FIFTEEN
I leave my friends behind. They call after me, my name coming from their lips between pants of hot breath and whines of concern. I push them away, place myself in the moment, with the cold wind whipping against my face and the mountain around me, cradling me in its woodsy grip.
Training will help. Moving my body, embracing the ache, the searing throttle of tight muscle, of burning lungs will exorcise the anger, relieve the blister of hurt. Here, up on this mountainside, I am free. There is no drug better than the endorphin rush pounding in my brain, vanquishing my thoughts, clearing my mind. The brittle leaf I was is now vibrant green; a waxy texture that stands in the storm screaming, slapping back, shouting “come at me, you bastard.”
Two days, and the surprise has not dulled. Declan’s rejection, his angry sneer is imprinted on my brain. I have replayed his words over and over. I trace back through my memory and recall his expressions, the slightest hint of regret, of concern. I can find none. But in that moment when Tucker’s fingers brushed against mine, when he stood too close, an intentional exploit meant to provoke Declan’s anger, I saw a glint of something, a beating pulse that expressed Declan’s envy. Recollection shows me that wild flicker that crossed those green eyes, screaming to me “you are mine.”
But to hell with Declan if he thinks there will be pining. I am not a simpering girl. Tucker’s Autumn is dead and with each step I took away from the pitch that day, I stomped her deeper and deeper beneath the earth. A moment of weakness. I had been paranoid, and quickly learned that feeling wasn’t misplaced. Now I choose to embrace my instinct. I am empowered by that innate voice that tells me to fight instead of take flight, to win, to erase Declan’s laughable excuses from my thoughts. And while the theory is easier than the practice, I am managing. The blame for this situation is at Tucker’s feet. I know this. I understand this and have every intention of unraveling the puzzle my ex has so cleverly crafted.
He knows Declan’s secret, but I know Tucker’s.
The falls spray water against my feet and though the air temperature is chilly, hovering somewhere around fifty, I like the feel of the frosty waters dotting against my ankles. My feet swing over the cliff and I slant back, enjoying the hot beat of the sun on my face, the quiet symphony of the falls cracking against the boulders below.
For a moment I catch the serenity I am always seeking; the sweet bliss from the trees around me, swaying, moving and the high pitched call of birds swooping among the branches. I am calmer now than I have been in two days and do not release my tranquility as I hear the heavy grunts and running steps of my friends coming up the trail.
Layla falls next to me, her chest heaving. “I hate running. I hate it so much.”
“You’re getting better at it,” I say, looking down at her to brush the sweaty hair off her face. She smiles, then gives me a thumbs up.
Sayo enters next, winded as well, and is followed by Mollie who instantly lands on Layla’s lap. “Dying. Freakin’ dying.”
Sayo struggles less and I exchange a smile with her as our friends utter complaints of exhaustion. My best friend sits next to me. “How’s your leg?”
I have to think about her question, surprising myself when I notice that it hasn’t cramped once on way up the mountain. Smiling, I sit up a bit straighter. “It’s good. No pain at all.”
“Excellent.”
“You know,” Layla starts, her arm covering her eyes as she lays in the sun, “I thought this would be easier without General Guinness barking orders at us.” She lowers her arm, glancing at me as though she expects my anger to surface. “I think you’re worse than him, Autumn.”
There is movement on the other side of the falls and my head snaps toward it. I only relax when two small rabbits hop beneath the Oaks. “We have to be ready. Only a month to go.”
Declan’s text came late Wednesday night, surprising me. It was a simple question, When would you lot like to train on Friday? I stared at my phone for a solid hour before I called Sayo and asked her to tell him his services were no longer needed. I don’t know how long they spoke or what they discussed, I didn’t want to know. Sayo tried delving details about what Declan said to me on the pitch, but I couldn’t find the words, wouldn’t let myself talk about it for fear that my newly repaired wall would begin to crumble again.
“I don’t know if I can make it, Autumn, seriously. I’m not cut out for cardiovascular crap.” Layla’s breath steadies but she hasn’t moved from her spot on the ground.
“If you’d stop eating donuts with that cop on campus every morning, maybe you’d improve,” Mollie says, ratting out her best friend.
They begin to bicker and I resign myself to the realization that my fought-for calm has left me. I stand, begin to walk away from them before Sayo calls me back.
