Wes is sitting on the bench outside right where Spencer said he would be. The hospital is big enough that there are plenty of people still coming and going at this time of night, yet somehow Wes looks completely cut off from the world sitting just outside the reach of the main entrance lights.
He’s hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees, holding his head in his hands. Tucked off to the side of the main walkway as he is, there’s plenty of light to see by and yet just enough shadows to hide the evidence of his tears until I sit down next to him. It’s too dark to get a really clear look at his face, but I’m sure his eyes are red-rimmed and his nose is swollen and red from crying. He says nothing when I sit, makes no sign that he’s even aware of my presence.
“Wes…”
When I place my hand gently on his back, he sits up, swiping furiously at his wet cheeks, before he folds his arms tightly across his chest. “I’m fine,” he says gruffly, glaring at the ground.
I want to let it go. My instinct is to say nothing and let him deal with his grief however he wants. When I lost Spencer, all I ever wanted was for people to leave me alone, and I hated it when they didn’t. But Mrs. Delaney’s urgent pleas to be there for Wes, even if he tries not to let me, are echoing in my mind, and I can’t let the silence ride.
“You’re not fine.”
Startled by my contradiction, Wes turns his glare on me. I shake my head, ignoring his anger. “It’s okay to be not fine right now,” I say gently but firmly. “I’m not fine, and I didn’t even know her.”
After a moment of holding my gaze, Wes’s tough exterior cracks. He leans toward me and lays his head on my shoulder, crumbling both mentally and physically. The instant I wrap my arms around him, he falls completely apart, shattering from the inside out. His body convulses as loud, gut-wrenching sobs explode from deep within his chest. He buries his forehead in the crook of my neck and clings to my sides like a small child, trembling so hard my vision blurs from the vibration.
I hold him tight and let him ruin my shirt with his tears. I’ve never seen a man cry before, but I know this isn’t a typical breakdown. Wes isn’t simply dealing with the grief of losing a friend to cancer. This is a year’s worth of repressed pain and suffering. It’s all of his exhaustion, anger, and fear finally coming to a head. He’s crying for Spencer right now—possibly for the first time—and he’s crying for Rosie, and for his mother. He’s crying for himself. For the loneliness he’s endured this past year and for the bleak future ahead of him.
I can’t help but think of how the tables have turned. A year ago, this situation was reversed. The night of Spencer’s accident, it had been Wes holding me while I broke into a million pieces.
Spencer had left us both in front of Jake’s house and sped off in a drunken rage. He only made it to the end of the street that night, but that had been enough room to get his car up to fifty miles an hour, and that was more than enough force to throw him from the car when he plowed head-on into a huge oak tree while not wearing a seat belt.
Wes and I both saw the accident happen. Wes called 911 while we raced down the street, and we reached Spencer’s broken, bloody, unconscious body minutes before the ambulance. The paramedics had to drag me away from him in order to work on him. Wes had to hold me back. They worked for what felt like an eternity and then finally declared him dead right in front of me. I’d completely lost it.
Wes had been strong then. He’d been strong for me. He’d held me in his sturdy arms, staring at his best friend’s lifeless body with only a few tears falling down his cheeks.
Now, as I think back to that moment when Wes had been my only saving grace, I somehow find the courage to be strong for him even though my heart is breaking for him. I hold him tight and wait out his sobs with a calm and loving demeanor. I lean my cheek against his head and rub my hand soothingly up and down his back, not saying a word, just letting him get it all out.
I don’t know how long it takes for him to stop, but my body is stiff and in need of a good stretch by the time Wes regains control of himself. “I’m sorry,” he mutters as he pulls himself out of my embrace.
He turns away from me and wipes his face with the sleeve of his hoodie. His breathing is still irregular, and he has to sniffle a few times. He says nothing else as he continues to calm himself. He’s so humiliated he can’t even turn his body my direction, much less look at me.
He has no reason to be embarrassed, but I know there’s nothing I can do or say to convince him of that. Wes is not the type of guy to shed tears or show weakness of any kind. He’s not the kind of person to ask for help or to allow people to offer him sympathy. That’s how broken he is right now.
As we sit there in silence that is no doubt more awkward for him than me, I finally remember Spencer’s random, desperate request. Thankfully, Wes doesn’t see the smile that crosses my face as I realize I’m about to take him on a field trip to the zoo parking lot, because I have no idea how I would explain myself. But I know I’m going to do it. Even though I don’t know why, I know it’s important to both Spencer and Wes that we make the drive across town.
