Chapter 100
It was obvious what Bellamy was doing when he pretended to fall asleep early that night. It was even more obvious when he invited Miller over to watch game film the next day. And as if both those things weren't obvious enough, he actually decided to have an impromptu beach day that afternoon with Murphy and Raven. Clarke felt obligated to put on a swimsuit and go out there with them, even though she knew that it was all a giant distraction. If other people were around, then he was able to avoid having an actual conversation with her.
Conveniently, Bellamy was really tired really early on Saturday night, and he just had to go to bed early. To be honest, Clarke didn't really mind. She still wasn't sure what to say to him anyway, so after he went upstairs to 'sleep,' she stayed downstairs on her computer, doing some research. She had to delete her browsing history afterward, though, because she didn't want Bellamy to see that she'd been reading articles like How to Talk to Someone You Love About Their Drinking and How to Help a Loved One Struggling with Alcoholism.
Around 11:00 that night, she'd shut the computer down and was going to try to get some sleep of her own. But she got an email from Kane with a multitude of links to articles and resources she hadn't looked at yet. As she lay in bed, on the opposite side as Bellamy with her back to him, she dimmed the light from her phone as much as possible and looked over everything Kane had sent her. It was both encouraging and overwhelming to find out that there were some support groups that were pretty local. One of even operated through the college.
The next day, Bellamy found more ways to distract himself. It started when he went over to his mom's house to fix her broken air conditioner, even though he didn't know anything about how to do that. That ended up taking him two hours, and by the time he got home, he and Miller had to have a video chat to discuss some new things they planned to implement in practices next week. As annoying as it was, Clarke was interested to see just how far he would go to avoid the issue.
Finally, from around noon onward, he stopped doing things and just sat down with Avery on the living room floor and began to play with her. She couldn't interrupt that even if she'd wanted to, because he looked so genuinely happy when he was with her.
"Where's the bunny?" he asked her after he'd hid her purple bunny under her favorite blanket. "Where's the bunny, Avery?"
Clarke watched from the kitchen, where she was throwing together a couple turkey and cheese sandwich for lunch. God, he looked like himself. Normal. But he wasn't.
"Good job!" he exclaimed when she reached under the blanket and pulled out her bunny. "I can't fool you, can I?"
Why can't he be like this all the time? she wondered frustratedly. Things would have been so much easier if they weren't dealing with all this other stuff.
"Clarke, look," he said suddenly. "She's rollin' over."
Abandoning the sandwiches, Clarke rushed into the living room to see Avery lying on her back now. "Is she stuck?" she asked. She kind of looked like . . . a turtle. Cutest turtle in the world, of course.
"No, she'll roll back," Bellamy said. "Go on now. You got it."
It took Avery some obvious effort, but eventually did flip herself back over onto her stomach.
Bellamy's whole face lit up with excitement. "She did it." He picked Avery up and said, "You did it, Princess," and kissed her on the cheek. "You're so strong now."
For a few seconds—a few blissful seconds—Clarke couldn't stop smiling. Because things like this really made her realize how her daughter was growing. Soon, she'd be crawling, and then someday walking. As she watched Bellamy lift her up in the air and play with her, though, that happiness faded away, because she realized . . . she couldn't even fully enjoy the moment. Not with other things still bringing her down. And if Bellamy's problem persisted, then she wouldn't be able to enjoy the first time she saw Avery crawling, either, or walking or talking. Or anything. Nothing was going to feel truly good and right again until . . .
The doorbell rang, interrupting her chaotic thoughts. Bellamy's whole body language immediately changed. He stiffened, stopped playing with Avery, and the smile vanished from his face.
Clarke got up to answer the door, confused to see Finn there already. "What're you doing here?" she asked him. "It's, like, 12:30."
"I have to leave early today," he said. "We talked about this last week."
They had?
"That's my cue to head out," Bellamy grumbled, getting to his feet. He grabbed his keys, stepped into his shoes, and nudged past Clarke on his way out the door. "I'll be back later."
"Bellamy." She stepped aside as Finn went ahead and just walked inside. "Where are you going?"
He didn't even look back at her as he answered, "To work out."
"And after that?"
"Don't worry about it."
She rolled her eyes at that. Sure. Don't worry about it. Easier said than done, especially right now.
"Sorry to catch you off guard," Finn apologized.
"No, I remember talking about it now, but . . ." She stood in the doorway and watched helplessly as Bellamy got in the car. "This just really isn't the best day to have you over here."
"Oh. So you wanna skip this week?"
She wanted to skip everything and get to the point where Bellamy signed those adoption papers, because at this point, that seemed like the only thing that was going to get him to stop being like this.
