So Over It (22 page)

“Is that all you remember?” Connor asked.

I hugged my knees to my chest. “Pretty much. The next morning I woke up in the backseat of Eli’s Land Rover. He was sleeping up front. It was around 7:00, I think. The sun was up, anyway.”

“And then Eli told you about the roofies?”

“Not until breakfast. I threw up for a while in some shrubs, and then he took me to First Watch. That’s when he told me about Aaron and the drugs and everything.”

“Did he tell you anything about what he saw when he came into the room?”

I shook my head. “But I didn’t ask. I was afraid I didn’t want to know.” I glanced at Connor out of the corner of my eye. He stared into the street, which was quiet with the late hour. “You think that was dumb. That I should’ve asked.”

Connor turned to me. “Stop taking every question I ask as judgment. I’m just trying to help you figure out what really happened that night.”

“So you still think Eli might have lied.”

He shrugged. “You didn’t say anything that made me rule it out. What still doesn’t make sense to me is if he really did see Aaron drug your drink, why didn’t he stop you from drinking it? Why wait until Aaron had already taken you upstairs to take action?”

I turned these questions over in my mind. “But why lie about it?”

“Lots of reasons. To make it okay that he barged into the room. So he’d look like a hero. In hopes that you’d start thinking of him as more than a friend.”

“I’m glad he barged into the room.” I shuddered to think of Aaron’s weight on me. “Whatever his reasons.”

Connor squeezed my hand. “Me too.”

“Do you think it’s possible . . .” I didn’t want to think it, much less say it. “Do you think maybe Eli drugged me?”

Connor inhaled and exhaled slowly. “I’ve wondered that, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t.”

I released a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. “Why?”

“Why give Aaron a black eye a couple weeks ago if Eli’s the one who drugged you?”

I considered this. “But also, why punch him if Eli’s lying about the roofies in the first place?”

“Same reason he might’ve lied to begin with. In hopes of winning you back with warped chivalry.”

My head spun with all this. It’d been hard enough recalling that night, searching my brain for every last detail. To consider that the realities of what happened at the party might not line up with what I’d been told . . . Well, it was a little too much.

I sagged against Connor. “Let’s not talk about it anymore tonight.”

“Okay.” He tucked his arm around me. “We’ll just sit here until you’re ready to go home.”

We stayed there long after Sheridan’s shut off its lights.

24

When I woke up late the next morning, my body felt refreshed, as if I’d slept a hundred years. Peace nested in my soul, and a delicious sense of freedom invigorated me.

I’d told him. Connor knew everything, yet things between us were still good. He hadn’t been freaked out by my sordid past. If anything, he seemed further endeared.

I grinned at the ceiling. “Thank you, God, for a boyfriend who doesn’t mind me being a little needy.” I plopped my bare feet on the floor, eager to be up and about and alive. I didn’t hear the commotion downstairs until I stepped out of my room.

“You gave up that right two weeks ago when you broke up with me!” Abbie said.

“It’s not like I stopped caring about you,” Chris said. “You know that—”

“How would I know that? I said, ‘I love you,’ and you said, ‘I don’t think we should see each other anymore.’ What was I supposed to think?”

Silence. Chris argued slowly. Lots of pauses while he dwelled on the perfect response. This drove my impatient sister crazy.

I grabbed my bathrobe off the back of my bedroom door. I barely ever used it, but in case I needed to go down and rescue Abbie (or Chris, for that matter), I wanted to be prepared. No way did I want to parade around in front of Chris in my summer pj’s.

I moved toward the edge of the stairs in time to hear Chris’s response.

“Despite what you may think, I
do
care about you. And I’m worried about what I’m seeing. You’ve been really different since Owen was born—”

“Oh, have I? That’s because I have a baby, Chris. Why’s everyone so surprised that I’m a different person these days? I don’t have the option of being who I was.”

“And I get that, but—”

“No you don’t! If you got it, you wouldn’t be stupid enough to come over here and imply that something’s wrong with me for not showing more emotion about us breaking up. Look, I thought I loved you, I was clearly wrong. I’m over it. I’ve moved on. And now you can move out the door.” My sister planted her hand firmly on Chris’s chest, pushing him backward toward the front door.

“I just need to know you’re talking to somebody. You used to tell me everything, and I want to make sure you still have someone—”

“That’s none of your business. You made sure of it.” Abbie pointed at the door. “Leave.”

Chris studied my sister for a moment, giving her a long look that I could read even from the top of the stairwell— regret.

Abbie either didn’t see or didn’t care. She slammed the door in his face, then marched across the tiled entryway and out of view.

She banged around in the kitchen for a few minutes. I waited for the cupboard doors to be silent before I ventured downstairs.

“Hey,” I said, trying to sound casual.

Abbie looked up from her seat at the counter. “What’s with the robe?”

“Oh, just . . . cold.” I pulled the orange juice from the refrigerator. “Mom and Dad gone?”

“Yep.”

I glanced at the clock—9:58. “Owen napping?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Anything else going on?”

Abbie flipped the page of her J.Crew catalog. “Not a thing.”

A pretty girl, blonde and willowy, answered the door. “Hi.” She turned her smile to full wattage. “Come on in.”

“Thanks.” I stepped inside the strange house. The inside looked as typically suburban as the outside—lots of taupe walls and neutral-colored furniture. All the furniture had been lived on, but not enough to replace it. Unless you were Teri Hoyt, who I’d bet had swapped out our living room furniture at least twice since these people got theirs.

The girl offered me her hand. “I’m Heather’s sister, Lane. Have we met?”

