Thanks to You Page 7

  My conversation with Alison the other night clearly got me nowhere. When she called me crying in the middle of the night, my heart went out to her. I still care about her — I always will. I’m not a total heartless prick.

  There she was, quietly crying into the phone, her voice hushed as though she couldn’t bear to admit the words any louder than a whisper. She was begging for me back, begging for forgiveness. Her voice cracked with emotion, and I almost agreed to meet with her.

  At the very least, I should tell her in person that I’m seeing someone — that she and I won’t be getting back together. It’s the right thing to do. I told her I couldn’t discuss this with her right now, and I prayed she’d hang up so I could go back to Kenzie. I’d already missed her warmth.

  But then I heard another voice. “Babe, who are you talking to? It’s the middle of the night.”

  I know losing Sawyer broke her because it broke me too. But she’s turned into this vindictive, manipulative woman, and I realized she just wanted to use me as a pawn in whatever game she’s playing. “It’s — um, he’s just a friend.”

  I hung up then and there. I didn’t need to know how it played out. I’ve been that guy. I’ve lived through the scenario of it’s just a friend. Despite the fact that this time she was telling the truth, I’m sure there’s another guy lined up who isn’t ‘just a friend’.

  Then I eagerly returned to Kenzie only to see her ready to bolt. Talk about a shitty night.

  I run my fingers through my hair, still damp from my shower after my morning run with Jolie. My phone starts ringing moments later and my sister’s picture pops up. I smirk every time I see this picture of her. Her blonde hair is soaked and matted, making her look like a wet rat. Her clothes are drenched too because I snapped this right after I tossed her into our parents’ pool a few years ago.

  “Hey, Hails.” My sigh of relief crackles into the speaker.

  “Don’t ‘Hey, Hails’ me. I’m pissed at you, you inflamed dick-hole.” My nose wrinkles at the insult my sister just threw at me. Though it is original, I’ll give her that.

  “What the hell did I do?” Here’s my opportunity to get answers, though I’m already wincing at my sister’s impending wrath.

  “You seriously have no idea?” I don’t answer. I just hold my breath and wait for her to continue. She sighs heavily into the receiver. “She overheard your conversation with Alison.”

  I think it over and still don’t see what the problem is. “And? It’s not like I said anything damning. I even told Ali I couldn’t talk to her and hung up on her. What’s the big deal?”

  I hear a loud huff come from her mouth, and I prepare to get reamed out. “It doesn’t matter what you said. Think about it, Hunt. You guys just slept together, and she wakes up to overhear you on the phone with your ex. It’s fucked up. She thinks you want to get back together with Alison because of all your history. What the hell happened between you and her?”

  “Me and Ali? Kenzie didn’t tell you?” I smile despite myself. The fact that she respected my privacy and refrained from telling her best friend a juicy story makes me like her even more. “Wanna meet me for lunch? I’ll tell you everything.” This isn’t a conversation I want to have over the phone.

  ***

  I tell my sister to come to my house because this isn’t a conversation I want to tell in a crowded restaurant.

  “Spill.” She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, and glaring at me.

  Telling Kenzie this story was like pulling a single needle out of me when I’m a pincushion covered in them. It relieved some of the pressure, but the pain will never fully go away.

  The story is easier to tell this time, and I manage to keep my emotions in check. Hailey, however, loses it. I understand her pain — she lost a nephew. But that’s not even the main part she’s upset about.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Her garbled cry displays her feelings of betrayal, and I’m consumed with guilt. Hailey and I used to be very close despite our age gap, but that changed when I met Alison.

  She didn’t bond well with my family. Ali’s family is huge — she has four older brothers who are insanely protective of her, and yet I meshed with them easier than she meshed with Hailey.

  Because of their divisiveness, I did everything in my power to keep the peace and avoid conflict. Often, that, unfortunately, meant I’d spend holidays with Ali to prevent undue stress. It created a great rift with my family, though, and now that I have them back I realize how much I missed them. It’s another situation I need to come clean about.

