In Ruins (19 page)

But as I take in her obvious distress, the way her jade eyes fill with renewed tears as they dart desperately between mine, I realize that now isn't the time. She's too busy processing everything I've just confided, and I press a soft kiss to her temple and decide to change the subject.

“Tuck—” Carl's voice is fragile and hesitant.

But my phone buzzes before she can get out the rest of her words, and I think we both welcome the distraction as I reach over Carl's shoulder to grab it from the nightstand.

I don't want to think about the goddamn past anymore, anyway.

Present Day

The sound of a whimper jolts me awake. I hadn't meant to fall asleep at all, and my gut rolls frantically, though it takes me a moment to recall exactly
why
. Then my heavy arm registers the warm, tight stomach it's resting upon, and my eyes fly open.

Carl squirms, and I push up onto my elbow to face her. Her eyes widen in a regretful startle. Was she trying to make an escape?

“Trying to sneak out?” I accuse. I know I should reel it in, but I'm already pissed. What was she going to do? Just disappear so I could wake up and worry my damn head off?

Carl's mouth opens silently and her cheeks flame in a rare blush.

“What the fuck?”

Her shoulders sag. “I…” She trails off and I raise my eyebrows expectantly. She sighs. “I'm
mortified
, Tucker.”

Oh
. I blow out a slow exhale, telling myself to relax. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Carl,” I murmur as I sit up, effectively releasing her.

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, okay.” Her tone drips with bitter sarcasm. “It's not remotely embarrassing to become a pathetic college freshman cliché, and to have to be rescued by my ex who fucking hates me.”

I balk at hearing her say I hate her again—absurd, really, since it was me who worked so hard to put the idea in her head. “We went over this last night,” I remind her, and I wonder how much she actually remembers. The way she watches me makes me suspect she does remember, only she's not sure if it's an actual memory or not.

When it becomes clear she's not going to ask, I decide to ease her worries. After last night, I just feel like she needs a goddamn break. “I don't hate you, okay?”

“You don't?” she asks softly.

I shake my head. “Look, Carl. I was angry. Still am angry most days, to be honest. But we were friends for a long time before we ever started dating, and I don't know…maybe we can be friends again at some point,” I offer.

Dating
. It sounds like such a foreign word. Completely inadequate for what we were doing.

For nearly a full minute, Carl doesn't so much as breathe. “How?” she asks.

“I don't know, Carl. Obviously we can't go back to how we were, you know,
before
. I'm not even saying I forgive you. But our best friends are all either best friends or together. And I do obviously still care about you. Beyond that, I honestly don't know. I don't know how I feel. But I do know it isn't hate, okay?”

I hope that's enough. It's all I have to offer.

She nods slowly, and from the look on her face, I'm not sure if I've put her at ease or hurt her even more somehow.

I let another minute pass before I speak again.

“How are you feeling?”

“Hungover,” she admits. “But not like a normal hangover. I mean, I'm okay. I just feel kind of, like, slow. And a little lightheaded, actually.”

“Yeah, that's pretty normal for what you took. I think you'll feel more like yourself in a few hours.”

“Great,” she grumbles, eyes trained on the bedspread. “And what did I take, exactly?”

I sigh. “Painkillers. Percocet.”

Carl nods slowly, like she should have known.

I realize I'm still in just a T-shirt and my underwear, and I grab her jeans from the chair and toss them to her, and hastily pull on a pair of my own.

I order myself not to watch as she dresses, but mostly I fail. Carl is still wearing her shirt from last night, and as soon as she's got her jeans on, I reclaim my place beside her on the bed.

“I'm really sorry about last night, Tuck. You know that, right? It's so humiliating.”

“Why?” I ask her. Ben's the one who should be sorry, and I have every intention of seeing that he is.

Carl blinks at me, as if the answer should be obvious. “Because. I shouldn't have put myself in that position. And you certainly shouldn't have had to come to my rescue, of all people.”

Of all people?

