The One You Can't Forget (The One, #1)

nine

Emyln

Mom and Landon - my stepfather who I couldn't possibly care less about - are watching TV in the basement when I arrive home. I walk in without acknowledging them and start heading up the stairs to find something to eat. After work, I met up with Val at a bar in The Village. It was exciting - finally being old enough to go in and have a drink with one of my best friends. It's been a couple years since I last saw her, so we got lost in conversation and forgot to order anything more but the margaritas we bought at the beginning. All in all, I'm really fucking hungry.

"Emyln," Mom says the moment I'm on the first landing. "Come back down here and meet your step-brothers."

I cringe. I had been hoping that I wouldn't have to meet them, but that's something a fool would believe in. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I paste on a fake smile and head back downstairs. If there's one thing I've learned from this disaster of a life, it's that it's never the kids' fault. We're dragged into the messes our parents make no matter what. I'm in the same boat as them, so I might as well try and gain some allies.

The first boy Mom introduces me to is named Joel and he's a year younger than me, attending the same high school I would have if I'd stayed here. He's a scrawny kid with black hair that sticks up at the back. He has light green eyes and wears glasses that look too big for his face, and he smells like he doused himself with a bottle of cologne after showering this morning. Although he's a total geek, like the type that loves Star Wars and Lord of the Rings, he's a nice guy. Just like I figured.

The second kid is named Miles. He's six years younger than me, and we instantly get along because I ask him about how he's liking middle school - I attended the same one and there are still some teachers that taught me and my friends, meaning I have information on all of them. Miles looks a lot like his brother, minus the strawberry blond hair that he must have gotten from his mother. I also learn that he plays hockey, and that Hainsey has been teaching him how to perfect a slap shot.

After the introductions are over, I'm back on my feet and heading upstairs to make a grilled cheese sandwich. As soon as I'm upstairs, though, I decide that I'm going to change into clothes that are more comfortable to sit down, eat, and read in. So I head to my bedroom.

Through the window that hangs over my bed, I look through it just in time to see Hainsey flick on the light in his bedroom. This moment brings back tons of memories. During the summer, Hainsey and I always used to shout back and forth through the open windows. In the winter, we made up our own version of sign language to communicate. Those were the good times.

But even through all the memories, I still find myself asking myself why he's just gotten home and why he looks like he sprinted fifteen kilometres uphill. I frown. He must have gone for a run or something after work. That's the only option that makes any sense to me because all the restaurants are usually closed by now - it's almost midnight.

Staring, I watch as he shuts the door behind him and sits down on his bed, elbows resting on his knees and face resting in the palms of his hands. Frustration builds up inside me. I can't tell if he's just tired or if he's upset. Once upon a time, I'd be able to look into those smoky grey eyes of his and decipher him like the simplest poem. But now? There's nothing. He's put up a wall that I don't know how to break down; he's gotten better at hiding the emotions he would usually show without a second thought.

Five years changes people. You've changed. I've changed. We don't know each other anymore.

Hainsey's words from today replay in my mind, like a broken record. They also sting like hell when combined with the conversation I heard between my mom and him when she came to check on us during our short lunch break.

I had decided it would be a better idea to eat outside in the heat of the sun today, so that's what I was doing when I heard the two of them begin to bicker. It's not the first time I've heard Hainsey and my mom get into a fight over something. When I was growing up it was easy to tell who the favourite daughter was between Rosa and me. I don't know how many times my big sister would come into my room during the later hours of the night and apologize to me. I always told her it was never her fault that mom preferred her to me. And I still live by that. Rosa and I have no control over what our mom does, and I refuse to place the blame where it's not supposed to be. Hainsey and Val were the other two that noticed the underlying problems in this family. Val was always a little scared of my mom, but Hainsey never was. He's actually one of the main reasons why I was allowed to keep playing hockey.

Anyway, the conversation I heard today made my heart ache. Hainsey was basically begging my mom to fire me and give him extra hours on the job. He even offered to quit his other job to take over completely.

"I can do this on my own," he said.

"You know that's not possible," Mom replied, glaring at him. The glare disgusted me. Mainly because it reminded me of myself and the wicked glares I can give, but also because it made me feel like she was disrespecting him. Though I shouldn't be talking after what I did.

Through the crack in the partially open door, I watched Hainsey's jaw pulse like it was going to spasm. If I were my mom, I would have backed away because I remember the damage he did to Mitchell that time on the ice. But then again, my mom wouldn't have a fucking clue - she never came to any of my hockey games.

In the end, he gave up arguing with my mom because that's just how she is - when she wants something; she gets it no matter the cost. She's a perfectionist in her own way. Apparently, the work schedule is perfect for the summer and she didn't want to shake things up. So the decision was final: I'm going to be staying here and working with him for the rest of the summer.

Hainsey left the room with nothing but a judgemental grunt and a stone-cold look on his face.

That's when I realized things really have changed.

Yet my stubborn mind still denies his vindictive attitude toward me. He's only upset because I hurt him, and I know there's a way I can fix that. I lost him once and I don't plan on losing him again - I won't lose him again. I refuse to.

I came back here to make things right and that's what I'm going to do. Some part of him has to understand why I left with my dad and sister. Every time I looked at my mother, I wanted to vomit. Shit, I still do. Not as bad, but still.

Hainsey has been through something similar to what I've been through, so there must be a certain degree of understanding. All I have to do is find a way to corner him and make him talk. I thought working in the same building for eight hours a day would do the trick. It hasn't. Hainsey's gotten pretty damn good at blocking me out since the last time I saw him.

But if that's the game he wants to play, then so be it. I can be as loud as his silence is.

As if he can feel his eyes on me, Hainsey looks up and connects his eyes with mine. Okay, maybe I'm being a bit of a creep, standing in the middle of the room and staring at him like a stalker, but what he does next is just rude. Instead of waving at me like he would have five years ago, he shakes his head, gets up, and then walks over to close his blackout curtains.

For a split second, I wonder if they're the same curtains I accidentally set on fire after knocking over a candle in his bedroom. I smile to myself at the memory. It was after one of our many, many hockey practices and I told him his room smelt like shit. I think we were eleven at the time, and for some reason, he listened to me and ran downstairs to grab a candle. The rest of the story is history.

Now all I can see is black.

I scratch the back of my neck. This is going to be a lot harder than I originally presumed. Hainsey's feelings toward me are nothing but negative.

If I've learned anything in life, it's that you should never break promises you make, someone's trust, and someone's heart.

And I've done just that.

The very thought causes my shoulders to slump.

So how am I supposed to mend this broken relationship?

I'm suddenly not so hungry anymore.