I walked into the kitchen and stopped dead.

What the hell was Nick doing at the party? He wasn’t actually friends with Marcus, was he? He’d quit the youth group job a year ago. These were my friends. My party. Nick wasn’t supposed to be here. It wasn’t fair.

I knew I was being ridiculous, but I couldn’t help it. Ever since the night Nick had come to my house, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. Which was nothing new, really, but it was especially annoying now. I’d thought telling Nick off would help me get over him. All it had really done was leave me feeling unsettled.

Nick had just seemed so broken. I couldn’t think of another word for it. And instead of making me feel better, what I’d said to him just made me feel cruel. But that wasn’t fair either, because Nick was the one who’d fucked up, so why the hell should I be the one feeling bad now?

And now here he was, staring at me like I’d come back from the dead and gulping down his wine. What right did he have to look upset? What right did he have to make my stomach go all twisty and my head get so confused?

I turned around and walked back out of the room.

It wasn’t fair.

“Just go talk to him,” Aisling said later, as we sat next to the Christmas tree in the sunroom.

This year it was decked out in pink lights, silver tinsel, and sunglasses. It was the kind of gaudy display I would usually adore, but tonight, it just annoyed me.

“I’m not talking to him,” I said stoutly. “I have nothing to say.”

“Really?”

Aisling arched an eyebrow and offered me the champagne bottle she was currently drinking out of, but I waved it away. My parents were dragging me off on a ski vacation to Vermont tomorrow morning with other doctors from my dad’s practice. I’d borrowed my mom’s van again, but this time I definitely needed to be sober enough to drive myself home.

“Really,” I repeated. “I’m over it.”

“And yet here we sit, away from the entire rest of the party—including the cookies and all those disgustingly delicious dollar-store popcorn tins, I might add—all because… you’re over it?”

“I thought we were sitting here because you’re drinking illegal champagne,” I said.

“If all I wanted was to be away from adult eyes, I’d be up in Cory’s room. Did you know she went to Prague this summer? Apparently she brought back this weird Christmas-tasting liqueur. But no—I’m not drinking liquid Christmas and catching up with old friends right now, because instead, I’m sitting here with you. Sulking.”

“I’m not sulking.”

“Eli. I love you dearly. And you know that. Which is why you know that I say this with love. You are sulking.”

I groaned. “I just don’t want to run into him, okay? I said everything I needed to and I…”

Aisling cocked her head to the side when she realized I wasn’t looking at her anymore. She followed my gaze over her shoulder and back out into the living room. Nick had just walked into the room, talking with Marcus’s cousin, Leigh.

Leigh said something—they were too far away for me to hear—and Nick laughed. I hated how good he looked when he laughed. What right did Nick have to still look that good, to even be able to laugh, when I was sitting here feeling so shitty? Didn’t he realize what he was doing to me?

Of course he didn’t. And the fact that talking to him, like Aisling suggested, was the only way I could reasonably expect Nick to know how I was feeling, only pissed me off more.

As I watched, Gwen joined Leigh and Nick with a bottle of champagne, just like the one Aisling had filched, and three glasses. She filled two up and passed them to Leigh and Nick. Leigh just held hers and looked down at Zeke, who was walking now, but Nick drained his immediately and held it out for a refill. Gwen said something that made Nick laugh again, but I leaned forward, frowning. Was that a nervous laugh? Did Nick maybe look tense?

I hoped so.

“Okay, so maybe you said everything you have to say,” Aisling said, flicking my knee to get my attention back. “So maybe, instead of talking, you listen to what he wants to say.”

“Fuck what he wants to say.”

I frowned as I watched Nick tip his head back and drink his second glass of champagne quickly. It wasn’t fair that he got to drink away his discomfort and I had to stay sober. None of this was fucking fair.

“Right, but you’re clearly not happy now,” Aisling said, taking another swig from her bottle as if to rub it in. “And you haven’t been for months. As far as I can see, nothing’s going to change if you don’t talk to him. At least if you did, you might learn something new.”

“New? Really?” I invested the words with as much scorn as I could manage. “No, if I listen to him, he’s just going to tell me he’s sorry for what he did. Try to explain something that makes it seem reasonable. But it’s not going to change anything. He doesn’t want to be with me, and that’s all that matters.”

