Page 41 of Win You Over

Remington

T he doctors insisted I stay in for observation. My parents, concern etched into every line on their faces, agreed. So for the last six days, I’ve lain in this bed, a pile of books unread on the bedside table next to me.

Apart from my family, my boyfriend is my only other visitor. A few friends tried to stop by, but I refused to see them. I don’t want to see anyone but Holden.

Holden who visits me in the hospital between his shifts at the grocery store, looking pale and exhausted.

His hair messy and bags under his eyes. His smile weak and his eyes dim.

When my parents aren’t here, he slides off his shoes, lifts the blankets and crawls into bed with me, resting his head on my chest.

That’s where he is now. His ear pressed to my heart, and his fingers tapping the rhythm of my heartbeat against my chest. We haven’t spoken about the events of the last week.

We’ve barely spoken at all. We just hold each other and he sleeps while I breathe him in, savouring the solidness of his body in my arms.

I miss him. Which is an odd thought to have when he’s right here with me. But I do. I miss the easy intimacy between us. I miss the laughter and the joking. I miss the taste of his skin and the feel of his lips. I don’t know when last we kissed.

Most of all, I miss the time when I didn’t feel angry. When I was happier than I’ve ever been before.

Nothing about what happened is Holden’s fault, and I’m not mad at him. I’m angry at myself and at Finn, who threw away sixteen years of friendship in the blink of an eye.

In the last few weeks, I’ve defended him countless times to Holden. Finn’s a good guy, I’ve bullshitted time and time again, only to have him prove me so horribly wrong.

I am a fool. Finn fooled me.

When Holden wakes, he blinks up at me, sleep crust in the corners of his eyes.

I know he has to leave. He’s been working himself sick, taking double shifts most days of the week.

He rolls over and looks at his phone before leaning up and kissing me on the cheek.

Then he slides out of the bed and leaves and I’m left wondering if we’ll ever find the Remington and Holden we were back in Italy, or if this will always be a splinter between us.

One that shatters and cracks into a bigger chasm the longer we ignore it.

Being home should make me happy. Being in my own space, with my own things – there should be some comfort in it.

But instead, all I can do is feel agitated as I sit on the sofa, staring at a reality television show while my dad hovers, Nadine flits around anxiously, Holden eyes me warily and my mom spends all her time cooking.

Despite me telling her multiple fucking times that I. AM. NOT. HUNGRY!

I’ve reached a point where the pain is no longer physical. It’s a burning sensation in my organs that pulses with a mixture of betrayal and anger.

And yes, maybe I am a little snappy and probably not a pleasure to be around. Can anyone blame me? Getting stabbed sucks. But getting stabbed by your best friend? There are no words in my vast vocabulary to describe it.

My emotions since that night have been all over the place. I have ridden a rollercoaster from the Land of What The Fuck through the Hills of Disappointment, then over to the Castle of Relief until landing here in the fiery Volcano of Rage.

I can’t even find it in myself to smile or joke anymore. I’m trying really hard to remember why I cared so much about people liking me, why I always wanted to be surrounded by them, when all I want right now is for everyone to leave me alone.

So that I can mope. And I can grieve the friend I lost. And so that I can be pissed at this stupid town and the stupid attitudes of its stupid residents. So many of whom did nothing to stop Finn from unleashing his vitriol on Holden.

What I don’t want is to talk about my feelings, or think about Finn. Or FUCKING EAT!

Nadine slumps down into the seat next to me.

“Want to watch a movie?” she asks, taking the remote from my lap and pulling up the selection menu.

“No.”

“Come on, Rem, pick something.” Nadine scrolls over movies I know for a fact she hates, hovering over one of my favourites.

“Why don’t you go back to your honeymoon?” I know I sound surly. It’s not that I’m not grateful she left to be here for me. I am, but I’m fine now.

“Jesus, Rem. You don’t need to be a dick,” Nadine bites, huffing as she gets off the sofa and moves to sit in the opposite recliner.

Holden looks up from where he and my dad are finishing a puzzle, his brows knitted together.

My guilt notches up when his brown eyes dip back down, his hair falling into his face as he places another piece.

As I sit here like a sullen fuck, I fear I’m messing everything up with him.

Like I’m inadvertently putting a space between us because I don’t feel like myself anymore.

Not because of the injury, I barely notice that. But because I spent years of my life with Finn. Since we were four years old, and learning to ride our bikes in the cul-de-sac. How do you move on from something like this?

