The One You Can't Forget by Roni Loren
Wes wanted to refute the not-beautiful part but he kept his mouth shut, sensing he would spook her and keep her from telling him more.
She ran her teeth over her lip and picked at a loose thread on the pillow. “All the pressure I put on myself took its toll. I started flipping out over minor things—a B on a test or getting a reporter position instead of editor on the paper. The little failures sent me into a pretty dangerous depression. An angry one. My dad finally noticed, and my doctor sent me to a therapy group for teens. I was willing to go but didn’t want anyone to know, so I attended one in the next town over.”
Wes propped his elbow on the cushion of the chair, leaning his head on his hand, listening.
“Trevor Lockwood was there,” she said, a hollowness in her voice.
“Trevor, one of the shooters.”
She glanced his way briefly and nodded. “Yeah. He’d threatened suicide a few months before. So he was in the group for depression, too. He was the only other kid from my high school, and I didn’t know much about him except that he’d transferred into Long Acre High sophomore year, had that stoner vibe, and took remedial classes. We ran in completely different crowds at school. But the therapy was kind of ridiculous. The head therapist talked to us like we were kindergartners, and she used all these woo-woo, new age techniques. So even though Trevor and I weren’t friends at school, we ended up talking a lot after group and bonding over how lame we thought the whole thing was.”
A shiver of foreboding went through Wes. “You became friends.”
Her gaze went back to the loose string. “It was a weird thing, that bond we developed. The friendship existed in an alternate universe, at least in my mind. A secret society kind of thing. At school, we didn’t acknowledge each other. It was like an unspoken agreement.”
“Understandable. Therapy is private.”
Her fingers dug into the pillow. “Then I messed it all up.”
Wes could see the tension roll through her, stiffening her posture. “What do you mean?”
Her throat worked as she swallowed. “One night after group, I’d had a really rough week and was feeling all this pressure. I got this urge to just…not be me for a little while. To feel what it was like to not give a damn. To be free of all of it.” She shook her head as if admonishing her former self. “So I asked Trevor if he wanted to go somewhere, do something, anything.
“He said we could go out to the lake and get high, but I wasn’t going to do any kind of drug that would stay in my system. So he bought some liquor with a fake ID and shoplifted some snacks from a convenience store. Of course, I didn’t go in with him because I wasn’t willing to take the fall for it.” She blew out a breath. “Which makes me sound like a selfish bitch.”
“Or a smart, law-abiding girl.”
She frowned. “But I wasn’t that night. I was going to drink that liquor and eat that food. I just wanted someone else to take all the risk on my behalf. It wasn’t fair. But he did it without thinking twice, even though I knew he would be facing big consequences if he’d gotten in trouble again. He just…did it. Maybe I didn’t believe he would.”
Wes’s unease grew. Once upon a time, he’d been a lot like Trevor. And he knew exactly why a kid would take that risk. A pretty girl who wanted to spend some time alone with you was a great motivator.
“We drove out to the lake after that,” she said, her voice soft, lost in the memory. “We both got tipsy—not wasted, but enough that it felt illicit, which was what I’d been after. All the pressure had stirred this surge of rebellion in me, and it felt exciting and powerful to push back against it for a little while. To give everyone the middle finger. But then I took it too far.”
Wes stayed quiet, letting her go at whatever pace she needed.
She glanced over at him as if gauging his reaction but then looked away again. “I kissed him. Not because I was so into him, but because it felt dangerous and impulsive. My dad had drilled into me. Don’t drink. Don’t be alone with boys. Don’t put yourself in compromising positions. I’d always listened. But now there I was, alone at the lake, buzzed, with this edgy boy who I wasn’t supposed to be friends with, and I wanted to push back on all those rules. So I kissed him.”
Wes ran a hand over the back of his head. “I’m guessing it was well received.”