“I'm so stupid. Ben got my guard down.
Ugh!
So
stupid
!” She drops her head into her hands and rubs her face in frustration.

But I can't dwell on the
of all people
comment anymore, because my brain is pouncing on the idea that Ben got her guard down.

Because
how
? Did she fucking
like
him?
Does
she fucking like him? And why, if my intentions are to be nothing more than a friend at best, does the thought make my stomach roll with unease?

“How did he get your guard down, exactly?” I try to keep my voice as monotone as possible.

Carl shrugs. “You know, with the whole
friends
thing. I told him I…” She looks me over as if she's only just realized it's me she's talking to, and she's wondering if she should continue.

I raise my eyebrows expectantly.

Carl sighs. “I told him I'd just gotten out of a relationship and I wasn't really ready to date or anything, and he acted like he was totally fine with it. That we could just be friends. And he really did seem cool with it, you know? He joked about me setting him up with my freshmen girlfriends, and we've hung out several times and he's never tried anything or made me feel even remotely uncomfortable.”

I resist rolling my eyes. For all Carl's intelligence and competence, she doesn't get that there just isn't a straight man alive who wouldn't want more than a friendship with her, no matter how
cool with it
he acted.

“So when he handed you those pills…”

“I didn't even think twice about it,” she admits. “I thought they were aspirin.” She shakes her head in self-reproach. “So stupid,” she adds under her breath.

I scoot closer and take her chin between my thumb and forefinger, pointing her gaze to mine. “He told you they were aspirin?” I ask carefully.

Her brows pinch together in thought. “I'm not sure I remember.”

“Think, Carl,” I order. “This is important.” If he actually told her they were aspirin, then there's no question his actions were intentional. In which case golden boy Ben Aronin is going to spend his Thanksgiving holiday in jail, with enough injuries to put him out of commission for the year, let alone the lacrosse season.

“I don't think he did,” she murmurs. “I think I just assumed—”

“Maybe it will help if you start from the beginning. He said you had a headache,” I prompt.

Carl nods. “We were at dinner, and we were drinking, and dancing, and…we did tequila shots.” She throws me a tentative glance.

“I thought I was fine, but then my head started hurting. Devin wanted to come back here to be with Max, but I wanted to go to the dorm. Ben said he'd give me an aspirin—”

I nearly jump off the bed, ready to commit murder, but she corrects herself.

“No. Actually, no. He said he'd give me something for my headache,” she amends.

I stare at her meaningfully. “Are you sure?”

Her eyes hold complete sincerity. “Yeah.” She nods. “I'm pretty sure. I mean, I was drunk, but so was he. We got here and he just got the pills and handed them to me. I don't think he ever said the word
aspirin
.”

“Did you ask?”

Carl chews her bottom lip as she slowly shakes her head.

I nod thoughtfully. But I don't know how to figure out whether Ben is simply a fucking thoughtless idiot or something more sinister.

“What else do you remember?” I ask her.

She shakes her head. “Not a whole lot. Honestly? At first I felt really good. Which makes sense, being as I was apparently
high
,” she says derisively. “How did you know?”

“Know?”

“That I needed help.”

I sigh. “I was just checking who was still here,” I lie. “And when I saw how fucked up you were, and realized Ben was trying to get you to his room…” I trail off.

In truth, I ran into Devin and Max on my way to the bathroom some time earlier and knew Max was meant to be Carl's ride home. I went to check on Carl and found her in the living room, talking and smiling with Ben, and spent the next hour or so staring at my ceiling, mercilessly awake. I listened for the sound of a cab outside my window since Ben was in no shape to drive her home, and though I doubted Ben had even a remote shot at getting Carl to his bedroom, I left my door cracked just in case, knowing they'd have to pass it to get there.

