After Dad and I found out that Mom was never going to come back home, things changed. This much should be obvious from the get-go, but at the time I wasn't expecting things to change so drastically and so fast.
We held Mom's funeral only two weeks after she was found. It was probably the worst day of my life. Seeing everyone that loved her gathered in one place, crying and mourning over the loss of my mother was awful. To make things worse, the funeral made everything all the more real for me. Mom wasn't coming home. She was gone for good.
I was never going to see her again.
After the funeral, Grandma and Grandpa (my mom's parents) came to visit us. Our house was unusually crowded that day, as everyone who attended the funeral and lots of others stopped by to pay their condolences. I especially remember Grandma and Grandpa's visit, because it wasn't really a visit.
It was a goodbye.
Both of them were a crying mess that day. Seeing my grandparents in such heartbreak really killed something deep inside me. I was never going to see my mother again, yes. But they had lost a daughter, and I knew their pain had to be worse than mine. After all, Mom was their only child. They never even got to say goodbye to her. They were never going to get that chance.
That day, Grandma and Grandpa told me and my Dad that they were going to be moving to Florida. It was too painful for them to stay in Texas. They saw my mother everywhere . . . yet they would never see her again. Irony, what a terrible thing.
At the time, I couldn't believe that they were leaving us. To me—at that time—it felt like everyone was leaving. I felt like I should have been counting down the minutes until it would be just me, all by myself, alone for good. I think I still feel like that at times; like one day I'll be completely and utterly by myself. Like everyone will leave me.
Now, however, I understand why Grandma and Grandpa had to leave Texas. I suppose it's the same reason my father eventually had to move, too. It was hard trying to live life the way we had before Mom passed, and I think deep down I know that my dad and I needed a fresh start. I have to admit that that's what moving to my father's hometown in Georgia has given us: a fresh start. It's with that in mind that I have since learned to forgive my grandparents, finally understanding why they did what they had to.
After all, sometimes I wish I could do the same thing. Pack up and leave, try to escape my pain.
Unfortunately, it's not that easy. And I know that it never really will be. Pain isn't something that you can just let go of. It's something you have to grow through.
• • •
"So," Lana says to me as we take our usual lunch seats in the cafeteria, glancing at me with bright eyes. "You and Lucas are a thing now?"
I shrug, not quite sure what to say in response to Lana's question. "I guess so," I admit, unintentionally looking around the cafeteria for the very boy we're talking about. "He asked me out, and I said yes. Does that count as a 'thing'?"
"Yes," Lana assures me with a teasing smile, rolling her blue eyes. Raising her eyebrows as her expression becomes curious, Lana asks, "Hey, where'd you run off to Friday, anyway? You just disappeared."
It takes a moment for it to register in my mind that Lana is referring to the party that I left early with Jack last Friday night. Huh, I can't help thinking, Lucas didn't tell her about Jack taking me home? Why wouldn't he bring that up?
"Oh," I murmur nonchalantly, racking my brain for an excuse to explain why I would bail on my friend. "You know, I just went home. I wasn't feeling so good."
"Who gave you a ride?" Lana continues, her eyebrows furrowing as she studies me skeptically, lips wilting into a frown.
"Just this girl," I lie, waving my hand dismissively. "She noticed I was really wasted and offered to help out. She was really sweet." Do I feel bad for lying to Lana? Yes. Does that mean I'm going to tell her the truth? Definitely not.
"Did you catch her name?" Lana asks, looking around like she's trying to spot the imaginary girl I just made up somewhere in the cafeteria.
"I was drunk." I cringe at my excuse, feeling immensely guilty. Shrugging, I mumble, "I forgot."
"I was really worried about you," Lana admits, looking down at her tray as she purses her lips. "For a minute I thought something might have happened to you. I couldn't find Lucas anywhere either. I assumed you two went off together, but I guess I was wrong."
This is news to me. I had no clue that Lucas left the party that night. After the fight with Jack, he must not have been left in the party type of mood. If only I could remember what it was the two of them were fighting about . . .
"I bet you're just excited about the game," Lana says with a taunting tone, smirking at me. "You were screaming so loudly the whole time, you would have thought you were watching the pros."
I laugh at Lana's dig, rolling my eyes good-naturedly before offering her a knowing smile as I admit, "I am. My dad was super happy about the win, too."
"Did you see Jack play?" Lana questions, expression dumbstruck. "I had no clue he was that good. I don't think we would have won without him."
"He was pretty good," I admit, nodding slowly. I may not be on speaking terms with Jack at the moment, but I have to give credit where it's due. Really, most of the cheering I had been doing was for Jack. I would never admit it out loud, but my eyes were on Jack almost the entire night. It was like I couldn't escape him, unable to look away.