“He came all the way to your house to see you. How do you know what he wanted to say, if you didn’t give him a chance to talk to you?”

“I just know.” I glared at the tiled floor. “Besides, even if he did want to get back together—which there’s no way he does—why should I even want him back? He’s an asshole.”

Aisling sighed. “I know it’s easier to think of him that way. I get it. But I don’t actually think he is. He seemed really upset when I told him you’d come home.”

“Wait, you were the one who told him I was home?” I blinked. “I thought he’d found out through church or something. Did you fucking tell him to come to my house?”

Aisling flushed and looked away. “No.”

“Aisling.”

“I didn’t tell him to go to your house. He might have told me he wanted to go see you—”

“Aisling!”

“—but I didn’t tell him he should. And Eli, he went to talk to you because he cares. I know things are messed up right now, and I know it’s confusing and hard and it hurts—”

“Do you?”

I glared at her, then back at Nick in the living room, as Marcus joined them and handed him another glass of wine. Nick was going to get plastered if he kept that up, and I fucking hated that I even noticed that. That I cared. I didn’t want to care about Nick anymore.

“Do you know?” I asked Aisling. “Because unless you’ve had someone rip your heart out and tell you it’s trash, tell you that they think your love is worthless, that they think you’re worthless—”

“That’s not what he said.”

“He said he didn’t love me.” I stood up abruptly and walked to the door to the deck. I paused with my hand on the handle, looking back over my shoulder. “He said he didn’t love me anymore, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s final. If he didn’t mean it, he shouldn’t have said it. I’m not going to give him a chance to ease his guilty conscience by apologizing to me for it now. It’s too fucking late.”

But I couldn’t stay outside for the whole party. For one thing, it was fucking cold, and for another, it was starting to snow. Which was just cruel, in my opinion, because it was so pretty, ghosting down through the trees, and honestly, how dare this night be so lovely when I was in such a foul mood?

I didn’t like what Nick’s presence was doing to me. I didn’t like that I couldn’t stop watching him all night, couldn’t stop noticing him get drunker and drunker, couldn’t stop the tiny worm of worry in my belly about whether or not he was okay.

I didn’t like that, try as I goddamn might, I still fucking cared about Nick. More than cared about. I loved him. And it wasn’t fucking fair.

Eventually, I went upstairs to join Cory and Julia, ignoring all of Aisling’s pointed looks. I ignored her looks when we went back down to get dinner, too. I ignored them again when Gwen pulled us all into conversation and asked if we’d had a chance to say hi to Nick, and I definitely ignored them when we started singing carols, and Leigh deposited Zeke into Nick’s lap, which brought Nick to peak Librarian Dad levels in a way that was truly infuriating.

Eventually I took refuge in the sunroom again. I could still see Nick in the living room—Zeke was sleeping on his lap, and they hadn’t moved since the singing had stopped. He had a bottle of wine on the floor next to him, and tinsel in his hair that Zeke had put there. But the longer he sat there, the more his head started to nod, and it wasn’t long before Nick had fallen asleep too.

Marcus was finally turning the music down, a sign that the party was ending. I sighed with relief. I’d officially stayed long enough that Aisling couldn’t yell at me for ditching out early. And as long as Nick stayed asleep, I could make it out without having to talk to him. I stood up, checking my pockets for my keys and phone, and made a break for it, slipping into the living room as quickly and quietly as I could.

“Eli, don’t tell me you’re sneaking out without saying goodbye,” Marcus called behind me.

I sighed and turned, making myself smile as Marcus walked over to me from the dining room. At least he didn’t seem to have woken Nick up.

“Not at all. Just didn’t want to wake sleeping beauty over there.” I gestured towards Nick, but refused to look at him. I didn’t need more images of him looking adorable and fatherly, thank you very much.

Marcus laughed, and pulled me into a hug. I suspected that might have been his way of checking for the smell of alcohol on my breath, and I couldn’t really blame him, not after last year.

“Well, it was good to see you,” Marcus said as he stepped back. “Gwen mentioned you’re back in New Jersey now. You’ll have to come have lunch with me in the city one of these days, okay?”

“Oh.” I flushed. I hadn’t realized Marcus knew I wasn’t in school anymore. Still, I appreciated the invitation, even if I had no intention of taking him up on it. “Yeah, definitely.”

