Suffer Love (24 page)

“Hadley.” He cups my face between his hands. “Don't. We're not doing this right now. We're not doing this at all.”

That stops me. Stops the frantic pace of my heart, stops my hands from roaming. Stops everything. “Why not?”

He exhales and dips his forehead against mine. “Because this isn't right.”

I push him back, now needing space between us. “What isn't right, Sam?”

“Us. Like this.”

“Like
what?
What are you talking about?”

He smooths a hand over my hair. The gentle movement should calm me, but his expression, his tone, his vague words send a pang of foreboding into my chest. Not foreboding—
certainty
that I've been an idiot.

“Oh.” I jerk away from him, untying my legs from around his hips, and sit up. “Oh my God. Okay. I get it.”

He sits up and catches my wrist. “Shit. No, no. No, you don't get it. Can we just talk? Please, I need to tell you some things, but it's . . . it's really hard for me.”

I swing my feet off the bed, my eyes already peeling through the dark room for my shirt. I find it and throw it over my head. It's on backwards, the tag scratching at my throat, but I don't even care. Embarrassment crawls over my skin and I yank my hand back when Sam tries to take it.

“Hadley, please. Please stay.”

“Why?”

“Because . . . because I
need
you to stay.”

I press a hand to my mouth and heave a few breaths. His expression is so earnest, so . . . I don't even know. That same sadness from before but with something new mixed in. With a jolt, I realize it's fear.

“Okay. Fine. Just let me . . . I need a minute.”

His shoulders relax. “All right. Thank you.”

Without another look at him, I make my way downstairs to the kitchen. It's dark except for the light over the stove, the golden glow reminding me of winter nights and cups of chamomile tea. I find a glass and fill it with water, gulping it down in three swallows. I fill the cup again and drink more slowly this time, trying to still my pounding heart.
Calm down.
You can handle this. He's just a guy. He's just a guy.

Tears threaten to crawl up my throat. The aching in my chest is almost unbearable as I try to hold them back, swallow them down with another gulp of water. I'm just about to set them loose when the overhead light flicks on. The glass slips from my hand, shattering at my feet in a dozen sharp, wet pieces.

“Oh!” A female voice cuts through my shock. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.”

I whip around and see Sam's mom digging in a narrow closet by the door. She emerges with a broom.

“I thought—” She startles as our gazes collide. She drops the broom, and everything in her face darkens and narrows. “Hadley.”

“Hi.” I step over the broken glass. “I'm sorry about your glass. You surprised me.”

“Surprise.” Her eyes roam over my rumpled hair and backwards shirt, but it's not a friendly study. Cora Bennett is beautiful—an older, more chiseled version of Livy—but her expression is hard and cold. “Yes, I'd say this is a surprise.”

“Sam's upstairs. I was just getting a drink. I can clean this up.” I try to slide past her and take the broom, but she moves to the doorway, holding up a hand to stop me. I'm not sure why this woman seems to dislike me so much. I've barely spoken ten words to her, but the almost feral look in her blue eyes is evidence enough. Right now, I don't have the energy to care why. I just want to get back to Sam, let him dump me with as much dignity as I can manage, and go home.

But she has other plans. Her slender body is a wall in front of me.

“Hadley, listen very carefully.” Her voice is as smooth as velvet, but sharp around the edges. “I know this is hard to understand, but you and Sam? Trust me when I say it is not a good idea. I need you to leave my house and I need you to leave my son alone.”

Jesus, this is a disaster.

I listen as Hadley treads down the stairs, and flop back onto the bed. I think about my grandmother's fuzzy upper lip. SATs. A bag full of dirty jockstraps. Anything to get my pissed-off body to go back to normal after having Hadley wrapped around me for so long.

Christ.

I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes. The sight of her lying in my bed, tucked underneath me, looking so confused and earnest was exactly what I needed to push me over the edge of this whole ridiculous cliff I've been skirting for the past month.

I get up and pace around my room, flipping on my iPod in the process. It picks up midsong, the frantic rhythm matching my pulse.