"I just don't know if we should," Finn said. "We made an agreement, Clarke. We signed off on it. I'm thinking of you here. If we skip a week, that might make it seem like you're trying to-"
"It's fine then," she said, watching as Bellamy drove off. "Let's just get this over with." She shut the door, sulking back into the kitchen to finish making her lunch. One of those sandwiches was supposed to have been for Bellamy, but . . . she'd probably just let Finn have it now.
"Gee, you sound like you're in a great mood," he remarked sarcastically.
Whirling around, she glared at him exasperatedly. "No, you don't get to do that."
"Do what?" he asked innocently.
"Get all snarky with me. I'm letting you into my house, remember? I didn't have to do any of this for you, so if I'm such a bitch to be around . . ."
"Okay. No snark," he said, holding his hands up as he took a cautionary step back. "Got it. I'll just hang out with someone who's happy to see me." He got down on the floor with Avery, sitting right where Bellamy had just been, lifted her into his arms, and said, "Hey, precious."
She smiled at him, and Clarke had to look away.
...
Bellamy increased the elevation setting on the treadmill and upped the speed once he hit his next five-minute interval. He'd been running on that machine for almost thirty minutes already and felt like he could do thirty more.
"Drink some water, man," Miller suggested as he stepped off the treadmill next to Bellamy.
"I will." He could have whiskey on the rocks after this. Ice was water.
Miller alternated stretching both arms across his chest and asked, "How you been feelin' since Friday?"
"Fine," Bellamy answered tersely.
Miller squinted his eyes at him curiously. "Can I ask you something?"
"Go for it." If he didn't want to answer honestly, he'd just lie.
"Why were you dehydrated?"
Yeah, he definitely wasn't gonna tell the truth to that one. "Because it was hot out. Why else?"
Miller just stared at him and shook his head.
"Oh, not you, too," Bellamy grumbled. He couldn't tell whether his friend was just doubtful or disappointed.
"What?"
Bellamy just kept running, wishing there was a way to run right out of that gym. "I got Murphy taking me out golfing 'cause he thinks I'm an alcoholic and a wife who won't let me get close to her right now 'cause she thinks I'm an alcoholic," he rambled. "But I'm not, so I really don't need you thinking that, too."
"Didn't say I was."
"It's what you guys don't say," Bellamy told him. "It's the way you all look at me. Like you're ashamed of me or something."
Miller made a face. "You're my best friend. I'm not ashamed of you."
"Good." It wasn't like he'd done anything horrible, after all. He was just getting through shit in his own way.
"If you ever need anyone to talk to, though, about anything . . ." Miller trailed off, not needing to say the rest.
"You're here for me. I know." Feeling like the conversation wasn't going to end unless he made it end, Bellamy decided to slow and lower the treadmill and try a different approach: the grateful one. "I appreciate that," he said. "I do. The truth is, I know I'm really lucky to have the friends and family I do. I know you guys all just care about me."
"We do," Miller said. "A lot."
"Yeah." He ended up stopping the treadmill altogether, stepping down off of it so he could grab his water bottle. "That's why I think I'm gonna head home early," he said, taking a drink just so Miller wouldn't worry about him getting overheated. "I wanna spend time with Clarke, try to make things right with her again."
His friend nodded in support of that idea. "I think that's a good plan."
It's not even a lie, Bellamy thought. He would do that with Clarke, just not while Finn was there. So not today. Maybe not even tonight. Tomorrow, though. Tomorrow, they could talk again. Hell, he'd even apologize for the flask she'd found in his car, even though he had every right to store it there. "I'll see you at practice tomorrow," he said, wrapping a sweat towel behind his neck as he headed out.
"See ya," Miller called after him.
When he got in the car, the first thing he did was open the glove compartment and take a drink from his flask. It tasted pretty awful, so he didn't drink much. He shoved the key in the ignition and backed out of his parking space quickly, needing to be somewhere else. Not home. No way. Not while Finn was there. He was heading to the bar.
...
Finn stepped back from the changing table proudly and boasted, "Okay, you have to admit, I've gotten a lot better at this whole diaper thing."
He'd done a good job changing this one, but it'd still taken him longer than it took her. "Only because I taught you well," Clarke said, reluctant to give him too much credit.
"Fair enough," he said, lifting Avery up. He put her into her crib and asked, "Should we, like, wrap her up or something?"
"Swaddle," Clarke told him.
"Yeah, that."
"She doesn't really like that," she informed him. "Plus, now that she's rolling over, we can't." She hated that she'd just used the word we to describe her and Finn. There was no we there.
"I guess I should be heading out then," he said, looking like he didn't want to go. "Can I use your bathroom first?"
"Oh, sure." She thought that he was talking about the downstairs bathroom, but he ended up strolling across the hall into her bedroom instead. She went in there after him, feeling weird that he was back in that space. When he came over, they either stayed downstairs or hung out in the nursery. That was all.