A despondent look crossed her face. “That was heady, too. That someone wanted me like that. I could feel how into it he was, how excited. That was new and thrilling to me. The wanting. The physical stuff. I’d been pining for my best guy friend for years by that point with no luck, so it felt good to be on the other end of all that desire.” She tucked her hair behind her ears in an almost little-girl way, like she was back in that teenager’s shoes. “But when it started to go further than I was ready for and began to feel a little too good, I put a halt to things. Stopped everything cold.” She sighed. “Part of me wishes I could say he was aggressive about it or pressured me to keep going, so I could tell you he was always a villain. But he didn’t. He was completely cool about it—stopped and apologized, made a joke about outdoor sex being a bad idea anyway. And he took me home.”
Wes absorbed all of that, imagining the scene, the simple act of teenagers getting wrapped up in hormones and alcohol and new experiences. Almost everyone had a story like that. But this was no ordinary experience in a life. That boy Rebecca had kissed would become a mass murderer. How could a kid who’d been a gentleman with a girl take such a sharp turn? Had something happened in between? A bad year. A family trauma. “How long before the shooting did all this happen?”
“Weeks,” she said softly.
Wes’s stomach flipped over. “Weeks?”
Her eyes glistened again. “After that night, I came back to my senses, realized how stupid I’d acted, how close I’d gotten to doing something really reckless. Plus, I was embarrassed. I skipped the next few weeks of therapy group to avoid him. I continued to pretend I didn’t know him at school, though I’d noticed him trying to catch my eye a few times. I basically shut him out completely. But then one day after lunch, when I was passing out flyers for a student council event, he stopped me.” She swiped at her eyes. “He asked me to prom in front of a group of people, including Finn, my friend I had a crush on. People were looking at me, whispering. I panicked. Trevor was not someone I could be associated with at school.”
Wes knew what was coming, but he stayed quiet, letting her get it out.
“I said…” Tears fell down her face and her fingers squeezed the pillow. “I said, ‘Who are you again?’ and laughed.” Her voice snagged on the word. “I laughed at him, Wes. Humiliated him in front of all those people. And I saw the look on his face. I saw that glimmer of decency and hope die in his eyes, saw how it hardened over. I killed something in him in that moment.”
Wes’s heart broke at the anguish in her voice. “Rebecca…”
She shook her head, tears flowing freely now. “That’s why I can’t get up and do those speeches my dad always wants me to do. Why I can’t stop seeing Trevor everywhere. Why you should run away from me far and fast.” She looked at him. “Because I’m not a Long Acre survivor. I was an instigator. I was a linchpin. If I hadn’t…”
Wes watched her crumble, her hurt ripping him in two. “Oh, baby. No, that’s not…”
But she wasn’t listening. She’d begun to sob, her shoulders shaking, so he gathered her into his arms and hugged her, letting her cry against his shoulder. He rubbed her back and pressed his lips to the crown of her head and held her, his mind lost in a spin.
Wes had his own experiences with guilt, but how the hell could any one person hold on to something this heavy for all this time and not completely lose it? Rebecca was carrying around the responsibility for so many people’s deaths, for a national tragedy.
Most people wouldn’t have given it another thought if they’d done what she’d done. She’d acted like a s
“I’m sorry I pretended to be someone else,” she said into his shirt. “I’m not who you think I am. I’m a horrible person. And soon everyone else is going to know it, too.”
“Hush,” he said, smoothing her hair. “You think this changes who I think you are?”
“Of course it does.”
He shifted and tipped her face up to him, but she wouldn’t look at him. “You’re not a horrible person. A horrible person wouldn’t have given that incident a second thought, would’ve never entertained any blame.”
Tears sparkled on her lashes. “Wes, what I did…”
“Was what a million other teenagers do every day,” he finished. “They turn down dates. They get rejected. They get embarrassed. They try to save face in front of friends. They get crushes. They get their hearts broken. They tease and get teased. They sometimes make bad decisions because they’re young and inexperienced. Because they’re kids. They get scared out of their minds because life is overwhelming and weird and hard to figure out when you’re so new at it.” He wiped away one of her tears with his knuckle.
