Hold My Breath (19 page)

Telling her the truth was the single hardest thing I’ve ever done. Seeing her face when she realized exactly what I meant, broke me. I instantly wanted to take those words back. I’d rather her hate me, think that
I
was the one who was hiding Dylan, hiding a relationship—I’d rather be the cheater than have her think that someone could have done that to her.

That Evan could have done that to her.

My back aches from this position I’ve been sitting in for the last hour, so I kick off my shoes and walk to the water’s edge, searching for stones. When I gather a few, I throw them as hard as I can, counting the times they skip along the surface. I was the one who taught Maddy how to skip stones. Not Evan.

I pick up another handful, but I pause, closing my eyes, my breath rushing out all at once until I feel it boil to the top, and I let out a growl of a roar, cocking my arm back and thrusting the rocks into the middle of the lake, the stones pelting the ripples left by the breeze.

“I hate you!” I yell.

I yell it out here, where there is no witness but me. I yell at my brother, for leaving me with this. For making this mess to begin with, and for leaving
me
!

My hands find my face, and I rub my palms along my eyes, my energy to do anything waning. I have no idea how I’m going to get on a plane in four days, let alone drag myself through three days of practice. I might not have to if Curtis decides I’m too big of a risk to take…or if Maddy tells her dad what degenerates the Hollister brothers really were.

My feet start to kick at the water’s currents, and I lose myself in the swirls I leave along the shore, my feet creating chaos in something otherwise calm and perfect. That’s what I am—I’m chaos.

A rock skips by, tumbling along a few of the jagged boulders that stick up through the shallow water, and I jerk my head fast, turning to see Maddy in the clearing of the woods. She pulls another stone from her left palm and thrusts it across the water with her right. It bounces three times, and my lip ticks up on one side with pride.

“You’re getting better,” I say over my shoulder, not able to look at her fully.

“You’re getting worse,” she says.

My shoulders shake with my short laugh.

Oh, Maddy, you have no idea how much worse I am.

“How long have you been here?” I ask.

I know.

“Long enough to hear you hate someone,” she says. I close my eyes and let my chin fall into my chest while I push my hands into my pockets at my sides. I regret yelling that, because as much as I hate what he did, I don’t hate Evan. I fucking miss him.

“I hate someone, too,” she says.

My lips shudder at her words.

“I don’t want you to hate anyone, Maddy,” I say.

It’s quiet for several seconds, but I hear the sound of her feet slipping into the water, her steps coming closer, until I can feel her next to me. She’s too far to touch, yet all I want to do is hold her.

“Then I need to know it all,” she says. “From the beginning.”

My eyes open on the water, and I turn just enough to see the place where her legs disappear under the blue. Her skin is pebbled from the chill, and her hands cling to the bottoms of her shorts. I would give anything to pull those hands in mine and kiss them, as if they were mine and only mine—
only ever mine.
But they weren’t.

“Her name is Tanya Foster. She lived in my dorm,” I say, stopping to let the wave of nausea pass. That’s one of the things I still haven’t been able to come to terms with in all of this—my role in introducing Tanya and my brother. Tanya was always beautiful—a walking blonde, blue-eyed temptation. I think maybe I’d hoped he’d fall for her. I didn’t want him to hurt Maddy, but I think deep down, I wanted him to mess up…to leave her.

“Was she someone you were dating?” she asks.

I shake my head before speaking.

“No, we were friends. We had a few classes together, and I knew her from school. We’d gone to a few parties together, but that was all,” I say.

“How did she meet Evan?” she asks.

My chest rises with the slow draw of air, and I look up at the lake, filling my mind with a mix of memories—Maddy
here,
Tanya…
there.

“About a year before the accident, Evan came to visit me. He stayed for the weekend,” I say, the memory so vivid it almost forces me to sit down in the water from the weight of it.

“I remember that weekend. Evan and I…we’d had a fight,” she says, and something about the way her voice wavers draws my eyes to look at her. She’s staring out along the lake, but her eyes are misted. I hate seeing how much this hurts. I hate that I’m the one hurting her.

I swallow hard before I continue.

“Evan went to a party with us, and they got along. I didn’t notice anything more, though. It all seemed friendly, and Evan was with me practically the whole time,” I say.

