Seth & Greyson (The Coincidence #7)(34)

I rush across the frosted grass. Snowflakes are lightly falling from the grey sky and sprinkle the tree branches. The scene would make a great picture, but I don’t have my camera with me. Plus, I have this dire urge to get to Seth’s room and make sure he’s okay.

When I get to the locked entrance door, I cup my hands around my eyes and peer through the glass. I spot a few people hanging out in the lounge area and knock on the door. A girl glances in my direction, gets up, and lets me in.

I brush the snow out of my hair as I step inside and head toward his room at the end of the hallway. Stopping at his door, I knock loudly since someone has the music cranked up.

Moments later, the music stops and Seth opens the door.

He takes one look at me and his jaw drops. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t flying home until Sunday.”

“Yeah, I left early.” I run my fingers through my damp hair. “I thought you might need some company after what happened.”

He rubs his lips together as his gaze scrolls up and down my body. “You didn’t have to do that? I know how excited your mom was to see you.”

“She was fine with me coming back,” I reassure him. “In fact, it was her idea.”

He stares at me for a second or two, then reaches for my hand and yanks me into his cluttered room. Energy drink cans litter the floor and candy wrappers cover his bed.

“Did you go on a sugar binge or something?” I turn in a circle in the small space between the two twin beds, examining his messy room.

“I didn’t feel like going out and eating alone,” he says, closing the door. “I honestly planned on locking myself in here the whole weekend and binging on sugar and vodka, but then I didn’t have any vodka, so,” he shrugs, “I took to the energy drinks.”

I notice how beaten down he’s acting and how his eyes are rimmed with red. I think he’s been crying and it rips open my heart. Before I even realize what I’m doing, I wrap him in my arms and pull him against me.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” I say as I hug him tightly. “I’m here now, though.”

He rests his face in the crook of my neck as he grips the bottom of my shirt. “It’s not your fault you weren’t there. And it’s not like I knew the shit was going to hit the fan. Besides, I made the choice to open my mouth and say what I did.”

“Don’t ever regret that.”

“I don’t.”

We hug for a little longer before stepping back. He wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt then blows out a breath. “So, now that you’re here, do you want to go get something to eat?" He makes a face at all the candy wrappers around the room. “I’ve eaten so much junk food, I swear to God I can literally feel my teeth rotting out of my head.”

“Whatever you want to do, the day is yours,” I tell him, zipping up my jacket.

He retrieves his coat from his unmade bed. “You might want to be careful giving me that kind of freedom. God knows where the hell we’ll end up.” He slips his arms through the sleeves, collects his wallet and keys from the dresser, and then pulls open the door. “Wait, how did you even get in here without a keycard?"

“A couple of people were downstairs and they let me in,” I explain as he locks up his room before we head down the hallway. “I tried to call you like a thousand times, but you didn’t answer.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot I turned it off.” He waves at one of the girls in the lounge before shoving open the outside door.

The snow has picked up and thick snowflakes fall from the sky, making it hard to see anything.

“Why’d you turn it off?” I ask, tucking my hands into my jacket pockets.

“Because my mother kept sending me texts.”

“Apologies, I hope.”

He lets out a hollow laugh as he kicks the tip of his boot at the snow on the ground. “Yeah, right. More like threats.”

I stop under the shelter of a tree and grab his arm, forcing him to look at me. “She’s threatening you?”

He shrugs it off. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard. I can’t ever come home again. Blah, blah, blah.” He rolls his eyes, pretending to be unaffected.

“I’m sorry, but your mother’s a bitch.”

“Oh, that she is.” He pulls the hood of his jacket over his head. “Can we talk about something else, though? I promise I’m not running away from the problem. I just need a break from it.”

“You’re okay, though, right?” I question, knowing I’d be anything but okay had I suffered everything he’s been through.

“Oddly enough, I kind of am. Between telling my mother off and confronting Braiden, I have this strange sense of closure. Like I’ve made peace with what I can’t change and I feel like I’m ready to move on.”

I give his hand a squeeze. “You know I’m here if you ever need to talk, vent, punch something, whatever.”

He chuckles, his eyes lighting up for the first time since I walked into his room. “Punch something?”

“Yeah, as a way to get it out. You’d be surprised how therapeutic it can be.”

“Thanks for the offer, but physically exerting myself doesn’t sound like much fun. I would, however, love to go dancing. I haven’t done that in a while.”