“Come on,” I say as I rise to my feet and stretch. “Let’s get out of here.”
Wes looks at my outstretched hand and then up at me with a question in his eyes that I don’t bother to answer. I pull him to his feet and drag him back to Charlotte’s car, never giving him the chance to argue. Not that he tries.
He says nothing as we climb into Charlotte’s car. Asks no questions when I pass up his neighborhood and keep driving. He leans his head back against the headrest in the passenger seat and stares dully ahead.
I’m content to sit in silence, but I do reach across the center console and hold out my hand to Wes. Pain washes across his face as he looks at my open, waiting palm. He hesitates, fighting some internal battle, and then laces our fingers together as if he can’t resist. He takes a deep breath and lets it out with a shutter as though my touch soothes him, but at the same time his jaw clenches and he turns his head away from me to stare out his window.
His actions hurt. It’s like he hates me and is accepting my comfort despite that fact because he needs the support and has no one else. I want to tear my hand away from him, but I don’t have the heart to do it. And if I’m being honest, I don’t have the strength to, either, because I like the feel of his hand holding mine too much.
I know he’s always hated me for stealing Spencer, and especially for letting him drive away that night and letting him die, but I’d thought we were making progress. At the game tonight, we’d laughed and reminisced together. I’d thought we’d had a connection, maybe even broke down some of the barriers that have always stood between us. I’d let myself hope, but the anger and loathing on his face as he glares out the window are ripping that hope away from me.
The ride becomes tense even though Wes never relinquishes my hand. I know he’s just lost someone special to him, and I know he’s also thinking that he’s going to have to repeat this awful night with his own mother any day now, but I can’t help getting mad. His anger and bitterness toward me was always irrational. I hadn’t deserved it. And though I may deserve it now, may be responsible for Spencer’s death, I wasn’t the only blameless person that night. Wes made plenty of mistakes, too.
By the time we reach the zoo, I’ve worked myself to a boiling point. I pull into the parking lot right near the front entrance and take my hand back from Wes in an attempt to calm my temper. He doesn’t need me going off on him, forcing him to face our past right now.
In the end, it doesn’t matter. It’s Wes who explodes first. Not five seconds after I put the car in park, Wes realizes where we are and whips around in his seat, glaring at me. “Why did you come here?”
The depth of his anger startles me. Why is he so mad? Why would Spencer send me to a place that would set Wes off like this? “What? I don’t know. I was just driving and needed to pull over for a minute,” I say, giving him the excuse I’d previously worked out in my mind.
He calls me on the lie without even blinking. “BS. You came here on purpose.”
“No. I—”
“You drove straight here, Bailey.” His eyes blaze almost frighteningly. “Why?”
What answer can I possibly give him?
“Did he have a journal or something?”
Surprised by the question, I frown at Wes.
“Spencer!” he snaps. “Did he have a journal or something that you found? First the time capsule and now this?” He jerks his head toward the zoo. “Why would you do this? Why would you bring me here? It’s not nice to mess with people’s heads.”
With a seething glare, he climbs out of the car and storms off across the empty parking lot. He’s headed to the main road—presumably to the nearest bus stop.
His anger is overwhelming, and it’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back. I’m angry, too, and I’m tired of taking his abuse. Jumping out of the car, I slam the door and stomp after him. “I’m not messing with you!” I shout as my eyes fill with angry, frustrated tears. “Stop taking your anger out on me! I don’t even know what you’re talking about. I have no idea what was in that stupid time capsule, and I don’t know what your connection to this place is.”
Wes whirls around and roars, “LIAR!”
“I’m not lying!”
He steps right up to me and gets in my face, glaring at me with all his might. “Then how did you know?”
I snap. My pride and my anger override my judgment, and I spill the truth in one irate, condemning shout. “Because Spencer told me!”
Wes flinches back. When he has no reply, I fill the silence. “I see him, Wes. He haunts me. He showed me where the box was buried and asked me to give it to you. Just now at the hospital, he came to me and asked me to bring you here.” I wave behind us at the dark zoo entrance. “I have no idea why.”
Wes’s anger fades, but it’s replaced with shock. He glances at the zoo and then to me and begins shaking his head. The action is 100 percent denial. “You’re crazy,” he mutters. “Delusional. Completely insane.”