I worked hard not to stare, to behave normally. “No, but your sister’s mentioned you.” That she’d dated Aaron Robinson. Until last summer, when her friends spotted him at a party heading into a bedroom with another girl. A little too much of a coincidence for my taste.

Lane blinked a few times. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Oh, right. Skylar. Skylar Hoyt.”

If possible, Lane’s face lit up even more. “You sew with my sister, right? She’s talked about you a lot. Says you’re very talented.” Her gaze whisked down and back up. “Which I can see.”

I hadn’t contributed a single stitch to my outfit but didn’t bother correcting her.

“Everyone’s hanging around in the kitchen.” Lane led me through the entryway. She gestured to the living room crammed with empty seats. “I’ve got no idea why.”

When I had a clear shot of the crowded kitchen, I wished Abbie hadn’t felt so weird about bringing Owen. “All those women are going to ask me if I’m babysitting,” Abbie had said. “And even if they act nice to my face, they’ll talk about me behind my back. No thank you.”

I should’ve worked harder to convince her. The only face I recognized was Heather’s, and I didn’t know how happy she’d be to see me. It’d been over a week since our fight, and we hadn’t talked since.

Lane smiled. “I hardly know anybody either.”

Had I spoken my thoughts out loud? But I guess staring blankly at the crowd probably made me pretty obvious.

“I’ve never been to a bridal shower,” I said. “I didn’t even know I was supposed to bring a gift until my mom told me this morning.”

“She wouldn’t have cared.” Lane smiled at Heather, who nodded emphatically at something a gray-haired woman said. “My sister’s basically the nicest person on the planet.”

“I agree.” But only if the tie went to Amy Ross.

“Are you in high school? College?”

“In between,” I said. “I’m starting at Johnson County in August.”

“Cool.” She poured herself a cup of coffee. “You want one?”

“No thanks.”

“There’s sodas and stuff too. I wish Heather would start eating. I’m starving, but we’re supposed to wait for her.”

I helped myself to a Dr Pepper and tried to study Lane discreetly. I couldn’t picture dark Aaron with light, airy Lane. Hadn’t Heather said they dated a couple years? My mind filled with questions.
Was he nice to you? Did he push
you to do things you didn’t want to? Were you as hypnotized
by his looks as I was, or were you smarter?

I sipped my Dr Pepper. “So, where do you go to school?” “I’ve been at KU, but I’m heading to Africa in a few weeks.”

“Oh, that’s right. Heather mentioned that to me. Are you nervous?”

Lane grinned. “Terrified. I’ve been once before, but to go for an entire year—”

“Hey, you made it!”

I looked up to see Heather weaving my direction. At the sight of her wide, genuine smile, relief flooded me.

She drew me close for a hug. “Where’s Abbie?”

“Oh, she . . .” But I couldn’t think of an excuse quick enough. “She felt weird about coming.”

Heather’s bright face flickered with a frown. “She shouldn’t have. We’d have loved for her to come.”

“I told her so.”

“Come here.” Heather gripped my arm. “I’ve got something to show you.”

Lane groaned. “Please start eating. I’m starving.”

Heather rolled her eyes good-naturedly, then turned toward the crowd of women. “Hey, gals? Gals?” Slowly everyone hushed. “I’ve got to run upstairs and show my friend Skylar something, so Lane’s going to start the food, okay?”

Lane stuck out her tongue. “So not what I meant.”

Heather stuck hers out as well, then pulled me through the living room. “Everyone’s been asking to see it, but I wanted to show you first.”

“Heather.” I swallowed. “About some of the stuff I said last week—”

She waved away my words. “Forget it, Skylar. Really.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She jogged up the short flight of stairs to a hallway full of doors. “But that actually leads into what I wanted to show you.” She opened the first door, and lying on the narrow bed was a dress bag.

Heather beamed. “I finished my dress.”

“Oh, good,” I said brightly. I didn’t want her to know it crushed me that she’d done it without me. And that she’d made the wrong dress. One that said she hadn’t forgiven herself for—

Heather yanked down the zipper, revealing the whitest dress I’d ever seen. Like the white of people’s teeth on toothpaste commercials.

“It’s perfect.” I caressed the silk. “But—”

“But why did I change my mind?” Heather smiled. “You.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. I started thinking about what you said, and you were just so . . . right. I mean, what a hypocrite I was being, right? I’m always telling you kids that nothing is too big, too dark, too shocking for Jesus, and then I held on to this horrible thing in my past.” She hugged the dress to herself. “After you left that day, I prayed. And I could feel God saying to me that I was forgiven. That in his eyes, I’m just as pure as the day I was born. And the dress should be white to testify to that.”

Tears streaked both our faces, but we smiled.

“I know we were going to make it together, but I needed to do this myself. I prayed with every stitch, and stopped to weep so many times . . . But here it is.” Heather returned her dress to the bed, smoothing wrinkles in the fabric. “And I feel the most wonderful sense of . . . freedom.”

I buried my face in my hands, sobbing, and sank to the floor.

“What is it?” Heather crouched beside me, her hand smoothing my hair like a mother’s.

“Here I was telling you to forgive yourself ”—I hic-cupped—“ yet I hadn’t forgiven
my
self.”

“For what, sweetie?”

Laughter from downstairs bubbled up the hallway.

I swiped my hands across my cheeks, clearing away the tears and probably half my makeup. “Now’s hardly the time and place.”

Heather gripped my shoulders and looked me in the eyes. “Now is always the right time for forgiveness. Tell me what’s going on.”

So I took a deep breath and once again relived that horrible night.