Page 105 of Strictly the Worst

When his eyes catch mine I’m reminded of the way he stared at me last night. It feels like we’re looking into each others’ souls. “I’m sorry I woke you. And Zoe. I wasn’t sure whether to talk to her about it or not.”

I give him a half smile. “Funny thing about teenagers, they’re more observant than you’d think, but they care less than you’d think too. If it doesn’t revolve around her, she’ll probably file it under ‘things that aren’t that important’.”

“I get nightmares about my mom,” he says. The sudden admission takes me by surprise.

“What about her?”

He’s looking at me again. Like he’s searching my face for answers. “This can’t go any further. Nobody knows. Except me and her.”

I nod, because I’m not planning on telling anybody. “You can trust me,” I tell him.

“When I was twelve I found her unconscious on her bed. She’d taken a lot of pills. She was unresponsive.”

I gasp audibly. “You were twelve?” I ask. My stomach tightens. He was younger than Zoe is now. “What happened?”

“I’d watched enough television to know I needed to make her throw up. I was a big kid, even then.” He runs his tongue along his lip, deep in thought. “I was hyperventilating. Pleading with her not to die. My dad had just left us and I was so fucking scared that we were going to lose her, too.”

“Your brothers were there?”

He shakes his head. “Just me. Brooks was at a friend’s house. I was supposed to be there, too, but I came home to pick something up. And that’s how I found her.”

I blink. In some of the very darkest moments in my divorce, I remember wanting it all to end. But I couldn’t have done it. I knew Zoe needed me. That’s the only thing that kept me going.

“She must have been in a very dark place.”

“Yeah. I guess she was.” He reaches for my hand, sliding his fingers between mine. I squeeze it back, because I need him to know how much I care.

“What happened next?” I ask. He’s talked about her so I know she’s alive. I also know his family is complicated. But I really need to know what happened to that boy who was scared he was about to lose everything.

“I called the paramedics,” he says. “They came pretty quick.” He squeezes my hand again. “The rest of it, I can’t really remember. Like I’ve blanked it out. But I think they pumped out her stomach and then she went into some outpatient therapy. All I can remember is her apologizing to me, promising me she wouldn’t do it again. Begging me not to tell anybody because she didn’t want our dad to take me and Brooks away from her.”

“Didn’t the police alert him?” I ask.

“I guess not. Maybe things were different then. All I know is she kept her promise. Things got better. A lot better.”

“But you still dream about it.”

“I dream about the what ifs,” he says. “What if I hadn’t gone home? We were at a sleepover. We weren’t supposed to be home until the next morning.” He looks at me carefully. “I know it wasn’t my fault. But I guess sometimes in the darkness of night…” he trails off.

“The little boy you once were comes out.”

“Something like that.” He runs the pad of his thumb over my palm. “So now you know my deepest darkest secret.”

“It’s not your secret,” I tell him. “It’s hers. Have you told her about the nightmares?”

He frowns. “No. And I’m not going to. As far as she knows I’ve forgotten it, and I want it to stay that way.”

“Why?” I ask him. “Are you afraid she’ll try again?”

Linc blinks, staring into the inky sky. “She won’t do it again. She’s happy now. She has been for the longest time.” He turns his head to look at me. “You’re the first person I’ve spoken to about this since I was twelve.”

“You should talk to your mom,” I tell him. “I’d want Zoe to talk to me. Or if you can’t talk to her, maybe a therapist could help.”

“I’m talking to you,” he says gruffly.

Yes he is, and my heart is tight with gratitude that he trusts me enough with this. Before I can tell him so, he’s circling my waist with his hands, lifting me onto him so I’m straddling his legs, our faces a breath away from each other.

“But if you really want, you can give me some physical therapy,” he says, brushing his lips against my jaw, my cheek, my lips.

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