I HAD NO IDEA WHAT HELEN WAS DOING HERE, but Jesus, she took my breath away. She looked like one of them, Miranda’s people, only sexier and so much more real.
I’d walked into this banquet hall knowing tonight would be nothing but suffering, but I’d been ready for it. Or so I thought. Nothing could have prepared me for this. Helen, two seats away, making nice with Andrew. She was clearly already great friends with my stepmom. And that dress, her body, red lips, sad eyes—all of it was a recipe to make me regret every decision I ever made. What really rattled around in my skull and down to my gut, though, was how completely taken with her my father was.
I couldn’t hear what Helen was saying with Abby and Miranda speaking to each other around me, but I watched. Helen was twisted in her seat to face my father, her hands moving expressively as she explained something to him. Andrew Whitlock was riveted, nodding and throwing in a word or two, but otherwise listening to all Helen had to say.
Eventually, dinner was served. Instead of eating, I stared as Helen worked her water glass between her hands, spinning it in tight circles over and over. Finally, she must have sensed my gaze. Her eyes slid to mine, one brow arching. I opened my hands. I was at a loss about everything.
Every. Fucking. Thing.
Abby poked at my arm, dragging my attention from Helen. “Isn’t this salad good?” She held up her fork like she might feed me if I wasn’t careful.
I glanced down at my untouched plate, then back to her. “Great.”
Her bottom lip poked out. “You haven’t been paying attention to me, The.”
“That’s because I don’t want to be here.”
Her mouth fell open, but only for a moment, then she composed herself in all her Abigail Fitzgerald glory. “Then we should go. Although, I’m certain your father wouldn’t appreciate you disappearing.”
I had nothing to say to that. She was right. Someone brushed by my chair, and my eyes flicked up in time to see Helen striding toward the restrooms, her round hips swaying in that sultry way that came naturally to her.
“Excuse me.” I threw my napkin down on the table, not even bothering to hide the fact that I was following her. Like a moth to a flame and all that. There was no resisting.
I waited in the empty hall outside the women’s restroom. After a minute or two, Helen emerged, her face impassive, not seeming the least bit surprised to find me there. She started to march by me. Before she could take more than a couple steps, I had my fingers wrapped around her bicep and I shoved her into a shadowed alcove.
She yanked her arm away. “No.”
“Yes.” I crowded her space, backing her into the wall. “What are you doing here?”
Her gaze was unflinching. “I was invited.”
“By my stepmom?”
“Yes.”
“Are you here because of me?”
Helen sputtered with laughter. “Holy Christ, dude. How conceited are you? I didn’t know you’d be here until Elena informed me you and your girlfriend were coming. And I found out your connection to Miranda at the same time you found out mine.”
“I’m with her as a favor to my dad.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Tell me, Theo, when did you know you’d be escorting your girlfriend to this banquet?”
I stilled as her bullet hit its target. “A few weeks.” My hole had been dug. Why not be honest now?
Her laugh was so bitter, I could taste it. “You were going to bring her here tonight and never tell me, right? I bet you would have shown up at my door ready to fuck after rubbing up against your pretty blonde girlfriend all night.”
“He didn’t give me a choice, Helen.”
“Okay.”
I slapped the wall next to her head. “Fuck, I hate when you do that. Why won’t you call me a piece of shit? Argue with me? Tell me to go to hell?”
She lifted her chin. “I don’t need to. You already know.”
Looking away from her wasn’t an option, even though it bruised all the way to the bone. She was so fucking gorgeous and defiant. And somehow, somehow, after the lie she told and truth she omitted, she had the upper hand.
I guess I’d given it to her. No, I knew I had. How could I be angry at her for keeping something from me when I hadn’t even considered telling her about escorting Abby tonight?
“You’re right. I wasn’t going to tell you.”
Her head turned, showing me the tight curve of her jaw. “That would have hurt me. Luckily, I don’t care anymore.”
My hand balled into a fist on the wall. “Helen…”
She cared.
She absolutely fucking cared. Seeing the slightest hint of vulnerability was like bamboo under my fingernails—torture I would have kept on taking if it meant seeing beyond her walls.
“You should get back to your girlfriend.” She tipped her face up to meet my gaze. Even in the shadows, her pain was evident. “She looks lovely tonight, Theo. You must be proud.”
