Power (The Keatyn Chronicles Book 9) (13 page)

“It’s okay, Daddy,” Harlow says. “Mommy is in heaven. God is her boyfriend now.”

“I think she’d date Jesus. He’s younger.” Ava says.

“Yes, Jesus,” Harlow agrees. “Mama and Jesus. But Mama would make him shave his beard.”

I laugh loudly envisioning Whitney ordering Jesus around.
 

“You two are silly,” I say, tickling them.
 

“Daddy,” Ava says seriously, “it’s been two years since Mama died. Uncle Cam says if you don’t use it—it will fall off and die. I’m pretty sure he was talking about your heart. Everyone needs someone to love.”

“And me and my friend saw this movie where a dolphin was separated from her boyfriend and she wouldn’t swim anymore,” Harlow says dramatically. “And it was
so
sad. Her poor little heart just withered up and died! We don’t want your heart to die or fall off!”

“Well, I certainly don’t want that either.”

“Then call her!”

I hit Vanessa’s number but it goes to her voicemail. “Hey, it’s me. The girls are I are going to the Santa Monica pier tonight and they wanted to know if you could join us. I know it’s last minute. Sorry. So call us if you get the message. If not tonight, maybe we could do something tomorrow night. Um, if you’re free.”

“Hi, Miss Vanessa!” the girls both yell into the phone. “Call us!”

I hang up the phone feeling worried.
 

And afraid that Vanessa won’t be calling me. Ever again.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 10TH

Eastbrooke Academy - Connecticut

RILEY

We drop off our bags at the hotel and go straight to Eastbrooke.

“I’m surprised we even got a room,” Dallas says as we pass through the gates.

“Tyler can work miracles and somehow managed to find us a suite. But for all I know, we may be sleeping together in one bed,” I tease.

“Like old times,” Dallas says, grinning.
 

Of course, Tyler would never allow that. I know it’s a large multi-bedroom suite, one for each of us, with a large living space to hang out in.

Keatyn glances at her watch. “It’s getting late. We’re going to have to hurry, so we don’t miss the start of the game!”

Once we get out of the car, Dallas says, “Keatyn and I will get us checked in. Do you want to come or would you like to be alone?”

“Why don’t you two go,” I say. “I think I’d like to be alone. Just for a few minutes.”

“Are you okay?” Keatyn asks.

“Yeah, go. I’ll be fine.”

I must be a glutton for punishment because I’m not drawn to all the happy places, I'm drawn toward the spot.
 

The spot where it happened.
 

We had graduated, thrown our caps into the air, and posed for a million photos.
 

I pick her up, twirl her around, and kiss her.
 

When I set her down, she's crying.

All the girls have been super emotional today about leaving Eastbrooke and their friends, so I say, “Don't cry, Kitty. Just think, next week we'll be on the beach in California getting married.”

She grabs my face tightly in her hands and kisses me. “I love you, Riley. I always will. No matter what happens. Please, don’t ever forget that.”

“I love you too, the soon-to-be Mrs. Johnson.”

She holds her stomach like she might get sick.
 

“Are you okay?”

She just stares at me, tears flooding her eyes and mascara dripping down her face.

“I’m not going to California, Riley. I'm going to Princeton.”

“What?!” I smile and flip her hair. “You're messing with me, aren't you?”

“No, Riley, I'm not. I have to go. My parents are waiting for me.” She grabs my face and studies it like she’s never going to see it again. “Goodbye, Riley.”

She turns her back on me and walks away.
 

My feet stay planted in this spot for what feels like an eternity, waiting for her to turn around.

For her to run back to me and jump into my arms and tell me she’s just messing with me.

That it was some kind of silly graduation prank.

But she doesn’t. She walks directly to her parents’ car, gets in the backseat, and shuts the door as they pull away.

Not once does she look back.

I stand in stunned silence, trying to process the reality of it.
 

The finality of it.
 

Keatyn bounds toward me and wraps her arm around my neck. “Where's Ariela? You two ready to party? Can you believe next week you'll be getting married? My little Riley fell in lurve at Eastbrooke and now he's getting married.”

“Ariela left,” I say, barely able to string the words together. Barely able to comprehend the thought.

“Where'd she go?”

“Princeton.”

“Wait, what?”

“She’s not going to California.”

Keatyn's demeanor changes and she grabs my hand. “What happened?”

“I don't know. She said she’s going to Princeton. Told me goodbye. Then she got in her car and left.”

“Oh, Riley,” Keatyn says, tears filling her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

I nod, still in shock, not letting go of her hand as she drags me across campus to her car.

“Call her, please,” I beg.

She does.
 

“Voicemail.” Then she grabs my phone and tries. “She's not answering.”

“Her dad told me I'd never amount to anything. I laughed and said
watch me
. I think he got the last laugh.”

I look around. Visions of her are everywhere.
 

She was my world.

