DECEMBER 11TH.
It was easily my least favorite day of the year, and it was finally here. I’d managed to keep thoughts of Taylor at bay for the first few days of December. But the past week I was practically drowning in memories. Just like every year around this time. I always began acting weird in the days prior to the day—today. I knew it. I’d tried to curb it in the beginning. But there was no stopping it. I usually requested a day or two off and went somewhere quiet, somewhere I could be alone and think.
This year I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted to see Ellie. The only problem was I’d have to tell her what was wrong. She undoubtedly already knew something was up. I didn’t know if I’d have the courage to say the words aloud.
What would she think when she knew? She’d always seen me as a hero, and I’d have to shatter that illusion. As selfish as it was, I wasn’t ready for that. I may not have believed in the idea of heroes or even in myself, but I liked the knowledge that she felt that way about me.
My eyes moved to the white envelope sitting on my kitchen table. It had arrived this morning, and I knew what I’d find when I opened it.
Still.
This was the hardest note to accept. I was always tempted to crumple it up and throw it out. I didn’t deserve to feel loved today.
I was jolted out of my thoughts when I heard the doorbell ring. With a sigh, I walked to the door. Rebecca, Taylor’s mother, always stopped by on this day, and while I didn’t necessarily want to see her, she was relentless. I grabbed the knob and pulled it open, my standard lie of I’m fine on the tip of my tongue, when I saw Ellie’s anxious face.
“Hey.” She shifted back and forth on her feet. I looked over her shoulder and saw Damien’s car idling. I could just make out Andy in the backseat.
I didn’t respond. I was too shocked.
I hadn’t seen her in a little over a week—eight days and four hours to be exact—yet somehow she knew today was the day to stop by? More and more I was beginning to question fate and its role in my life.
“Is this a bad time?” she asked.
My gaze moved to her delicate throat as she nervously swallowed. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her hands twitching and her feet shuffling. Numbly I moved my head up and down. God, I couldn’t believe she was here. How did she know?
“Oh.” Her shoulders slumped as she wiped her palms along her skirt. When I looked up into her eyes, I was surprised by the amount of despair there. “I—I understand. I’ll just go…”
Frowning, I watched her back up and hitch her thumb over her shoulder toward the car.
She’s leaving?
It wasn’t until she was moving down the first step that I realized what I’d implied.
“Wait.” The word was almost hysterical, and if I wasn’t so desperate I might have been embarrassed by it. But she couldn’t leave. I’d barely been able to stop myself from going to her house; now that she was here, there was zero chance I was letting her go.
I stepped outside, my bare feet immediately chilling when they touched the cement. Ellie had turned around and was staring at me, confusion written all over her beautiful face.
“Are you okay?” She stepped forward and placed her hand on my arm.
“Not really,” I answered honestly. “Can you stay? Please?”
Nodding, she turned around to wave at Damien. He stayed for a second or two longer before pulling away from the curb.
Like they had a mind of their own, my hands reached out and immediately pulled her against my chest. I buried my face in her hair. My nose grazed the soft skin under her ear and my lips lightly kissed her pulse. My arms moved between her open jacket and her shirt, tightly winding around her waist. Ellie’s hands cradled my head and she slowly started running her fingers through my hair. Occasionally her nails lightly dragged over my scalp.
I wasn’t sure how long we stayed like that, but I wouldn’t be the first to pull away. Only when she whispered, “Grayson?” did I pull my head back and look down at her. Our arms were still securely in place.
“It’s kind of cold,” she said with a shy smile. And even though I hadn’t thought it possible, my lips rose for the first time that day. My fingers lightly traced her spine and I smiled wider as she shivered.
“I see.” Ellie blushed at my words. “C’mon.”
Her hands fell from my head, but I kept one of my arms inside her jacket, wrapped around her waist as I guided her through the doorway. Not even when I shut and locked the door did I remove it.
“Do you want something to drink?” I asked, squeezing her hip.
“Sure.” She seemed nervous when I finally pulled away. Or maybe it was simply my nerves projected onto her. That was a strong possibility.
Stopping at the mouth of the room, I looked back at her. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around and have been so out of it. It’s not you, it’s…” I trailed off. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“What way?” she asked.
She got me to smile for a second time. “I may be socially inept at times, but even I know that you never use the line ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’ Even if it’s true.”
Ellie smiled back right before I turned and left the room. I had just finished pouring her water when I heard another knock.
Shit.
How had I already forgotten about Rebecca?
I walked back in to see Ellie hovering by the fireplace, unsure if she should’ve answered it.
