48. Maddox

FORTY-EIGHT

The world feels off.

I said good night to Chelsea and Ruth on my way out, thanking them for letting me join the birthday celebration.

I smiled. Acted like I was fine. But it felt like someone else was talking.

And now, behind the wheel of my car, halfway home, nothing feels right.

I take the turns, the streetlamps turning on as darkness settles across the sky, but I don't see the street in front of me.

She left me a letter.

I can't stop thinking about it. How it must have felt for her to write that. How terrifying it would have been to get a call like that about her mom.

I just met Ruth, and I already care about her. But to go through that as a twenty-year-old, with all the unknowns.

And the knowns.

I feel nauseous.

Hannah left the library, and then everything changed. She didn't even need to be told by her mom; she knew that if her mom was in the hospital, she couldn't afford to stay at school.

She had to drop out that same fucking day so she could go home and work.

And I…

I slow my car as I pull into my driveway.

Anger, like I've never felt before, builds around me.

I stop in front of my front steps and put my car in park, but I don't get out.

This whole time, I thought I was the wronged one. But even if it was all a misunderstanding, my feelings of being abandoned were real. Because Hannah may have written me a letter, but I never got it.

I never said the words out loud to anyone.

You were the only person on campus who knew I existed.

My hands feel unsteady as I pull my phone out of my pocket.

I open my Instagram page, the one with half a million followers, and I type in a name.

Sure enough, there's a result.

The profile image is small, a woman with a man and two small children. And even though it's been years, I recognize her.

As I type out my message to her, I can picture that day— fifteen years ago— like it just happened.

We'd just gotten done with practice, and I rushed home to shower and change. My short hair was still damp, and I was jogging across the lawn, heading toward campus, when I saw her.

Essie was walking up the sidewalk toward the Football House, and she lifted her hand, calling out a greeting to me.

I didn't want to talk to her, but I was early. Hannah wouldn't get off work for another two hours. I was just heading to the library because I'd rather be near Hannah than anywhere else.

"Hey, Maddox!"

"Hi."

"Where you off to?" She steps forward.

I shuffle to the side, not wanting her too close to me. "The library."

Her features twist into a sort of frown. "I heard about your friend. Sorry about that."

My brows furrow. "Uh, what friend?"

"That Utley girl."

That Utley girl.

Panic floods my system. "What happened to her?"

Essie lifts her shoulder. "Nothing happened to her. I just meant about her dropping out."

Her words don't make sense. "I don't understand."

Essie takes another step closer. "Me either." She gives me a sympathetic look. "I just overheard her talking to some people about how she had to move out today. Did she not tell you?"

My fingers clench around my phone, and I have to force myself to loosen them.

Did she not tell you?

Someone lied to me. And I don't think it's Hannah.

My phone vibrates as Essie, the married woman and mother of two, replies with her phone number.

I dial it.

One ring later, the call is picked up.

"Hey, Maddox. It's been a while." Her voice is quiet. Like she's trying not to be overheard.

I was going to be friendly. Ask nicely. But I can't do that.

"First week of senior year, you told me you overheard Hannah talking about transferring home," I snap. "You lied to me. Why?"

She lets out a nervous laugh that sets my fucking teeth on edge. "Who's Hannah?"

"Hannah. Utley." I enunciate each name, remembering how she called her that Utley girl.

Did she not know Hannah's full name?

"What is this about?" Essie sounds hesitant.

"Answer the question," I demand.

"Is this seriously why you're calling me? After all this time?" She has the audacity to sound affronted.

"I have no other reason to call." I make sure to make my point clear. "Now tell me what really happened."

She scoffs. "You expect me to remember—"

"What did you do?" My voice raises just a little, but it's enough.

"I saved you from yourself," Essie hisses into the phone.

"What do you mean?" Red hazes around my vision.

"I saw her put that pathetic little letter in your mailbox like some lovesick virgin. And I saved you the trouble of dealing with her."

"You read it?" I whisper, feeling sicker by the moment.

"She was just going to distract you," Essie answers. "She would've held you back."

All the nights— all the hours— I spent thinking about Hannah. Angry at Hannah. Because I thought she abandoned me.

But it was me.

It was always me who let her down, not the other way around.

And this snake read the letter meant for me.

"What did you do with it?" It's too late to rewrite history, but that letter is mine. And I want it.

"I tore it up." Essie's tone holds no apology. "I did you a favor and tore it up before you could ruin your career over some nerdy—"

I hang up on her.

I hang up because I can't listen to another second of that bitch's voice.

Setting my phone on the passenger seat so I don't smash it to bits, I close my eyes.

I'm such a fucking asshole.

Essie is an asshole too. A completely shitty human to do what she did.

But I believed her.

I believed some woman I didn't even like and lost the one I was starting to love.

Self-loathing fills me.

Hannah left because her mom almost died.

She left because she had to take care of her and run the family business.

She left, waiting for me to call.

I said something foolish about how much our time had meant to me.

I press my hands against my chest.

If I'd known, I could've told her how much she meant to me too.

I could've been something good in her life.

I could've helped her. Come down on my free weekends. Visited after the season ended.

But I didn't.

I stayed at school.

I did everything I could to forget her. All because of Essie.

Essie…

I shove my door open and gulp in fresh air.

After Essie told me Hannah left, I turned around and went right back into the house. I went up to my bedroom and locked myself in. And after that, at every party, at every turn, Essie was there. Always flirting and touching. And I always rebuffed her. Always told her I wasn't interested.

Except for that one night.

It was a bad loss. I had some bruised ribs. I drank too much. And when she followed me upstairs, I didn't push her away.

I barely remember it. Only remember that I was feeling majorly sorry for myself and that she was the opposite of Hannah.

But even then, even when I thought Hannah had left me without a word, I still regretted it.

I told her to leave as soon as we woke up, and I never touched her again.

That morning was the most disgusted I've ever been with myself.

Until now.

I squeeze my eyes tighter, picturing Hannah from tonight. Her smiling eyes at dinner. The way she joked with her niece and her mom. The way she snapped a towel at me when I tried to enter the kitchen to help with the cinnamon rolls.

She's happy.

She's surrounded by family that loves her.

Everyone who loves us dies.

I press my fist harder against my chest, over my racing heart.

She found happiness, but I don't think it was easy.

I try to just breathe.

The least of what you owe me.

I force my eyes open, looking out at the night sky.

I finally got my Hannah back, finally got to feel her warmth again, finally got her to let go with me. And that's what I said to her.

What you owe me.

God, I'm such a piece of shit.

Pulling my driver's door shut, I shift the car back into drive.