  “I didn’t tell anyone. It had nothing to do with you — it was a lot to process. I’m still processing it. Kenzie was the first person I told. I know you deserve more than what I’ve given you the past few years. I’m sorry, Hails. I’ll make it up to you.” A smirk pulls at my lips as I attempt to move on from this heady conversation.

  She wipes her eyes, her makeup leaving slight black streaks in the wake of her tears. She lets loose a hard laugh. “You have years to make up for, brother. I won’t cave so easily.” She deliberately pauses as if I don’t know what she’s doing. “Unless you let me play tattoo roulette with you, and you actually get the tattoo.”

  We used to play this game as kids … well, I played it. I convinced her that the temporary tattoos I’d place on her forehead were permanent. Usually around school picture time. Totally worth every grounding I received.

  “How about I buy you a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream, and you help me win back Mackenzie first? Then we can talk tattoos.”

  She purses her lips, deliberating. A sly smile forms on her lips, and she proudly raises her head and her hand. “Deal.”

  Chapter 16

  Mackenzie

  Hailey’s out to lunch with her idiot brother, so I’m sitting in my room on the floor, surrounded by boxes filled with a bunch of my old stuff. After the accident, when the Blakes gave me a place to stay it came with storing all of my crap. It’s time I went through it and threw a lot of it away. At the very least it’ll keep me distracted.

  Most of the boxes contain my childhood toys and baby blankets. There are some old clothes my parents never got rid of. There’s a leotard from my first — and only — dance recital. Clumsiness and ballet don’t mesh well, apparently. The third box I dig through, however, is where I find the Holy Grail — my old diaries.

  There’s a stack of about ten journals — who knew I was so chatty? I open the top book and right on the inside cover in my childish chicken scrawl “Mrs. Hunter Blake” and “Mackenzie Blake.” Seriously? Scowling and rolling my eyes at my eight-year-old self, I slam the book shut. I’ll come back to that one later.

  I reach halfway down to the middle of the stack and pick another one at random. Looking at the dates, I would’ve been around fifteen or sixteen for this journal.

  Dear Diary,

  Life is so unfair! Mom won’t let me go with Hailey to visit Hunter up at school. She says it’s “inappropriate.” She wants me to think about college, but I can’t go look at Penn State because of him. She forgets I already have a boyfriend, and I’m still cringing from her giving me THE TALK. At least it was her and not dad. Ew.

  That’s what I’m thankful for today. That my dad didn’t give me the sex talk. So, Thanks to You, mom, I didn’t have to suffer through that experience. Even though I’m pissed right now, I can still appreciate that.

  I skim the rest of the entry and several that follow it. Every entry maintains the tradition of thanking someone and writing out my gratitude. I can never thank my mom enough for making me appreciate every moment and not taking anything for granted. Skimming through the other books, I go back to some other entries and find one from homecoming my freshman year.

  Dear Diary,

  Tonight is homecoming and my first date with Spencer. I have the best dress I know he’s going to love. Hunter doesn’t approve but he just thinks I’m too young, and he only sees me as a little girl, his little
sister’s friend. When he sees me in this dress maybe it’ll be different —

  Dear Diary,

  It’s prom night and I’m going with Spencer. I think tonight might finally be the night. We’ve been together a few years now so it’s time. I’m ready. We’re ready. I love him.

  Hunter came home to see Hailey off with her date —

  Every page I read and every single entry has one thing in common — it always circles back to Hunter. No matter what, I find a way to talk about him. God, why was I so infatuated with him? If I’m not raving about how in love with him I am, I’m complaining about how much I hate him and his stupid nickname for me.

  Half the entries I dedicate to Hunter for something completely asinine. Another third of them I thank Hailey for having him as a brother. I mean, it’s ridiculous. He was mean to me. I shouldn’t like him. This is why women set themselves up for failure — we are always told if a boy bullies us it means he likes us when in reality it only means he’s cruel.

