Page 100 of What We Knew Then
Chapter 58
CORA
IthinkI’dfeelbetter if someone poured concrete into my skull. I fling myself off my pillow like when you miss your alarm. My hands cover my eyes as I sit up, eyes closed, breathing slowly through my nose.
Why does it feel like if I open my eyes, everything from the last twelve hours will be real?
My head throbs, a deep pulse behind my eyes, and the memories start to creep in.
Getting ready for a random party I’d never have considered a month ago. Lane. The beach.I love you. The car. Flashing lights. My dad picking us up.
Oh my god.
My dad. It would’ve been better if he yelled. Instead, he worethatlook—the one that screams disappointments and regret. He shook his head as he stood in front of Lane, like he didn’t even have the words.
I tried explaining myself. That this truly wasn’t Lane’s fault, it was all me. But he didn’t even give me a chance.
Coralee. We will talk tomorrow.
My full name. And also, a painfully full circle moment, thinking about me and Lane. The first night we met. Horribly poetic.
He dropped me off first—the car ride was complete silence. Lane sat in the back seat behind me. No matter how many times I tried to catch his gaze in the rearview mirror, he never looked at me. Not once. His face was blank as he stared outside the window.
I heard my dad come in a few minutes after I got into bed and hoped he’d come in. Want to talk. He didn’t.
I swallow hard, past the anxiety rattling around in my chest.
How did we go from saying “I love you” on the beach to the disaster that was the end of the night? It’s not hard to answer this question.
Me.
This is all me.
The moment the cop’s lights flashed behind us, Lane’s whole body went tight beside me. Just like the night with Oliver, when he took the fall trying to protect someone he cared about.
I know that story. Hell, I’m one of only three that know it.
That night changed everything for him—the place he lived, the people who cared for him. It was the reason he had to claw his way back into conversations about his future instead of just being the obvious choice.
And last night, I put him right back in it.
The pit which opens in my chest threatens to swallow me whole. I peel myself from my bed and walk down the stairs, unsure of what I’ll see when I get to the kitchen.
There’s my mom, reading a book with a cup of coffee. “Morning,” she says gently.
I hover in the doorway for a second before stepping in. “Morning,” I mumble.
Sitting across from her, I grab the French press and pour myself some coffee. I can feel her watching me as I take a sip.
Mom pushes a piece of toast in front of me and asks, “Do you want to tell me what happened?” Her voice is lighter than I expected.
I don’t even know where to start.
“I needed a ride home. Lane drove me. We got pulled over for a broken tail light, but I had an open bottle of tequila that fell out of my bag. The cop didn’t give us a ticket but made me call Dad.”
She nods along. Her eyes are as big as the plate my toast is on when I mention Lane.
“Why did you have a bottle of tequila in your bag? Didn’t think you were really into that…” I don’t know if that last part is for me or herself. “You know that’s pretty careless, Cora.”
