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  “You need to leave,” she said. “I’m never going to forgive you. I’ve already forgotten you.”

  “I’m glad,” I said. “I just wanted to make sure you knew how sorry I was.” I swallowed again, tasting sourness. I was such a dick.

  “Oh,” she said, her eyes slits, realizing she had me on the ropes, “Am I supposed to feel okay now? I don’t need you for that.”

  “I know,” I said, because I had to say something.

  “I’ve done that on my own,” she continued, her words barreling against mine, proving she didn’t need my words. “Not all girls are broken and not all guys are strong.”

  “You’re right,” I stammered, “I’m not strong. I—”

  “Enough.” She shook her head, straightened her stance. “If you’re searching for absolution, forgive yourself.” She walked away from the counter and into the kitchen before I could respond, not like I could, the door swinging in her wake.

  I stared at the steaming coffee in the cup she’d left behind. She was right. I didn’t need to bother her to do that. I didn’t need to come here and remind her about everything she’d put behind her.

  I needed to be able to admit what I’d done. I had to own it and then let it go. I wouldn’t ever be able to completely, but I needed to start living my life.

  If Jeanie was strong enough to, what right did I have to wallow in the past?

  If Kate was ever willing to talk to me again, ever willing to forgive me, I needed to tell her what I’d done.

  That was the first step.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Kate

  I’d been holding my phone like it was a grenade all day. When Veronica finally texted she was on the front portico of my dorm waiting to be let in, the pin had been pulled.

  At least she didn’t come to my room and surprise me. At least, I could control when she would blow.

  I headed down in the elevator trying to mentally prepare myself for the explosion of her presence. What I loved about Veronica was that she caused a scene wherever she went. It was also what I hated about her. You know the cliché about librarians when they take off their glasses after hours and become vixens—they got nothing on accountants.

  They got even less on accountants named Veronica.

  I took a deep breath as the elevator opened, checking both ways as I stepped out like I was crossing the street. I hadn’t seen Carter in days and I definitely didn’t want to begin Veronica’s visit being forced to introduce them. Where the hell would I even start?

  Veronica’s silhouette was striking through the big front windows. She stood on the stoop with her carry-on suitcase at her side, dressed in jeans and a tight black fleece, typing into her phone.

  Even from far away she looked amazing. Like I imagined Cleopatra, except where Veronica was concerned every guy was Marc Antony.

  I took in the size of her bag. I was pretty sure she’d followed my advice and left her expensive suits at home.

  So far, so good.

  I threw the door open and bounded over to her. I’d missed her, but I hadn’t realized how much until she was standing there.

  “Hey, sis,” I hugged her close.

  “This is so bizarre,” she laughed.

  “Just play along, we’re in public. We can talk about that later,” I said into her shoulder. I smelled her perfume. The truly expensive kind, the kind college kids couldn’t even dream of affording. Something with layers forcing your mind to wander to beaches, lilies, and burning buildings. That you still smelled of in the morning underneath smoke and alcohol and whoever you’d slept with.

  “So good to see my little sister,” Veronica replied, loud enough so people would overhear. “Did you make me a cheat sheet or anything?” she whispered against my cheek. “I was kind of drunk when you told me what I needed to remember.”

  I shook my head. I suppose I could have sent her one, but putting all my lies in writing would have made me feel worse about them than I did already.

  As long as she stayed sober she’d hopefully keep repeating everything I said. Like me, Veronica had two personalities, Veronica and Veronica when she was drunk. Drunk Veronica could be equally the most entertaining person you’d ever hung out with and someone you wanted to kill.

  Our Mr. Hydes loved Riesling.

  We stepped inside the lobby. I tried to hurry her to the elevator, but what was the point? She was here for the next five days. There was no rushing that.

  “Oh my god,” she whispered above the sound of the wheels of her suitcase grinding linoleum, “this is like the real deal, with crappy furniture and save the world flyers and everything.”

  I nodded sharply. “I told you I was living in a dorm.”

  “Sorry,” she said, realizing she’d been scolded. “I haven’t been somewhere like this in a while. I’ll try to keep my observations to myself.”

  We got into the elevator and headed upstairs. At least I could control her for now. I used what might be our only private time for the next few hours to start briefing her.

  She used it to swat at me and exclaim, “I can’t fucking believe you’re really doing this.”

  “I told you on the phone…” I started. There was an edge to my voice from having to keep repeating myself.

  “But seeing you, seeing this,” she interrupted, indicating the elevator around us. “You’re really here.”

  I exhaled, remembering I could relax around her. She was the one person who wouldn’t judge me. “Yeah, I’m still here and people still believe me.”

  “It’s wild,” she said. Her dark eyes blazed. “I mean, you look young but this is like performance art.”

  “It’s also my life,” I replied.

  I didn’t have to hide my old self with Veronica around, but with her in front of me it was never clearer that college-take-two was real to Kate now. The world Veronica had come from was the fake one.