While he did his business, she walked over to her nightstand and picked up the photo of Bellamy and herself displayed there. It was one of their wedding photos, taken not all that long ago, really. They looked so happy, so unaware of the struggles that were headed that way.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she gazed at the photo, wondering where the people in it had gone. Bellamy wasn't acting like the same guy anymore, and because of that, she didn't feel like the same girl. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd smiled the way she had in that photo.
Emerging from the bathroom, Finn looked around and remarked, "This room's the same as I remember it."
She set the photo down and tried to subtly wipe away a few tears that had fallen.
Unfortunately, Finn noticed and asked, "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." She turned around, wrapped her arms around herself, and asked him, "So is next week gonna be the normal time or what?"
"Should be," he said, coming towards her. "I'll text you if anything changes."
"Okay." She would have loved a text letting her know the whole situation had changed, maybe something like him saying he'd gotten to know Avery well enough and was kind of over it by now. But realistically, that wasn't going to happen.
"Hey, Clarke," he said, coming even closer despite the fact that he shouldn't have even been in her bedroom. "I want you to know . . . this means a lot to me, getting to spend time with her. And you, by the way."
She frowned, confused. "What?"
"Well, let's face it: We're connected for life, you and me," he pointed out. "I'm glad that we've been able to be friends again. Or at least friendly."
He sounded so cheerful and optimistic about things, which was the exact opposite of how she was currently feeling. "Yeah, I'm not exactly sure that's the word I'd use for it."
Nodding slowly, he said, "Right. There's probably too much history."
There was definitely too much history, none of it particularly fun to reflect on. Hell, even when she and Finn had been dating, it'd never been anything spectacular. At least not to her.
"You know, just the other day, I was thinking back, trying to remember why we even broke up," he said suddenly.
"Because we both just knew it wasn't meant to be." It was what it was. No need to take a stroll down memory lane.
"Because you were meant to end up with Bellamy," he said. "And I was meant to end up alone, I guess."
For some reason, she actually felt bad for him when he said that. Maybe because he'd been so alone his whole life. No family, or at least never a permanent one. "You're not gonna end up alone," she assured him. "Not if you keep going like this. I have to admit, this past month or so, you've actually been . . . a pretty decent guy." She kind of hated admitting that, but this whole thing with Bellamy was kind of putting things into perspective for her. It was really easy to spiral and a lot harder to climb back up from that. "You've stepped up," she told him, willing to not hold a grudge against him if he kept proving he didn't deserve it. They'd never be friends, but that didn't mean she wanted his life to be bad in any way.
"So you think I'm more mature now?" he asked.
"I think you're getting there," she corrected. "I think that, eventually, you will find the girl you wanna be with, and I genuinely do hope you guys are really happy together." Hopefully he'd start a family of his own, and then he could actually be a father in ways he just would never be to Avery.
"As happy as you and Bellamy?" he said.
She looked back down at the wedding photo sadly and mumbled, "Yeah, as happy as us." She wanted to feel that way again, but she'd gotten so used to feeling worried about what was happening to her family.
Finn proved to be surprisingly perceptive when he asked, "Are you sure you're okay, Clarke? You've been kinda out of it today."
Maybe he wasn't so perceptive as much as she was obvious. Still, she tried to downplay her stress. "I told you, I'm fine."
"Because you don't look fine," he said. "I mean, you look fine, as in good, but . . ."
"Oh, Finn, don't." She cringed. Of course he probably still thought she was attractive, but they didn't need to talk about that. At all.
"What?" he said, laughing a little. "Okay, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overstep. It's just . . ." He trailed off, and his expression changed to a serious one. She wasn't sure what he was trying to say, but she kept waiting for him to say it. And he never did. In fact, he didn't say anything. He did, however, lean in and kiss her.
She felt like she didn't even know what was happening; it was just so sudden. And what made it worse was that he grabbed the back of her head so she couldn't immediately pull away. She wasn't about to just let him keep kissing her, though, so she put both her hands on his chest and pushed him away. "No stop!" she shrieked.
"I'm sorry," he said quickly.
"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded angrily, trying to back away.
"I just . . . sometimes I miss you," he said, as though that gave him all the justification for it he needed.
"I'm married now," she reminded him vehemently. "How could you . . ." It started to sink in that, for a whole year now, she hadn't kissed anyone but Bellamy, because she hadn't wanted to. She still didn't want to, but now, because of Finn . . . "Oh my god, get away from me," she said, feeling the urge to slap him.
"Clarke . . ."
"Just get out," she growled. "Go!"
