Riley didn't come home.
He did call at least a dozen times a day, and left so many voicemails my phone sent me an alert saying I was running out of storage space. I didn't listen to a single message, too hurt and ashamed to hear my brother begging me to understand his decision to yet again put the company first.
I didn't want justification. I didn't need to be told he was doing the right thing, or that our parents would have been proud of all he'd accomplished on their behalf. More than that, I knew if I spoke to him, I wouldn't be able to tell Riley I was sorry for lashing out. All I'd accomplish was widening the fracture in our relationship, so I held my silence and switched my phone off, eventually losing it somewhere in the chaos of my room.
Before I knew it, I'd gone two weeks without speaking to him, something of a record for us. Even with his trips overseas, he still contacted me several times a week to check in. A hollow ache took up residence in my chest and made me irritable. My new attitude attempted to take Mel as its first victim, a battle I knew I'd lose before it even began.
"Sit your ass down," she barked at me now, her expression one I imagined she used with employees who weren't pulling their weight and needed a firm reminder of their job descriptions. She was leaning against the sink in her usual impeccable business suit, this one a bold black with sharp white piping, hair pulled back into a neat chignon at the base of her neck.
With a slice of leftover pizza hanging from my mouth and my schoolbag clenched firmly in one hand in preparation of leaving I obeyed, perching on a stool at the kitchen counter. I dumped the bag at my feet and slapped the leftover slice onto the sparkling clean counter in front of me. With Mel spending most of her time here, I was beginning to think we didn't need a cleaning lady.
Mel was a fiend when it came to the upkeep of the house - just last week she'd taken all the curtains down on her day off to wash them. I'd had no idea curtains were even washable. Riley and I usually just replaced them whenever they started to wilt or collect enough dust to dull the colours.
"Mel," I said a touch impatiently, glancing at the wall clock to my left, "If I don't leave now, I'm going to be la -"
"I'll write you a note." Slender arms crossed over her chest as she eyed me critically. "We need to have a chat."
Anger that had become a permanent weight in my chest bubbled to the surface. "If this chat has anything to do with Riley, then I have nothing to say." I was already climbing to my feet when she stopped me with a bellowed order.
"Noah Bernadette Duke, sit down! And do not try to sass me because you won't like what I respond with." She gave me a moment to gape at her in stunned silence before she continued. "If you don't want to talk, that's fine, but you will listen when I speak to you."
Unable to do anything else in the wake of her projected authority, I simply nodded.
A beaming smile broke her stern glower. "Excellent. Now, since you've made it clear you have no thoughts on the subject, I guess I'll just go ahead and let you know mine."
Her heels clacked on the tiled floor as she approached the counter and leaned her elbows on it, bringing us eye level with each other. "You're upset. Riley said some stupid things on the phone, things I know he deeply regrets. Things that hurt you. It's understandable, and I know how hard things have been lately with him gone all of the time and you here alone."
I gritted my teeth and averted my gaze, refusing to focus on the fact Riley was probably just as upset as I was over our rift. Because at the end of the day, it wasn't enough to make him come home.
"I'm sensing a but," I grumbled.
"But," she said, proving me right. "You did the same to him. You and I both know what you said wasn't true. You miss him, and don't think I haven't noticed you peeking out the front windows whenever it sounds like a car is pulling up outside."
Mel reached out to clasp my hands in hers. "I'm not taking sides, Noah. I'm just trying to help you realise that you've both been wronged in life. Your parents were taken from you far sooner than they should have been. Riley's independence and freedom to live a life he carved out for himself was taken in that same moment, along with the childhood you should have had, the love and affection you should have been showered with until you were sick of it."
I didn't register I was crying until Mel wiped away a falling tear with her thumb. "Nobody can force you to call Riley to make amends. But with everything you've already lost, I'd hate for your bond with Riley to be added to the list."
Mel's words were still ringing in my ears as first period ended and I headed to my locker to grab my economics book. Not that it was much use to me; I had yet to write a single word of Mr. Phelp's lectures in it, and on top of that I'd refused to purchase a new notebook as per his mandate. It was a matter of principle. Plus it was always a bonus to see his face redden whenever I retrieved my battered and torn notebook with a flourish designed to grab his attention.