  “Right,” Veronica said rolling her eyes, “Tough life.”

  “Whatever,” I said, sounding like the college kid I’d become, “While you’re here I’d just like to try and keep it that way.”

  “Also maybe hang with your best friend who you haven’t seen in almost a month.” She sneered, leaning against the wall of the elevator.

  “Sorry,” I said, hugging her, “Of course.”

  She sniffed my hair and pushed me away. “What is that, Suave or something? You even smell like you’re a college student.”

  “I’m on the budget of one, too.”

  She smirked. If she had one of those waxy moustaches she would have twirled it. “Maybe I should come back to college. I can smell like cheap shampoo and dress like my closet is my floor.”

  How could I blame her? Sure, being here was a mess of emotions, but I was also getting to feel them all over again, live them all over again.

  “Let’s try making it through one night first,” I said quickly.

  “Fine,” she said with a fake salute, “big sis reporting for duty.”

  I took her by the shoulders. “Now you’re going to meet my roommate,” I paused, watching her night-dark eyes, “Please, please, try and be nice.”

  “When am I not nice?”

  Veronica wasn’t mean, but she lived in the city. It made you react to stimuli in a way other people didn’t. The first few years in New York you might be embarrassed and ignore some guy who wasn’t wearing pants on the subway. But three years in, you were embarrassing him and making him wish he could ignore you.

  “Well…” I gathered my thoughts, “she’s a little abrasive. So even if you feel like being bitchy to her, don’t.”

  “I love how you assume bitch is my neutral.”

  “It’s not you.”

  “Why are you so worried about her?”

  I shrugged but didn’t say she’s my only friend here now.

  When we walked in the room, Dawn was on her bed with her earbuds in. Her music was so loud I could practically see it busting out. She ignored us, picking up a book an
d covering her face with it, like she hadn’t noticed us.

  “This room is smaller than my studio,” Veronica said, spinning around in the so-not- massive space. “For once I actually have a better living situation than someone.”

  I glared at her, my look screaming no talking about real life.

  “This is my sister,” I yelled at Dawn.

  Dawn put down her book. She turned but didn’t wave. She didn’t even blink before she went back to reading.

  “Wow,” Veronica whispered in my ear, “is she alive?”

  “Be nice,” I scolded.

  “I can’t be anything if she won’t even look at me,” Veronica said loudly, staring at Dawn.

  “Let’s sit,” I indicated my bed.

  She bounced on the mattress next to me, nodding her chin in Dawn’s direction. “She kind of looks familiar.”

  “Don’t even say you’ve see her in that movie about a teenage vampire in love with a girl who everyone names their daughters and dogs after now,” I gritted through my teeth.

  “That wasn’t what I was going to say.” She stifled a laugh. “She really does look familiar, though,” she said, continuing to stare at her.

  “Where the hell would you have seen her before?” I whispered.

  “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I can’t help it if I recognize her.”

  “Whatever,” I said, waving her statement away. “Keep your neutral on nice.”

  She leaned in, ignoring me. “So where are we going to drink first?”

  “You mean like a party?”

  “Or we could go to a bar.”

  “I’m underage, remember.” I mouthed, I don’t drink anymore.

  “Fine,” she sighed, pulling at a string coming loose on my comforter, “then where am I going to drink first?”

  This was going to be a lot harder than I thought.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Carter

  Tristan sat across from me in the dining hall at dinner. Everything about it was exactly like always, except I had attempted to apologize to Jeanie.

  And, of course, had incredible sex with Kate and then lost her.

  I was eating quickly so I didn’t have to talk. I couldn’t tell him what happened with Jeanie. Hell, with Kate. They had both proven what I tried to deny. My guilt was about me. I was carrying it around like some kind of martyr.

  I didn’t deserve to carry it around anymore. Guilt was for people who could do something with their remorse.

  I’d let mine fester, weigh me down, and freeze me in place like an anchor chained around my neck.

  Jeanie was right when she’d said that not all girls were broken and not all guys were strong. But, when it came to her, I was always an asshole.

  There was only one way to stop being an asshole and that was to talk to Kate.

  “So then,” Tristan said, “Coach says if you guys keep pissing in the shower, I’ll have to start coming in there with you.”

  “Great,” I said, between bites. I was responding, but barely, hearing to his letters but not listening his words—aware enough so we could finish dinner and I could get the hell out of there. And hopefully go find Kate.

  “Maybe you can do that job,” he said.

  “Maybe,” I replied.

  “I can talk to myself all day,” he said, staring at me, “I sit with you so I can talk to you.”

  “Sorry.” Saying it immediately made me ill. Sorry was such a shit word. What a fucking joke—five letters could never be enough. I took a bite, then another, filling my mouth so I didn’t say it again.

  “Dude,” he said, watching me more closely. “Have you not eaten in weeks or something?”

  “I’m just hungry,” I said, my mouth full of food.

  “There’s hunger and there’s getting ready for hibernation,” he laughed.