Then she slipped under my arm, hurrying down the hall, leaving me reeling, like she always did. Only, this time, it was worse than ever. This wasn’t the beginning of something wild and crazy, but the period at the end of the biggest rush of my life.
When I got back to the table, Helen was once again rising from her seat and walking toward the stage with note cards in her hand.
“What’s she doing?” I asked Miranda.
Her head jerked toward me. “Helen is here to give a speech about Madeline McGarvey’s legacy, honey.”
“What?”
What?
Miranda patted my arm. “If you’ll turn on your ears and listen, I think you’ll understand.”
A spotlight shone down on Helen’s sleek, chocolate waves as she took her spot behind the podium, center stage. It was subtle, but I saw her nerves in the slight tremble of her hands, the press of her ruby lips, the bunching of her shoulders.
“Hi.” Feedback from the microphone squealed through the room. Helen laughed softly and adjusted it with her shaking hands. “Hi, I’m Helen Ortega.” She smiled, her lashes brushing her cheeks as she looked down at her note cards.
“I’m not an artist or an art major. I’m planning on becoming a nurse, actually. So, you might wonder what I’m doing here, standing on stage, speaking at a fundraiser for the art and design school. It’s simple, really. I’m here for Madeline.”
Abby looped her arm through mine and tried to lean into me. I shrugged her off and shot her a hard look that had her slumping back in her seat. This wasn’t her time. That had come and gone.
Helen shuffled her note cards, then looked up with shining eyes. “I grew up in a trailer park. I never intended on going to college, because, quite frankly, I couldn’t afford it and it wasn’t important to me. Then, I met Madeline. She saw me chasing three idiot guys out of a skate shop with a baseball bat and said, ‘That’s the girl I want by my side for the rest of my days.’ She offered me a job right then and there, and I couldn’t turn her down.”
I’m an idiot. I’ve been one since the day we met.
Miranda laid her hand over mine as she released a wet laugh. I’d only met Madeline a couple times, but I knew my stepmom had been devastated when she passed. Seeing Helen on stage, it was clear Miranda wasn’t the only one.
“Imagine knowing from the time you’re a kid that you won’t live past forty. That was Mads’s reality. She chose not to walk herself into an early grave, though. Instead, she lived as fully as she could. Mads grabbed hold of her life with both hands. Even when the ride was rough and it hurt—and god, did it hurt her—she kept going and going. She saw me with my trusty bat and recognized a kindred spirit. I don’t have CF, but the hand I was dealt since birth was—excuse my language—really shitty. I never once considered packing it in or burying my head in drugs or alcohol, though, just as Mads didn’t slow down until her body forced her to. But I don’t want you to think she stopped. She never, ever stopped.”
Helen swiped at her cheek and gave the audience another brave, wobbly smile as she shuffled her notes.
“If you knew Madeline McGarvey, no doubt you knew how important education was to her. Teaching at Savage U, her alma mater, was one of her greatest joys. Introducing art to those who’d previously found it inaccessible was her passion. The art and design school was her second home. So, you can imagine when Mads got her hands on me, a girl who’d never set foot in a museum, had no intention of seeking a higher education, and had never seen a foreign film in my life, she was giddy. I was signed up for online college courses before I knew what hit me. We took trips to every museum within driving distance. I picked up enough Italian and French from all the movies we watched, I could hold a conversation now.”
The room filled with soft, sad laughter, but I was filled with something else. Wonder, maybe. It buzzed low in my gut, impossible to ignore. How had I missed this? How had I spent every spare second with Helen and never known any of this? How had I not even come close to seeing her grief, which was lying so close to her surface, it was coming off her in waves?
Helen wiped her cheek again. “Madeline hired me to be her companion when it became clear her body couldn’t withstand another transplant or experimental treatment. Don’t take that as her giving up, though. Mads had accepted what was happening to her and filled every single day with art, beauty, adventure, and experiences. Because life is short, and it’s so damn unfair I could scream, but it can also be beautiful. Madeline McGarvey found that, and it was her living and dying wish to spread that lesson.”
Helen sucked in a jagged breath. Miranda’s hand tightened over mine. I leaned forward, needing every single word and secret she was spilling from her red, red lips.