Maddy breathes out a laugh, but I correct her. It wasn’t then that he cheated. I’m sure of it. I’ve heard the entire story of how they got together from Tanya.

“He came to visit a few more times, and whenever I had practice, or had studies or a class, he’d hang out with her. They had become friends, but I didn’t start to suspect something until…” I stop, my mind frozen on the night I left Evan with her at a party, when he came into my room hours later, his mouth shut on the subject of her. He wouldn’t even tolerate my teasing. I wouldn’t know why until weeks later.

“Maddy, I don’t want to put these details in your head. It’s not fair to you; Evan’s not here to answer to them, and the pictures you’ll conjure…” I stop at her interruption.

“You have no idea what’s already in my head, Will. I
need
these details,” she says, her voice a harsh and violent whisper. I turn to meet her gaze, her steely eyes intent on the truth. “I need them to be able to sleep at night. I cannot make up my own questions and answers—it’s torture.”

I nod slowly, knowing she’s right.

“I started to suspect something during his last visit. They had spent more time together—
alone—
and Evan wasn’t taking my teasing well. There was this serious feel to everything, and when I confronted him on it, asking him point blank if he had slept with her, he punched me in the face,” I say, the memory of that impact still fresh.

“Jesus,” Maddy whispers, her eyes fall to my chin, and I see her throat gulp.

“Then…on Christmas Eve,” I begin, having to look away from her for the rest of this, if I’m going to be able to tell her my nightmares. “We were getting packed and ready for the trip, and Evan was like this simmering man. He clearly was lost somewhere else, ignoring half of the things I said, not answering Mom’s questions when she yelled down the hall, mumbling to himself. He was short with me, and the longer that went on, the more pissed off I became. I think maybe I knew it was something like what he eventually confessed, but that just made me angrier, like he had no right to be mad if he was the one who fucked up so badly, ya know?”

I glance to Maddy, but she doesn’t react. Her eyes are locked on the space in front of me, on nothingness, and she’s chewing at her lip and her arms folded over her chest, like she’s holding herself here and forcing herself to listen. She almost knows it all, so I finish, giving her every last detail of the facts that have haunted me for more than four years now.

“It came to a head when we were boarding. Our parents were finishing loading a few bags, and Evan and I were prepping the cabin when I told him he was acting like a real dick. That’s when he told me that he’d ‘messed up real bad.’”

Her eyes shoot to mine, and the sadness behind them guts me. I shake my head slowly, wanting to fix this. I know I can’t, though. “I asked him what that meant, and he said he’d slept with Tanya, and she called him last week and told him she was pregnant. He was going to do right by her, and marry her. I hit him harder than he hit me the few weeks before. His nose just bled and bled, and my mom yelled about how I was ruining Christmas. My father looked at me with disgust, and Evan just sat there and cried. I hated him so much for that, for just wallowing in his own mess and sitting there like the victim. He told my mom finally that we had been arguing, and it was his fault, but she blamed me—I’m the one who
escalated
things. My dad was furious when we took off. He wasn’t focused.”

I gnash my teeth and turn my body back toward the lake, away from Maddy. My hands are fists in my pockets, and my insides hurt as if they’re on fire. There it all is for her—all of my ugliest secrets, guilt I live with every day. Fucking torture.

Bending down, I pick up another handful of rock, letting the silt filter through my hand until only the flattest, sharpest stones are left. I throw them one at a time, but they’re too light to do any real damage. They skim the water once then lose to the current, falling to the bottom again. I repeat this futile act several times, my mind bouncing from my life before I knew everything, to the reality I live with now, to the one I just gave the girl I’d do anything to protect.

“I didn’t want you to ever find out,” I say, throwing the last handful of stones across the water then bending down to wash the dirt from my hand.

“Why?” she rasps.

My chin falls to my chest and I raise my shoulders.

“Because the ignorance seemed so much safer, I guess,” I glance to her. Her eyes don’t quite meet mine. “Either way, my brother is gone. And I guess I just thought the lie of his memory was so much more comforting to live with.”

Her jaw moves and her lips grow tighter with her swallow, her hands squeezing at her elbows, wrapping around her body.

“I want to meet him,” she says.