I'm in full panic mode now. My palms are pouring water, my throat feels like I've been screaming obscenities at a Braves playoff game, and my mouth is watering because I seriously think I'm about to puke. I squeeze my fingers white on the sides of my dresser and try to get a damn grip. My mind runs circles around a thousand crappy ways to tell her, each one crappier than the previous crappy option.

Why did I think I could put this off until now? I should've known the longer I waited, the worse the outcome. Ajay told me. Hell, even Mom told me in her own hands-off way. Now I'm in too deep and I'm about to freaking drown.

The sound of glass breaking downstairs sends a cold stab through my veins. I grab my shirt and stuff it over my head as I fly down the steps. “Hadley, are you—”

Mom's form fills the doorway to the kitchen and her voice drifts back to me in one huge, nauseating wave. “. . . not a good idea. I need you to leave my house and I need you to leave my son alone.”

What the hell?

“Mom!”

She whirls around, her eyes almost glowing, she's so pissed. “Sam, what is going on? Did I not make myself clear on this issue?”

I push past her to get to Hadley, who's standing open-mouthed, her face flushed red, yanking at her fingers so hard I'm scared she's going to rip them off.

“I think I need to go,” she says.

“That would be wise.” Mom's eyes are on me like a snake viewing its next meal.

“No, Hadley. We need to talk.” I take her hand, but she pulls away.

Mom moves aside to let her pass, her arms folded in a bitchy knot over her chest. I follow Hadley upstairs to my room. She grabs her jacket and her bag with shaking hands, digging in the bottom for her keys.

“Hadley.”

“Don't. Just stop.” Her voice quivers, not with tears but with rage. “Why does she hate me so much? What did I do?”

“Nothing. It's not you. It's me. That sounds totally lame, but it's true. Her problem is with me. If you'd just sit down and let me talk, it'll make more sense.” I reach for her, but she steps back.

“No. I don't want to talk right now. I just want to go home.” She wipes at her eyes and is out the door before I can raise another protest.

Livy's door opens and she pads into the hall, eyes bleary from sleep. “What's going on?”

“Nothing,” I say as Hadley passes her without a glance. “Go back to bed.”

“Sam, did you tell—”

“Later, Livy.”

Livy frowns, but nods when I squeeze her shoulder. I tail Hadley down the stairs like a damn puppy. She's already out the front door, closing it in my face. I fling it open and run after her, heading her off before she can slip into her car.

“Hadley, come on. Wait. Talk to me.”

She whirls around. “God, enough with the talking, Sam! This is too much right now. I want to go home.” She presses her fingers into her eyes and takes a shaky breath. When she speaks again, it's a whisper, almost a plea, which makes me feel like shit all over again. “I'm so tired of talking, Sam. Can we please just say good night?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” She lets me hug her, lets me press a kiss to her forehead, but she's like a rag doll in my arms. I'm almost scared she'll fall when I let her go. But of course she won't, and when she pulls away and drives off, I'm the one who has to lock my knees to keep them from buckling.

I make it back to the kitchen in a daze. Mom sits on one of the barstools. A glass of red wine swirls in one hand and she pulls her phone from her ear, tossing it onto the counter with a muttered curse. Christ, she's pissed.

“Dammit, Sam.”

“Mom, you don't get it.”

“What is there to get?”

I drag both hands through my hair. “I care about her.”

She sips her wine, her expression stony. “Are you serious? I can't believe this.” She points a finger at me. “This has gone far enough!”

My hands ball into tight fists because she's right. She has no idea how
far enough
this has really gone. But this whole scene—
her,
sitting there like none of this has anything to do with her—just pisses me off. My temper rises red and hot, ready to burn the shit out of anything in its path.

“I will not have you jeopardize our life here,” Mom says. “My job is going well and Olivia's smiling for once.”

“Yeah, you know why? She has friends, Hadley being one of them. She has something she's interested in. She knows Hadley and likes her, and yeah, it's messed up, but I'm figuring it out.”