“I’m here tonight because of Madeline. My Mads. She couldn’t convince me to become an art major, but she did instill in me the importance of learning. I’m here, standing before you tonight, because of Madeline McGarvey. Because she saw something in me, believed in me, wanted more for me so fervently, I started to want more for myself. I know I’m only one person, but I bet you could ask any of Madeline’s students and they would have a story about the moment a flip switched in them because of her. She’s gone, but her legacy will live on. She made sure of that, through me, her past students, and the ones to come. The Madeline McGarvey scholarship will keep her passion going for years to come. She died knowing her legacy would be beauty and hope. Mads passed fully at peace.”
Helen choked out a sob, but she swallowed hard, holding back any more tears. Miranda had leaned into my father, whose arm was curled around her shoulders as she quietly cried.
“If I could have one last conversation with Madeline, I’d tell her I saw my first Shakespeare play within my first month at Savage U. It was Taming of the Shrew. I’d tell her I really liked it. It even made me laugh. And though I said it a lot during the too-short time we spent together, I would say thank you. Thank you, Madeline, for showing me beauty. Thank you for believing in me and making me want more. Thank you, Mads, for being my friend. And thank you, Madeline McGarvey, for coming from a world of privilege, recognizing it, and using it to help those who don’t. I’ll do you proud, Mads. Promise.”
Helen returned to the table under a roar of applause. If the audience understood she was telling them to use their privilege for good instead of evil, it wasn’t apparent, but one could only hope. Miranda enveloped her into a hug, then my father took them both in his arms.
Sitting next to my ex-girlfriend—who was still pouting—watching this, knowing I had no business wanting to take care of Helen, but needing to more than I needed to breathe, I’d never felt more wrong in my life.
I hung through ten more minutes of every single person in the banquet hall coming up to Helen to try to grab a piece of her. They kept coming, asking her about her time with Madeline, touching her hair, her arms, invading her grief. She kept smiling, but her eyes were darting to the side. I recognized that look—trapped, panicked, hungry to escape—and I couldn’t stop myself from surging to my feet.
Helen shook her head when she saw me move, then she shifted to give me her back. and I remembered I’d put myself here—right where I’d wanted to be.
While I ignored her, Abby got wasted. By the time I drove her home, her head was lolling on her rest and I had to help her out of the car. She clung to me as I walked her into her dorm. This wasn’t where I wanted to be, but I couldn’t leave her to fend for herself.
I propped her next to her door and held out my hand. “Give me your key.”
“Why don’t you love me, The?” Her back was to the wall, her head tipped up.
“Give me your key, Abby.”
“Answer me and I will.”
Exhaling, I rubbed the space between my brows. “We’re done, Abby. We’ve had this conversation. There’s nothing new to say. I need you to let this go. No more showing up where I am. No more shoving our fathers in the middle. I don’t know how to be more clear with you.”
Her sigh sounded more like a hiss. “It’s her, isn’t it? That…girl with the red lips?”
“You know her name.” My patience had just about run out, but now that she’d brought up Helen, it was paper thin.
“You’re obviously not with her. She wouldn’t even look at you.”
“It doesn’t matter who I’m with or not with. You and I are not together, and we won’t be getting back together. I’d like to be able to look back on what we had and feel good about it, but you’re going out of your way to ruin our history.”
She straightened, moving into me to press her hands on my chest. “We were so good. I just wanted more. I didn’t know how to get it from you. I thought…I thought you’d see how serious I was if I broke up with you and you’d open up to me.”
I shook my head. “It was never going to happen, Abbs. I gave you all I could. I’m sorry it wasn’t enough. I’m sorry you were hurt, and maybe you’re still hurting. But that doesn’t mean we have a chance. You need to let go.”
Her brow crinkled. It looked like she was trying to work her thoughts out in her alcohol-soaked mind.
“Are you going to give her more?” She’d lost her cutting edge. Now, she just sounded sad. Her hands slid up to my neck, eyes imploring for a different answer than the one she knew I’d be giving.
“This isn’t about anyone else. You asked about me and you—that’s what I’m answering.”
“We were so good, The.” She rose on her toes, and before I could stop her, her mouth pressed against mine. I wrenched my head to the side, breaking the connection as soon as it started. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she cried.
I took her hands off me and pounded my fist on her door to let her roommates know she needed to be let in. Then I backed away, out of her reach.
“Go inside. I’m done.”
The door opened behind her, and I didn’t wait to see what happened next. I had a wrong I needed to right, and it couldn’t wait any longer.