“They’re just bitchy after the run. They’re always like this. Why don’t you give them a few minutes and we’ll go back down together?”
“I have stuff to do.”
Sayo nods, but her eyes are narrowed and I don’t know if it’s concern or curiosity that has her staring me down. “What stuff? It’s Friday night. Why don’t we catch a movie?”
Behind her, Layla and Mollie’s argument intensifies. Sayo turns as the two girls’ shouts grow so loud that several birds fly out of the tree limbs, scatter leaves onto the ground.
“Such a nosey bitch, Mollie, why don’t you mind your own damn business?” Layla marches past us with Mollie following. Neither one of them pay us any mind.
“A fucking cop, Layla? Seriously? With my family history? You should know better.”
As our friends disappear down the trail, I relax my shoulders and Sayo notices the gesture. “They love drama.” We hear another colorful expletive from Layla and both Sayo and I laugh. “How did we end up being friends with them?”
“Mollie had the best fake I.D. Layla had free tickets to the matches, remember?”
Sayo and I don’t run back down the trail. The day is light, beautiful with leaves falling all around us, small creatures skittering across the trail around each bend.
“So what are you doing tonight? I really wanted popcorn and Goobers.”
I don’t want to tell her. Even if my plans with Tucker serve only for me to dig into what he knows about Declan, she’ll still find my being around him unsettling. But Sayo is nosey, inquisitive, and if I don’t tell her, she’ll make a surprise visit just before I leave tonight. That wouldn’t be good, especially if she sees Tucker picking me up.
I stop walking in the middle of the trail, my feet pass over a heavy root that fractures up from the ground. “Tucker is taking me out.”
My best friend’s eyes are perfectly still, cool even, as though she hadn’t heard me. Either that or she believes she misinterprets what I say. “Do what now?”
“Don’t get pissy, it isn’t what you think.”
“How do you know what I’m thinking? But, excuse me? Are you crazy?” Sayo is short and petite, but when she’s angered, when she’s utterly miffed she can be a scary, imposing figure. My eyes drop to her hands, to the tight curl of her fists and I know I have to soothe her temper before it gets out of hand.
“You’re thinking that since Declan dumped me, I’m going to go running back to Tucker because I’m just that pathetic.”
“That is certainly not what I’m thinking, Autumn.”
I wouldn’t be surprised if the thought had crossed her mind. Since Tucker left me a year ago, Sayo has monitored my actions, the things I do because she thinks I am incapable of making a good decision. Having a relationship with Tucker was proof enough of that for her.
“I think Tucker is blackmailing Declan to keep him away from me.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Just a feeling I get. Seeing them yesterday, and the way Declan backed down when Tucker challenged him, it just didn’t sit right with me. I know Tucker. I know the games he likes to play and he’s up to something. I intend to find out what.”
She stammers, her voice broken and choppy as she follows at my side down the trail. “But you have no proof. Why put yourself in that situation if you’re not sure?”
“The point of going out with him is to get proof.”
When I continue on the trail, paying no attention to her and her gasped, annoyed mutterings, Sayo jerks me back, pulling my arm until she has my full attention. “You can’t do this. Not alone, you can’t. Tucker will try—”
“I don’t want Tucker. I don’t.”
“But you’ll be with him.”
“So I can find out the truth. So I know what he’s got on Declan.”
“You’re setting yourself up.” Sayo’s hands shake when I move away from her. Her eyes have taken on an anxious, eager presence as though she’s about to break down into uncontrollable sobs. I don’t like this. I expected her agitation, but not this fear. “He’s going to lure you right back into his life like he’s always done. You know he will. He will guilt you and flatter you and remind you of all the good times you had together. He won’t mention how many times he made you cry, how often the police were called during one of your epic shouting matches, how many missed dates he couldn’t explain. He won’t remind you of any of that and before you know it, you’re with him and Declan will be someone you met once. That’s Tucker Morrison, that’s what he does.”
Does she think I’m an idiot? My stomach twists at her accusation, at the idea that I am incapable of remembering Tucker for who he truly is. “You think I don’t know that? You think I’m so weak, so pathetic that I’ll let him convince me to forget all the shit he’s done to me? You think he has so much power over me that I will forget that he almost broke me?”
