I should’ve stayed at Mark’s place, but I had to get out of there. Instead, I spend the next several hours on a hard chair at the airport as I wait for my flight. I board and slide into a seat in first class, thankful for his final gift to me.
I debate texting Jill before we take off to ask if she can pick me up from the airport in a few hours, but I don’t want to bother her at four in the morning when my flight lands. I’ll catch a cab or get an Uber home. These are the things I allow to occupy my thoughts, because if I allow Mark in my head for even a second, I’ll break. Instead, I stare out the window and focus on the darkness the entire flight home.
The house is quiet when I step through the doors, but it’s exactly as I left it.
I’m different, though.
The last time I left here, I had a duffel bag—which is still at Mark’s house in Los Angeles—and my purse. I still have my purse, but now I have a new duffel filled with things someone else bought for me. Oh, and there’s the whole thing with my heart.
I left it on a rooftop in Chicago.
It’s weird walking around without that piece of me. I can still breathe, though, and where there’s breath, there’s hope.
At least that’s what I tell myself, because if I wallow in the misery that’s ready to crash into me at any second, I’m not sure how I’ll survive.
The house is empty. I assume Jill is at Becker’s. I take advantage of the peace. I don’t think about what just happened; instead, I shut off my thoughts, crawl into bed, close my eyes, and drift to sleep.
When I wake up a few hours later, I finally text Jill.
Me: I’m back home. Might head to Phoenix for a few days before school starts.
My phone rings a few minutes later, and I see my best friend’s name flash across the screen.
“Hey,” I answer.
“What are you doing home? Is Mark with you?”
“Nope.” I don’t say more. I can’t seem to speak around the sudden lump in my throat.
“I’m on my way to an event I have to cover, but then I’ll be home and we’ll talk, okay?” Her voice is comforting.
I clear my throat and take a sip of water to force that lump away. “Don’t worry about me.” I don’t want to interrupt her life with my bullshit issues.
“Where’s Mark?”
“Chicago.”
“Why?”
“It’s over.” Someday I’ll be able to say those words without feeling the pain slicing through me.
“Oh my God, Reese! Why? What happened?”
“Their grandfather died, Brian was using me the whole time, Mark beat the shit out of Brian, and then he chose his family over me. Over us.”
“Jesus Christ. Okay, this event can wait. I’m on my way home.”
“Stop it. You have work to do. I’ll be okay.”
She sighs. “Give me an hour. Two tops. I’ll be there.”
“Okay.” I’d fight her, but for one thing, it would be futile, and for another, I could use my best friend right now.
My phone notifies me of a text after we hang up. My heart races when I see the name on the screen. I quickly open it to read what he has to say.
Mark: You make it home ok? I sent a ride to the airport and he said he never found you.
Me: I’m home. Got an Uber.
And that’s it. We leave it at that, the last words we’ll ever exchange.
That thought is what finally pushes me over the delicate edge I’ve been balancing on since I left Chicago. I crawl into my bed and allow the grief to wash over me.
I realize I need to get out of bed, need to find something more productive to do with my time. I log onto my laptop and finally check the work email that’s been sitting untouched for nearly a month. I have a new one from my principal asking me when I can meet with him. I’m reminded of something Brian said up on that rooftop.
I had to do some handiwork with the principal of her school to make sure Reese would be the one who came begging for a donation.
Did Mr. Monroe know something about FDB Tech Corp? Was he in cahoots with Brian—or was this something Brian did all on his own?
Brian easily could’ve looked me up. He had half my belongings in his hands when I dumped my purse all over the floor that morning I got off the elevator and ran into him. He could’ve seen my name or my school keychain or my identification badge—anything, really.
After I clean up my email and write Mr. Monroe back that I’ll stop by his office sometime this week, I open last year’s syllabus and set to work on revising it. I’m in a foul mood and I’m sure it’s leaking through to my bitchy new class policies. I blare some music to distract myself.
Just as I finish the paragraph I’m typing, a Vail song comes on my playlist. I read over my paragraph and delete the whole thing. No late assignments will be accepted.
I pull up Lizzie’s contact info and shoot off the text I’ve been thinking about sending all morning to her.
Me: I hope everyone is doing okay this morning. I’m sorry I had to leave.
I can only imagine how much Diane will disapprove of me now. Ditching her ailing son a few days before his grandfather’s funeral? I’ll certainly make her black list now. I wonder if they’ll tell her why Brian has a broken face. I wonder if Mark will admit to it. I wonder if Paul will force his boys together in the same room to talk about their issues.
Not that it matters. I’m not planning to be in the lives of any Fox family member beyond these final words to Lizzie.
Lizzie: I understand. Wish you were here.
Me: Me too, but someone bought me a plane ticket out of Chicago.
Lizzie: He told me. I hope you and I can still be friends.
Me: I’d like that.
It’s a lie. I want out of the Fox family. Lizzie is too much a reminder of what happened, and I don’t think being friends with her is a good idea.
Lizzie: My bachelorette party is in Vegas next month. I can’t wait to see you there.
Me: Sounds fun.
It’s another lie. I don’t want to see her, don’t want the reminder of everything I just lost.
Jill comes home a little before lunchtime. She steps tentatively into the family room. “How’re you feeling?” she asks.
I’m sprawled on the couch with my laptop as I finalize my lesson plans for the first week. “Not great.”
“You want to talk about it?” She plops onto the loveseat perpendicular to the couch.
I lift a shoulder.
“What happened?”
“Mark and I were talking on the roof. He kept pushing me toward Brian. Lizzie says it’s because he’s so scared he’s going to screw it up and hurt me that he’d rather end it now than ruin it later.”
Jill rolls her eyes. “That’s stupid.”
I rehash the whole story again, ending with, “I went to the airport, got on the plane, and came home.”
“You’re an idiot.” She stands up and heads to the refrigerator.
“Excuse me?” My hand flies to my chest as I protect my heart in defense of her words.
“I called you an idiot,” she says from the kitchen. She returns a minute later with a banana and collapses back onto the loveseat.
“Why?”
“Because you left. You came home when he loves you. When he needs you.”
“He handed me a plane ticket home and told me love wasn’t enough.” I rub my forehead. “What was I supposed to do?”
“You’re supposed to stay and fight for him.” She takes a bite of her banana.
“And you’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am on your side, Reese. That’s why I’m telling it to you straight.” She takes another bite of her banana.
“We all just need a fresh start. I need to be away from them both so they can heal their relationship without me. Especially with the funeral. Mark’s life is enough of a circus. They don’t need me there as a distraction.”
She points her banana in my direction. “That sounds exactly like something Mark would say.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“You’re making excuses and letting him end things now instead of ruining it later. But he loves you, and you should always fight for love.”
Her words hit their mark. She’s not wrong, but I’m too stubborn and bruised right now to admit it.