  The journals, which I’d wrongfully assumed would bring me a peaceful sense of nostalgia, have only brought on more frustration. My feelings for Hunter are so deeply ingrained that even now I want to forgive him. He screwed up royally, but he hasn’t stopped messaging me since. That has to mean something, right?

  All I know is I need to prepare myself for Thursday. I only have two days to figure out what I want before Thanksgiving. There’s no way I’ll be able to avoid him when we’re in the same house.

  ***

  “Kenz? Are you up?” There’s an irritating tapping on my door. My left eye cracks open slightly so I can look at the digital clock on my nightstand, which reads 12:13 a.m.

  I groan incoherently, but the disturber of my precious sleep decides my grumbling is an open invitation. The squeak of the door gets cut short when the door is stopped by my boxes.

  “What the hell —” I push myself into a sitting position, huffing with annoyance. The moon shining into my room allows me to see Hailey’s head pushed through the crack of the door. She looks around, noticing the mess I’ve left on my floor. She shoves the door harder, forcefully pushing boxes out of the way with the motion.

  A box tilts over, spilling its contents onto the carpet while some of them clatter together loudly. “Sorry.” Her voice squeaks out, high-pitched but quiet like a mouse.

  “What is so important you couldn’t wait until morning?” My tone is deadpan and laced with frustration. Not only is she making my room a bigger mess than it already is, but what’s worse is she’s disrupting my sleep while doing it.

  She tiptoes around the clutter, making her way over to my bed. “What the hell is all this stuff?”

  After getting frustrated with my journals, I wanted to be more productive and organize everything into two piles — save or donate. But my pack-rat heart has trouble parting with anything that reminds me of my parents, so everything remains scattered. Not to mention the fact that I didn’t even make it through all the boxes before calling it quits and crawling into bed exhausted.

  I don’t answer and instead choose to glare at her, but she can’t tell in the darkness. Finally, because it’s late and I’m tired, I snap. “Hails! What do you want?”

  She comes to sit on the edge of my bed. I don’t move my feet because I don’t want to prolong this talk more than necessary. “Sheesh, relax. We need to talk.”

  I flip on the lamp by my bedside since it doesn’t seem like she’s leaving anytime soon.

  “This better be important.” I cross my arms over my chest, partly in defiance and partly because it’s chilly in my room and I’m braless. “Wait, are you just getting back from Hunter’s?”

  “What? No. I, uh, went out with Chase afterward.” A blush creeps up her cheeks at her admission, and she diverts her gaze.

  “Chase, as in Hunter’s best friend? Does he know? When did this start?” My jaw hangs slack. I didn’t even know they were hanging out. Why didn’t she tell me?

  “No, he doesn’t know, so don’t tell him. It just started. I ran into him the other day at the coffee shop down the street. He has the week off work for the holiday, so he’s home with family. We’ve just been hanging out, it’s no big deal. You’ve been busy with your Hunter drama, so I didn’t want to bring this up when there’s nothing to tell.” I can sense she really likes him, considering how she’s downplaying the situation. It’s what she always does when she doesn’t want to get her hopes up. It’s a complete defense mechanism. Girl’s got it bad.

  I get excited at the prospect she’s here to talk about her love life and not mine. “So this is what you wanted to talk about? Are you going on a date? You want outfit advice — what?”

  “As if I need outfit advice.” She flips her hair over her shoulder, over-exaggerating her self-confidence. Even though I know she’s joking, she is usually the one to dress me, so she has a point. “But no. I’m not here to talk about Chase. We need to talk about Hunter.”

  “Oh.” I roll my eyes in irritation. “No, thanks.” I turn the lamp back off and roll over.

  The bed shifts under her weight as she gets up, and I’m surprised she actually took the hint. Quickly, I’m disappointed because the lamp gets turned back on, re-illuminating my room. “Kenzie. Listen to me. Guys are stupid, and my brother is no different. He didn’t even realize why you were so upset even after I told him, or else, of course he would’ve —”

  “Even after he found out he didn’t realize why I was upset? Seriously?” Disbelief courses through my veins at lightning speed, igniting the fire within me. “He’s going back to his ex after we slept together. That’s not okay. I don’t care what kind of history they have. It’s not like they actually have a child together —”

  I freeze for two reasons. For one, I realize how incredibly insensitive I sound because of their combined history and the trauma they experienced. Secondly, I just spilled the beans to Hailey, or at least I hinted about what truth the beans held.