He didn't apologize again, not that that would have done any good. Actually, she was glad he didn't, because that just would have kept him in her house even longer, and that was the last thing she wanted. He looked down at his feet, as if he were embarrassed, and walked out of the room. She stood there shaking as she listened to him tread down the stairs and out the front door. Even when she heard his car start up and drive away, she didn't feel any kind of relief at all. She felt . . . disgusting. The feeling of his mouth on hers wasn't going away, and she hated it.
She wiped off her lips as she began to cry, trying to wipe that feeling away. But it just stayed there, making her feel even worse with each passing second, making her cry even harder. As if she didn't already have enough going on, now she had to deal with this, too?
Except . . . this wasn't just something she'd deal with alone. They would have to deal with it, her and Bellamy. And Bellamy wasn't dealing with anything well right now.
...
Without Diyoza at Eligius, Bellamy felt like he could drink as much as he wanted to. The young female bartender was working, and she told him that Diyoza was on vacation for the next few days. Worked out perfectly for him. He didn't need someone cutting him off; he needed someone who would serve him without question.
At this point, it was late enough for him to head home. Finn would be gone. But he just . . . stayed at that bar. Because he knew that, when he got home, Clarke was going to get upset with him, whether he simply finished off the drink in his hand or drank a couple more. He could leave right now or leave an hour later, and it wouldn't make a difference; because no matter what he did, it was gonna be the wrong thing to do, the wrong way to go about things. No matter what.
...
"Wait, go back to that one," Bellamy said as Gabriel swiped through his photos from last night's party. He took a closer look at one particular girl in the background, thinking for a second that she was the girl. But she couldn't be. Different haircut. "No, that's not her," he said. "Dammit, I wish I knew her name."
Gabriel got to the end of his photos and said, "That's it."
"Fuck." That had gone nowhere. He didn't have any pictures of her, and Gabriel didn't have any pictures, and none of the other guys on the team had even responded to the text he sent out. He just wanted to figure out who this girl was, see if he could find any photos that anyone could use to identify her.
"Maybe she'll come forward on her own," Gabriel said.
"Maybe." Didn't sexual assaults in college go unreported all the time, though? Especially when athletes were involved? He just had a feeling she wasn't going to say anything. Someone needed to blow the whistle on all of this, and if it had to be him, then so be it. "I still gotta go to the cops, though," he decided.
"Yeah," Gabriel agreed. "Don't get your hopes up, though."
"What do you mean?" Surely he'd have better luck getting them to do something than he'd had with his coach.
"It wouldn't be the first time they've sat back and done nothing," Gabriel said.
So had this happened before then? Maybe even with the same guys? Bellamy couldn't even fathom the thought of nothing happening as a result of this, of no consequences being dealt. This wasn't just some rumor; it was something he'd seen with his own two eyes. He didn't have to know who that girl was to feel haunted by what had happened to her, and he wasn't going to just sit back and do nothing.
Gabriel suggested he bypass the campus police station and go straight to the main police station to try to get something done. When he got there, he quickly explained to the cop behind the front desk what was going on and what he needed to report, but he must have been talking a mile a minute, because that cop told him to slow down and start over more than once. Eventually, he said he'd get Bellamy and investigator to talk to. He just had to sit down and wait for about ten minutes.
He ended up waiting for twenty. And at the end of those twenty minutes, a familiar figure came striding out from one of the interrogation rooms: Coach Lightbourne. He had on a UCF jacket and was laughing and joking around with several of the cops who followed him out. Like they were old friends or something. He spotted Bellamy but walked right on by wordlessly with his head held high.
Bellamy was able to go back there next, but it was only one cop who sat down with him. There had to have been at least seven who had been back there with his coach, so why was there only one with him? The officer he talked to introduced himself as Deputy Hansen, and he seemed really young, really inexperienced to be handling something of this magnitude. He would have rather talked to the whole damn chief of police, but he supposed this would have to do.
Depute Hansen had a legal notepad out and was jotting down notes like he was a kid in school. He didn't even write most of what Bellamy said, and kept calling Brady Brandon by mistake. Even after Bellamy had told him the whole story, he kept having him repeat parts of it. "So when you walked in, you're saying you saw this girl . . ."
"Being sexually assaulted." He'd been pretty clear about that.
"Are you sure?" Deputy Hansen asked.
"Yeah." What the hell kind of question was that? Of course he was sure.
"Is it possible she may have been coherent?"
"No, I had to carry her out of there." He'd been pretty clear about that, too, stood up to demonstrate and everything. What was with all these stupid questions?
"Well, we can look into it," the deputy said. "But without the alleged victim's name-"
"It's not alleged. She is a victim," Bellamy corrected adamantly. "Who even knows what she's going through right now, what she's feeling. We gotta help her."
"According to your story, you already did."
"It's not a story; it's the truth." And had this guy even been listening? Yeah, he'd helped her, but not soon enough. "You don't believe me, do you?"
The deputy put his pen down and stopped writing. "I believe that you think you saw something," he said.
