Fool Me Twice Page 16

  Henley, and what she did, is always at the forefront of my mind, and try as I might, I can’t push her out.

  I found out that Henley Rowan was Catherine’s best friend. That they grew up next door to each other in houses that straddled the town lines of Little Port and Winona Falls. I assume that I won my spot on that list Catherine made after we broke up, and Henley carried the grudge long after she passed away.

  From talking to friends back home, Henley and Catherine were inseparable. How I never knew this is a mystery to me, but it’s probably because I was so damn full of myself in high school that I didn’t care to find out anything about the girl I was dating. I was a selfish prick, only into looks and parties and who could get me another rung higher on the social ladder.

  Catherine O’Mara was beautiful in that girl next door way. She was pretty as a flower on a spring day and had this air about her that just left you wanting more. Our relationship consisted of nothing more than kissing in the hallways of school, hanging out in group settings on Friday night, and sloppily making out at the occasional party. We were boyfriend and girlfriend for all of a month. The whole thing was so juvenile that I honestly didn’t think it would be a big deal that I broke up with her.

  No, scratch that, I knew it was the wrong thing to do. No, it wasn’t actually. I’m so confused I can’t think straight.

  Breaking up with Catherine was the right thing to do. Our relationship was surface level, and she needed people surrounding her through her cancer battle that would be there for her and not clam up the second she talked about it. With my history, with the fear that illness brought on for me, I knew I couldn’t be that for her.

  The way I went about it, though? That was so damn wrong. I shouldn’t have done it so casually, I should have told her about my own battle with leukemia, and promised to be there as a friend. Humiliating her in front of our lunch table was such a dick move, and I’ll regret that for the rest of my life.

  I saw the hurt it caused Henley, so I can’t even imagine what it did to Catherine. Henley had been irate, and I could tell that all the anger she’d bottled up toward me was finally flowing out. Her pain and fury were lava, decimating everything in their path.

  I should hate her for what she’s done, but in a twisted way, I understand it. I hurt the person she loved most, and getting revenge made her feel better about her grief.

  It doesn’t soothe the hurricane mutilating my heart, though. I lost the only girl I’ve ever loved, and in a time when I need my rock most, she isn’t here. I’m not allowing her to be here. I can’t fathom coming back from this, there is no way we can move on.

  “Dude, focus!” Janssen shouts at me in the huddle.

  The other guys look at him and then back at me. I growl like I might rip his face off. At this point, I’d love to pummel something. Anything.

  “I am.” My voice is clipped.

  “Sure as hell doesn’t look like it. We’re down by ten and their quarterback has nothing on you. Where the fuck is Lincoln Kolb?” Janssen pokes the bear again.

  I have to fist my gloved hands to keep from punching him in the helmet. That would only hurt me more than I already am.

  “I’m trying to work with what I’m given. We need to be tighter, offensive line, I need you blocking more,” I yell over the noise of the crowd.

  “And you need to get her out of your fucking head.” Derrick’s eyes are pure rage. “She did you dirty, my brother, and there is no sense in letting her mess up your career, too. Forget about her, at least for the next three quarters.”

  Well, shit. Guess Janssen spilled the beans to everyone about what went down with Henley. He was there, in my dorm room, when I came back from finding that list, and had talked me down after I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking.

  “That’s none of your fucking business.” The words sound like a curse.

  “Actually, Linc, it is. Because it’s fucking up our chances to go win a national championship. We just have this playoff left, and then we’re golden. I know you’re hurting, but you have to push past it. If not for you, then for us.”

  Janssen’s words are gentler now, and the fog of rage that has clouded my vision for a week raises slightly. I look around the huddle at my teammates. At the men who have put their bodies and brains on the line to help us all play the sport we love. He’s right. I’m letting them down. I’m letting my personal shit interfere with the one thing I’ve always been able to use to tune everything else out.

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. From this moment on, it’s nothing but football. It’s nothing but our team. We’re going to win this, you understand me?”

  As I put one word in front of the other, my own confidence builds. I feel the energy around the circle rising too, the electric zaps moving from one player to the next.

  “Hands in.” Derrick nods.

  We all put our fists together, on the count of three crying Warchester.

  In one last fleeting second, I let myself picture Henley’s face. Feel the full weight of how much I miss her, love her, hate her. And then, I push it out of my brain.

  I had a dream long before I met her, and I wasn’t going to let her fucked-up mission screw with my head one more second.

  36

  Henley

  Before I move forward, in the way I truly want to, I have to get right with the one person who always mattered the most.

  “Hey, Cat.” I smooth my hand over her grave and then pull my arms around me to bolster from the frigid wind.

  I’ve been home for about a week, celebrated Christmas with my family, and I finally feel like I can face her. I’ve been mulling it over, chewing my nail beds down to the quick, trying to debate what I should do. My mind has been in overdrive, from feeling immense guilt about Lincoln to sadness over what I’d done, to betrayal of Catherine. I’d been a wreck, not sleeping or eating much while I decided how to make amends.

  I sit down next to her, almost as if we were sitting on her bed with its pink sparkly comforter. I rest my cheek against the stone bearing her name, and start to talk.