“If you want to play the blame game, where would it end? How about placing blame on your dad for putting so much pressure on you to be perfect and helping create the depression that sent you to that group? Or how about your mom for leaving? Or your crush for not dating you? Because then no Trevor kiss would’ve happened. Or what about the guy who sold the liquor to Trevor and helped start what happened at the lake? Or the group counselor for being ineffective? Or Trevor’s and the other shooter’s parents for not knowing their kids had access to guns? Or whoever provided guns to those kids in the first place?”
She stared at him, eyes bloodshot.
“You’re a lawyer,” he said. “You know how a story can be twisted to make anyone look like the villain. Look at what Steven’s facing right now. We know he’s not a bad person because we know the background and we know he’s young. So were you. You were one very small piece in a tapestry of Trevor’s life. In that one moment, you didn’t create a murderer, Bec. Trevor was deeply troubled to do what he did. There were a million points in his life that coalesced to create that tragic night. He, ultimately, made that decision. He made a plan with the other kid. He killed people in cold blood. That is not your fault. You can’t hold on to that blame. It’s not yours to carry around.”
Tears dripped onto the pillow, and she looked down.
“Rebecca,” he said, reaching out to cup her face. “You are the most big-hearted person I’ve ever met. You bought me my dream when I’d lost it. You gave a group of kids who have next to nothing an amazing opportunity to do something great. You gave a kid who mugged you at gunpoint a second chance because you believed in him. Who else would do that? You are…a spectacular, loving, beautiful human being. Hell,” he said, “you made a guy who’d sworn off relationships forever fall head over heels for you. If that isn’t working miracles, I don’t know what is.”
Rebecca closed her eyes.
“You see, Bec, you’ve got it all wrong. You didn’t pretend to be someone else around me. You gave me the best gift. You let yourself be who you really are with me. Underneath all this hurt and trauma, all the pressure and expectations, this is you. I got to meet that girl, and I’m so damn lucky for it.”
She opened her eyes and stared at him, something tender and fragile moving across her features. Something he’d been longing to see. A sliver of hope. A crack in the door.
He cleared his throat. “Frankly, what’s unfair is that you showed me who you are and then expected me not to fall for you. Really, it was an impossible bar to set for me. I have an addictive personality, you know.”
A tiny smile peeked out at that, a little twitch of the lips. “I’ve heard that rumor about you.”
“I’ve also been told I’m cute. And smart. And highly insightful. You should listen to me.”
“You are.” She reached for his hand and let out a long sigh, laying her head against his shoulder. “You may also be impossible not to love back.”
The words were simple and to the point, but they cut right through him and stole his air for a moment. “Hold up, you love me back?”
She lifted her head from his shoulder and gave him a well, duh look. “I’m a complete mess over you, Wes. That’s not the point.”
His chest filled with something big and powerful, a hot, sweet rush. “Oh, no, I think that’s a big damn point, lawyer girl. In fact, I think that is the point of all the points. It’s like the Grand Master of points. Like the point all the other points aspire to be.”
“Wes, you’re not getting it,” she said, some fire coming back into her tone. “Why the hell would you want to be with me after everything I’ve just told you? After everything you’ve seen? I’m a disaster right now. I’m in therapy for panic attacks and flashbacks. I’m about to lose my job because there’s no way I’m dropping Steven’s case, and my dad’s going to go to the press. My life is about to explode.”
He shifted so he could face her fully and put his hand on her shoulder. “Bec, you’re the one who’s not getting it. I want to be with you because you’re the woman who’s going to let her life explode to help a kid who needs it. And you’re not a mess. You’re a human who’s been through some tough shit. We both have things we’re working on. I’m not exactly without my own baggage. I will always be a recovering alcoholic. I’m rebuilding my life because I did lose my job and a lot of other things. I don’t want to be with you because I want some neat and perfect life, lawyer girl. I just want you. All the parts of you—scars, life explosions, misguided love of boxed macaroni and cheese… I’m all in.”
