"Yeah, sure," I scoffed, remembering how she was all over him at the street party. Sure, he hadn't looked extremely into it, but I never witnessed him fighting her off.
"Well, I'm certain your family took to her much more than they ever would to me. Now you'll never have to worry about what they'll think." I was so mad my mind went blank, yet the words kept flying out like darts aimed at his heart. "I know all about your family, and your sister. Alex told me everything."
Knightly's face warped from white to red. "Don't believe anything he says," he muttered, almost like a threat. "I warned you to stay away from him."
"You warned me?" I echoed. "For your information, Alex told me about the crap-load of things you did to him in high school."
"Me?" He pointed at his chest, sounding indignant. "To him?"
I nodded firmly. "And you obviously haven't changed. You're still duplicitous to anybody who happens to not have a million dollars in the bank."
"That's absurd," he muttered, pacing the room like a flea-bag lawyer working a jury. He stopped and took a few breaths, raking both hands through his hair. "So that's the reason you're upset." He dropped his chin and exhaled, calming himself down. "Do you honestly believe what he told you?" When I didn't reply, he spun around. "It's not true," he said, his voice full of entreating. "You know me."
"Do I?"
I'd spoken aloud, but I was asking only myself.
I don't remember him reaching out or holding me by the arms, but there he was. His hands moved up to my shoulders, slight pressure to keep me still, reminding me of last night.
"Yes, you do," he said softly, staring into my eyes. "Think. Please."
So I did. About him, and about me. About what I thought to be the truth, and what I felt was true down to my toes. His kindness toward his friends, his brilliant mind, his patience with me, how strong I felt when we were together, how he challenged me and made me fight for what I believed in. From day one.
The anger was dissolving, and the queasiness settled. Because, yes, I knew.
"I … I guess I'm not sure what really happened between you and Alex," I admitted softly. "And maybe it doesn't matter, because what I feel … " He gripped my shoulders, easing me toward him. "I feel … " I touched his face, my fingers running across his chin, his parted lips, resting on his cheek.
Henry placed his hand over mine and exhaled, long and ragged, his whole face showing exquisite relief. In unison, we shifted our weight.
But suddenly, I was thinking again of those things I knew about him, one being how he treated his friends. Like a flash, I recalled what had brought us to that room in the first place.
I'd only known Tyler for two days. Was it fair of me to trust him over Henry, without even asking?
"Did you do it?" I dropped my hand and stared up at him.
"No. Spring, Alex Parks is a pathological liar. I'll tell you exactly-"
"No." I cut him off. "Did you do what Tyler said?"
He blinked, looking confused. "What?"
"Did you break up Julia and Dart?" I asked point blank, even though my voice was shaking. "Did you have anything to do with that?"
Henry just stared at me. For a moment, I wondered if he didn't understand what I was asking. Did he need me to rephrase the question?
But no. The longer our eyes locked and the longer he didn't respond, the clearer the answer was.
"What the hell, Henry." I brushed his hand off my arm and took a step back. "You did?"
He stared down at me, bemused, making me want to shake him by the shoulders like a child.
"How could you do that? Why?"
"I … " he began, but then stopped. "It was the right thing to do. She didn't love him. You know that."
"What?" I shrieked, balling my hands into tight fists, feeling like I might actually hit something.
"Dart's like a brother to me. I couldn't watch him make the same mistake. I knew it wouldn't work out with her."
"What same mistake?" I asked. "And you have no way of knowing it wouldn't work out. She hasn't been the same, Henry. Her heart is broken; her spirit is broken." My voice cracked. "And it's your fault."
"Spring, just-"
"I can't do this." I pointed back and forth from him and to me. "What you did to Julia and your so-called best friend is despicable. So whatever little head game you're playing with me, it's over. Do you understand?"
He shifted his weight but didn't speak.
"First Alex, then Lilah, and now Julia. Who knows how many people's lives you've screwed with."
"I haven't screwed with anyone. You don't know what happened. Just listen." He reached out but I dodged him.
"I cannot be with someone, trust someone who's capable of what you did. I could never love you. Never."
He flinched at my last word.
"We're done, Knightly," I said, speaking more forcefully so my voice wouldn't break again. "Now … This minute … Pour toujours-"
"Yeah. I get it, Spring." The harsh vibe in his voice matched his expression. "After all I've said, this is still how you feel?" When I didn't so much as blink, he exhaled sharply. "Then there's nothing more to say."
I folded my arms. Nothing more to say.
He still didn't leave, and I could feel his eyes on me, but I chose not to look at him until he finally moved to the front door and turned the knob. Sometime within the last turbulent hour, the sky had opened and it was pouring down rain.
Have fun on your little motorcycle there, buddy.
He paused under the threshold, staring down, not seeming to notice the rain, almost as if there was one more thing he wanted to say. But he didn't. He never looked back.
Once he was off the porch, I kicked the door shut. Through the rain, I heard his Harley start up, the tires angrily kicking up gravel as it screeched away. The sound faded out in a matter of seconds.
"There," I said aloud, dusting off my hands. "Well done, Springer."
After staring at the closed door until my eyes stung, I tore my gaze away and marched upstairs. I paced around my room in circles, my wits going wild, thinking of all the other things I wished I'd have said to him.
Then I halted in place, remembering all the things I had said.
Without warning, my stomach heaved and I bent over, both arms around my middle. Knowing I had seconds to spare, I flung open the door, raced across the hall, and slid to the floor in front of the white toilet bowl, salivating and sweating, awaiting the looming upchucks.
Twenty minutes later, after intervals of returning semi-digested food back to nature and resting my burning face against cold porcelain, I peeled myself off the floor and crossed to my room.
Hail hammered against the skylight over my head. Lightning crashed and thunder rumbled. I put my hands on top of my head and tucked my chin, trying to shield myself as figurative hail pelted me from above.
I had no strength left, nothing but a strange sense of carved-out hollowness.
Defeated, I crumpled onto the bed and cried … cried for the first time in ten years.
Chapter 27
I glanced at Mel, who was watching the freeway, occupied by her own thoughts. It was strange and unsettling. New territory. It was the first time in our life-long relationship that I knew more about something than her.
The remaining few days of spring break had consisted of me in the guest bedroom under the pretext of studying. I'd turned off my cell, unsure of what to tell Julia, but also dreading any other communication.
Nothing was said on the subject of Henry Knightly the rest of the time in Vancouver. The only thing Mel probably suspected was that I'd kissed a guy then refused to talk to him a day later.
You stay classy, Spring.
I didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to think about it. My blood pressure was already skyrocketing as we headed back to California, flying south on I-5. I ran my fingers over my forehead and pushed back against the head rest, staring out the window.
It was my own fault. I'd stepped into the mouth of the beast and had to live with the stench till it wore off. Served me right for getting close to a guy like Knightly. When would I learn that men, all men, were the enemy?
This reminded me of the card I'd received from my father a few weeks ago. An invitation to his midsummer wedding, sent in the guise of a birthday card, the first card he'd sent in five years. Ha! There was no way I was going to any wedding, even if my brothers swore Dad had changed, that he was reaching out to me. I wasn't ready to believe that. Especially not now.