And, as much as it hurts to admit, I didn't entirely hate that.
No, no, no, Morgan, I scold myself. Enough of that. You do not like Jack Crawford. You basically told him off the other day, anyway. He hates you now. Besides, he knows about Mom. He knows everything. You can't keep him around anymore. It's too much.
"Speak of the devil," Lana mutters suddenly, gesturing across the cafeteria. I find my gaze following her finger, landing on no other than Jack Crawford himself. And . . . he's not alone.
Across the cafeteria, Jack stands by the far wall, talking to a grinning Lacey. I can't help finding the scene in a little odd, recalling Friday night before the game when Jack told me that he and Lacey had called it quits. Watching the way he smiles at her as Lacey says something to Jack, I can't help thinking that this doesn't seem to be the case.
I watch in horror as Jack suddenly wraps his arms around Lacey's waist, whispering something in her ear that makes her laugh. He then plants a few tender kisses on her neck, pressing her back against the wall and kissing her on the lips. I can't help thinking that this is a little much, even for the two of them. It almost appears like Jack is trying to put on a show. Like he wants someone to see.
That's when it hits me. Jack is putting on a show. He does want someone to see.
Me.
But . . . no. That can't be. Right? Why would Jack be trying to make me jealous? It's not like we were ever that close or anything. We were hardly even friends. Just because I found Jack insanely attractive and found him unnaturally sweet doesn't mean anything. Besides, he probably never thought of me in that kind of way. That makes absolutely no sense.
Or does it?
Suddenly, everything begins to fall into place. I recall the day I first got my car, how Jack said he'd be thinking about me "flirting" with him in his dreams. I think about the look he shared with Kyler the day the three of us were walking to the football field together, a look that said don't you even think about saying that, bro. I recall the interaction Jack and I shared in the library not too long ago. Finally, I find myself replaying everything about Friday night, how gentle and patient Jack had been with me; how he seemed to genuinely care about me.
Suddenly, I remember exactly what Lucas and Jack were fighting about at the party last Friday night. Thinking back on it, Jack was upset about Lucas kissing me when I had been so drunk, like he was worried I would regret that decision later. Maybe worried isn't the right word, because it was almost like he was hoping I'd regret it later. Then my mind wanders to how kind he was that night, taking me in when I had nowhere else to go. Holding back my hair when I was throwing up into his toilet. The way he held me as I sobbed into his chest. How he listened to my rambling and took it all without thinking twice. How he dropped me off at my house the next morning, even parking a few blocks away from my house without being asked to. How angry Jack looked in the parking lot when he saw me and Lucas talking yesterday. How he said he was happy for me and Lucas on our newfound relationship, even though he very clearly wasn't. Jack telling me he would always be there for me to talk to if I ever needed someone, even after I had been awful to him.
Is it possible that Jack Crawford liked me? I mean, really thinking about it, it all adds up. But there's no way that's possible. I mean, I'm me. And Jack is Jack. How could he like me? I have to be jumping to conclusions. What I'm thinking just can't be possible. It can't be.
Then my mind does a complete 180. I find myself thinking of how sweet it was when Jack held the door open for me the day I got my car. The way it felt when he tickle-attacked that one time when we were walking to the football field together. The times I found myself unintentionally staring at him with no reason to be doing so whatsoever, hardly aware that I was staring at all. The way I couldn't stop watching him on the field on Friday night. And when I was kissing Lucas at the party, for a second I was imagining that it was Jack I had been kissing instead. I remember how it felt to be wrapped in his arms as I cried, how warm and safe I had felt. Finally, I think about how easy it had been to tell Jack everything. In a way, it had almost been freeing. For the first time since I lost Mom, I had felt . . . free.
Now, as I watch Jack kiss his girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend, or whatever they are, I can't deny the ache I feel in my chest. It hurts. It physically hurts to watch them together in this moment. And the only explanation for that is . . .
I like Jack Crawford. Oh my God, I like Jack Crawford.
And that's as good a reason to stay away from him as any.
Out of nowhere, I feel like I'm going to be sick.
"I'm gonna . . ." I trail off, unable to get any other words out. I just grab my things and rush out of the cafeteria without an explanation to Lana. I don't think I can take anymore of it, watching Lacey and Jack together. I just want to be alone. For the first time ever, I want to be alone.
I'm rushing down the hallway, trying my hardest to get away from the pain as fast as I can, when suddenly I feel a hand on my wrist, pulling me backwards. I stumble into a hard chest, looking up and into a pair of green eyes that I already know so well. It's weird how the two of us were never really very close, yet he's seemed to have hurt me like nobody who knows me any better could have.
