMS get the better of you?”

“No,” I snap.

“So then do you care to share why you’ve been ignoring us all night?” Landon asks.

I wait for Seth to smack at Landon and tell him to cut it out, like he always does when Landon gets too mouthy. But Seth just crosses his arms. Damn him. He’s really going to make me talk about this.

“It’s nothing,” I insist, looking around the table and silently urging someone to jump to another topic. But I’m just met with four concerned faces, and I bite my lip to keep in a frustrated curse. “I’m fine, guys,” I murmur. “Please.”

I’m not exactly sure why I say please. Maybe I’m asking them to leave me alone. Or maybe I’m asking them to not believe me, because I know I’m going to fall apart soon, and I need them to understand why.

Maddie sighs and exchanges a disbelieving glance with Hannah, who’s sitting right next to her. “Lea,” Maddie says. “Come on. Just tell us what’s up.”

I swallow hard. “Um, I have a little sister. And, uh, she’s in a coma. About a year ago, she fell during her cheerleading practice and got a bad head injury.” The lie rolls easily off my tongue, and I can’t help but flinch. These people are good to me and always have been. So why is it so damn hard to tell them anything even close to the truth?