“You…” Rebecca stared at him for a long moment, a confused expression on her face, and then fresh tears slipped down her cheeks. The fight seemed to go out of her, and she touched her forehead to his. “Wes.”
He ran a hand over the back of her head and closed his eyes. “Bec.”
They stayed that way for a few seconds, her breath easing into a slower, calmer rhythm, but Wes’s whole body stayed tense, his words and confessions and offer floating between them unmoored.
Finally, her voice broke the silence. “You lie. You’re never going to let go of the mac-and-cheese thing.”
The breath he’d been holding whooshed out of him. He lifted his head and cupped her face, erasing her tears with his thumbs as something rusty unlocked inside him. She wasn’t going to run away. He swallowed past the emotion lodged in his throat. “Okay, you’re right. The cheese is powdered. That’s just unnatural and uncalled for.”
A tear-choked laugh tumbled out of her, and he inhaled that sound like it was a drug.
“But all the rest is truth, Bec,” he said softly. “I know you think relationships are a bad bet, but taking a gamble has two sides to it. Sometimes you push all your chips in, and…you win.”
“And you think we’re going to win?”
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “But what I do know is that I don’t want to walk away without finding out. The biggest risk isn’t the risk of failing. It’s the risk of letting what could turn out to be the love of your life slip through your fingers because you were too scared to take a chance. I’d rather have a failure than a regret.”
Her lips curved at that. “You’re a pretty smart guy, Wes Garrett.”
He shrugged. “Meh, I’m a C student at best.”
She burst into a laugh at that, her hand flying to her mouth when she snorted.
He smirked. “What? Something I said?”
She shook her head, eyes smiling. “Nothing. And you’re an A-plus. Don’t let anyone tell you
He dragged her into his lap and kissed her.
When he pulled back, she pushed his hair away from his eyes and looked at him with a bewildered expression. “How the hell did I manage to fall for you in a month?”
The words filled him up inside, made his chest expand. “Well, first of all, I’m spectacular in bed, so there’s that.”
She gave him a droll look.
“And I cooked and fed you delicious food, so it really couldn’t be helped. Also, I’ve heard a rumor that you can be impulsive.”
She grinned, the effect like sunshine after so much grief. “Maybe I am.”
“Maybe that’s okay.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Wanna go to Vegas?”
She poked a finger to his chest. “Slow your roll, chef. First, we have a kid to free from jail. Then we’ll talk.”
“That, lawyer girl, is a deal.” Wes pressed his lips to hers, savoring the privilege of being able to do that again, of having her here in his arms. “So do you know what you’re going to do about your dad?”
Her shoulders lifted with a deep breath, her expression sobering. “Yes. The only thing I can do.”
“What’s that?”
She lifted her gaze to his. “I have to tell my story first.”
chapter
TWENTY-NINE
Taryn adjusted her dark-rimmed glasses while fiddling with the settings on the small voice recorder she had in her hand. Rebecca sat across from her at a table in the university’s psychology building Monday afternoon and tried not to jump out of her skin. Outside in the hallway, student voices chattered in a dull drone as they changed classes. Rebecca rubbed her damp palms on her jeans.
Taryn looked up, concern heavy in her brown eyes. “You sure you want to do this, Bec?”
Rebecca inhaled deeply and nodded. “Yeah. I need to. And if it helps your research, all the better.”
Taryn spent part of her time teaching forensic psychology at the university, but most of her day was spent researching the criminal mind—the young, developing criminal mind, in particular. Rebecca couldn’t imagine wanting to poke around in those dark places, but she understood Taryn’s drive to get answers. After her younger sister was killed in the Long Acre shooting, Taryn had vowed to figure out ways to prevent those kinds of tragedies from happening, to come up with ways to identify troubled kids before they jumped from troubled to deadly.