“I got it.” I didn’t want her opening the door when I didn’t know one hundred percent who was on the other side. Like most cops, I patrolled in a different city than where I lived, making day-to-day life safer, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t always aware. There were no windows by the door like Ellie’s house had, but I did have a peephole.
I froze at the sight of the woman on the other side. Pulling back, I gazed down at my feet. I knew she would stop by, but why right now? Before I’d had a chance to explain anything to Ellie.
“Grayson,” Ellie called out softly. “Aren’t you going to answer?”
I looked out the peephole again. She was still there. Anyone else might have given up, but if she knew I was home she would have no trouble waiting me out.
Nodding, I cleared my throat before stepping back and pulling the door open for the second time in ten minutes.
“If you’re adamant about pretending you aren’t home, you should consider parking your car in the garage.” There was no judgment or malice in her words. Rebecca always wore a look of understanding, but that didn’t mean she would ever stop trying to reach out to me.
Without another word, she stepped inside and embraced me. As I wrapped my arms around her, I snuck a glance at Ellie. She was frowning, her brows dipped into a deep V, and a million questions swam in her gorgeous hazel eyes. This hug didn’t feel like Ellie’s. It was nice, comforting, but nothing special.
“How are you doing? I know that’s a stupid question—” She stopped talking as she pulled away, finally catching sight of Ellie.
“Hi.” Rebecca smiled brightly at Ellie, who looked like a deer caught in headlights. Her eyes widened further as Rebecca crossed the floor and stopped right in front of her. “I’m Rebecca.”
Her hand awkwardly hung in the air until Ellie reluctantly shook it, her stare darting between us, trying to connect us. She could easily deduce Rebecca wasn’t my mother if she’d been looking at the pictures on the mantel.
“I’m Ellie.” The words were soft and unsure, and her eyes kept shifting to me.
“Is this your girlfriend?” Rebecca asked me. Ellie’s cheeks turned bright red. “Taylor would be so happy you—”
“Rebecca,” I bit out. She turned back at my tone and frowned. I subtly shook my head, but I don’t know why I bothered trying to make it discreet. Ellie was looking right at me. Hurt and confusion, and a little bit of accusation in her stare.
I walked to Rebecca and gently took hold of her elbow. “Can I call you later?” And before she could look at me in disbelief, I added, “I promise I’ll call.”
With a nod, she let me walk her toward the door. She turned around and, with a sad smile, said goodbye to Ellie. Ellie mumbled her own, her gaze now on the floor.
I paused by the open door, my back to Ellie.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep,” Rebecca began. “I know you don’t talk about Taylor lightly and I shouldn’t have assumed you’d tell some random girl.”
I sighed, warring between frustration and understanding. “She’s not some random girl. Ellie’s extremely important to me.”
“So why did she look like she had no clue who Taylor was?” Rebecca asked, hurt coloring her words.
“I haven’t told her yet.” I wouldn’t admit the truth, that I was afraid Ellie would look at me differently if she knew.
“She wouldn’t want this,” Rebecca murmured. “How do you think she would feel? Knowing she ended two lives?” Her words were like a punch to the gut. “Taylor would want you to be happy. Deep down you know what happened wasn’t your fault. You just have to let yourself believe it.”
She smiled and pushed some hair behind my ear. “Sweet boy. You should tell her. If she’s as special as you think, maybe she can help you.”
I took a deep breath before thanking her and pulling her into a hug. When she stepped back, she looked around me at Ellie.
“Bye, Ellie. I’ve never been introduced to one of Grayson’s friends before. It was so great to meet you. I hope we’ll see each other again soon.”
I slowly shut the door behind her and listened through the wood as she walked away. My eyes were squeezed shut as I tried to figure out what to tell Ellie.
“Do you want me to leave?” I looked back to see her arms over her chest. I hated how closed off and fearful she looked. The words had been soft and aimed at her shoes.
I stepped away from the door and walked toward her. When I was close enough I cupped her cheek with one hand. She tensed as I lifted her head up and our gazes connected. “That’s the last thing I want.” I’d expected the words to relieve her tension, but she still looked wary.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I could hear in her voice that she was already bracing for my rejection. “Tell me something that hurts?” she said even softer.
Nodding my head, I watched her eyes widen and her mouth drop open in shock. Ellie had, undoubtedly, been far more forthcoming with her pain than I’d been.
I turned around and moved toward my bedroom, stopping at the mouth of the hall, waiting for Ellie to join me. After a few seconds she did. I listened to her soft footsteps trailing mine.