Stuffing it into my bag along with all of the other books I'd need to see the day through, I slammed my locker shut and just about leaped out of my skin.
Hand clutched to my chest, I sputtered wordlessly at Drew for a moment before the ability to speak perked back up.
"I thought we were friends" I gasped, taking a deep breath to slow the thudding beat of my heart.
"We are," Drew said, confusion marring his face. He picked my bag up from the floor where I'd dropped it during my heart attack, dirty blonde hair falling into his eyes as he did so.
"Friends don't send each other into cardiac arrest," I snapped, snatching my belongings back.
He fell into step with me as I made my way to economics, dread already a rock in the bottom of my stomach. "If you're looking for Courts, I haven't seen her yet today. I got in late."
A whopping ten minutes that got me an equally long tirade about the importance of punctuality. It took me pointing out that by discussing my tardiness, the truancy officer was only making me later than I already was. Cue the second lecture about not being such a smartass, and I'd arrived at my first period class with twenty minutes left in the lesson.
"Oh, good, because I actually wanted to talk to you about her."
I cast Drew a quizzical stare, suspicious at the nervous expression he was sporting. "You're not breaking up with her, are you? Because I swear to God, if that's why you're here, to ask me to pass on the bad news, I will hurt you."
"What? No, shit, I'm not breaking up with her." The colour drained from his face. "Wait, why is that your first assumption? Has she said something to you? Does she think I want to break up with her?"
I dodged a gaggle of sophomore girls going hysterical over the latest issue of Seventeen magazine, bumping Drew as I did so.
"Okay, what gives?" I asked, hauling him to a stop two doors down from hell, also known as economics.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, Drew seemed to regain some of his composure. "Has Courtney said anything to you?"
I arched an eyebrow. "She says lots of things to me. I'm sure we speak enough words to fill a novel on a daily basis, so you're going to have to be just a little more specific."
This earned me a scowl. "About the beach house. Her birthday weekend. Has she said anything."
I took a moment to cast my mind back to almost a month ago, surprised to discover it felt like an entire lifetime had blown by me since then, rather than the few weeks it was. Nothing Courtney had said between then and now leaped out at me as a clear indicator of what Drew was talking about.
Courtney had been her usual chirpy self as far as I could tell, gushing about Drew's "deliciously lickable abs" and the biceps she'd been "dying to nibble on" - which, she'd informed me after the long weekend that she had. Totally more information than I needed, but Courtney had pointed out on more than one occasion that I better get used to living vicariously through her whether I wanted to or not because she was never, ever, going to skimp on the details.
"Ah, is this something I'd be able to pinpoint immediately, or should I ask you for another prompt."
Drew blinked at me. Took a second to think about it, then shrugged. "I was kind of hoping the light bulb would come on as soon as I mentioned it."
"Mentioned what, Drew?" I snapped, looking over his shoulder to see most of the class filing in.
Overhead, the late bell sounded, making me extremely conscious of the seconds ticking by, each one giving Mr. Phelps more fuel for his baffling hatred of me. I could already see him mentally cataloguing my lateness; I wouldn't put it past him to give me an hour's worth of detention for each minute I wasn't in his classroom.
Cheeks heating to a brilliant red, Drew looked in every direction to ensure nobody could sneakily put an ear to our conversation, and for good measure dragged me around the corner. Once he was certain we were alone, he dropped his voice to a hushed whisper.
"Ididn'tsleepwithheratthebeachhouse."
I tilted my head to the side, my mouth forming a tiny O. "Come again?"
Averting his gaze, he cleared his throat, and spoke even faster than he had the first time.
"You didn't what?"
Heaving an exasperated sigh, Drew said, "For the love of God, open your ears."
Yes, because really, not being able to understand his mile-a-minute jabbering was completely my fault. I scowled at him, waiting for him to continue.
Through gritted teeth, he finally managed, "I did not sleep with Courtney at the beach house."