I take that request in, put it in my mind and play it out. No matter the scenario, her meeting Dylan hurts. That boy has to fight just to stay alive, and her seeing him means her seeing Tanya, and Tanya…she’s a victim, too.

“His mom never knew about you,” I say, turning to face her. “She still doesn’t.”

I have kept so many of Evan’s secrets.

Maddy’s hands loosen their grip, and slowly her fingers slide from their hold on her elbows, falling to her sides as she turns her feet to me.

“I
need
to meet them,” she says, her mouth still and quiet, her eyes unflinching as they stare into mine. I breathe with her, and I fight against my instincts. I know it won’t make anything better for her, but I also don’t think I can keep secrets or say
no
to this girl any longer.

“Okay,” I say, nodding lightly. “Maybe when we get back from Cleveland…”

“I’ll take you all to the airport,” she interrupts.

My head falls to my shoulder, and I pull my mouth in on one side.

“I don’t think that’s the best way,” I say.

Maddy steps closer to me, stopping when we’re near enough to touch, her arms folding over her chest again as she lifts her chin and looks me in the eyes.

“I don’t care,” she says, holding my gaze long enough that I can tell she means every word. She walks away seconds later.

And I let her go.

* * *

M
aybe Will was right
. I was a happier person when I was ignorant to the awful truth. I haven’t been nice at practice this week. I have, however, been fast. I’ve matched my best time in three sprints, and my dad keeps gloating about my consistency, about the strides I’m making to peak at just the right moment.

I’ve never worked harder in the pool, yet every day, I feel like I could do it all again. My muscles just don’t seem to grow tired. My body is running on hate, and while it’s bringing me results in the one part of my life that still feels right, it’s ruining all others. I was mean to Amber in the locker room yesterday, and I heard from one of the other girls that my shortness made her cry. A part of me wants to tell her to toughen up, because honestly, if
I
make her cry then she’s going to have her hands full when we face other countries. But that’s never been who I am. I’ve always been the glue. At Valpo, I was the spark that every other girl mentioned in her interviews—the leader, the friend to turn to, the inspiration.

I feel about as inspiring as a motivational speaker high on Sudafed. My insides just feel cold—frozen and jaded. It’s cyclical, too, because the more upset I get over how I’m acting, the angrier I get about the reason—
Evan had a baby. Evan cheated. Will lied.

Will’s kept his distance, working just as hard, but swimming opposite hours of me outside of our camp. Our only conversation was yesterday, when he asked me to be here at three today to take him to pick up Tanya and her son for their trip. I promised I’d be here, and then I left before I could simmer in that reality with him any longer. I know he waited while I left; I felt his eyes on me until my car pulled away from the club. It hurts to hurt him, but it stings just as much to trust him and let myself understand.

Will agreed to the interviews, too, and just as I told him he would be, my father was accepting of his “emergency time off.” Part of me wants to blow the lid off the emergency to my dad too, but the hate hasn’t made me that vengeful yet. I can feel its fingers around my heart, though. I think, perhaps, if telling my parents wouldn’t lead to them asking me questions—
consoling me
—then I would. I’m barely okay with the voices in my head for now.

Both Will and Duncan are waiting out front as I roll up to drive him to the airport. Will is carrying nothing more than a backpack, so I don’t bother to pop the trunk as I pull up next to them and wait for Will to get inside. He says a few words to his uncle, then gives him a hug before walking behind my car toward his rental, and I shove my car into park and get ready to protest.

“Goddammit!” I growl through my teeth.

“Will, get in the car,” I start to yell the second I step outside, but Duncan walks around the back to meet me just as Will shuts the door and cranks the engine on his car.

“Is he seriously trying to leave without me? Why didn’t he just go
before
I got here? Gahhhhh,” I growl, tilting my face to the sky and folding my fingers behind my neck.

“He needs to drive, Maddy,” Duncan says. I lower my chin, my mouth shut tight as I look at him. He reaches forward for my elbows, and my hands unlink, falling until they’re in Duncan’s. “He didn’t think about it until he saw the size of your car. You all are going to need more room, so he needs to drive. He told me to tell you to just park in the spot he leaves, and you can drive our car back here when you’re done.”