"Oh, you gotta be kidding me." Was this really what everything was amounting to? Was nothing gonna be done? "You guys are really gonna try to cover this up, aren't you?" he said, shocked but somehow not surprised. After all, Gabriel had warned him. "You and Coach Lightbourne and everyone who has the power to actually do something . . ."
"We won't be covering anything up. We would never do that," Deputy Hansen said. He spoke slowly and enunciated each world almost too much, like he was trying too hard to get Bellamy to believe that. "We'll do a thorough investigation, starting with the two boys you named for us. Your coach has already spoken with them, and they've agreed to come in for questioning later today."
"And after they lie to you about everything?" Bellamy prompted. "What then?"
Deputy Hansen averted his eyes for a moment, then looked back up at him and said, "Maybe you should go home now. You look like you need some rest."
He sure as hell did, but how was he supposed to rest when he knew that all of this bullshit was going on? Sure, the cops had always turned a blind eye to all the parties the athletes had, but he hadn't thought they'd be so morally bankrupt that they'd turn a blind eye to this, too. And what if Gabriel was right and this wasn't the first time they'd neglected to help? How many times had they just sat around on their asses pretending to help?
"To protect and serve, right?" he grumbled, motioning to the badge the deputy was wearing. "It's too bad only certain people get protected." He got to his feet and stormed out of the room, fed up with that deputy, with that place, with that whole fucking system. This wasn't the kind of thing he'd signed up for when he'd committed to UCF. This wasn't the kind of life he wanted to lead.
...
Bellamy swirled the whiskey around his glass, wishing he hadn't gotten it on the rocks after all. Those ice cubs were just taking up space.
"Do you ever feel like you can't do anything right?" he said either to the bartender or to himself. He wasn't quite sure. "Like no matter what you do, nothing's ever good enough?"
The bartender laughed as she wiped off a clean shot glass. "Every day."
"Yeah. That's kinda how I feel right now." For a while there, he'd gotten lulled into this belief that he was actually a pretty decent guy. But lately, he knew he hadn't been. And he wasn't getting better.
"You want another shot?" she asked him.
"I think I might need more than one."
She poured him another shot of vodka, along with one for herself, raised hers up to him in a mock toast, and said, "Bottom's up."
He downed his, wishing it would instantly make him feel better. He was gonna have to have a few more to start feeling a buzz, though. And even then, would a buzz actually be enough?
When the bartender had to go down to the other end of the bar to serve someone else, Bellamy was left to drink alone again. But he didn't stay alone for long. The last person in the world he wanted to drink with actually came in and sat down on the stool next to him.
"Thought I might find you here," Finn said.
Oh, leave me the fuck alone, Bellamy thought. What the hell was wrong with this guy?
"Someone told me you got drunk and passed out at the last football game," Finn said.
"I got dehydrated." That was the official story, and he was sticking to it.
"Sure, you did."
Bellamy rolled his eyes and muttered, "Fuck off, Finn." Why was he even here? Eligius was supposed to be a place for him to escape everything else, but he couldn't escape anything with this jackass around.
"Does Clarke know you're here?" Finn questioned. "What's goin' on with you two?"
Bellamy shot him a warning look and snarled, "None of your business."
Finn leaned back a bit, holding up his hand as if to ward off that angry glare. "Sorry. Didn't mean to strike a nerve." He tapped his hands on the counter, looked around for a minute, then asked, "What's the name of the chick who runs this place?"
Bellamy burped before replying, "Charmaine Diyoza."
"Right. Bet you wouldn't be sittin' here if she was working today. She cuts people off if they've had too much."
How would fucking Finn Collins know how much he'd had, or how much was too much for him?
"She cut my friend off once," Finn said.
"Stacey won't do that," Bellamy said. "Yeah, anytime I don't know a girl's name, she just becomes Stacey to me. 'cause I'm kind of an ass like that."
"Huh." Finn motioned to the bartender over and said, "Hey, Carmen? My usual."
What the fuck? Bellamy thought. Finn had a usual, yet no one was going around calling him an alcoholic.
After Stacey—or Carmen, whatever—got Finn his drink, he took one small sip of it, then started in on what was probably his attempt at small-talk. "So Clarke said Avery rolled over today." He shook his head, laughing at that for some reason.
"What?" Bellamy said, confused as to why that was apparently funny.
"Nothing, it's just . . . what's next? Sit? Stay? Shake hands? She's not a dog."
"It's actually a milestone in her development," Bellamy pointed out. "If you knew anything about raising kids at all, you might know that."
"I know how to change a diaper now," he bragged. "Clarke taught me."
Did this guy live in la-la land or something? It was like he had this overblown sense of who he was and what he could do. "Good for you," Bellamy mumbled. "I've been changin' 'em for months." If only there was some kind of dad competition they could do. He would've loved to kick this guy's ass in every event.