  Hibernation, lucky bears. They got to spend six whole months not dealing with shit.

  I shrugged. “I don’t have someone weighing me weekly like you, or watching me piss.”

  “Oh,” His eyes widened. “So you were listening.”

  I had been, but then Kate walked into the dining hall.

  My ears thundered and the room fell away. I couldn’t hear. I couldn’t speak. There was nothing but my heart banging. The piece of hamburger I was chewing on was gummy in my mouth. I forced myself to swallow as I watched her walk up to the entry station and pull out her student ID.

  I needed to talk to her. I had to tell her everything even if she didn’t want to hear it. Tell her I loved her even if I didn’t know if she could respond the same way anymore. That’s what I should have replied when she said I thought you liked me.

  No, Kate, I love you. I might have a lot of remorse I carry around, but I will never regret telling you that.

  I pushed up from the table and was about to head to where she was standing when a woman I didn’t recognize came up behind her. Kate swiped her ID card twice and they both walked to the food line together. The woman had jet-black hair and looked old enough to be a professor or something.

  Who the hell was that?

  I forced myself to sit back down. For something as important as what I had to say, I could wait until it was the two of us. Considering I’d waited three years to talk to Jeanie I could wait another day to talk to Kate.

  Tristan waved, unaware Kate might not wave back because he was sitting with me. To her credit, she did, but continued moving toward the food line instead of walking to our table.

  “Why don’t you ask her to sit with us?” he asked.

  I pushed my lips together. Tristan wasn’t asking literally or anything but, if he had been, the list was too long to even get into right now.

  “Don’t tell me you’re shy again,” he said, tilting his head.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I whispered.

  “You do realize when you tell me not to worry, there is very little else I can do.”

  “Your feelings can change like a spinning kaleidoscope.” I stared at him heavily. “Pick another.”

  “Wait a second—” He looked at me, then turned to Kate, then me again. “You guys…oh my God, you guys…” He leaned in closer to me trying to force me to say what was clearly right under my skin.

  I nodded slightly, but I was watching Kate in line, her blond hair as bright as a flare, her delicate shoulders and back that I had held were so far away it made my chest ache.

  “But clearly something happened afterward and now…”

  “Let me try and fix it first.” I knew our story. I didn’t need him to tell it. I needed to rewrite it.

  I wouldn’t say it out loud until I had the chance to.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Kate

  After dinner I only lasted two hours before I finally gave in to Veronica’s whining.

  It was like she was one of the kittens at the SPCA begging for attention—unfortunately the attention she craved wasn’t from me.

  It’s hard to keep to your rules when you’re with someone who won’t give you crap for breaking them. It’s impossible when that person wants you to be the way you used to be.

  When you told the person who knew you could be better to basically fuck off.

  It was freezing when we left the dorm, but like my “teachers” Steph and Alex, I made Veronica go out without a coat. She requested the full college experience. If you were going out on a Friday night in the middle of the winter, that came with the possibility of losing a finger to frostbite.

  “This is insane,” she said, her dark eyes brilliant.

  “I know, but freezing our asses off is fitting in,” I explained. Maybe I was trying to make her suffer a little. I’d had to work hard to get here. I’d suffered a broken heart to get here.

  I was still here.

  “I knew I should have brought a flask,” she said, rubbing her arms against the cold, “but I was trying to respect your new squeaky clean whatever.”

  “It’s not whatever,” I replied, even though to
her it would seem that way. I mean, I was taking her to a party. My outlook might have changed, but the blood running through my veins was the same. It pulsed with the same needling want. No matter what I wanted.

  I’d purchased a diet Pepsi from the vending machine on our way out of the dorm, hoping it could be my flask. Keep my hands and lips and mouth and throat too busy to drink anything else. It was heavy in my hand.

  “No offense,” she replied, “but for a college freshman, you are seriously boring.”

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Veronica wasn’t being mean, she was being Veronica.

  “Let’s just shove some alcohol inside me before my organs splinter from the cold,” she pleaded.

  “That we can do,” I replied.

  We continued walking past the quad. I’d heard about a house party right off campus. There was no way I was going to a frat party. Not with the chance—scratch that, the certainty— Alex and Steph would be cruising the salad bar.

  I could hear the party before I saw it. Music and talking and laughing and flirty screaming and macho hoots blaring from open windows. Students were streaming in and out, the house seemingly breathing with college life.

  “Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Veronica said.

  “Just remember—” I grabbed her wrist, afraid she might start running toward the party like it was her long lost lover back from war. “You’re my older sister.”

  “You think anyone’s going to ask?” she said as she shook herself free and walked with long strides ahead of me.

  No one had yet, out loud anyway. Their eyes had, though. Someone Veronica’s age on campus was either a professor or staff. Not someone who would eat in the dining hall, or stay in a dorm room, or go to a party. No one had questioned her, but they also hadn’t been drunk yet. People were a lot more likely to yell who the hell is that old lady, once they’d had a few beers in their system.