  “I did it.” My voice breaks, and tears begin to slide down my face. “I completed your bucket list. It only took me about the first semester of college, so I think you’d be proud.”

  I have to collect myself, gulping in air. Everything about being here fucking sucks. The fact that my best friend is in the ground instead of right in front of me, able to respond to what I’m saying. The fact that she couldn’t do this list herself.

  And the fact that I may have completed all of her tasks, but while finishing the last one, I broke my own heart in the process.

  “The camping sucked, Cat. I don’t know why you put that on there. There weren’t even any outlets for a blow-dryer, so I don’t know what you would have done. And wiping with a leaf? Yeah, no, I’ll never be doing that again.”

  My laugh is full of emotion and unshed tears as I think about Catherine trying to camp. She would have been so gung ho, and then complained the minute she had to sleep on the dirt.

  “And bungee jumping? Why? I did it, but I almost peed my pants. I get why you put it on there, though. The rush you get from doing it makes you feel so alive, you can practically see the blood rushing through your veins. I can only imagine how that would have made you feel.”

  I choke up, because in those last days with her earthside, she talked so much about wanting to feel alive. She was pissed off that she had to give herself over to death, because there was so much left in her that she wanted to do.

  “My hair was red for all of a day, but I did it for you. My roommate helped me dye it. Her name is Rhiannon, I know you’d like her. She can be obnoxious, but you would have gotten along great.”

  I try to think of soft-spoken Catherine putting up with Rhiannon and it makes me grin.

  “The last one … Cat, I did it. It fucking killed me, but I did it. He’s hurting, just like you did.”

  No, worse than you did, I think. But I won’t say that to som
eone who only wanted revenge on the guy who dumped her over cancer.

  “I’m in love with him, Catherine,” I whisper, putting my hand to my mouth to stop the sob that might erupt.

  The wind picks up, leaves curling through the air, and I swear I feel her there.

  “I don’t know what happened, but somewhere in between hating him for what he did to you and trying to break his heart, mine got so tangled up in the process that it’s not even my own anymore. He’s incredible, Cat, and I think … this sounds so fucked up, but I think we were meant to find each other. That’s so fucked up, I know. I know you must hate me. God, please don’t hate me …”

  My voice cracks, and I break down into sobs. I rest my arms on the top of her gravestone, wishing so badly she could hug me back.

  “He never meant to hurt you, he’s so sorry he did. But I lost him because of what I did, and now I fear I’ll never find someone I love as much as him. I don’t want to find someone. I can’t explain it, Cat, but he’s just … he’s it. I’m scared out of my mind about how much I love him, and at the same time, I want to rip my hair out because I’m the one who fucked it up.”

  Right about now, she would tell me to stop cursing; my best friend always did try to be prim and proper.

  “We were teenagers, Cat, ones with an expiration date. Your life, our friendship, it all felt so much more intense because there was an end point. So we demonized him. When in fact, Lincoln was just a stupid, scared guy terrified of being with someone who reminded him so much of his weakness. What he did was awful, but what I did was worse.”

  I swallow, my pride and my hurt and my nerves, for this next bit. “I hope you can understand. I hope you can make peace with my decision. I think, in a way, you were maybe meant to bring Lincoln and I together. He was my savior this year, after you left. I love him, Cat, and I’m going to try to make it right. I also love you, I always will.”

  Resting my cheek against her gravestone, a gust of wind picks up my hair, sending it swirling. Maybe it’s her, giving me the comfort I need. Maybe it’s my imagination, giving me the peace I’ve sought since she passed.

  Either way, when I get up to leave with one final glance at her name carved into the stone, I feel a sense of completion that I haven’t felt in a very long time.

  37

  Lincoln

  Two and a half weeks later, I arrive in my hometown a national champion.

  There are banners on the storefronts on Main Street, heralding me as their hero. When I run into a few parents of kids I went to high school with, they clap me on the back and tell me how proud of me they are. The local radio station wants me to come in and do an interview, talk about how I won the game for Warchester on a Hail Mary pass.

  I should feel on top of the world. This was the dream, I should have finally solidified my ego as a demigod. I’d gotten my national championship ring, and my name was even more on the radar when it came to professional football now.

  Except …

  I can’t seem to feel anything past a fleeting spark of joy. Nothing. Nada. The team and I went out to party for three days straight after our win, and all I did was get mind-numbingly drunk each night and pass out in a blissful state of blackness. I didn’t celebrate so much as consume enough alcohol to put myself to sleep.

  There is nothing that excites me, no one I can talk to that will boost my mood.

  The one person I want to see, the only one I should stay away from, is the one person I’m actively seeking out.

  I haven’t returned Henley’s calls, texts, messages, or anything else in almost a month. It’s nearly the end of winter break, after all the holidays and all of my games are done, and I’ve done nothing but bum around in my hometown. And try to get my head straight.

  During our playing time, I didn’t allow myself to think about Henley or our fucked-up situation. I stayed true to my teammates, obeying Janssen when he said to put her out of my head for the good of our squad.

  But after?