Ellie paused in the doorway, unsure of her place. I hated that. I hated that there was a part of her that doubted me. I couldn’t blame her, but I didn’t have to like it.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I reached into my nightstand and pulled out a framed photo that was sitting on top of a leather notebook. Holding it up, I said, “I don’t even remember who took this. I think one of my sisters. It was one of those perfect days. Days you think about all the time.” I gazed at the goofy girl who was smiling wide and putting bunny ears behind my head. My smile was less pronounced, but you could still see the joy in my eyes.
The bed dipped as Ellie sat down next to me. I noticed she sat far enough away so we wouldn’t accidentally touch, but close enough that I could reach over and pull her closer.
“Who is she?”
I stroked the glass. “Her name’s Taylor. Rebecca is her mother. We were sixteen when this was taken. She had just gotten dumped by her boyfriend.” I laughed but there was nothing funny about it. “No, that’s not the right term. I don’t think there is one that doesn’t involve heavy profanity. The guy she gave her virginity to publicly rejected her.” We weren’t touching, but I saw Ellie solidify out of the corner of my eye.
“When I met her, I knew she was just like me. We connected from the beginning. I caught her being bullied in the hallway. She became my best friend. My only friend.” I took a deep breath before releasing the next words. “And she died. On this day eight years ago.”
“I’m so sorry,” I heard Ellie whisper. “I can’t even imagine…”
She waited, clearly knowing that there was more to it. I didn’t know how I’d say it though. I was surprised I was able to get those few words out.
It felt like the time had come to finally tell our deepest fears. Our worst memories.
Only when Ellie moved closer and covered her hand with mine, did I find the courage to tell her…
I took off down my driveway, the December wind stinging my skin. I was riding my bike one-handed, balancing a surprise for Taylor between my other arm and my hip. She’d been feeling down the past few months ever since that douche tricked her into sleeping with him. We’d only had one good day since then. But this was sure to lift her up.
Reaching her house, I wheeled my bike to the side and rested it against the shed. Her father was pulling into the driveway.
“Hi, Grayson.”
“Hello, sir.”
He grinned and shook his head, just like he did every time I called him “sir.” He unlocked the door and held it open for me. Taylor’s mother smiled at me from her place in front of the kitchen sink.
“She’s upstairs.”
With a nod, I bounded up the steps, skipping every other one. I came to an abrupt stop in front of her door and quickly knocked. I heard nothing on the other side, just the soft notes of one of her favorite songs.
“Taylor,” I said as I knocked again. Figuring she must have fallen asleep, I opened the door a crack. Sure enough, her eyes were closed as she rested. I walked in and quietly shut the door. After setting her gift on her dresser, I walked toward her.
“Hey,” I whispered, lightly nudging her shoulder.
She didn’t react.
My hands found her shoulders and I began to shake her. She hated being woken up that way and usually sat up instantly. My lips pulled down into a frown. I looked at her nightstand and froze. There was a pill bottle and a few letters sitting next to it. And somehow I just knew.
My stare quickly went back to her. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was relaxed. Looking down at her chest, I waited for the breath I already knew wasn’t coming.
“Taylor!” I finally screamed. “Taylor.” I shook her harder, the empty pill bottle taunting me from the corner of my eye. “Taylor.” My voice shook along with her body.
A second later her door flew open and her parents raced in. Taylor’s mom started crying as they put the pieces together.
“Call 911!” her dad yelled. Taylor’s mom grabbed a phone and started talking. I didn’t hear the words; I just focused on my best friend and her father’s attempts to save her.
She looked so peaceful. Death shouldn’t be allowed to look that way.
The rest happened in a blur.
Police and an ambulance came.
Time of death called.
A body bag.
Questions.
Tears.
Questions.
Tears.
God, so many fucking questions. So many tears.
“Did she say anything to you?” her mother finally asked me.
I shook my head. “A couple weeks ago she asked me what I thought dying would be like. It was a little strange, but you know Taylor… she asked weird and random questions all the time. And then this past week she seemed back to normal, she even gave me—”
Taylor had given me one of her favorite leather journals. It was empty, but she’d said she had plenty and wanted me to have it.
“I didn’t think…” I whispered, feeling sick to my stomach. Those were signs, weren’t they? I was her best friend. I should have known…
“You can’t think that way,” her dad interjected, making me realize I said all of that out loud. “She wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.”
“Aren’t you?” I snapped back, the pain welling into anger. His jaw hardened and his eyes became wet.
“Fuck,” I muttered, dropping my head into my hands. What was it about pain that made us want to toss it at someone else? Did we want them to understand what we were going through? To take it away? To share it? Or did we just want someone else to hurt the way we were?
