Chapter Thirty-Two Claire

Chapter Thirty-Two

Claire

When I wake up, I lie there for a moment, wondering if I’m going to be sick again. My stomach hurts but not in the same way it did last night. My head feels fuzzy, and my skin is gritty from sweat. I’m clutching my favorite childhood stuffed animal to my chest. It smells like dust and the perfume I was obsessed with when I was twelve.

I roll away from the light streaming in from the window. Austin is sleeping in the bed next to me. He’s on top of the covers, about as far away from me on the mattress as he can get, but he has one arm stretched out toward me. I smile at his messy dark hair and his rumpled shirt.

My bedroom door opens, and I freeze, then relax when Vaughn steps quietly into my room. He’s holding a glass of water and saltine crackers.

Sitting up, I feel the aches and pains of last night return. My body feels like I got beaten up.

“Hey,” I say, voice rough and throat sore.

Vaughn closes the door behind him and walks over to my side of the bed.

“Is anyone else up?” I ask as he hands over the water and then sets the crackers down on the bed in front of me.

“Your mom is showing a house,” he says. “She left a note on the counter. Ruby is watching TV.”

“I bet she was happy to see you,” I say.

“I was happy to see her too. I told her she was a shit for getting you sick.” He smiles happily, but it falls off quickly, and he glances over to where Austin is sleeping. “He stayed up all night watching you like a worried mother hen.”

“Sounds like you did too.”

“I pretended to sleep mostly.”

I guess that means they didn’t work things out. Though I’m not really surprised.

“Why did you stay then?”

“Come on, Claire. You know why.”

But the thing is I don’t.

“It was supposed to be me and you against the world forever.”

I open my mouth to remind him that he’s the one who broke up with me, but he beats me to it.

“I know. I fucked up, but I never stopped loving you. I just didn’t know how to be everything for you and the team, my dad, myself. I thought…” The blue of his eyes is so intense. Just like him. “You were so mad at me, and I get it. I should have been there for you when you got hurt. I just didn’t know how to be. I felt like an ass being able to go do the things I love when you couldn’t. The thought of calling you while I was gone at camp having the time of my life felt like I was kicking you when you were down. So I didn’t. And I’m sorry.” He blows out a breath. “I thought that we’d find a way back to each other when things were easier. And now I don’t know… Maybe it doesn’t get easier.”

There’s an awkwardness between us, and I don’t know what to say to make things better. My brain is still foggy, and after last night, I don’t know what’s what anymore. I loved Vaughn. I know I did, but I know that loving someone doesn’t mean that being with them is easy.

Take my mom. I don’t understand her, and most of the time, I’m sure that she’s wildly disappointed in me, and I still love her. She doesn’t make my life easier. You can’t choose your parents or family, but you get to choose who else you let in. Why wouldn’t you choose people who make living easier instead of harder?

But I understand where he’s coming from.

“You said that the time apart had been good for you. I hoped that meant you were moving on.”

“It was good because it made me realize what a jerk I was,” he says. “Not because I moved on.”

“Oh.” I consider everything he said. How he thought we’d find our way back. How he didn’t know how to be what I needed. I’m sure I didn’t make it easy on him. I was a mess after I found out that I wouldn’t be able to skate competitively anymore.

“It would have been hard for me to hear about your awesome summer playing soccer,” I tell him honestly, “but I would have, because I care about you. My dream ended, but that didn’t mean I didn’t want you to still have yours.”

He nods, lips folding into a thin line.

Vaughn and I didn’t make things better for each other when we were a couple, but maybe eventually we can do that as friends.

“You remembered.” I lift the crackers and take out two.

“Saltine crackers and Sprite Zero,” he says, some of the tension in the room leaving. “I didn’t see any soda downstairs.”

It’s my favorite combination when I’m sick. When I was really little, my mom would pile a big stack on a plate and sit with me while I watched a movie on the couch. I can’t remember the last time she did that.

“Thank you,” I say. “I’m glad you stayed.”

We fall into a more comfortable silence. Vaughn takes a seat on the floor underneath the window. I eat slowly in case it doesn’t sit well in my stomach. I haven’t had the flu in so long. I forgot how hard it hits me. I don’t get sick often, but when I do, it’s always awful. Ugh.