Sometimes I wish I could be young again. Do it all over. Fall in love for the first time. Feel the exhilaration. Count down the minutes of class just so I could kiss her again. Touch her face. See her smile. Feel the pride I felt whenever I walked through the halls with my arm wrapped around her.
 

I look down toward Hawthorne House where my dorm room was. I remember sneaking out and meeting her at the lacrosse field, some nights just holding hands and staring at the stars.
 

That’s what I miss most about her.
 

Just holding her hand, not having to say a word, but knowing she felt the same way I did.
 

Or at least I thought she did.

“This is the spot, isn't it?” Keatyn asks, bringing me back to the present.
 

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay, Riley? Was this a bad idea?”

I wrap my arm around her in a hug, partly because I appreciate what she’s trying to do and partly because I just need a hug.
 

“Part of me feels like that eighteen year old. The feelings are still raw. But now I have ten years of maturity. We were young. There were signs. She'd kiss me and start crying. She said she was stressed about finals. I should have known something was wrong.”

“I was thinking the same thing too,” she says. “I remember that she was barely eating, but just blamed it on stress. Katie and I were a little worried she might be pregnant or anorexic, but we never would have guessed what she had planned.” She shakes a red and gold pompom in front of my face. “You ready to go cheer Eastbrooke to victory?”

I falter.

Keatyn smacks her forehead. “I’m sorry. Shit. I remember what she did for you before the Homecoming game. With the pompoms.”

“Ariela and I talked about that—the uh, the night we—”

“The TLF night?” Dallas asks, joining us.

“TLF?”
 

“True love’s fuck,” Dallas says.

“Okay, I've had enough memory lane. Let's go have fun,” I say, but it's a front. Everywhere I turn—everywhere I look— I see memories of her. Memories of us.
 

And I'm torn between remembering them fondly and wishing I could get a quick case of amnesia to banish them away forever.
 

Once we’re seated, a familiar face plops down on the bleacher next to me. “Gracie, what are you doing here?”

“I’m thinking of enrolling,” she says.
 

Keatyn is surprised to see her. “Does Mom know you're here?”

“Of course she does.” She turns to me. “Oh, look, Baylor is wearing your old number, Riley. He's only a sophomore, but he's the starting quarterback. We’ve been texting since I visited a few weeks ago.”

“Is that why you're really here, Gracie? For a boy?” Dallas asks her.
 

“Do you or do you not always say Eastbrooke was where you had some of the best times of your lives?”

“We do,” Keatyn admits.

“That's why I'm considering it. End of story.”

“And it has nothing to do with whatever is going on with you and Brady?” Keatyn asks.

“Of course not. Brady and I
were
friends. Now,
we're not
. It’s as simple as that.”

“But—” Keatyn starts to say.

“Speaking of butts,” Gracie interrupts. “Check out number twelve’s.”

I laugh. For the first time since we arrived, I laugh. Gracie cracks me up. I've never met anyone who can so smoothly manipulate a conversation.

Actually, I take that back. I have. Gracie is a mini Keats.
 

“You sure you want to go to high school, Gracie?” I ask her. “A script came across my desk yesterday that made me immediately think of you.”

“I already told you, Riley. No cheesy romances for me.”

“This one isn't cheesy. It could be the next
Titanic
. A critically acclaimed box office hit. It’s a big sweeping love story—sort of a Romeo and Juliet type of thing. Period piece. Young princess whose father wants her to marry the prince of their neighboring country to bring them peace—but she is in love with a young soldier.”

“Sounds cool,” she says, noncommittally as she stands up to cheer. “I think I want to be a cheerleader. Go Cougars!”
 

“What? No!” Keatyn screeches. “You have to be on the dance team!”

“I thought you didn't think I should go to Eastbrooke?”

“If you decide to come here, you have to be on the dance team, Gracie. And you need to know they have a lot of rules here. I know you complain you don’t get to do as much as your sisters, but Mom and Tommy are pretty liberal.”

Dallas and I laugh out loud. “You’re one to talk, Keats. You always believed rules were for other people.”

And in that moment, I stop seeing just me and Ariela and start remembering everything else.
 

The friendships.
 

The laughter.
 

The pickup lines Dallas used.
 

Screwing around in the football locker room.
 

Dallas trying to guess the color of girls panties.
 

How our goal in life was to get laid.
 

The parties at The Cave.
 

The nights we spent chilling at our secret party place, Stockton’s.
 

The ceremony when the seven of us—me, Ariela, Maggie, Logan, Keatyn, Aiden, and Dallas—became Eastbrooke prefects.
 

When I threw a perfect deep pass to Aiden in the last few seconds of a rivalry game to seal our victory.
 

A little girl behind us taps Gracie on the shoulder and asks for her autograph. Gracie signs her program, takes a picture with her, and returns her attention to the game.
 

“I don't know much about football, but I can appreciate their uniforms,” she says as the quarterback throws the ball down the field to a wide-open teammate for the score.