I’m not the least bit surprised by this response, but it still stings. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t feel like a total nutcase seeing my dead boyfriend?” I close my eyes against the threat of more tears and take a deep breath. My hands clench into fists at my sides. “I’m losing my mind, and I’m terrified, and I can’t tell a soul about it.”
I open my eyes again and silently beg him for understanding, or at the very least, a little compassion. “You think I like looking crazy? I don’t. But I don’t know what else to do, because Spencer has been right about everything so far. It’s not like I could just go into the backyard and dig up a box I didn’t know existed.”
Wes crosses his arms over his chest and continues to scowl at me. His anger rolls off me this time. I have bigger problems to worry about than him being mad at me and thinking I’m a lunatic. Problems like the fact that I might actually be one.
My anger is completely gone now. I’m nothing but resigned. I shake my head and sigh. “I feel insane,” I admit helplessly. “I can’t explain it, but I have to do what he asks, because what if I really am seeing his ghost? He said he came back because he couldn’t rest. He needed my help to complete some unfinished business so he can move on. He said this was his only chance. And, yes, it sounds crazy, but what if it’s true? What if he really does need my help to find his peace in the afterlife? It’s Spencer. I’m going to do everything he asks, even if it lands me in a mental hospital.”
After raking his hands over the peach fuzz he calls hair, Wes barks out one hard, incredulous laugh and shakes his head. “Yeah, well, you’re definitely on your way.”
So much for compassion. “Thanks a lot, jerk.”
Swallowing back a lump of emotion, I close my eyes and give my head a shake. “I’m done with this, Spencer.”
I don’t care that Wes is standing there watching me talk to the open air. Don’t care that I look crazy. I’m sick of Wes, and if he’s going to continue to be the jerk he’s been to me for the last few years, then I don’t want him back in my life. I’d hoped we could find a way to get past our history and be friends again, but he obviously doesn’t want that.
Spencer’s sad voice startles me out of my thoughts. “I’m so sorry, Bay. I know you’re frustrated, but please don’t give up on him. He’s just in shock. He’ll come around. He’ll believe you once he calms down and thinks about it.”
I turn to face Spencer, wishing more than anything that I could sink into his arms and feel him hold me again. “He’s not going to come around,” I say, defeated. “He hates me. He’s hated me for years, and I can’t take it anymore. You’re going to have to find someone else. Or just talk to him yourself.”
Spencer’s face crumbles and he shakes his head. “I can’t. I could only choose one person, remember?”
“Then why did you choose me? Why not him?”
Spencer steps closer, a pained smile on his face. It’s full of longing, and I know my own expression matches it. He lifts his hand, and I try my best to place my palm against his. My heart aches when I feel nothing. “Bailey,” he whispers. “As if I could come back and visit anyone besides you?”
I know what he means. If I were in his shoes, I’d have made the same choice. “I’m glad you did, but you aren’t going to finish your unfinished business now. You said you have to go soon. I failed you.”
“Bay…”
My eyes finally spill over with a fresh wave of tears. “I’m sorry.”
I start to walk back to the car, unable to even spare one more glance in Wes’s direction. I can’t bear to see the look on his face, the judgment that I’ll find in his eyes.
“Will you at least give him one last message for me?”
I stop. Spencer’s face is desperate. I can’t say no to him. I never could, but I especially can’t deny him this one last request. He lets out a breath when I nod. “Tell him he has a green light.”
“What?”
Like with all of his other cryptic requests, I get no explanation. He shakes his head and says, “That’s all. Just tell him ‘Spencer says you have a green light.’”
I force myself to turn back around. Wes is still standing right where I left him, staring at me like I’m so insane he doesn’t even recognize me. “Spencer says you have a green light,” I say dully.
Wes’s eyes bulge, and even in the dark I can see the blood drain from his face. I can hear his gasp. But I don’t care. I’ve reached my limit, and I’m done. I shrug. “Whatever that means.” I open the door to the car and meet his shocked gaze one last time. “Good-bye, Wes.”
There’s no mistaking the finality in my voice.
Wes doesn’t respond. He doesn’t react in any way. He just stands there as I climb in the car and start the engine. “You’re just going to leave him out here?” Spencer asks.
I shoot him a flat look. “You think he wants to get in a car with a lunatic?”
“Bay, you can’t just—”
“He has a cell phone. He has a father. He has a bus pass. He’s a big boy. He’ll be fine.”
I, on the other hand, feel like I might not ever recover from tonight.