The Day That Saved Us (20 page)

I WAKE UP
to a dog barking, which is weird because we don’t own a dog. My sleeping fog is drifting away as I feel a breeze rolling over my body, my body pressed up against another body. Brodee’s arm drapes across my stomach as his face nestles further into my neck. I lift my head to see the sun has just begun to rise above the horizon. A jogger with his dog acknowledges me with a head nod, passing by across the sand.

Instantly, my brain wakes up. “Brodee, wake up! We’ve been out all night! Get up now!”

He sits up quickly, then puts his palms into his eyes as if to keep from blacking out. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know. Morning. Five? Six?” I pull my cell phone from my back pocket. Fifteen missed calls from my mom and Tatum.
Crap
. “We have to get back to the house. Our parents are
freaking
out.”

We scramble to our feet. Brodee snatches the blanket, and we book it to the beach house. We don’t even have time to concoct a story before sneaking across the back deck and in through the back door.

“Peyton?” A voice comes from down the hall when the back door clicks shut. When I don’t answer, another voice calls out, “Brodee?”

Our parents round the corner, and relief washes over their faces as they rush to us standing guiltily in the kitchen.

“Morning,” Brodee and I timidly say at the same time.

“Where have you two been?” my mom demands, worry tainting her face. It pinches her forehead and tightens her mouth. “We were about to call the police!”

We hadn’t technically done anything wrong. I try to calm my mind. “We fell asleep on the beach,” I explain. “We were watching the stars and lost track of time.”

“We’re just grateful you’re okay,” Tatum says, relieved.

“That is unacceptable behavior,” Nick scolds, wagging his finger like we’re children again. “You’re old enough now that sleeping together is completely inappropriate. You two should know better. We’re not old enough to be grandparents. You need to be more responsible. You’re not children anymore.”

“Nothing happened—” I try.

“Oh, you’re one to talk,” Brodee retorts snidely. It’s so unusual for him to talk back; we all flinch.

Nick’s eyes are wide with disbelief. “What did you just say to me?”

“You heard me.” The venom in Brodee’s voice scares me. My eyes widen, taking in his stance. He stands a little taller, fiercer. I almost don’t recognize him. What happened to the boy on the beach?

“
Brodee
,” Tatum reprimands.

Nick takes a step, narrowing his eyes. “Watch your mouth, son. I won’t say it again.”

“Like you’re watching yours?” Something breaks inside of Brodee. I see it in his eyes like a dam rupturing, flooding with animosity. “Tell me. Does Mom know where it’s been?”

Nick goes white. What is happening? What am I missing? And that’s when I hear Brodee’s jaw crack as Nick backhands him.

“Nick!” Tatum screams and pulls him back. My mom grabs Nick’s other arm securely, holding him back.

I wrap my arm around Brodee’s waist to steady him. Brodee spits blood onto the wooden floor and holds his jaw. “Class act, Dad,” he breathlessly says. He’s not letting this go. “She doesn’t. Does she?” There’s no question is Brodee’s eyes. He already knows the answer. But none of us do.

What is going on?

“Nick, what is Brodee talking about?” Tatum tugs on his arm so he’ll face her.

My mom drops his other arm and steps away. Something in her eyes is off, registering the situation.
Does she know?
Are Tatum and I the only ones in the dark?

“Tate,” Nick begins, placing his hands on her shoulders, at the same time as my mom says, “How about we have this conversation in private?”

When Tatum looks at my mom, the questions are circling.
We?
Why would my mom be in on this conversation?

“Liv?” Tatum whispers, and everything falls into place. Like glass vases being knocked over one by one.
Smash. Smash. Smash.
Each second ticks by, exposing more and more of Tatum’s recognition.

“No, no, no, no…” she murmurs, shaking.

Guilt. That’s what I see in my mom’s eyes. I thought my world had already come crashing down, but betrayal is just as lethal as grief.
What has she done?

Tatum starts to cry. So does my mom. Nick’s trying to reason with them both, while I stand stalk still next to a shattered Brodee.

“How could you?!” Tatum cries.

“We can explain!”

“I trusted you! You’re my best friend!”

“Tate, please!”

Brodee finally drags me away when picture frames and treasured memories go flying across the living room, shattering against walls and wooden beams. Once we’re upstairs, Carter comes out of his room.

“What’s going on?”

“Go back inside your room, Carter,” Brodee orders.

“Why? What’s happening down there? Is Mom okay?”

“Carter, now,” Brodee barks, shutting him up. The yelling and crying carries up the stairwell, clear as day.

“Why! WHY! All of this time!”

“Tatum, please! It’s not what it looks like. Let us explain.”

“Explain? How! What is there to explain? I think it’s exactly what it looks like!”

Without another word, Carter shares an uneasy look with Brodee, then backs into his room and shuts his door. I inch away, drawn to the security of my bedroom. I can’t listen to them any longer. The animosity. The accusations. The anguish.