My eyes squint, and I swing my vision from Duncan to the back of Will’s head, finally letting go of Duncan’s hold and stretching my arms out to my sides.

“Why didn’t he just tell me that?” I huff.

“Oh, well, that’s because the two of you are acting like children,” Duncan says. My eyes close on him more and my mouth curves down. I fold my arms against my chest tightly, like a shield, and tilt my head at his unfair accusation.

“I’m glad you’re going with him, though, Maddy,” he keeps talking as if my reaction is meaningless. “I think you’re going to see a lot of things differently after today. And if you need to talk to anyone when you get back, I’ll be around.”

His eyes linger on mine, and the tension in my arms and face lessens. With a soft smile on his face, Duncan reaches forward and squeezes my right shoulder, and my eyes go to the touch of his hand. He takes a few steps away until he’s again standing on the walkway in front of the club. I glance to Will, to the back of his head, his hands propped on the wheel and his eyes looking at me through the rearview mirror. With a short breath, I turn and climb into my car, circling around and trading spots with Will. I grab my purse and open the passenger door of his car, sliding inside and making eye contact with Duncan one more time. His mouth curves a hint, but it isn’t a happy smile. Whatever message he’s trying to send with it, though, I raise my hand and press my fingertips on the window just as he lifts his to say goodbye while Will pulls us out of the lot and onto the roadway.

The inside of the car is soundless for more than an hour, and eventually the monotony of the tires over the seams in the highway push me over the edge. I exhale and shift in my seat, giving in and looking at Will. I don’t know what I expected…no…that’s not true. I expected a fight. I expected him to look just as angry as I feel, to huff at me, and spit out a “What?” so I could yell something. I thought he’d engage, but now that I really look at him, I see how wrong I was.

His hands haven’t left their position on the wheel. His eyes are glued open on the road, and even his blinking comes in regular patterns, as if he’s counting down to the time between each one, markers for distance traveled and time spent in this car alone with me—
with me and the truth.
He’s not going to fight back. He’ll just take it, whatever I dish, and it makes me want to scream because Will is not a beaten dog. He’s my drive! He was always that person, but what’s sitting here with me now—what’s left after everything I know now—is just a shell.

I stare at him for miles, at that face I touched and still want to. I watch his chest rise slowly, his seatbelt growing tight with each full breath. His eyes only flit to mine once, and the moment we connect, I see how much he regrets giving in and looking at me. I see how much this hurts—how much
I
am hurting him because I hurt.

“Your car couldn’t accommodate Dylan’s chair,” Will finally speaks.

I flinch at the break in silence, but he doesn’t notice. His teeth saw at his bottom lip and his eyes move along the highway ahead of us, flashing to the mirror as he signals for an exit. I recognize the road instantly. We turned this way when I brought him to the strip club—when his body was jerking with nerves and he nearly chewed his fingers to the bone. I thought it was because of how close this area was to the scene of his car crash, but that’s not what it was at all.

We turn down a neighborhood street, rows of tiny houses pushed closely together, dirt for front yards, and sparse of trees—except for the few growing wild and covering sidewalks. Cars are parked front to end along the road, and the further in we weave, the faster Will’s fingers begin to drum along the steering wheel. He slows the car in front of a small gray house, a long wooden ramp still waiting to be painted or stained stretching along the entire front to the driveway with a gold van that looks to be only a month or two old parked in the front.

Will pulls the car in behind the van, coming as close as he can without hitting it. Our car still hangs out into the street, but a glance around the area doesn’t show much traffic, or any other alternatives for parking.

“We’re here,” he breathes, rolling his hands on the steering wheel then falling forward, and folding his arms on top, his chin resting on his knuckles.

“I won’t say anything.” These are the first words I’ve spoken in nearly two hours. Will’s head falls to the side and he looks at me through his empty eyes. “To her…to Tanya?”

I look forward at the small house, the cracks as obvious as the homemade attempts nailed, puttied, and painted along the trim in an effort to hold this house together. The mother of Evan’s child—
and Evan’s child
—live here. Nothing about any of this is good.

“You may have been right about the ignorance. She’s better off with the lie…” I say, my eyes shifting back to Will. “Whatever version of the story she has.”

His eyes hold mine for a second then move to the house as he pushes away from the steering wheel, nodding.

