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Chapter 38: Falling

Chapter 38: Falling 

February

As I'm driving Bree home that night, I can't help but wonder how all our friends at the game seemed to already know we got engaged.

"It was so good to see everyone," she says.

I nod. "Yeah, our news spread like wildfire. How did everyone find out so fast?"

"Oh. Probably because I posted it on my profile."

"When did you have time to do that?"

"On our way to the game," she says, as if it were only natural.

Jesus, she sure doesn't let any moss gather.

"I wish you'd asked me first. I would have liked the chance to tell people myself."

"Like who?" she asks.

"Like some of the guys."

She's quiet for a few beats. Thinking. "You mean Peyton. Heard you asked her to prom. Got down on one knee and everything," she snarks.

Un-fucking-believable.

I just shake my head. "I should have told you about her. But this all happened so fast."

She shrugs. "No biggie," she says. "It was obvious she always had a crush on you."

It wasn't obvious to me.

"Besides," she says. "I hope you don't think I'm threatened by her."

I give her the side eye. Her tone has taken a definite turn, one I'm not all that fond of. 

"I mean," she continues, "look at her. And look at me. No contest."

"Yep," I say. "No contest." Peyton wins, hands down.

After I drop her off, I open up Instagram and scroll to Bree's profile.

It's a picture of us taken at the homecoming dance. I swipe to the next shot—it's her hand with my great-grandmother's diamond on her ring finger. Underneath the picture, her caption reads, "I said yes!"

Technically, she did. But it wasn't in response to any question I asked her.

This can't be real.

I'm in my bed later that night, staring at the ceiling. Can't sleep again. It feels like I'm in a waking nightmare sometimes, the kind where you've gotten yourself trapped somewhere high, and there's no way down except falling.

I go to bed thinking about it.

I wake up thinking about it.

I try to picture us walking down the aisle.

Visions of us in the doctor's office, holding hands while we look at an ultrasound.

I imagine us sleeping together and drinking coffee in the morning.

For the rest of our lives.

I hop out of bed, run into my bathroom, and vomit violently into the toilet.

I have to get out of here.

About ten minutes later, I find myself navigating the roads to Peyton's house. I have no idea what I'm thinking. Apparently, I've completely lost my mind.

I cut my lights and ease to stop about a quarter mile down their driveway. I shrug into my barn jacket and pull on my hat and gloves.

It's cold enough to freeze my nads off tonight. Really poor timing on my part.