The Masks We Wear: High School Bully Romance (Emerald Falls Series Book 1)

by Lee Jacquot

  “Yeah.” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat in an attempt to cover it. “Look, Remy, it’s only till spring break.”

  She sighs, hugging her latest romance read closer to her chest. “Yeah, I know. And it’s imperative. I’m just going to miss you.”

  The slight burn in the back of my nose flares, hitting the brim of my eyes. The mix of feelings I’ve been having with finally letting go of Liliana and this impromptu trip with my parents has put my emotions into overdrive.

  Dad says Mom is too far gone, and it’s becoming more dangerous to leave her at home every day, even with a nurse. They visited some places a few weeks back, and she’s checking in at the end of March, so Dad wanted to clear some stuff on her bucket list while she still remembers.

  By this time next week, I’ll be in Niagara Falls, a week after that, I think Barbados, and then somewhere in Europe right after.

  “I got you this.” Remy shifts to take her backpack from her shoulders, opening it and pulling out a bag. “It’s a few disposable cameras and a Polaroid. That way, you don’t forget to take pictures. Maybe give her a few, so she can look at them and…”

  Her voice trails off as I grab her, wrapping my arms around her tiny shoulders. Despite the heaviness in my stomach, the comfort of her hug makes the air a little warmer somehow and the upcoming trip a little less bleak.

  “I know I won’t be able to talk to you much, but please, for the love of all romance books, please don’t do anyone stupid while I’m gone.”

  She rubs her eyes with the back of her sleeves and cranes her neck to look at me with furrowed eyebrows. “You mean something? Oh! Spencer, jeesh.”

  Remy backs out of my hug, slugging me in the arm. Our bodies shake in unison as our laughter bounces through the empty halls. I’m going to miss these little moments with her. When the bell rings, it signifies more than just me going on a vacation.

  It’s the last time I’ll hear it and head to a home where I’ll still have my mom. Losing someone while they’re still here is something I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

  It evokes a type of pain deep in your bones. You feel it when you move, when you rest, when all you’re doing is fucking breathing. It wears away at everything else until all you want is to feel nothing. To be numb.

  Hell, I’d sacrifice ever feeling happiness again if I didn’t have to hurt like this anymore.

  But life isn’t that kind. It takes just as easy as it gives, and in my case, it’s taking everything.

  Just another thing I’ve come to accept this week.

  TWENTY SEVEN

  “You want to look at what?”

  My aunt Mina whirls around the kitchen smoothly, as if she’s been cooking in it for years. Having her here has become my favorite thing in life, even when she makes ridiculous suggestions like this one.

  “Let’s look at the lights.”

  “Like drive around and look?”

  She sighs, slapping the cutting board on the counter before unsheathing a knife from the block a little too slowly. “Sweet girl, please give me this one thing. I missed so much of your childhood.”

  There it is, and with those magic words, I cave like Andy’s toys when they hear him coming. I hold my hands up in defeat. “Okay, okay. But Blaze has to come.”

  “Of course, he doesn’t have a choice.” She beams over her shoulder, her ruby lips stretching into a perfect smile.

  Blaze moves behind her, skirting around to reach in the refrigerator for a soda. He tosses me one before opening his, the crisp pop of the can cutting through the stinted silence. “Yeah, sure.”

  He tries to act as though it’s the most unimportant thing in the world, but he can’t stop that gray eye from speaking his truths. It twinkles in excitement, betraying his nonchalant attitude.

  “Don’t forget, I have to be gone for about a week the day after Christmas,” she reminds me, slicing into the carrots.

  “A week?” Blaze and I say in unison.

  “Yes, mija. And now my second child, Blaze. I’ll be back as soon as I close everything up. I have to move a few things over that I can’t do here.” She leans across the bar top, pinching my chin between her thumb and forefinger. “And then I’m never leaving you again.”

  It’s strange, the ache radiating across my chest. I didn’t have this woman in my life for over a decade, yet in just a few weeks, she moved mountains in my chest, breaking every rock I tried to hide behind. She’s been so honest, so pure in everything she’s done, and I found myself clinging to her like my life depends on it.

  Hell, maybe in a way, it does.

  Being with her has shown me I am enough. Enough to move across the country for, to give up your entire life for. Enough to love.

  “But she’s leaving us.” Blaze tips his can at me before chugging it back, a grin just visible behind the rim.

  Asshole.

  I hadn’t told my aunt about my plans for Kentucky. Really, I just wanted to enjoy the next six months and make up for as much lost time as possible. But sure, why not rip off the Band-Aid now.

  “Kentucky,” I clip.

  “Why?” My aunt straightens her spine, her soft features scrunching as though she’s in physical pain. “Your father mentioned you’d be local, but he didn’t tell me where.”