At around two in the morning I heard voices outside the kitchen and came out to check on them. I wasn't even suspicious at first. It wasn't like there was screaming or anything particularly alarming. Just muffled whispers in the dark, and it sounded like they were just trying not to wake anyone. I launched myself out of bed at the thought of them hooking up, and while there wasn't time to form a conscious plan, I suppose I hoped my interruption would be enough to make Carl second-guess going through with whatever she was considering doing with Ben. But I'd flung on the lights and my heart froze at the sight before me.

I avert my gaze. I don't want Carl to see how affected I still am by the memory of her eyes, distant and dazed—when they actually managed to open—and lined in fear. I can't bear to think of her so helpless.

I make my way over to my window and check for Ben's car. His usual parking spot is empty. Smart move on his part.

I stretch my arms over my head and turn back to face her, sighing. “We should get moving,” I tell her. Cap's family will be expecting us in a couple hours.

Carl peeks sheepishly up at me from her place on my bed. I try not to think about how it feels to have her there. Not to let myself picture an alternate reality—one that not so long ago I believed would be my future, where she'd wake up in my bed every damned morning.

“Do you think you could give me a ride back to Stuyvesant?” she asks hesitantly.

I glare at her. I thought that was implied.

“I mean, I don't want to impose after—”

“You're not,” I cut her off. “I'm just surprised you thought you had to ask,” I admit.

That earns me a small smile.

“Let me just grab a shower and throw my things together. You can shower here if you want. I'm pretty sure everyone's gone by now anyway. Or I can wait for you back at your dorm.”

Carl blinks at me. “Wait for me?”

“I'm driving you to Cap's,” I clarify.

Her mouth gapes slightly before she catches it. “Tuck—”

“Don't start, Carl.” I'm really in no mood for one of her arguments.

“But—”

“You already admitted you feel slow and lightheaded. I'm not letting you drive to Port Woodmere. Period.” I try to unclench my jaw, but what the fuck? Does she want to get away from me that fucking badly?

“I'm supposed to pick up Billy at a quarter to three.”

“Then we'll pick up Billy.”

Carl nods tentatively, and I breathe a silent sigh of relief.

Two hours later, Carl is fast asleep in the passenger seat as I drive us to her house to pick up Billy, and she doesn't stir as the three of us make our way over to Cap's for Thanksgiving like everything is perfectly normal.

Somehow I get the feeling that today is going to be one of those days where everything changes, and I think to myself that I've had far too many of those in my life.

But after that one day just over five months ago, I guess there isn't much that can shock me anymore.

It was a gray, wet day when my phone rang far too early, Cap sounding all hesitant and somber. I remember thinking something must have happened with Rory, or Bits, and my heart raced in dread as I demanded he tell me what was going on.

“My dad called this morning,” he said.

I don't know how, but I knew then it was about Carl's father. I'd recently had the idea to have Cap ask his dad—who is a high-powered attorney—to use his resources to find out what he could about William Stanger. I hated the look that Carl got every time he came up, and when he didn't show up to graduation, I'd begun to suspect something more than work was keeping him away. I'd been looking around for him when it hit me that I wouldn't even recognize him if I did see him. And I've known Carl most of my life. I'd tried to get her to talk about it, but I could tell it hurt her to even mention him, so for some reason it made sense to me to find out on my own. For some reason that didn't seem like sneaking around behind her back…

But the moment I thought I was going to learn what was really up with him, I felt suddenly uneasy. Still, I couldn't imagine what Cap's dad could possibly have learned that would have Cap sounding like someone died.

Now I can't count how many times I've wished I could go back to that moment before that call—before I knew anything at all—ignorance being bliss and all that.

“Tell me,” I demanded.

“Let's meet up,” Cap countered. His insistence made my stomach drop—not only because he wanted to discuss it in person, but because he didn't seem to want to tell me anything until then.

I lost my cool. “Just fucking tell me, Cap!”

“He's in prison, man.”

Still, I didn't know then what it meant. Had no idea what kind of bastard had fathered the girl I loved. No idea what she'd been so careful to lie about from the very beginning.

“Prison?”

“I'm on my way over.”