The Art of Falling in Love by Haleigh Wenger

Author:Haleigh Wenger [Wenger, Haleigh]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781950344048
Publisher: Literary Crush Publishing
Published: 2019-08-12T16:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Two

“I’m so sorry. I’m so so so sorry.”

Foster hasn’t stopped apologizing. Which is ridiculous, because my faux bravery is the reason his chin is twice its normal size and black and blue. He also has a small cut on his cheek that’s gushing blood like a bottle of ketchup. The doctor at the emergency-care office says it’s probably due to Johnny’s massive hand size as well as how hard he was hit. A two-for-one sort of thing. They almost didn't agree to see him after we couldn't show them an insurance card, but I slapped down my emergency credit card, only a tinge of guilt niggling in the back of my brain.

“Don’t apologize. You didn't do anything wrong." The situation is awful enough without him reminding me how badly I messed up. He should be giving me the silent treatment or yelling at me––or something––since I’m the one who antagonized his brother into hitting him. I didn’t even have the foresight to call the police—even though I had threatened that exact thing and was already clutching my phone. Some people are quick under pressure. Me? Not so much.

"I didn't do anything at all. I froze." His hands encircle his head, and he curls into his knees.

"You were scared." I give my head a tiny shake. "I was too."

“Johnny would have come after me whether you were with me or not. I just hate that you had to see that.” Foster groans softly as I set an arm around him. Even though his injuries are restricted to his face, he moves his whole body gingerly. A side effect of being in extreme pain, I guess.

I can’t let him go back to the beach like this, knowing Johnny is potentially there waiting to beat him to a pulp. And even if Johnny’s gone, Foster needs to rest somewhere comfortable for a change, so he can start healing. And I already have a plan in motion—he just doesn’t know it yet.

After we leave the doctor’s office, I pull into the drive-through of the closest burger place. I order two milkshakes (one chocolate, one vanilla), two cheeseburgers, and two large fries. People are much more likely to accept crazy ideas on a full stomach; that’s just common sense. It’s a tactic I learned from Dad. He used to take Livvy and me for milkshakes and fries every time he needed us on his side for a vacation choice or weekend plans. Mom pretended to hate that we banded together against her, but I think it secretly made her happy everyone was getting along.

I hand Foster the vanilla milkshake and take a giant slurp out of the chocolate. He eyes me before drinking it. “How did you know I like vanilla?”

I shrug and reluctantly slip the straw out of my mouth. “I have a milkshake theory,” I say. I know I sound ridiculous, but I figure Foster should get to know this silly side of me too. He raises his eyebrows and purses his lips.

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