Brodee follows me and closes the door behind us. I walk straight to my bed and lie down on my stomach. I’m in shock. That’s the only way to explain my silence and tangled thought process. My brain is still trying to work through the scene. I curl into the fetal position, tucking my arms into my chest. My fists close in tightly. I know Brodee’s in the room with me, but he doesn’t lie down beside me.

I stare at the wall, at the canvas painting of a sand dollar on the shore with a receding wave. I’ve stared at it hundreds of times before. It’s never been anything more than a watercolor of the beach. All I see now is the wave washing the sand dollar up on the sand, abandoning it, leaving it to dry up and die alone as the wave returns back home.

Betrayal.

How can something so simple—one act, one decision—cause everything to shatter? Like our bonds were never strong to begin with. Made of paper, not steel. So easily torn apart.

I now understand why walls are built, cages are locked—so no one and nothing can penetrate the soul. Hearts remain unbreakable that way. If you have the right armor, are shielded from the pain, nothing has the power to hurt you.

“You knew?” I utter.

“Yeah.”

The emotions plastered on my sleeves want to crawl back inside to seek solace inside of my chest.
Sorry to break it to you.
It’s not any better inside.

I close my eyes, begging dreams to take me away. I want sleep, to wake up and for this to be one big misunderstanding. It has to be. My mom would never do this to Tate. To my dad. Nick is madly in love with Tate. He’d never do anything to destroy their marriage. They simply need to explain what happened, and everything will be okay. Everything will go back to normal. We’ll finish this summer, savor the last few days we have, and appreciate our time together. Yes. It’ll be okay.

AROUND TWELVE O’CLOCK
Brodee wakes me with the touch of his hand on my shoulder. “Pete,” he whispers. It’s a whisper that’s afraid to be heard. His eyes tell me he’s nervous to wake me. The beach house is silent. “I think they’re gone.”

He convinces me to follow him downstairs to get something to eat. I should be hungry. I’m not. It’s so quiet, either we’re going to stumble upon a murder scene or everyone did leave. Both options seem viable.

The wooden stairs creak with each slow step I take. When we reach the bottom it’s empty. There’s no blood, so that’s a positive sign. Even Brodee’s blood and spit mixture has been cleaned up.

“Are you hungry?”

“No,” I say, but it sounds so far away I’m not sure I actually said it.

“We need to eat, Pete. I’ll make us some sandwiches.”

While Brodee moves around the kitchen, I leave him and go outside to the back deck to lie in the sun. I’m not sure how much time passes before I hear the back door open and shut.

“Peyton.” I can count on one hand the amount of times Brodee has called me Peyton. He says it with a quiet caress that tingles my skin, but I don’t want to feel that tingle. I want to rub the tingle with sandpaper until it rubs me raw so he can no longer affect me. Until I bleed him out of my system. I lift my head from the reclining beach chair as Brodee sets my plate on the table next to me. “Can we talk?”

“I don’t really want to talk right now, Brodee.” I lay my head back down and close my eyes. And I certainly don’t want to eat.

“This feels like something that we should talk about.”

I hear the sliding of chair legs as he moves to be next to me. I keep my face blank and breathe.

“Will you please look at me? We need to talk about what happened this morning.”

“No, we really don’t.”

“I didn’t mean for it to come out then, but I couldn’t stand watching him get away with it, being so hypocritical, when he’s the one the finger should be pointed at.”

Abruptly, I sit up. “And you thought outing our parents like that in front of Tate was a good idea? Do you really think that’s how your mother deserved to find out? Why didn’t you tell me? How could you keep that from me?”

I watch the pain settle in his eyes, but can’t bring myself to feel guilty. Everything is ruined. All I can think now is that everything we were, everything we are, will become a memory.

“You betrayed me,” I say.

“I know. I know!” He roughly rubs his hands down his face. “It was stupid.
So
stupid. After I walked in on them, I should’ve gone straight to you, but I was still trying to process it. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to think. Your mom and my dad have been affectionate before. They’re best friends. Like you and me. That’s all I thought it was at first…until it wasn’t.”

No. NO. I shake my head and cringe. “Stop. I don’t want to picture it. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to be left alone. Please, Brodee.” I lie back down and drape my arm across my eyes, shielding me from the brightness, from him.

He takes a deep breath. I’m not sure if it’s out of aggravation or determination. “Have you ever wanted something so badly you were afraid of it? You didn’t want to believe it could be possible because it could be taken away or be just out of reach? Or wanted something, but the timing was off? You knew that it was the end game, not the starting line or even the right course.”

“Say what you mean. Stop talking in riddles,” I mumble.

“I want us to work so badly. I knew their affair would ruin everything. That it would tear us apart. That it would tear our families apart. So I kept it to myself. This morning I snapped. I wish I could take it back. I wish I never said anything. Then you and I wouldn’t be here.”