  I hunkered down in my childhood bedroom and just … thought.

  I considered so many things. How I felt about Henley before I knew about the bucket list. The weight of what I’d done to Catherine. What Henley must have been feeling after Catherine’s death. If I could ever trust her again.

  I’ve had enough time and distance to really mull things over, to see my part in things, and also let go of some of the anger. Now, I want answers straight from the horse’s mouth. I’m not the kind of guy to leave things unsettled, especially since I’m in love with Henley, and she’s the only woman I’ve ever been in love with.

  Navigating my car to the town limits of Winona Falls, I drive slowly past Catherine’s house. There, on the corner of the property, I see the sign that reads “Welcome to Little Port.” And on the other side is a two-story, brick and white-shingled house. I know it’s the Rowan home, because I’ve asked around and because Henley already told me that she and Catherine were neighbors.

  Slowing to a stop in the street, I put the car in park and stare at the house for a moment. This conversation could go so many ways. It could make me angrier, separating me from Henley even further. I could understand her point of view and see light at the end of the tunnel. One thing I knew for sure was that this feeling in my chest, the one that was squeezing my heart like a vise, wasn’t going away.

  All of my nerves are on high alert as I walk to the door, and I hope to God that her parents don’t answer. I have no idea if they know about me at all, and this sure isn’t the time to be introduced.

  I ring the doorbell with a shaking finger and wait. Almost a minute later, it opens, revealing Henley in those mouth-watering yoga pants she loves to wear. Her hair is piled on top of her head, her skin free of makeup, and those chocolate eyes are wide with surprise.

  I hate that my first instinct is to pull her into me and taste her skin. I have to actively fight that response, because my God does she look like a sight for sore eyes.

  “Lincoln?” Her voice is pure shock.

  “Hi.” I try to keep my tone even. “I … want to talk.”

  I watch as Henley audibly gulps, her nerves evident in her expression. “Of course, come on.”

  She invites me inside, and her house isn’t at all what I imagined. Henley’s side of the dorm room is a modern, black and white landscape that makes you feel both classy and comforted at the same time. Clearly, this is her parent’s house, because the down-to-earth farmhouse style and collectable chicken figurines all over the bookcase is totally not Henley.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” she says, standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room.

  Though she doesn’t invite me to sit, I cross to one of the couches. I can’t stand here and weirdly have this conversation. Plus, we might be here for a while.

  I crack my knuckles, looking down at my fist in my lap, as I think of how to begin.

  “It took me a long time to want to talk to you. I was too angry, too blindsided. I had other shit going on for me, and I didn’t need you interfering with that.”

  When I look up, Henley looks stricken. Good, she should feel that way. I meant it, that I didn’t need our shit in my head while I was trying to take my team to victory.

  “I also couldn’t believe you’d let me tell you I loved you, knowing the entire thing was a sham.”

  The amount of shock I’d felt when I found that list, it still hadn’t dissipated. I’m still thoroughly surprised that Henley managed to do this, that the plan to make me fall in love with her was this intricate.

  “I can’t believe that the first real relationship I had, the one I wanted to commit to … it was a lie.”

  She shakes her head frantically. “It wasn’t a lie though, Lincoln. Maybe it was at the beginning, but over time it changed. I changed. It became less about Catherine and more about my feelings for you. I wasn’t going to go through with it. Before you found that list, I was already going to destroy it. I was going to be with you. I went back and forth f
or so long about whether or not to tell you, but the thought of losing you terrified me. Turns out, in the end, I did anyway.”

  “Why did you do it?” I have to look in her in the eye, though I guess I’m a poor judge of if she’s lying or not.

  Henley sighs, and when she looks at me, there are tears in her eyes. “Because Catherine asked me too. And when your best friend dies at the age of eighteen, you do what they’ve requested. She built you up so much in my head, made you this unforgivable character. She was in so much pain those last months, and I put that on you. Looking back, examining the whole thing, it was completely unjustified. You were a shitty teenage boy, but you barely broke her heart. The two of us, Cat and I, we were pissed at the world. It’s not fair that she’s gone. So I thought, if I kept up my end of the bargain, that in the end, it would give me a sense of relief to fulfill her bucket list. God, I was so wrong, Lincoln. I knew it from the start, obviously, that I shouldn’t do it. But then, I got to know you. I kissed you, I laughed with you. At a certain point—”

  I cut her off, not ready to hear about all of her feelings. I couldn’t crumble, not yet. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

  Henley waits a beat, breathes. “Honestly, I’m not sure. By the point I knew I wasn’t in this for revenge anymore, I was so scared to do anything. We were amazing, I didn’t want to ruin that. And by the time I knew I was in love with you, I couldn’t risk losing you by telling you the truth.”

  38

  Henley

  I was going to give him more time, let the dust settle until we got back to Warchester.

  Turns out, I didn’t need to wait. Lincoln had come to me, though it wasn’t for the tearful reunion I’d been dreaming and wishing for every night when I closed my eyes to sleep. He was here for answers, explanations. The sorrow in his eyes every time he looks at me is heart wrenching, and I fear that it’ll remain there each time we see each other from now on.