Page 97 of Lovefool

For an eventide that is objectively quiet, the world has never sounded so loud before. I pause for the first time since I made my great escape, waiting underneath the sky’s mulberry maw to see if it swallows me whole.

It doesn’t.

It takes a few more deep breaths for the panic to trickle away, and when it does, a visceral wail breaks every linguistical restraint as I finally embrace agony like an old friend. The last time I felt this way was when I was holding Audie in my arms.

“What happened?” she asks.

Tears continue to cut down my cheeks, and when I glance up—looking for some sort of quick-fix from a higher power—the irony of the streetlight’s halo isn’t lost on me. I never realized how sad the sky looks when it isn’t filled with a minefield of incandescent stars.

“I caught one of Sutton’s teammates in the middle of an illegal sports gambling situation. I told Sutton that I’m going to publish it in the school’s newspaper, even though it could disqualify them from the Frozen Four,” I say, a Russian nesting doll of memories unraveling in my head, each one more gut-wrenchingly horrible than its predecessor. The look of betrayal on Sutton’s face, the way he raised his voice at me for the first time, the invasive shame that suffused my stomach at a speed I couldn’t intercept, much less comprehend.

“Is it true?” she asks.

My mother is a pretty levelheaded person (except when I push her overboard). She’s strategic when she approaches problems because she’s had to be, given the frequency of their house visits. I used to think her rationality in emotionally strung situations was cold and cruel, but looking back at it now, all she wanted to do was protect me. From the world, from myself.

I paw at the stickiness on my face. “I saw him exchanging money with this shady dude, who turned out to be a sports bookie. I’d already made up my mind about publishing the article without even taking into consideration how it would affect Sutton and the team.”

“It sounds like you’re taking it into consideration now.”

“If I don’t publish this story, it will go against everything I stand for. Plus, I’d blow my chances for the editor in chief position next year.”

“I know how hard you’ve worked on the school newspaper, sweetheart. I can’t imagine how difficult this decision must be for you.”

“I unknowingly made a choice back there, and I didn’t choose Sutton. I didn’t protect him. You’re supposed to protect the people you love. I failed.”

And then my mother says something that she’s tried to ingrain into me ever since my sister died—not successfully, but not for a lack of trying. That all-knowing tone of hers is stripped away for a bare second, and a part of me knows what’s about to come out of her mouth before she can piece the words together. Her voice sputters like the sick cough of an engine in the height of winter.

“What happened to Audie wasn’t your fault,” she whispers, and the little patch of ground beneath my feet finally gives out. I slide my back down the base of the streetlamp, plopping onto my butt and pulling my knees into my chest.

I can barely see out of the foggy cling film over my vision. I’ve spent my whole life trying to outrun the hounds of self-deprecation that stalk my every movement, even though I knew they’d inevitably catch me. And maybe I’m especially sensitive right now, but I didn’t realize how badly I needed to hear those words again.

“I’ve watched you blame yourself ever since that night, Lake. And if I had the power to switch positions with you, I would’ve carried the weight of your burdens in a heartbeat. You did everything you could, sweetheart. You were so young, and you were terrified. I should’ve been the one to hold things together, not you. I’m so sorry.”

My voice lumbers over a congested inhale. “It’s not your fault either, Mom. Nobody could’ve known something like that would’ve happened. It was an accident.”

“Exactly. It was an accident, and I hate the fact that you punish yourself for something that was out of your control. Now this guilt is seeping into your current life—a guilt that I should’ve worked harder to mitigate. You think you don’t deserve to be happy because of what happened in the past, but you’re the one who deserves it the most. The fiasco with Max’s suspension made me realize how absent I’ve been from both of your lives.

“I’m sorry for not being there when you needed me. I’m sorry for placing all the responsibility on your shoulders. I never thanked you for taking him to practice and never missing a game and listening to him when I was too caught up in my own grief. That’s not the kind of parent either of you deserve.”

“All I’ve ever wanted is to be a good influence for Max.” I sniffle, wiping my eyes on the arm of my hoodie.

“And you have been. You taught him to stand up for what he believes in. You taught him to speak out because his voice matters. He’s the person he is today is because of you, and I’m so proud of you both,” she tells me, plying me with the love that I’d thought I’d lost, unknowingly offering me the approval I’ve spent so long chasing after.

“Sutton is my family. How do I choose between him and my dreams?” I ask.

“Love is about compromise, but true love would never require you to change who you are.”

When she puts it like that, the answer seems pretty clear.

There’s a lightness to my mother’s tone that I haven’t heard in ages—one that means more to me than she could ever imagine. “I know what resentment can do to a person. I saw it firsthand with your father. He walked out of our lives because guilt ate him alive after Audie’s death, and I don’t want you to make the same decision. It might not seem like it, but Sutton needs you right now. Don’t throw everything away because of one single argument. Talk to him. Fight for what you believe in, just like you always have.”

Sutton Whittaker has lodged himself under my ribs. He’s made a home for himself in my skin, and he never once turned away because of my scars. He’s shown me forgiveness when I thought I didn’t deserve it. He’s shown me compassion when I tried to push him away.

But most importantly, he never ran. He never ran because he knew how lost I’d be without him.

“I love him so much, Mom. I can’t lose him,” I sob, feeling like a heartless hull lying on an operating table under a surgeon’s hand, having forgone the anesthesia so I can feel every prod and poke of this bloodstained body I call my own.

“If he truly loves you, you won’t.”