"You really think you're better than me, don't you?" Finn said, taking another sip of his drink.
"I am." He was better because he didn't cower away from responsibility. He was better because he was the one who was gonna sign papers to adopt Avery rather than papers to sign over his rights.
"See, I don't get that," Finn said. "'cause I look at you right now, and I see a washed up jock who can't play anymore, so he coaches. I see a guy who'd rather be here at the bar than home with his beautiful wife."
The 'washed-up jock' part was a low-blow of an insult, but it wasn't the part of those sentences that bothered Bellamy. "Yeah, she is my wife," he said. "So you don't need to be callin' her beautiful."
"Oh, come on, I'm no threat, right?" Finn said. "Don't you guys have the picture-perfect marriage? Haven't you been soul mates since high school? Aren't you meant to be together?"
"Yeah, we are."
"Interesting."
Bellamy didn't like Finn's cocky tone. "What the fuck are you gettin' at?" he spat out, about to take his whiskey and throw it all over him. He didn't wanna waste the whiskey, though.
"You really wanna know?" Finn said.
"Yeah, 'cause I want you to leave me alone." Clearly this guy had some kind of dig he wanted to get in. So the sooner he did that, the sooner he got the hell out of Bellamy's sight. It'd probably be something stupid or pointless, too, like—
"Clarke and I kissed today."
And just like that . . . everything stopped. Bellamy stopped moving, stopped thinking. He didn't say anything, but Finn just kept talking.
"We were upstairs in the bedroom and . . . I don't know, it just happened."
Bellamy's brain kicked back on, and he started to picture it in his head. And what he pictured made him want to squeeze the glass in his hand until it shattered.
"Took her a second to push me away, but eventually she did. Then she told me to leave," Finn went on. "I wonder if she'll tell you." He shrugged, as if everything he'd said was just no big deal, took his drink, and got up, heading for a table.
Maybe he was just lying. Maybe he was just trying to get under Bellamy's skin. But what would be the point of that? It wouldn't be hard to figure out the truth, so . . . maybe this just was the truth. Maybe this was Bellamy's life now. Maybe he'd pushed Clarke too far away.
"Hey, Finn?" He left his drink on the bar, followed the guy he couldn't stand, and waited until he turned around to take a swing at his face.
...
Clarke lay curled up on her side, hugging her pillow as she tried to figure out what to do. As tempting as it was to just not tell Bellamy about this, she wasn't going to keep it from him. She couldn't. He'd feel so betrayed if she didn't tell him. But her fear was that he'd feel betrayed when she did tell him, too, and if Bellamy felt that way . . . god, what if he spiraled more than he already had? She didn't know if they could come back from that.
It started to get late, and while she wondered where he was, she also felt like she already knew. It gave her more time to think about what she was going to say to him, but was it even gonna make a difference? How did she tell her husband that she'd kissed someone else? Not by choice, of course. In fact, it was Finn who'd kissed her. And she hated him for it. For whatever reason, be it because he was just bored or horny or maybe actually did have leftover feelings for her, he'd just made her life a whole lot harder. The unbearable stress she'd already been feeling was now that much harder to bear, all thanks to him.
Maybe she should have seen it coming, though. Finn was a selfish guy. He only thought about his own needs and his own wants. This whole thing with Avery may have all just been an elaborate scheme to try to get back together with her for all she knew. Was Finn smart enough to think of that? Doubtful. But he was probably self-centered enough.
Even though she'd had a couple hours to plan everything out, she didn't feel ready for any of it when she heard the front door open and Bellamy come in. She sniffed back her tears, wiped off her eyes, and ran downstairs, though, glad to have him home no matter how this conversation went.
He looked . . . almost unrecognizable. It wasn't like his hair was different or he was wearing different clothes or anything like that. But he just . . . he wasn't Bellamy.
"What . . . what happened to your hand?" she asked, noticing the bandage wrapped around his right-hand knuckles.
"I got in a fight. At the bar," he said flippantly. "If you're wondering where I was, yes, I was at the bar."
Sadly, she'd pretty much figured, but she'd almost have preferred if he'd lied to her about it rather than just say that as though it were no big deal.
"Go ahead and tell Miller," he invited. "Tell him I lied to him, and I didn't come straight home 'cause . . ." He paused, then shrugged dejectedly. "I didn't wanna come home."
She closed the distance between them, trying to pick up his hand so she could get a better look at it. "Who'd you hit?"
He tore his hand away from her and muttered, "Just some loser," as he started up the stairs.
She followed him, completely at a loss for how to go about any of this now. Sure, she hadn't had a plan in place, but now that Bellamy had gotten in a bar fight, it just threw her whole lack of plan even more off whack. "Bellamy," she said, practically having to run to keep up with his large strides. "We need to talk."