Sayo’s eyes slam shut and her nostrils flare as she takes in a deep breath. “I don’t think you’re weak. I think you’re vulnerable right now.” She tries to touch me again, reaching for my arm, but I step back, unwilling to release the seething anger in my chest. I don’t want her consoling me, not when she clearly thinks I’m pathetic. “I’m just worried about you.”
“Don’t be. You obviously have no faith in me, Sayo. You still think I’m that pitiful little idiot that believed every lie Tucker told me.”
“I don’t think that, Autumn.”
“Then trust me to use him to get the information I need. Trust me to walk away from him and not feel anything. Because I don’t. I don’t love him. I don’t want him.”
She grunts, kicks a large root on the ground. When she speaks, her voice has deepened and there is a slight curl to her top lip. “He’s so manipulative. So cunning.”
“I’m aware.”
Sayo looks at me as though I’m missing an element in her meaning, some small piece of vital information that will explain her attitude and disquiet. “He still wants you and you know he will try everything he can to convince you to take him back. It’s what he does. It’s what he always does.”
When my best friend’s lower lids shake and her eyes glance up over the trees, to the peaks of the mountain above us, a small glint catches in the sun. Her dark eyes brim with moisture and in this moment I know she’s holding on to something. I’ve always suspected that her hatred of Tucker went deeper than his treatment of me, but I never believed it was personal for her. This isn’t worry for me. This is fear. This is heartbreak.
“What did he do to you?” I say, stepping in front of her.
“Nothing. It’s nothing.” Sayo takes a moment, breathes in and out. Her tiny fingers rub over her face, across her forehead. “I just remember how you were with him. I’m scared you’ll be that person again.”
No, she’s not. Sayo’s been my best friend since high school. We read each other, pick up on tells, on inflections and elevated tones. That shrill nuance is back and I know she’s lying.
When she curls her arms against her small chest and darts away from me, I grab her, spin her around with my hands on her shoulders. “What did he do?”
There is a brief trace of hesitancy that deepens the lines on her face, that deepens her frown. She inhales, lifts her chin and then she is composed enough to speak. “It was a long time ago, before you two dated.” When she pauses, I stare, expectant. “It was when I thought I wanted to pledge Tri Sig, freshman year. You were in England the second half of the year, remember? It was right after my grandmother’s death and I went with Mollie and some of her musician friends to a party at Kappa Alpha. Tucker was there. We were drunk. We went back to his place and we…we made out. A lot. And when I wouldn’t agree to a threesome with him and his friend, he kicked me out of the room, in my underwear. Called me a tease. I was mortified. I doubt he even remembers.”
My hands fall away from her arms and I step back, stunned that she’d never mentioned this to me. “You never told me. Sayo, that was five years ago. Why the hell didn’t you tell me when I started dating him?”
“I don’t know.” She palms the back of her neck, her eyes downcast. “I thought maybe he’d changed. He was so sweet to you, treated you so well at first and you seemed so happy.” Another breath, this one long and labored and then her gaze returns to me. “Then you got serious and I thought it was too late. Autumn, I’m sorry. Maybe if I’d mentioned it then you wouldn’t be going through all of this.”
Sayo knows everything about me. I’ve never held anything back from her. She’s always known my fears, my secrets, the truth of what my life has been, how it has shaped me. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t say to her, no confidence I’d keep from her and I thought she always felt the same. This revelation hurts worse than Declan’s rejection. It’s nothing to Tucker’s abandonment. Those I can forget, will eventually push aside. But my best friend knew what a shit Tucker was and she never told me. She never mentioned it once in four years.
I can’t face her. My eyes refuse to glance more than once at her. She is crying, fearful, but there are new bricks on my wall, fresh mortar that seals my sympathy.
“I’ve got to go.” I am taller than her, my legs longer, my stride faster and she cannot keep up with me as I hurry down the trail.
“You’re still going out with him?” I hear her say.
“Yes. I have to. I have to find out what he knows.”
Then she is running, catches up to me with a few quick jogs. “But Autumn, if Tucker wants you back, he’s not going to care what you say. He’s going to—”
For the first time ever, I slap Sayo’s hand away from me, angry, overcome with betrayal. By her rounded eyes and open mouth, I know she is shocked, maybe a bit scared of my reaction. “I know what he’ll try Sayo, but don’t worry. I’ll be sure to tell you everything that happens. It’s what friends do, right? Tell each other things. Or at least, that’s what they’re supposed to do.”