“You have no idea what you're doing. You're acting on whims, impulses, selfish desires, just like you always do, anyone else be damned. You think this is easy for me? If you hadn't—”

“If I hadn't
what?
”

Her eyes narrow, but she looks away. “You know what.”

I sense Livy behind me, her steps as soft as her touch when I feel her hand close around the back of my shirt.

“This is such bullshit,” I say. “You're the one who did this, Mom. You. You want someone to blame for your life, for your wrecked marriage, your disaster of a relationship with your daughter, look in the goddamn mirror.”

“Samuel.” Mom's eyes drop to Livy's arm around my waist, and she deflates. I recognize that softness in her features from when she used to sing at night and laugh while eating dinner. But it's not for me. It never is anymore. Her gaze passes right through me.

“Yeah. An angry kid lost it and stuck a bunch of papers all over a door,” I say. Livy's grip tightens and I put my hand over hers. “But that angry kid just had his world obliterated when he walked in on his mother screwing someone who wasn't his father.”

Mom's mouth drops open. Actual tears well up in her eyes. “I made mistakes. I understand that, and I do not need
my son
throwing them in my face. But you are the one lying now, Sam. You're leading that girl on, and she has no idea who you are or what you did.”

We stare at each other for what feels like forever. Shit, she's right. I'm lying like I do it for a living. I'm
pretending
I'm a different person living a different life, just like Mom did. Just like Hadley's dad did. Her accusations ping around in my head, but I push them back and grab ahold of this pissed-off feeling that's never far from my reach.

“I don't give a shit what you think you know about Hadley or about me or Livy or about this situation
you
put all of us in,” I say. “Fuck your blame and fuck your fabulous new plan for your fabulous new life.”

Livy grabs my hand as I turn to leave. Behind me, sobs start up as something long buried in my mother bubbles to the surface and breaks her open.

But I just don't care anymore.

I don't go straight home. I drive all the way into Nashville, through the streets of my old neighborhood, past my old school, my old house, my old life. When I finally get home, I sit in the car for a while. My hands white-knuckle the steering wheel as I stare down my dark street spotted with orange circles from the streetlights. It's cold and my breath sends little white ghosts wandering into the air.

My phone vibrates in my bag and I find a few missed calls from Dad and a text from Kat filling the entire screen.

Ajay left the pig and he made that cup! We're going out tomorrow. Can you believe it? The pig's a boy, btw. I named him Charlie. Mom's freaking, but so far, he's still here. How was your date?

I feel my lips bend into a little smile, but they quickly fall back into a straight line as I text her back.

Give Charlie a kiss for me. Date was fine.

Fine. It was more than fine, and then it was something out of a prime-time drama. I don't understand anything that happened tonight. All I know is that I feel like I've lost something and I have no idea where to start looking for it because I don't even know what it is.

Jinx greets me when I walk in the door, mewing and swishing around my legs almost frantically. As I pick her up, a hysterical laugh bubbles up my throat. Because I'm seventeen and I'm basically one of those people who live alone with their cat. She mews again, loudly, her little body a tense ball in my arms.

“What's wrong, girl?” I ask her, scratching under her chin.

“Hadley?” Dad calls from the living room. “Can you come in here please?” he adds when I don't answer.

“Dad, I'm really tired.”

“Hadley, please.”

Mom.

Her voice splits through me like a crack of thunder. Still clutching Jinx, I hurry into the room to find them sitting on separate couches. Their expressions are grim, but something childlike leaps in my chest. I can hardly breathe, and I realize it's because I'm excited, hopeful even. Things have been awful since the affair came out, but I've hated Mom being completely gone. Without her here to make things at least resemble our normal family environment, this house feels like the last rung on the ladder into hell.

Jinx wiggles and I set her down. “Mom?”

She manages a smile, but her eyes look weary. Getting up, she pulls me into her arms. Her fingers press into my back almost desperately. I should feel relieved, but it's been so long since she's really touched me, nerves tighten in my stomach.