I stiffen, jerking away from his grasp as if Jack's touch has burnt me. In this moment, I'm not simply hurt. I'm angry. Angry at myself for not knowing how to deal with my emotions. Angry at my emotions for being so hard to deal with. Angry at Jack for making me feel the aforementioned emotions.
"Really?" I sneer at Jack, narrowing my eyes at him. "Because I think that went better than you planned."
Jack blinks, expression taken aback. He seems confused and a little hurt, yet my anger level doesn't decrease any. In this moment I'm furious and hurt and confused, and all I know is that I simply want to be done with Jack Crawford. I'm tired of the way he makes me feel, tired of hating him and liking him and wanting him all at once. So I don't apologize. Instead, I glare at Jack, waiting for him to get lost. That's all people are good for, anyway. Leaving.
"What do you mean, Scott?" Jack questions finally, tone soft and expression softer. Jack's light green eyes shift between the both of mine, studying me as if trying to figure out what makes me treat him this way.
"I thought you two were broken up?" I ask, referring to Jack and Lacey. "I thought you were done with her?" I don't know why it hurts so much when I think back to Lacey and Jack kissing in the cafeteria. I don't know why glancing into those annoyingly beautiful green eyes of his right now has my heart breaking and racing all at once. All I know is that I want it to stop.
In response to my question, Jack mutters stiffly, "Things change." He looks at me with this hard expression, completely closing me off to his emotions. I stare into his green eyes, wishing I could know what he was thinking whilst wishing he had never entered my life.
Finally, I can't take anymore. "Whatever," I mutter with an irritated eye roll. My fists clench at my sides as I glare up at Jack, wanting to make him hurt as badly as he's hurt me. "You two deserve each other."
"Why can't you just be happy for me?" Jack counters, his expression slowly morphing into an angry stare as he peers down at me. I can tell by the look he's giving me that I am not the only one upset with the other, which only further angers me.
"Oh, like you're happy for me and Lucas?" I ask sarcastically, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. I raise my eyebrows, wondering how a person can be so one-sided as I stare right back into Jack's green eyes, refusing to back down first.
"That's different," Jack practically growls, dismissing me without a second thought. "You know, I really don't get you, Morgan. You're acting jealous. Why?"
"Maybe I am jealous," I practically whisper the words, because I'm hardly aware I even say the words. Meeting Jack's gaze, I can't seem to look away. Somehow, I know my words are true. More than true, really. Because there is no maybe anymore. I'm jealous of Lacey. In this moment, there isn't much I wouldn't do to be her. And it's that thought that is killing me, slowly driving me insane. This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to be like everyone else, wasn't supposed to fall for the golden boy in front of me.
Now look where I am.
"You're with Lucas," Jack says slowly, trying the words on for size.
"And you're with Lacey," I state, crossing my arms over my chest. I meet Jack's gaze once again, wondering what is even going on here. "Yet here we are."
"Why do you keep playing with me like this?" Jack hisses suddenly, his expression almost pained. "You're so flip-floppy, I can hardly even keep up. You trusted me with something so big, Morgan. And then you basically told me you never wanted to see me again. What do you want from me?"
"What do I want from you?" I blink as I repeat Jack's question, wondering if I heard him correctly. "The real question is: What do you want from me? You're the one who wouldn't stop flirting with me, even when you were with Lacey before. Remember that, Crawford? Or has your arrogance killed your brain cells?"
Jack narrows his eyes as he glances down at me, lips pursed into a thin line. We stare at each other in silence for what feels like forever, neither of us giving up and walking away. Finally, after an eternity, Jack speaks. "Maybe you were right, Morgan. Maybe we just shouldn't see each other anymore."
I can't put into words how badly his words hurt me. A guttural sound escapes my throat, and I can feel my features crumple. If Jack notices, he doesn't say anything.
I sniff, trying to pretend like I don't care. But in reality, I do care. I care too much. I don't know exactly when I started to feel so intensely about Jack Crawford. All I know is that somewhere along the way he became important to me, and that is maybe the worst mistake I've ever made in my life.
"Maybe I was," I manage to say, my voice cracking mid-sentence. "Maybe we just don't work."
Jack sighs, running a hand through his hair as he shakes his head, looking drained. "Morgan—"
"No," I cut him off tersely. "You're right. Neither of us need this kind of drama. I'm sorry for bothering you. We should just stop seeing each other. It never ends well. I mean, it's for the best. You said it yourself."
"Morgan, I didn't—"
"You should go," I cut Jack off once again, knowing I can't handle this anymore. "I'm sure Lacey's looking for you." And with that, I turn on my heel, walking off without looking back once. I don't want to be near Jack when the tears start to fall; tears that I'll be shedding over him.
"Morgan!" Jack cries after me, trying to call me back. I keep walking, and Jack doesn't bother to follow after me.
Deep down, I can't help wishing that he would.