“Eli, love, are you heading out?”

I looked up to see Gwen walking over to us, her cell phone in hand and a worried expression on her face.

“Yeah,” I said, puzzled. “Is everything okay? You need a ride?”

“No, no, hon, thanks for asking. Actually, though,” she gave me a hopeful smile. “I have a small favor to ask.”

“What’s up?”

“I hate to ask this of you, but Shay just called and she’s been in a bit of a car accident, coming home from another party in this snow. Everything’s fine—I mean, the car’s not, but Shay’s not hurt, and no one else is either. They’re taking everyone to the hospital though, just to make sure, and I need to go meet her.” Gwen winced. “I was supposed to drive Nick out to his dad’s place tonight. Is there any chance you could take him, since you’re going back to New Jersey anyway?”

My heart sank. I should have known. I should have fucking known, from the moment I walked into the party, that this was going to happen. I should have left as soon as I’d seen Nick.

But the look Gwen gave me was so apologetic, and Marcus was looking at me all proud and confident like he was sure I’d say yes, and I didn’t have the heart to say no.

“Yeah. Sure. It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine. And it wasn’t fair. But what the fuck else was new?

“You really don’t have to do this,” Nick said as we walked to the car. Well, I walked. Nick sort of stumbled.

“Just get in the car.”

I knew I was being rude, but I didn’t care. I was annoyed. There’d been no way to get out of driving him, not without explaining way more than I cared to. Though I’d caught a speculative look on Gwen’s face as Nick had shambled out the door with me, and I was beginning to wonder if she knew more than I’d thought.

I got in the van, slamming the door, and waited for Nick to make his way around to the other side. He took so long getting his seatbelt clipped that I wanted to ask him if he’d somehow misplaced his thumbs, along with his general sense of decency and not being a complete fucking asshole to his boyfriend.

Ex-boyfriend, that was.

I drove slowly, though. The last thing I wanted was an accident with Nick in the car. And I braced myself for him to start talking. To beg me to let him explain.

But Nick didn’t say anything. He just stared determinedly ahead, and somehow that made me even madder.

“Well?” I snapped as I pulled onto the county road at the end of Marcus’s street.

“What?” Nick asked.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” I demanded.

Nick looked at me blearily, like he was peering at me through warped glass.

“What do you want me to say?” His voice was tired, and was that a hint of bitterness I heard? What right did Nick have to sound bitter?

“I don’t want you to say anything,” I said, turning a corner. “I’m just surprised, given that you came over to my house just a few weeks ago desperate to talk to me, that you’re not trying to take advantage of this opportunity. You have a captive audience, after all.”

My lips twisted, and I waited for some kind of reaction from Nick. I didn’t get one. Not the one I was hoping for anyway.

“What’s the point,” Nick said. Now he sounded hopeless and that made me angier still. Nick looked back out the windshield and shook his head slowly. “You said you didn’t want to hear from me anyway. I can respect that.”

Now I was boiling.

Aisling had poked at me all night to go talk to Nick, promising me that he had something to say. That if I just gave him a chance, maybe he’d say something that would make me feel better. I knew that was impossible, but still, some part of me had been hoping she was right. And now Nick wouldn’t even try.

Well, fuck that noise. I wasn’t going to be the one who spoke first. It had to be Nick. It had to be. I hated that I wanted him to say something, too. Why couldn’t I just forget him, or at least be allowed to think he was an asshole in peace?

We drove in silence, and I stewed. I grew angrier with each mile. Angry at Nick, but angry at myself, too. For caring.

I drove onto the Tappan Zee, the bridge sweeping over the dark water, but I barely even noticed how pretty it was, the snowflakes drifting down and kissing the hood of the car. I was so angry I didn’t even hear Nick at first, when he spoke.

“What?” I asked, realizing that Nick had said something to me twice now and I’d missed it both times.

“I said stop,” Nick said loudly, looking upset. “Please. I think I’m going to be sick.”

“I can’t stop in the middle of the bridge.”

“Please,” Nick begged. “There’s no one here. I really think I’m gonna puke.”

He was right that no one else was around. It was late enough that we had the bridge to ourselves, but still, stopping in the middle of it seemed like asking for trouble.

“Can’t you make it to the other side?” I asked.