  Solace.

  “Yeah, I wanted to, but I can’t afford it, and I don’t want to give him something to hold over my head later. I may not be in your life, but I paid for your education,” I mock what I think my dad would say.

  It’s dumb, I know. Amora has told me time again to use the man for his money and call it a day. She suggested opening my own practice and paying him back, but what’s the point? He won’t accept it, and in the end, I’ll still feel like he’s contributed in some way. I don’t expect my aunt to understand.

  So it surprises the shit out of me when she does.

  “Entiendo. I get it, I do. So what’s in Kentucky?”

  “Cheer.”

  Mina’s eyes widen, the honey lining them sparkling under the fluorescent kitchen lighting. “I see.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek, not sure what to make out of that. I know I can go anywhere for cheer, but I wanted to prove that I could make the cut when I chose Kentucky. Ride with the best of the best. Prove my mother wrong.

  Hell, It’s not like I haven’t played with the idea of going to a community college and just scrap my plan altogether, but something about it felt like failing. And I’ve worked too hard to have failure creep into my garden, poisoning all the other plants.

  “Well, it’s fine. I’ll help you pick out your dorm stuff, and you’ll come back on holidays and stuff, right? And I mean, I can always visit.”

  Blaze and I exchange a glance, and right then, I see it. The shine in his gaze. The silent nod of approval. And that’s all I need. Tears pour from my eyes like sheets of rain. My heart jackhammers in my chest, making me vaguely wonder if I’m having an anxiety attack.

  Mina whirls around the bar, embracing me in her arms, squeezing every last salty tear from my head. Blaze’s large hand meets the small of my back, and he rubs in little circles as my aunt rocks me back and forth.

  It’s overwhelming to feel such pure, real love oozing out of people. There’s a type of vulnerability you have to have to receive it properly. You have to be willing to open your heart and trust that those people won’t stomp all over it.

  But that’s the thing about love. Even if you have been hurt by it before, the majority of people are willing to crack open their chest and try again. Because once you’ve felt it, you crave it.

  My eyes shift of their own accord to the dark house in the backyard. The aura surrounding it feels different. It’s unusually dark, and something as equally cold as the snow outside drifts overhead.

  Maybe it’s because of how we ended things last week. There was a sort of finality to everything. To us.

  But I do wonder... would Spencer Hanes be willing to open his chest again? Would I?

  “
Merry Christmas.” Amora’s extremely high tone pierces through the down comforter covering my face. The bed shifts as she pounces on top, narrowly missing my ankles. “It’s like ten, Lil. Why are you still asleep?”

  “Because I’m eighteen years old, and I don’t have presents waiting for me under the tree.”

  “Yeah.” She yanks the soft cotton from my face. “But you do have a badass aunt that just made us breakfast.”

  I groan at the sudden influx of light, but then the smell hits me, and my stomach does a somersault, jolting me upright. It’s sweet—definitely bacon and syrup are involved.

  My aunt Mina’s been a dutiful caregiver during her four-week stay, and to say I’m excited it’s becoming permanent is the understatement of the century. She works for a marketing company, and luckily the majority of it is done by emails, phone calls, and random turnaround meetings. The one day she had to take a trip to Oklahoma, I just about lost it. It felt like a year since the last time I had to cook a meal, so Blaze and I ordered out instead.

  He’s been around a lot too. Spending the night in our guestroom down the hall, soaking up every bit of maternal love Mina’s giving out. She must sense he needs it because she takes care of him like he really is my brother. She even fussed at him for barely passing one of his finals. So it’s no surprise that when I finally roll out of bed and make it down to the kitchen he’s already at the table shoveling an absurd amount of pancakes down his throat.

  “Caveman,” Amora clips, climbing on a barstool.

  Blaze ignores her and instead lifts his eyebrows in greeting to me before turning back to his feast. My aunt spins merrily in the kitchen, plating an equally insane amount of food on our plates.

  I’ve never been a stickler about the food I put in my body, but I’ve always try to be at least a little cautious. Workouts after eating junk food sucked, and I usually puke at practice. My aunt must notice my face and sighs. “It’s Christmas, mija. Stop worrying about it. It’s one day.”

  I poke at the side of my hip, where there used to be only bone. Now my finger sinks in an inch before reaching it. “Yeah, you said that five pounds ago, Aunt Mina. You know what five pounds can do when girls have to toss you?”

  She groans again, cutting my rations in half. “Okay, I’ll be more mindful, chica flaca.”

  My eyes roll in the back of my head, but I take the plate and join Blaze. I sit at the opposite end and can’t help but look across the backyard.

