Page 71 of I Hope This Finds You Well

The article ends there. But there’s more to the story, of course. All the whispers that followed my family, the accusatory looks. How I hid away in my room for months, thinking of all the things I could’ve done differently. How I felt like I had died that night too. How sometimes, when I’m drunk, I still get the urge to run for help.

I can feel the wetness gathering between my fingers. When did I start crying?

“Jolene?”

I go taut. His voice threatens to loosen the knot inside me, but I focus all my energy on holding it tight, willing myself to not completely fall apart as I lift my head to look at him.

Cliff stands under the yellow light of a streetlamp, cheeks flushed from the chilly air. His collared shirt is peeping out of the top of his zipped-up jacket.

He takes one look at my face and his eyes go wide. He rushes to close the few strides between us. “You—are you okay?”

“I’m really great,” I say, forcing out the most chipper voice I can manage. I wipe at the wet tracks on my cheeks and push my lips up into a wobbly smile.

He crouches down beside me, his gaze searching mine. His hand lifts toward my face, and for a moment I think he might touch my cheek, but he catches himself and shoves it into his pocket. “You’re not great. Were you at the party?”

He sounds so concerned, and I’m so embarrassed. I hate that he’s seeing me like this, and I hate how glad I am that it’s him.

“Yes,” I practically sing. “It’s a really nice little group. You go enjoy.”

“Jolene” is all he says, looking at me through lowered eyelids. “Please, tell me.”

Again, I force a smile. “Okay, I know how this looks. I’m just a little... Maybe something I ate.”

His hand twitches in his pocket. “Then I can take you home.”

“No!” I say, leaning back to add another inch of space between us. Being alone in an enclosed car with him is the last thing I need right now. I’m about to unravel. “Please, go to the party,” I practically beg. “You were already on your way there, weren’t you?”

His gaze flicks toward the road, like he’s only just remembering where we are. “Actually, I’m pretty sure Garret invited me as a joke. It’s kind of obvious, like invite the HR guy to police the party.” His voice softens as he croaks, “I’d just kill the fun.”

Why is the world like this? It’s the clench in his fists as he tries to shrug it off—the cruelty of the invite. It’s like we’re all stuck in a loop. I stare at the sidewalk and blink and blink. “Yeah, sounds like Garret. Why were you going then?”

His gaze drops, a blush starting on his temples. “Don’t know.” He shrugs, the side of his arm brushing against mine at the motion. But I hear it in his voice.

“Why didyougo?” he says.

I press my lips together. The answer is far too messy. The truth would mean confessing—the emails, Rhonda’s secret, the hole I’ve been digging deeper by the day. But for a moment it feels so tempting to just tell him everything. A part of me thinks he’d try to understand. I shake that wish away. After everything tonight, I’m not thinking straight.

We both sit together in silence. Here we are, two losers outside aparty no one wanted us to come to. I’ve been here before. Maybe this time, we can just leave.

And now his car seems like the best place in the world.

“I’ve changed my mind. Can you give me a ride after all?” I ask.

“Yeah, of course,” he says quickly, pushing himself onto his feet. He holds out a hand and offers it to me.

I take it, letting him lift me to my feet. Heat radiates from between our palms, crawling up my neck. My mind rattles as opposing feelings swoop through me.

How long it’s been since I touched another person this way.

How much I’ve wondered about touching him.

How messed up both thoughts are.

Together, we head toward the Supershops parking garage. Our steps echo across the gravelly lot. My knees are on the verge of buckling, but it’s the soft place to land I focus on.

I slip into the passenger seat of his car and we set off. For the first few blocks, the only sounds are the hum of the car engine and the soft, melodic song playing on the radio.

We hit Seventeenth Avenue and pass a few restaurants and bars. I watch the people on the patios, talking and laughing and listening to live music. The sound drains inside, permeating our bubble.