Nick didn’t even answer, just shook his head. His face began to take on a distinctly green shade, though. I sighed and signaled, switching over to the right lane. I flicked on my flashers, but before I’d even come to a full stop, Nick began rolling down the window.

“Jesus, I’m pulling over,” I said. “Just wait a second and I can—”

Abruptly, Nick turned and hung his head out the window. I could hear the sound of something wet splatter on what I hoped was the road, but suspected was probably the side of the van.

I’d barely put the car in park before Nick was opening the door and stumbling out to the ground.

“What the fuck,” I said—to myself at this point, because Nick was somewhere outside on the bridge, hidden by the car. I could hear the sounds of more retching. Grumbling to myself, I got out of the car and walked around, stopping short at what I saw.

Nick was kneeling on the asphalt, his palms red and wet where they were braced in the snow. There was a streak of vomit on the side of the van, just like I’d feared, and a pile of it in front of Nick on the snow-covered asphalt. From what I could see, the majority of it was regurgitated red wine.

Nick’s body heaved, wracked with waves of nausea, but nothing more seemed to be coming out, except a low, broken moan. I had to close my eyes and grab onto the side of the car to stop myself from moving.

Because in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to kneel down next to Nick and hold him.

He didn’t deserve that, I reminded myself. He’d hurt me.

But now he’s hurting. And you could help him. Does it matter that he hurt you first? If you still care?

Nick looked up, and my heart spasmed. He looked so helpless. So lost. I sucked in a breath and squelched that little voice in the back of my mind, telling myself to stay where I was.

“I’m sorry,” Nick said, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. He squinted at me through a wine-fueled haze, then turned to inspect the side of the van. “I didn’t mean to—God, your mom’s car. I’m sorry.”

Say something, the voice in my mind insisted.

“It’s okay.”

Because what else was there to say? Or maybe there was too much. The unspoken words filled the air like the snowflakes sifting down between us.

Nothing was okay. I wasn’t. Nick certainly wasn’t. But seeing him there, the knees of his jeans wet from the snow, his body shaking with sickness and cold, my anger began to evaporate.

I was hurting, yes. I felt empty, yes. But I loved him, too.

Say something then. Tell him how you feel. Tell him what you want.

“I think I’ll be fine now,” Nick said, standing up shakily. “We can go again.”

Snowflakes were collecting in his hair, giving him a kind of halo underneath the glow of the lights high above us on the bridge. I wanted to yell at him. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted him to say something more, to give me some kind of opening. Some way that I didn’t have to be the person who bent first.

Because I couldn’t go first. Not when I didn’t know what he would say. Not when I didn’t know if he still wanted us—wanted me. I couldn’t let him destroy me all over again. That was fair, wasn’t it? Shouldn’t he have to go first?

Say something.

I just nodded, and we got back in the car.

We drove, and the silence grew thicker by the mile. I had to ask Nick for directions, once we were on I-280, but other than that, he didn’t speak. By the time I got off the highway, I felt like I would scream if he didn’t say something. But he didn’t, and I couldn’t, and so we sat in silence.

“Thanks for the ride,” Nick said softly as we pulled up in front of his dad’s house.

“Yeah. Of course.”

Say something, you fucking idiot. What if this is your last chance?

“I’m really sorry about your car,” he continued. “I understand if you just want to get home, but if you’re willing to wait for a minute, I can go get some stuff to clean it off.”

“It’s okay.” I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it.”

What are you doing? Are you trying to get him to leave as soon as possible? Are you really going to let your fucking pride stand in the way of finding out what you want to know?

“Okay.” Nick put his hand on the car door. “I’ll, uh, get out of your hair, then.”

He opened the door.

“Nick, wait.”

Halfway out of the car, Nick turned around.

“What?”

Say something.

“I um—” I closed my eyes, trying to find the words, and looked at Nick helplessly when I opened them again. Dammit, why did my heart hurt so much? “I just—”

“It’s okay, Eli.” Nick bowed his head. “I’m sorry for—for everything, really.”

“But I—”

“I already wrote you everything I needed to tell you. I’m not going to make you listen to it again. I’m trying to get better at actually listening to what other people need, not just what I think they should need. I’m sorry I wasn’t better at that before.” He smiled, the briefest, most heartbreaking smile I’d ever seen. “Good night.”

And then he was gone.