  “It’s okay. He told me.” Somehow I feel like an even bigger bitch now that I know she knows. “Just … talk to him. He’ll explain everything.”

  I understand it’s not her place to tell me what she and Hunter spoke about, but I’m torn on whether or not he deserves another chance. Hailey told him why I was so upset, and he didn’t even care — that’s a problem.

  Hailey gets up to leave, giving me one parting glance before shutting my door behind her. I turn the lamp back off, though sleep is the last thing on my mind. Instead, I grab my phone and scroll through the messages Hunter has left me the past couple of days.

  I haven’t responded to any of them, but I decide it’s time. I don’t know where we will go from here, but I know I need to talk to him. He deserves to vouch for his actions, and my heart is begging me to listen.

  Mackenzie: I’ll talk to you after Thanksgiving dinner. Just give me tomorrow to sort this out. That’s all I ask

  I have just over a day to figure out what the hell I’m going to say to him. Hopefully, my head and my heart will come to an agreement.

  Chapter 17

  Mackenzie

  I wipe the steam from my shower off the mirror so I can look myself in the eye. My hair and body are wrapped in lavender-colored terry cloth towels and water driblets linger on my arms. I brace my hands on the side of the sink, leaning in, and huffing out a breath, counterproductively fogging the mirror once more.

  It’s the morning of Thanksgiving, and I need to give myself a pep talk to get through this day. I told Hunter I’d talk to him tonight after the dinner, but now I’m regretting that decision. I definitely need to talk to him, but I wish I could get it out of the way before dinner so the meal won’t be fueled with tension and awkwardness.

  I stare at the green eyes of my reflection and will myself to be strong today. I know what I need to do, and I don’t want any distractions. I don’t want to bitch out and not follow through. I also don’t want the word vomit to pour from my lips without tact during dessert.

  “
You can do this. You are Mackenzie O’Connor. You have dealt with a lot worse than Hunter Blake. You got this.”

  “I can hear you!” My head snaps to the right where Hailey’s voice faintly came from. Our bathrooms sit back to back against the same wall. I really need to stop talking to myself in bathrooms.

  It takes me three tries to perfect my eyeliner with how my hands are shaking with jitters. This is why I don’t usually do my own makeup. I curl my hair into perfect waves, put on my long-sleeve olive green swing dress because it brings out my eyes, and pair it with tan ankle boots and rose gold accessories.

  When I descend the stairs, I know I look good which makes me feel like a million bucks. Confidence is key today. Thankfully, Hailey is hovering in the living room waiting for me. She’s talking to someone, presumably her mom or dad, but they’re obscured by the half wall. I nearly trip down the stairs at the prospect that Hunter showed up early, but I know that’s unlikely considering I haven’t become Cujo meat yet today.

  The clapping of my boots on the stairs alerts Hailey to my presence. She looks over her left shoulder and meets my eye. She had a flirty smirk gracing her lips, but her lips part into an ‘o’ once she sees me. She bites her lip, nonchalantly pointing her eyes to whom she’s talking to and then back to me.

  I would take her hint, but she’s been ignoring all of mine lately so I won’t give her the courtesy. “Hey, Hails! Happy Thanksgiving!” I round the corner so I can see who she’s talking to. It’s Chase Westbrook. Did she invite him here or did Hunter? “Chase! Good to see you again. How have you been? I’ve been hearing a lot about you lately.”

  I’m just fucking with Hailey, but they don’t say payback’s a bitch for no reason. She’s gotten her fair share of shots in with me and Hunter, so now it’s my turn. I’m rewarded when her jaw ticks and her face goes a shade of red I didn’t think was possible.