I lean back against the headboard and sneak another glance at Austin. I don’t remember a lot from last night after I got sick in the bathroom at his house, but I have this faint memory of him kissing my forehead and pulling my hair back into a ponytail when I said it was too hot.

“You could have told me,” Vaughn says eventually. “I think that’s what hurt the most. We used to be able to tell each other everything.” The hurt in his words makes me feel bad for not being honest.

“Would you have been okay with it?” I take another drink of water to wash the crackers down.

Instead of answering, he shakes his head. “I should go home. My dad is going to be pissed that I bailed on practice this morning.”

“You missed practice?” I ask. “I thought you had a game today.” Unless I’m still delirious from being sick.

“We do. Dad scheduled an early practice so we could walk through a few things this morning, work out the nerves before the bus ride.”

“And you missed it? Why?”

He gives me a look like “isn’t it obvious?” But in all the time we dated, Vaughn never missed practice. Not when I was sick, not when I got hurt, never. To have him suddenly putting me before soccer doesn’t make any sense.

“My actions haven’t always backed up my feelings. I figured if I was ever going to prove to you how I felt, it was now.”

My heart feels heavy. Here he is, giving me exactly what I wanted months ago, but my feelings have changed.

He must read the emotions on my face, because he clears his throat as he gets to his feet. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Wait, Vaughn.” I feel like there’s so much more I need to say. I swing my feet over the side of the bed. Swaying, I take a moment to steady myself. He pauses at the door and looks back at me. “I’m sorry you found out the way you did. We’ve barely talked in months, so no, I didn’t feel like I owed anything to you, but I did knowingly keep it from you. The way we ended things sucked. I was hurt, but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand where you were coming from. I hope we can at least be friends eventually.”

A muscle in his jaw flexes as he continues to stare at me but doesn’t speak.

“As for Austin…you didn’t give him a lot of options. He knew telling you would impact your friendship and his role on the team. Look at what you put him through at the beginning of the year over some stupid dare. Can you really blame him for not wanting to go through that again? All that he wants is to play soccer and not let his family down. You of all people should know what that’s like.”

Movement on the bed catches my attention. Austin stretches and then opens his eyes, blinking a few times. His right eye is purple and puffy. My stomach clenches again, but this time, it’s not because I have the flu. When his gaze locks on me, he studies me carefully, then glances to Vaughn.

“Hey.” He sits up and runs a hand through his messy hair. He looks like he’s gauging the situation carefully before he asks me, “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” I say.

“What time is it?” he asks.

“We’re late,” Vaughn says, opening my bedroom door, but instead of stepping out, he comes to a halt and mutters a curse under his breath that has both me and Austin craning our necks to figure out what’s going on.

The door swings open, and Coach Collins steps in, surveying the room with a scowl. He looks like he was the one who was up all night. His hair is sticking up, and his five-o’clock shadow is more pronounced.

My mom stands behind him. Oh no.

“Son,” he says to Vaughn in a hard, clipped tone. “Keller. You both missed practice.”

Austin’s eyes widen.

“Oh shit,” he says under his breath.

“Yeah, oh shit,” Coach says dryly. “The bus leaves in an hour, and if either of you aren’t on it, you’re cut from my team. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Austin says.

“Dad, I—”

“Not now.” His dad closes his eyes briefly and shakes his head. “Do you understand?”

They both nod their agreement.

“I got the flu,” I tell him, feeling like I’m the one in trouble. Coach C is scary when he’s mad.

“I hope you feel better, Claire,” he says, then looks at Vaughn. “You can find your own way home. I’m sorry for the interruption this morning, Ms. Crawford,” Coach says. “We’re all just leaving.”

“Claire, what were you thinking?” my mom hisses. She looks so disappointed in me, but it’s become such a common reaction that it’s hard to continue to be upset about it.

“I wasn’t,” I admit. “I got sick.”

“We’ll talk about this later.” She huffs, then smiles at Coach. “Let me walk you out.”

I can hear her apologizing and assuring him that she has no idea what I was thinking having boys in my room all night. I fall back into bed, too tired to care.