She doesn’t follow me as I run past her. I can hear her crying, the low sobs that leave her mouth as I move faster and faster away from her. Logic cripples me, makes regret instantly curl tight like a fist in my chest, but I cannot stop, will not. I leave her behind. My best friend, all alone on the mountain trail.
I saw a flyer for the circus on the bulletin board outside of the student union. Tucker picked me up there and when he saw my eyes on that image of the Big Top, the small clip art of clowns, he laughed at me. But, we did avoid the circus.
Tucker didn’t bother asking if I wanted to go. Flaccid balloons or no, I don’t want to be there. He says he knew this. He’s done that quite a bit tonight: a flash of a smile at some mentioned memory, the subtle wink when a familiar song comes on the radio. It’s as if he believes we’ve picked up our relationship where we left off; as though nothing has changed. As though I am remotely the same girl.
Yet he does begin to notice some difference in me as we walk down the courtyard. There are students everywhere. Sigma Chi is having their fall fundraiser and the party extends into the campus. Boys run shirtless, drunk, along the lake. Sloppy co-eds rest on each other as they stumble toward the coffee shop. And Tucker Morrison doesn’t blink at any of them. He believes he has me, or at least, he believes the old me has returned. But when he gets annoyed at a passing freshman who vomits inches from his feet and I do nothing but step back, Tucker’s face wrinkles; confusion, disbelief. What did he expect me to do? His Autumn would have cursed at the sick boy. His Autumn would have said something ridiculous like “Oh, baby, are your shoes dirty? Let’s go home so you can change.” Even the thought of her has my lip curling.
But me? I’m not Tucker’s Autumn and now, with my arms folded and my feet stepping away from the freshman and the wide, amused smile on my face, yes, I believe he’s finally noticing a difference.
“Maybe I should go home and change,” he says, kicking his left foot as though it is covered in sick.
I tilt my head down. “You’re fine. He didn’t get you.” Then I walk away from him, toward the coffee shop.
He trails behind me and I don’t push his hand away when he places it on my back. I haven’t encouraged his attentions tonight and I won’t. But I have to dangle some sort of compliance in front of him. He has answers I want.
When I notice him staring behind us, his attention still on the drunk freshman, I sigh, give my head a shake. “Let it go, Tucker. You were him once.”
His shoulders straighten and his hand moves off of my back. “I never threw up in the middle of campus.”
“No, but you did get sick at the after-match party sophomore year. I thought you were dying.” My eyes slip to his face and I smile at his flinch.
“I felt like I was dying.” He stands in front of me and I wrench back, surprised at his proximity. “You took care of me that night.” He touches the silver cross around my neck, lets his thumb rub over it. It’s something he always did. “You kept a cold rag on my face all night and made sure I slept on my stomach.” I shake my head. “Come on, Autumn, you were good to me.” He releases the pendant and holds my hand. His eyes are so blue, so bright and I can’t help but smile at the memory. But it’s more his action that invokes my humor. He’s doing it again, dredging up the past, painting the memories as though they are the only ones held captive in my mind. I want to agree with him, tell him I remember how good I was for him. I also want to remind him that he was selfish, that my life revolved around his plans, his happiness and the contentment he found in my passivity.
Sayo was right.
“I was,” I say, agreeing with his assessment. “I was good to you, Tucker.” He smiles and my eyes immediately go to the small chip on his tooth. “But you weren’t good to me.” The grin leaves his face. I can tell he wants to speak. He wants to disagree, but it seems the memories he’s recalling now, silent, in his own head, aren’t all rose-colored and saccharine, either. “Let’s get a coffee, okay?”
I don’t wait for him to follow me into the shop. And then, I stop short when I see Declan at a table in the corner, Donovan sitting to his left. His laptop is open and he wears earbuds. There are books and papers scattered around them both, their faces are buried in the work, their attention drawn away from the entrance. When I walk in, I hear the muffled scream of his music behind me. I approach the counter, try to avoid his stare but then I accidently graze a chair with my hip when I pass it and I know he sees me. I can feel his eyes heat up the back of my neck, sear into my skin, but I refuse to return his gaze, to see the anger I’m sure transforms his features. The sensation grows thicker when Tucker stands next to me at the counter.