I never considered myself na?ve. I always knew people wanted to be around me because of my money and my last name.

Because of what I brought to the table. It’s why I never dated.

But Finn was different. He never cared about any of that.

And I loved him for it – maybe not in the way he wanted, but it was still love.

My chest aches just thinking about him and about why he did what he did. In the days that have passed, I’ve seen messages in our group chats about how Finn acted out of jealousy, about how he loved me and I didn’t love him back. All chats that Finn is no longer a part of.

Mayor Carson pulled strings the way he always does, and with an agreement from me and my parents, no charges were pressed against his son. The police, I presume, were paid to stay out of it and my father reluctantly agreed that as long as he stays away from me and Holden, we’ll drop it, too.

My parents wanted him to pay for what he did, but I couldn’t bring myself to do that. I don’t want Finn to go to jail. I don’t want his future to be ruined. I think the match he lit to our friendship is punishment enough.

There’s been messages about my boyfriend too.

About our relationship. About the video.

About the attack. Some sympathetic. Others not.

The only positive is that the video – as far as we know – never made it online and I now know who those boys are that hurt Holden and will do everything in my power to make them pay for it.

Holden told me that after the attack, it was his word against theirs.

The video never surfaced and all of them claimed innocence, saying they found him in the forest that day, but never hurt him.

I hate that they walked away from what they did, so I have my dad looking into what we can legally do to make sure they are punished.

My mom comes into the room, carrying a tray of brownies in one hand and ice cream in the other. She places them on the low sitting coffee table in front of me, then instructs Nadine to get the bowls.

“Mint chocolate brownies,” Mom announces. “Warm. The way you like them.”

My stomach twists into knots. “Thanks,” I say dryly, staring right past her. “I’m not hungry.”

“You have to eat,” Dad adds. “You need your strength.”

“I said I’m not hungry.”

“You don’t eat brownies because you’re hungry, you eat them because they make you happy,” Nadine offers, picking one up with her hand and taking a bite. “And you need cheering up.”

Annoyed, I push away the blanket that Holden laid over my lap earlier and stand. The stitches on my side pull and I wince, sucking in a breath and cursing myself for not moving slower.

Holden pushes up from his seat, a puzzle piece falling to the floor.

“Careful, Rem,” Mom warns. And I know she’s only saying it because she’s worried. I know everyone in this house only cares that I get better. But I am so tired. And so angry. And so sick of the pity and the concern. “You had a serious injury. You need to rest.”

Holden comes closer and I bat his hand away, hating the way hurt flashes across his face before he drops his walls and schools his features.

I get that this isn’t like me; I am well aware of it.

But I can’t do anything about that, not right now.

Not when this anger is boiling over like a pot left on the stove.

Raising my own hands, I step away from everyone, heading towards the door of the lounge.

“I know I had an injury,” I snap. “I was there. I felt all of it.” I’m yelling and my eyes are burning and it’s like a floodgate has opened and my words and my tears are pushing their way out, uncontrolled.

I tap my chest. “I got hurt by someone I trusted . My best fucking friend! And why? Because he was jealous that I was happy with someone else? Because he grew up in this fucking town thinking people like us are so much better than everyone?” I laugh bitterly.

“And then, because he just couldn’t accept my relationship, he set out to hurt the man I love?

It’s all so fucking messed up, and I’m sorry if I’m having a really hard time with it.

” My breathing is choppy, my cheeks wet as salty tears stream down my face and over my lips.

“I’m sorry a chocolate brownie won’t improve my mood and I’m sorry I can’t be the fun Remington you all want right now.” I glare at Nadine. “He’s not available. Please try again later.”

Holden’s eyes are wide and wet at the edges, one hand over his mouth and the other hanging loosely by his side.

Mom stands, and Dad pulls her closer with an arm around her waist. Everyone is looking at me, not saying a word. It dawns on me then what I just admitted. To my entire family, and in the worst possible way.

I laugh without humour, the sound harsh in my ears.

“Great! This is exactly how I wanted to tell you, Holden.” Sarcasm rolls off my tongue.

“Standing in my parents’ lounge, with tears blurring my vision and an ache so deep in my chest, I feel like there’s something trapped there.

” I turn towards him fully. “I love you. So fucking much.” He takes a deep breath and I step forward but don’t reach out for him.

“I love you and you deserved to be told in the most romantic way possible, but I fucked it up.” I throw my hands in the air.

“I’m sorry. I just...” I shake my head, looking at all the worried expressions in the room. “I just need a moment alone.”