I follow Will’s lead, letting him guide me from the car up to the house, not bothering to knock or ring a bell. He pulls a torn screen door open, then pushes the main door so we can both step inside. My nose is hit instantly with the scent of bleach and lemon-scented cleaners, dryer sheets, and vanilla-scented candles. To the right, the house looks spotless, but to the left are piles of sheets, towels, clothing, and towering boxes of some type of medical supplies.

“She has a hard time keeping up,” Will says through an apologetic smile. “I think she wanted to leave the house in a semi-clean state.”

I nod and look around me again. She made it halfway.

“Tanya? We’re here,” he says, his voice loud and echoing around the cramped room. I notice a path is cleared stretching straight from a hallway into what looks like the kitchen, and I remember what Will said about needing room for Dylan’s chair.
Dylan.
His name is Dylan.

“Hey, Will. I’m almost done in here. Come on in,” a voice calls from the kitchen area. My heart starts to pound, and my fingers feel numb from the blood flowing so fast and hard through my body. Somehow, my legs continue to work and I follow Will into the kitchen. A thin blonde, wearing a plain white T-shirt with the sleeves bunched up over her shoulders and a pair of gray sweats, rushes from the sink to a cabinet, stacks of plates in her hands for one trip, fists full of forks and spoons on her next. She glances up at both of us while she works, and her face looks nothing like the trampy whore I’ve dreamt up in my hateful fantasies. This woman looks frail, and tired, and…kind.

“Oh, hey! You must be Maddy,” she says, running her palm along the leg of her sweats and blowing a tuft of hair out of her eyes while she approaches me. My mouth quivers and my ears fall deaf with the rush of blood to my head, but I manage to reach out my hand to shake hers. “Thank you so much for helping us. Will said you and he were good friends, and you knew how much he hated to fly. I’m just…” she pauses and leans her hip out, running her shoulder against her face as her eyes well up. “I’m just so grateful he’s coming with me. I don’t think I can get him there alone.”

I let her hand slide from mine and look over her shoulder at the piles of things yet to do. Unwashed glasses line the counter. Stacks of files sit in haphazard piles, some with sticky notes jutting from the edges. And underneath it all, layers of dust and stickiness from a kitchen that she probably hasn’t been able to clean since the day she moved in.

“I’m glad he can help, too,” I answer, swallowing away so many things I thought I knew.

“I swear I’ll be ready, Will. I just wanted to get a head start on some of this. I was taking advantage of Dylan napping. I had yesterday off too, and our therapist, Wendy…she helped, even though I know she’s not supposed to do housework, but God, I was grateful,” Tanya says, her words vomiting out amid her nerves. Will stands with his hands in his pockets, his posture stiff, and his head sunken in-between his shoulders. The only response he can seem to give her is a fast nod, and I can see it affecting Tanya more and more by the second. She starts to rush around the kitchen, moving things, but never really accomplishing anything. Will steps backward until his legs meet a chair, and he falls back and sits.

“I’m going to scoop up the sheets and put them in a bag. I have a laundry service that’s going to pick everything up while we’re gone. I just need to have it all ready,” Tanya says, her voice wavering as she glides by Will, his eyes wide and his mouth firmly shut.

The moment she slips from our view, I step in front of him, my back shielding her from seeing or hearing anything should she come in.

“What is wrong with you? You’re supposed to be helping her, but you’ve gone completely catatonic,” I say, and my words do nothing more than draw his eyes to mine. They’re still wide, and they’re still scared. I kneel down and touch his knee. The feel of him sends a jolt up my arm, and his eyes fall immediately to my touch, softening as his mouth relaxes, the hard line sloping on the ends toward his chin. His hand lands on top of mine, trapping me.

“I’m not sure I can do this.” His body shivers and his words come out choppy, almost as if he’s breaking a fever.

“Will, that woman is going to fall apart without you. You
have
to get over whatever the hell…” I stop midsentence, words from a minute before finally sinking in:
how much he hated to fly.

“Oh God…” I say, sliding my hand out from under his, my chin coming up just as his is falling. I reach up, not even thinking, and my hands cup his face. He freezes. His eyes close and the weight of his head rests into my right palm. I run my fingers along his jaw on the left side.