“I’ll have a caramel mocha frappuccino, grande, and she wants a tall latte with extra whip.”
“Actually, I’ll take venti green tea with honey.” Again, Tucker’s surprise colors his face, faint red blushes that tell me he doesn’t know me anymore. At his stare, I smile. “I’m training, remember?” He jerks his chin, but his stare lingers, as though he’s sizing me up, trying to separate my current preferences from those of the girl he knew. We wait for the girl behind the counter to perform her service ballet and Tucker’s attention goes behind me, to Declan, and his smile goes ridiculous, taunting and I can’t help but throw a glare at him. “If you antagonize him, I walk out.”
“I wasn’t going to,” he says, but there is no sincerity in his words, no real honesty.
The smell of coffee and cocoa fills my nose. A small hint of pumpkin and seasonal scents mingle with the loud whir of the cappuccino machine to blur my senses. It makes my mouth water, but when I hear the flick of a laptop shutting, then smell the familiar aroma of the rugby pitch and cedar, the sensations intensifies. Declan comes within inches of me, so close that if I reach out, our hands would touch.
I don’t shake. I remain perfectly still, but my heartbeat rises, becomes a thundering jumble of beats and palpitations that leave me dizzy. Tucker’s hand in mine, pulling me toward him, doesn’t register, not immediately, not until I hear the door open as Declan leaves. Tucker watches each step Declan takes, as though he anticipates a confrontation, as though his fingers itch for it. But then our drinks are ready and I hurry to grab mine and lead Tucker to a table on the opposite side of the shop. From my seat, I see Donovan’s narrowed eyes, the small twist of his vision shifting from Tucker to me. Then, he shakes his head, returns his focus back on his notes.
This has not been an exciting date. It has not been remotely enjoyable. If there was an adjective I could use to describe these brief hours with Tucker, it would likely be “boring” or “vanilla.” It is formulaic, predicable. There was no thought in the movie we watched. A thriller he’s wanted to see for weeks. There was no originality in the meal we ate, Indian because he had a craving for curry, or the walk we took through campus. Tucker seems to believe that the familiar would rekindle something I gave up a year ago. I tolerate this, him, because I want answers, because I know he hides a secret that isn’t his.
Tucker’s eyes remain on the door, on Declan, who stands outside looking in. I don’t watch him to see what he’s doing, but I know he stares. My skin is still burning, fevered from his scrutiny of me.
“Dick,” Tucker says, finally picking up his drink. He throws his elbows on the table and slurps his drink through the straw.
“What’s your problem with him anyway?” I drink my tea watching his expression. “I mean, I know why Declan hates you, but why does he piss you off so much?”
“He’s got an attitude.” He moves his head, gives his fingers a wave as though that should explain everything. “I tried to help the guy out, but he acted like he didn’t want to take my advice.”
“Maybe he didn’t need your help, Tucker. He’s been playing since he was a kid.”
Tucker moves back in his chair, arms crossed and cup resting in his hand. His eyes narrow as he watches me, scrutinizing, contemplating. “Know a lot about him, do you?”
“Not really, but we have spent time together.”
“I heard.”
“What did you hear, exactly?” When he doesn’t answer me, when his breath comes out tense, I close my eyes, let my tea swirl in my mouth. “You know, men always complain about gossiping women and girls who like drama, but I swear I have never seen bitchier, more emotional people in my life than those running around on that pitch. You’re like hormonal fourteen year old kids in mens’ bodies.”
“I’m not listening to gossip, Autumn. I just know. I can see it.” Another swig from his drink and he places it on the table, leaving condensation on the black tabletop. “The tension was so thick in here a minute ago when he left, I could taste it in the air.”
“That might be because you two were glaring at each other.”
“He’s just pissed at me because I’m here with you. Besides, he’s the one that broke up with you, right?”
“And how do you know that?”
“Word gets around.”
“More gossip on the pitch?”
“I didn’t say I don’t hear it. I just said I don’t partake.” He rests his arms fully on the table, gathers his fingers together. “He threatened me this afternoon.”
“What?”
“Yeah.” Tucker is glib as though he didn’t want to mention Declan at all. “It was kind of pathetic, actually, for him, I mean. He tried to get out of volunteering at the library. Why do you think that is?”
