A Midsummer's Nightmare(46)

“Well, Trace, you’ve been gone for a long time. Maybe I need someone to act like my brother.”

There was a long pause.

“Sorry,” I said. “That was me being defensive. I’m kind of hungover and bitchy.”

“I can tell.”

“Look, no matter how Dad screws up, it’s still better than Mom’s bullshit. At least he didn’t tear the family apart.”

“Yes, he did.”

“No, he didn’t,” I said. “Mom’s the one who left him. Mom’s the one who moved to another state. It’s her fault, Trace.”

I heard him let out a long breath. “I shouldn’t tell you this,” he said, “but you’re eighteen years old, and that’s old enough to know, and, God, I’m just sick of hearing the way you worship him. Whitley, Mom left because Dad cheated.”

“He… what?”

“A few times,” Trace said. “You were too young to know, but I figured it out. Mom asked me not to tell you then, but… Look, I know she bitches about Dad a lot and has told you things she shouldn’t have, but she didn’t want you to hate him, even if she does—even if he deserves it.”

I didn’t say anything. I just sat there, stunned.

“Mom left, but she wanted to reconcile,” he continued. “Dad said no, that he’d rather be single for a while, anyway. She got pissed and moved far away. Which was wrong, I know, but… This was Dad’s fault, Whitley.”

Still, I couldn’t say a word.

“Sorry,” he said. “I know I shouldn’t have told you that. Don’t tell Mom. She never wanted you to find out. She’d kill me.”

“I… have to go.”

“Whitley?”

“I’ll call you later, okay?”

I hung up the phone before he could answer. I just sat there for a long time, staring at the blank wall. I didn’t know what to think or how to feel. Trace wouldn’t lie to me, I knew that, but as the clock ticked the hours past and Dad still didn’t come up the stairs to see me, I really wished that I didn’t know the truth.





20


I didn’t leave the guest room until two o’clock the next afternoon, when I finally decided waiting on Dad wasn’t doing any good—and I was hungry. When I came downstairs, I found Nathan sitting at the dining room table, hair still wet from the shower, working on his laptop. My stomach tightened.

“Are there more pictures?” I asked him from the doorway.

He looked up at me. “What?”

“On the Facebook page—are there pictures from Harrison’s party?”

He sighed. “A few, but nothing too bad.”

“But I bet the comments—”

“Whitley,” he said, cutting me off. “Don’t. Don’t think about them, okay? Fuck those people and whatever they have to say.”

“You agreed with them,” I reminded him. “A few days ago, you called me a whore, too.”

He looked down, staring at his lap for a moment. “Well,” he said at last, “I was an *.”

“No, you weren’t.” I walked over to the table and sat beside him. “You were worried about your little sister. I get that now. After last night… Christ, I’d hate myself if something like that happened to her. I hate myself as it is for what little did happen to her that night. Maybe I’m not as slutty as those comments make me out to be, but…”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he said. “I’m still pissed at you for not watching her that night. You screwed up. But that doesn’t give these idiots the right to say the shit they’re saying. I mean, seriously? How lonely and pathetic do you have to be to waste time gossiping about some girl you probably haven’t met? That’s pretty lame.”

I smiled a little. “I guess.”

“It’s the truth.” He paused. “So, are you okay? After what happened the other night? Harrison filled me in, but do you want to…?”

“I want to forget it ever happened,” I said. “I know I won’t, but I just need to think about something else for a while.”

He nodded and cleared his throat, leaning back a little and clicking a few buttons on his laptop. “So, I’m looking at UK’s course catalog online—checking out some classes I might want to take.”

“I should do that soon,” I said. “And pick a major.”

“You don’t have one yet?” he asked, surprised.

I shook my head. “Nope. What about you?”

“Yeah. I’m going into computer science—hoping to focus in web development.”

“Oh… that’s cool.”

He looked at me, one eyebrow raised. “You’re not going to make fun of me? Call me a nerd or anything?”

“No. Why?”

“I don’t know. It just seems like something you’d do.”

I laughed and stood up, walking into the kitchen. “Yeah, well, I probably would normally.” I opened the fridge and pulled out an apple. “But I’ve decided to try this new thing and be nice to you.”

He grinned at me when I sat down next to him again. “Is this because you feel guilty after what I told you at the diner?”