"We sure do." He trundled into the bedroom, took off his current t-shirt, and put on a different one.
"This isn't healthy, what you're doing," she said, picking up the shirt he'd discarded, checking to see if there was blood on it. There wasn't, so hopefully that meant other people at the bar had broken up the fight before it'd gotten too out of control. "Listen, I'm not afraid of you; I'm afraid for you," she told him. "You can't keep acting like this."
He shot her an angry look. "Are you really gonna lecture me right now? I'm not the one we should be talking about here."
"Yes, you are." She wasn't the one who turned to alcohol when she couldn't cope, was she? "You went out and drank again. You got in a bar fight."
He grunted. "Yeah, with Finn."
"Finn?" Her heart started to pound as she thought about what might have preceded that fight, what might have triggered it. Finn wouldn't have told him, right? It would've been like begging to get beat down.
"Yeah, I said I hit a loser, didn't I?" He half-grinned, sort of smugly.
"What was he doing there?" She had to know what he already knew. Because if he already knew about . . .
"You know, I really think he just came in to torment me," Bellamy said. "And it worked. I'll admit it, it worked."
A horrible, sinking feeling settled into the pit of her stomach. There were only two things Finn could use to torment Bellamy: her and Avery. Either way, it wasn't good.
"Anything you wanna tell me, Clarke?" he asked impatiently.
"About . . . what? Finn?"
"Yeah."
She took in a deep breath and sort of just held it up there, not exhaling.
"Like . . . were you guys sitting on our bed when you kissed or standing over here by the door?" he asked her before she could even try to answer. "In fact, why the hell was in our bedroom anyway? And why was he standing close enough to kiss you?"
"Oh my god, he told you?" The last thing she'd wanted was for her to hear about it from him.
"Yeah. Good thing, too, 'cause it doesn't seem like you were gonna."
"I was." He just hadn't given her the chance. "I was gonna tell you right when you walked in the door, but . . . then I saw your hand and . . ."
"Screw my hand. I don't fucking care about my hand!" he shouted. "Tell me the truth. Were you gonna tell me you kissed Finn or not?"
"I didn't kiss him!" she yelled back. "He kissed me!"
"That's not an answer!"
"Yes, okay? Yes, I was gonna tell you." She hated when he raised his voice, because he could get so much louder than her. It made her feel like there wasn't even a possibility that she'd actually be heard.
"No, see, I think you were gonna keep it a secret," he said, "'cause . . . well, it wouldn't be the first time you've ever kept a secret from me."
That . . . that one hurt. Really badly. And he didn't seem to care.
"I'm just sayin'." He shrugged again.
"God, you are really being an ass right now, Bellamy." She couldn't believe that he would even draw a comparison between . . . that and this. Why would he even drudge up the past again at all? That wasn't gonna help anything.
"Oh, I'm sorry I'm not in a better mood after finding out my wife just kissed another guy," he said, not managing to find any compassion for her.
"It wasn't something I wanted, if that's what you're wondering. He didn't ask for my permission," she said. "He just . . . he just kissed me. And I was shocked, but I pushed him back and made him leave right away, because . . . I don't wanna kiss him, Bellamy." She started crying again, not because she felt guilty, necessarily—she didn't—but just because she felt . . . violated. It wasn't nearly as bad as what some girls had gone through, but still . . . she hadn't given him her consent. "It was awful. I—I didn't want it. It made me feel disgusting."
It would have been nice if he'd softened up a bit, maybe come over and hugged her, but he was either too drunk or too angry to do that. "What made him think he could kiss you?"
"How the hell should I know?" She wasn't in his mind, and she didn't want to try to empathize.
"Did you say something or do something or . . ." He trailed off, almost as if he didn't want to finish what he was saying because he realized how bad it sounded.
"Oh, you mean, did I lead him on? Was I asking for it?"
"That's not what I meant," he said. "It's just that you guys have been spending a lot of time together. Maybe he got the wrong idea."
"You mean maybe I gave him the wrong idea." She felt like he was trying to find a way to blame her here.
"Stop," he said. "Stop putting words in my mouth. That's not what I'm saying."
"Then what're you-"
"I just wanna know," he cut in. "Are there feelings there?"
She couldn't even fathom a more ridiculous, crazy question. "Oh, please tell me you did not just ask me that," she said. "I'm married to you, Bellamy. You see this?" She held up her ring finger. "It's not a promise I take lightly. I would never . . . I would never cheat on you. How could you think for even one second-"
"I didn't think that," he denied.
"Then why would you ask me that?"
"Because I don't know what else to say to you!" he shouted. For the first time since he'd come home, he let the sadness show in his eyes. His tears mirrored her own. "We're so fucked up right now, Clarke, and for the first time since I've known you . . . I don't know what to say, let alone what to do."