“Maybe he doesn’t like grunt work.”
“Maybe. I flat out refused. He wasn’t happy and then he tells me, and I quote ‘if you’re a fecking pig to Autumn, I’ll end you.’”
This peaks my suspicion. If Declan really didn’t care about me, it wouldn’t matter to him how Tucker treated me. “What did you say?”
“Oh, nothing. Told him he needed to worry about getting off his suspension and not what you and I do on our date.” Tucker reaches for my hand, but at the same moment, I grab my cup, stare down at the fragments in the bottom. “You’re so different.”
I slowly glance at him, at the small bend of his mouth. “I told you I was.” I finish my tea, set down the cup.
“I thought you were still pissed at me for leaving. I thought maybe that whole speech about you changing was something you said to stop me from asking you out.”
“And now?”
He adjusts himself in his seat as though he needs to be comfortable for what he says next. “You don’t like the same things. You’re not as affectionate. Not to me anyway. And you don’t look at me when I talk.” When I only stare, deadpan, expressionless, he exhales and a small grunt leaves his mouth. “It’s weird. I thought, well, initially, when I came back, I thought things would warm up, that you’d get over it all and we could start things back up. Now though,” Tucker’s head moves, a slow movement that barely shakes, “now I see that you’ve changed. You’re sad.”
I laugh at him and the sound only makes his frown lengthen. “I wonder why that is, Tucker. Could it be that I almost died? Or that I watched my mother bleed to death for hours alone in that car?” I raise my hand, stopping him, when he starts to interrupt me. “Could it be that I was too banged up to go to her funeral? Or that after eight years of being gone, my father decides to return to my life and hasn’t bothered once to tell me what he’s been up to?” To distract myself from the weight of his horrified expression, I push the teacup around the saucer. It makes a screech with each turn. “My mother is dead and I was sure I was going to join her. I wanted to join her so badly. And if it hadn’t been for my friends,” I blink once, trying to keep my guilt over Sayo at bay, “I probably would have. So yes, Tucker, I’ve changed and I’m not a fount of joy and glee now.” I surprise him by taking his hand. “You were everything to me once. What you said, what you thought, what we did together, at one time, was so important to me.” I drop his hand. “I’m not the same, Tucker because shit happens and you either adjust or you get left behind wallowing in the past. I can’t do that. I won’t do that.”
Our hands are inches from each other, resting on the black surface next to the large ring of moisture left behind by Tucker’s drink. He stretches his fingers, curls them into mine and I notice how long they are, how his cuticles are cut neat, his nails free of ridges. “I’m sorry, Autumn.” His voice is low, sincere. “I’m so sorry.” He grips my hand, tightens his fingers in my palm.
This wasn’t my plan. I thought I’d flirt, give him a little bit of encouragement and he’d tell me what I wanted to know about Declan. But now he ventures away from the topic. He wants to repair the damage his leaving left. He is sorry, I can see that. Regret colors his cheeks, darkens his eyes and I find myself remembering when he was my friend, when we laughed and talked and the friendship was genuine. Still, I’m not naïve anymore. Tucker deals in agenda, doles out motives like a gambler flips cards in a casino. And after what Sayo told me today, even the idea of being Tucker’s friend and only his friend isn’t tempting.
Still, I want to know what Declan’s hiding. I need it to make sense. I need there to be a purpose behind his rejection. I plaster a smile on my face, hoping it is sincere, hoping that Tucker believes the warmth I force into it. “Okay,” I say, shaking my shoulders to erase the tension there. “This is getting way too serious, right?” He smiles, gives my hand another squeeze. “I don’t want to date you, I think you know that, but I could be your friend.”
“I’d like that. I’d really like that a lot.”
“Good,” I say, stepping back from the table. “Then be a good friend and walk me home. You never know, I might be willing to give you a hug.” He joins me near the door and I nudge his shoulder. “Besides, I have to figure out what you’re planning.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, sweetie, there is no way in hell I’m losing our bet.” I reach for his collar, flipping up the end that has fallen beneath his jacket. “I intend on cheating as much as possible and even if I have to use my feminine wiles to get it out of you, I’ll unlock your secrets, Tucker.”
His laugh is loud, open and I offer him a chaste kiss on his cheek, hoping he doesn’t think too much about what I’m really threatening.