“Yeah, right,” I say, staring the guy down as he quickly finishes dressing.
“I was just leaving—”
“Whatever, man,” I say, waving him off.
As much as I know that Lainey was the ringleader, I’m angry with him, too. What kind of a guy takes a drunk woman he just met up to her hotel room?
“Leave him alone, Tyson,” Lainey says. “Don’t be a bully.”
“No. This is my fault,” Dog Boy says. “I should go.”
“I think that’s an excellent idea,” I say, following him to the door. “And I would tell you to stop taking advantage of drunk women in bars, but in this case, I think maybe you were the one who got taken advantage of.”
He gives me a sheepish look, then mumbles an apology before shuffling off down the hall.
“You’re such an asshole,” Lainey says the second I shut the door.
I ignore her as Hannah steps in to play mediator. “He’s not an asshole,” she says as I head into the bathroom. “He just cares about you.”
“He might care about me, but he’s self-righteous as fuck. I’m sick of his morality policing,” I hear Lainey say.
Her rant continues as I relieve myself, then wash my hands. I can’t make out most of what she’s going on about, but I hear something about “Saint Tyson coming to the rescue for his slutty, fucked-up friend.”
“Nobody called you a slut, but you are selfish as fuck,” I say when I get out of the bathroom.
Her face crumples. I instantly regret my words, but not enough to take them back or apologize, especially because they are true. She is being selfish.
She tries to flip it on us, saying, “I told you this would be a dumpster fire!”
“Well, yeah. You set the fire,” I say.
I wait for her to clap back at me. Instead, she bursts into tears. I look at her, shocked. Lainey never cries. Almost never. As I get a vivid flashback to Summer’s funeral, I lower my voice and say, “Okay, Lainey. You’re right. Coming here was a bad idea. I’m sorry. Hannah and I are both sorry.”
“Very sorry,” Hannah says, standing frozen in the middle of the room. “This is my fault. It was my idea—and it was a horrible one.”
“I just want to go home,” Lainey says.
She climbs onto the bed, pulling her T-shirt over her knees. “I’m going to book a flight back to New York,” she whimpers.
“No,” I say, my voice calm but firm. “You’re not going home, Lainey.”
“Yes, I am. You guys should go on the rest of the trip alone,” she says. “It will be better without me, and we all know it.”
“No,” I say again. “We’re sticking together. We all need this trip.”
Silence fills the room as Lainey and Hannah both stare at me.
“It’s what Summer would have wanted, and it’s what we’re doing,” I continue, my voice as strong and steady as I can make it. “I know she’s up there, watching us…. Rooting for us to get our shit together.”
“I don’t believe that,” Lainey says, shaking her head. “I don’t believe she’s anywhere.”
“Well, I do,” I say. “In fact, I’m absolutely certain of it. So if you don’t want to stay for Hannah or me or yourself, I need you to stay for her.”
She stares at me for a long few seconds, then slowly nods. “Okay,” she says. “I’ll stay. On one condition.”
I nod and say, “What’s that?”
“No judging me for the rest of this trip. I’m a grown woman.”
“Okay,” I say, resisting the urge to tell her that she really needs to start acting like one. “I won’t judge you—but will you please try to take better care of yourself?”
“I’ll try,” she says, sniffing.
“That’s not very convincing,” I say.
Before she can respond, we hear Hannah say she’s going downstairs for a minute but will be right back.
When the door opens, then closes, Lainey rolls her eyes. “Classic Hannah,” she says.
I nod and smile. “Yeah. She really finds any conflict unbearable, doesn’t she?”
Lainey nods, then immediately looks worried. “Wait. You don’t think she’s going downstairs to call Grady, do you?”
“No,” I say. “She wouldn’t dare.”
“God, I hope not.”
“See?” I say.