"Well, I don't, either!" For weeks now, she felt like it'd been up to her to make all the important decisions and handle all the difficult things. "God, I—I hate talking to you when you're like this!"
"Like what?"
"Drunk!"
"I'm not drunk, Clarke!" he roared. "Jesus Christ, would you stop trying to bring everything back to that?"
"But that's where it all started!" Couldn't he just own up to that?
"Don't put this all on me," he said, shaking his head adamantly.
"But it's your fault!" She wanted to say more, to really just unleash everything she'd been holding in these past few days while he avoided talking to her about anything serious. But Avery could get loud, too, and when her cries joined the fray, Clarke left the bedroom and went over to the nursery to check on her. "Not now, baby, please," she begged, lifting her up out of the crib. "Please, don't cry right now." She patted her back, hoping she just wanted some momentary attention, because she was in no state to sit down and try to feed her right now.
Bellamy came into the nursery, too, and said, "Here, let me hold her."
"No." Clarke put her arms around Avery, almost shielding her from him.
"Sometimes I can calm her down," he said.
"Just leave us alone." She could calm her down by herself.
"Clarke, come on, just-"
"I don't want you around her right now, Bellamy!" she screamed. "You're not yourself. You're angry and you're drunk, and I am not gonna have an alcoholic around my daughter!"
"Your daughter?" he echoed.
She opened her mouth, but it was only a whimper that came out. Had she really just said that? No. She hadn't meant to.
The look in Bellamy's eyes turned into one of pure defeat. Devastation. She hadn't seen him look quite this broken since she'd told him about the abortion. He nodded sadly, as though she'd just confirmed something he'd always suspected to be true: that Avery wasn't as much of his daughter as she was hers. But that wasn't what she'd meant at all. The words had just come out.
He sulked out of the nursery, and she patted Avery's back rapidly, pacing a bit, needing her to just cooperate and quiet down while she tried to handle this. "Just go back to sleep, alright?" she said, putting her back in the crib when her cries had at least started to subside. She felt horrible for just leaving her there, but she had to run downstairs. "Bellamy!" she said, disheartened to see that he was reaching into the back of the fridge for one of his precious beers. "Bellamy, stop!"
"Why should I? Apparently, it's the only thing I'm still good at." He popped open the tab on his can and immediately took a big swig of it. "I'm not even good enough to be a father anymore."
"I didn't mean it like that."
"Sure you did." He raised his beer can and said, "Cheers, Clarke. You just made me feel completely worthless."
"Well, how do you think you're making me feel?" she said. "Look at me, Bellamy! I'm a mess right now because of you!"
"Because it's always my fault. How could I forget?" Another drink.
"You're turning into someone I don't know or like or . . ." She stopped short of saying it, because she didn't want to say it.
"Love?" he filled in. "Good thing you got Finn then. He can just slide right in and take my place."
"Oh, give me a break!" she yelled, fed up with these completely absurd insinuations that she still had any lingering feelings for him. "This isn't even about him; it's about you. It's about the stupid, idiotic choices you're making."
"Oh, so I'm an idiot now?"
"Yes, right now, you are," she said, "because if you think for a second that I would do anything to jeopardize this family . . ."
"Wouldn't be surprised," he interrupted. "I mean, you already took one kid away from me. Why not take another?"
She stared at him in utter disbelief. How could he keep bringing this up knowing how traumatic it had been for her, how traumatic it would always be? He knew she was living with the guilt of that every day for the rest of her life. Why would he deliberately try to use that to hurt her?
"You told me you forgave me for that," she said, each word quivering as it came out.
"How am I supposed to?" he shot back. "Take a fucking look in the mirror, Clarke. Our problems didn't start with my drinking. They started when you killed my kid."
Her eyes widened, and she gazed at him in horror. Was this really happening? It didn't seem real. In fact, it couldn't be. It had to be some horrible nightmare, one she was ready to wake up from any minute.
The words he'd just used and the pure, undiluted anger in his voice . . . it was sort of the final blow in what had been the worst fight they'd ever had. She couldn't say anything after that, and there was nothing left for him to say. The only sound now was Avery, still crying upstairs in her crib. Bellamy looked up at the ceiling, like maybe somewhere deep down inside, he still wanted to go hold her. But instead, he kept hold of that beer in his hand and stormed past Clarke to get to the front door.
"If you walk out of this house, don't even think about coming back tonight," she told him, meaning every single word. He was already drunk, and if he just went out and got even drunker, she wasn't going to let him anywhere near Avery. Not until he stopped. Not until he became the man she knew and loved again.
That warning stopped Bellamy in his tracks. For about five seconds. And then he walked out the door anyway.