“I’m sorry.” My hands grew wet under my tears. “I’m so sorry.”
I didn’t know whether I was apologizing for the words I’d said in anger. The fact their daughter was dead. Or that I was responsible.
I just knew I was sorry.
I just knew life would never be the same.
Later that day, as my parents talked to Taylor’s, their worried stares adding insult to injury, I escaped upstairs. Into her room.
My eyes drifted to her corkboard, littered with photos of us. One I recalled immediately. It was two falls ago. She’d made a bucket list of all these things she wanted to do that season. We crossed off half of them that day. Taylor said it was perfect. The picture was taken at a fair outside of town.
I let myself look at everything, feel everything.
I picked up one of her homework assignments off her desk. It was for her literature class. I looked at the digital camera/video duo next to the paper and wondered if she’d completed what the teacher had asked. It looked like she had to take one of the themes from a recently read book and comment on it. She’d scribbled “what makes a hero” at the top.
Opening the side panel so I could see the screen, I pressed play.
Her bright smile lit up the screen.
“Hi there.” She waved. ”Family is important. They’re the foundation of a person, but people seriously underestimate the power of a best friend. It’s such a great feeling to know this person picked you over everyone else. That they like you even though you have a ton of flaws. That they’re not required to love you like your family does, but they do anyway. I’m lucky enough to have both.”
Her eyes dimmed, some of the sadness I’d missed in the past few months coming through.
“I think these people are the real heroes. They aren’t the teacher who stops you from being picked on, or the cop that saves your life, but they’re there for you in the aftermath. Physically saving someone is easy, well most of the time.” Taylor smiled and shook her head.
“But all the demons that come after, the ones no one can see but your loved ones, those are harder to fight. Heroes mean lots of things to lots of different people, but I don’t know… to me I think a hero is someone who loves you and refuses to stop. Even when you make it difficult.”
She stood up and moved around the camera, presumably to shut it off, when she quickly skipped back over, bending down until her head was in the frame again.
“Oh, and I know this isn’t part of the assignment, but my hero is my best friend. Grayson Mable.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, tears immediately leaking out the sides. Taylor’s wide, trusting smile was the last thing I saw before I heard the recording end. I’d never stopped loving her, but I failed her all the same. My love did nothing for her.
I tossed the camera on her bed and sank to the ground, my head flopping into my hands.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered to the empty room seconds before I started crying.
She was wrong.
I was no hero.
I sat very still as he finished his story. It looked as though one simple touch would break him.
“So you see, I’m not a hero, Ellie. I can help others. I can be methodical. I can keep my emotions out of it and think straight. But once everything else gets in, once feelings happen… I’m no good for anyone I”—he stopped and cleared his throat—“care about.”
He closed his eyes as I started smoothing his hair back, my other hand still holding his.
“I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t help her.” His voice cracked on the last word. My heart twisted when he turned my way, looking agonized, and whispered, “That guy she slept with… he did it for a bet. He recorded the two of them and shared it with the girls who picked on Taylor. They harassed her in the locker room. Making fun of how she looked. How she sounded. Telling her no one would ever want her. She never told me any of it. She walked out of gym every day, sat down at lunch with a smile. Like she hadn’t been humiliated.” He shook his head. “Ellie… I should have seen her pain. At the very least I should have listened those last few weeks.”
“Some people are good at hiding it,” I whispered. I thought about all Naomi had told me about her best friend, Alara. She suffered from clinical depression and I remembered her saying the lie of being “okay” was like a second set of skin, one she felt as comfortable in as her own.
“And you were just a kid yourself—how were you supposed to know?” My words had no effect on him, so I tried something else. “Maybe you did save her.” Now he stared at me in disbelief, and I could hardly breathe at the sight of his pain. There was so much raw emotion on his face, more than I’d ever seen. I squeezed his hand. “Just listen. What if, in another life, she hadn’t met you and she ended her life a year sooner? Or right after everything happened? Or even that day in the hall? Maybe you gave her a reason to hold on a little longer. A person can’t be saved forever.”
I could tell he was fighting to believe me.
“Sometimes I wonder if she thinks I failed her.”
“Did you ever read her letter? I’m assuming one of them was for you.”
He nodded. “Yeah. But no, I’ve never read mine. Not after that video.” Then I watched as he broke. Unapologetic tears streamed down his face.
I immediately tucked his head under my chin, against my shoulder. I felt moisture seep through my shirt and I held him as he cried.
We were lying on his bed. Both on our sides, facing one another without touching. His tears had dried but he didn’t attempt to hide his grief. We hadn’t said anything in over thirty minutes.
I had been unsure when I’d first come over. Things were still a little weird since he’d forgotten our date—that wasn’t actually a date—and I’d discovered Damien had asked Grayson to watch over me. I wasn’t angry, but residual tension lingered.
It didn’t help when he’d started pulling away. I’d been grateful when he’d answered the door earlier, but the relief I felt at finally seeing him disappeared when I really looked at him. He’d had bags under his eyes like he hadn’t slept well in the week since I’d seen him. And there was a general sadness around him, seeping from every pore and weighing him down.
My heart was broken from his story. But I couldn’t help but think a tiny fraction of it belonged to my pain. I shouldn’t have felt that way. I shouldn’t be jealous of someone who was bullied… tortured… who saw suicide as her only escape. I felt sick and selfish even thinking about it.
“What?” he asked, his voice raw from all the crying.
“It’s nothing.” I shook my head, looking anywhere but at him. There was no way I was telling him about my insecurities. I was ashamed I even had them.
“Tell me something that hurts,” he whispered, and my eyes snapped back to his.
I suddenly felt like an idiot. All the stories we told. All the pain we shared. This was his big one, his deepest hurt. And what was mine? He probably thought I was so stupid. So my parents ignored me, so my peers ignored me, so I was forgotten. He would have given anything for him and Taylor to be flies on the wall, to be left alone. And here I was, taking my invisibility for granted.
“There’s… I have nothing like that.”
He assessed me again. “This isn’t a contest. What was it you said? That broken things can be fixed and forgotten things don’t stand a chance. Your pain is no less important than mine. Please tell me.”
I looked away again, my hand drawing designs on his sheets. “One time I was low, maybe the lowest I’ve ever been. I was drunk, lying on a dirty bathroom floor, puking my guts out. It was only a couple months before I got pregnant. Damien found me that way. I don’t know how he knew where I was, but he grabbed my arm, pulled me up, and carried me out of there.” I paused, my eyes glazing over with the memory.
“Most of it’s foggy, like whenever I drank. But I remember those few minutes perfectly. I was leaning against his chest, one arm wrapped loosely around his neck, eyes drooping as I stared up at him. He looked… concerned. Scared. Like I was slipping away from him. I suppose I was. I mumbled, ‘save me,’ and he immediately changed. Determined. Focused. He picked up his pace and said, ‘always,’ before taking me home and making me better. He put me in AA after that. It didn’t stick, obviously. But I think that was the beginning of me realizing I needed help. It’s what made getting sober a bit easier when I found out about Andy.”
Grayson reached over and covered my hand, stopping its movement. I couldn’t look at him when I admitted this next part.
“I still don’t know what I wanted him to save me from.” He started brushing his thumb across my knuckles. “Save me from death, or from life.” Now I was crying. “It’s scary what loneliness can do to a person.”
“You’re not alone anymore, Ellie.” He shifted closer, his hand moving to my hip as he pulled me to him. I still couldn’t meet his eyes. The emotion in his words was almost my undoing. His breath was hitting my lips and I was surrounded by his scent. But I couldn’t relish in any of it. There was too much grief around us.
“Why do you have a hard time believing someone could want you? Could love you?” He sounded tortured by the idea.
“Because there are two people who are biologically programmed to love me, and they couldn’t,” I admitted, even though it killed me. Grayson had given me everything he had. It was only fair I do the same. Finally I glanced up at him. “Why would anyone else? And when you grow up with your mother telling you that no one will be honest with you because they don’t want to hurt your feelings, how do you trust anything anyone says?”
He looked at me like I was breaking his heart. And I couldn’t even focus on how hysterical and gross I probably looked because just as he had earlier, I was collapsing under the weight of my exposed pain.
“I want to look at myself and see someone lovable. I don’t though. All I think is that people pity me or simply tolerate me. Like Naomi—would she want to be in my life if it weren’t for Damien? Would Joy be my friend if she wasn’t supposed to be? Do you really want to be here? It’s all I think about. Because I had tried… I’d t-tried so h-hard to make people see me. But I think there are some p-people that, no m-matter how hard they try, they just can’t be seen. And I’m one of them.”
I couldn’t continue. Sobs wracked my body, stealing my breath and making conversation impossible. Grayson easily pulled me against him, our bodies completely flush, and let me cry into his chest.
“You’re not,” he whispered harshly, reaching my ears over my cries. “I see you, Ellie. I see you.”