  There hasn’t been smoke coming from Spencer’s chimney the entire break, and not once have I seen him at his window. He also has a pretty nonexistent family since his parents are both only children and much older. I’m fairly certain he only has one living grandparent, so I don’t think they went anywhere.

  A knot swells in my throat.

  What if he moved back to Idaho?

  Blaze cuts through my thoughts, kicking me under the table. “Close your mouth, Lil.”

  “Hush,” I hiss, turning to my plate of food, but my appetite is gone.

  He chuckles, leaning back and running a hand down his stomach, clearly pleased with his ability to eat his weight in pancakes. “You want me to go over? See if he’s there?”

  Blaze does me the courtesy of keeping his voice low, but I still glance over my shoulder to make sure my aunt doesn’t hear. It’s not that I don’t want her to know per se, but she’s got a spicy attitude, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she marched over in the snow to Spencer’s house to have his neck. Or maybe she would scold me for being so quick to jump to conclusions about him in the first place. Either way, I’d rather not broach the subject with her yet.

  My eyes flit back to Blaze, and I shake my head. He chuckles, threading a hand through his dark hair. “He’s too weak for you, Lily.”

  “Excuse me?” I have no idea why I’m offended, but I am.

  He leans forward, interlocking his fingers and putting his elbows up on the table. “How many times has he let you walk away from him now? How many times has he let you pull that bullshit on him without handling you like he should have?”

  I swallow around the burn now suffocating my sinuses. I don’t mention how he tried to be invisible when he first moved here or the countless times we were alone, and he could have tried to talk to me. To dig deeper.

  “When a guy wants something, he’ll do whatever he needs in order to get it.” With that, he stands, and meanders over to the sink, and starts doing the dishes.

  “Such a precious boy. Thank you.” My aunt beams and sits next to Amora. They become engrossed in a conversation about Amora dyeing my aunt’s hair when she returns from Florida.

  I shift back to the dark house, pushing the food around on my plate as I play with Blaze’s words.

  He’ll do whatever it takes.

  He may not have meant the words he said to William that day, but I am sure of one thing—Spencer doesn’t want me now.

  He hates me… and for some reason, I hate that.

  TWENTY EIGHT

  School’s been in session for a couple of weeks, but I haven’t seen Spencer once. Not at lunch, not with Remy during passing periods, nowhere. I even decided to start going back to Mr. Jones’s science class and... nothing. The teacher doesn’t even call his name for attendance, and reality begins to settle in the pit of my gut.

  He must have moved.

  Blaze’s words from Christmas loop in my ear on repeat. He was right. I mean, I already figured that, but to know Spencer left without so much as a fuck you twists my stomach in knots.

  Knowing I care makes me nauseous.

  The way he’d held on to my face, the desperation that dripped from his words, I almost thought he meant them. Thought that even after all the shit I’d thrown at him, he still found a way to see under the facade—the hurt.

  I had this naive notion that maybe this time, he would come after me.

  But then Spencer performed the infamous disappearing act I’m so familiar with.

  It goes without saying at this point, I’m conditioned to expect certain things from people. First and foremost, they are selfish. They think about what the relationship (be it a friendship or otherwise) can offer them. They need to know it will be worth the effort required to make it work, whether it be social status, a good lay, or compliments to feed their ego.

  And there’s not one thing I can offer Spencer. Nothing that matters to him anyway. He couldn’t give two shits about where he is on the social ladder. He’s handsome enough to get any ass he wants, should he actually try. And his grades probably feed his ego more than anything I could ever say. So logically, he has no reason to want a friendship with me.

  Still, I thought maybe one thing he said might have been true, so I held on to it.

  But as the days turn into weeks, the gnawing sensation in the back of my head grows, filling me to the brim with a truth I’ve known since the day I overheard him with William.

  He’d said he loved me.

  And I think out of all the lies I’ve ever heard, that was my favorite one.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  I stop midway up the path to my house, terror stealing the air from my lungs.

  That’s my mom’s voice coming from inside. She hasn’t come by in months, and to be honest, she hasn’t crossed my mind at all. Even at school, she works the night shift, so I’m gone before she arrives.

  I rush to the door, pressing my palms against it, unsure if I should go in or stay put. Her voice sounds like a growl and angrier than I’ve ever heard it.

  But when my aunt Mina speaks, it’s level, and there’s a strong authoritative tone lacing every word. “No, the question that needs to be answered is, what are you doing here?”

  “This is my house, puta. Yo—”

  “Let me stop you right there. This hasn’t been your house since the day you left a child to raise herself. Second, if you call me another name, hermana, I’ll be mopping your blood off the floor later.”

  My mom scoffs, and I hear th
e faint sound of spit hitting the tile. “You have no business here. Where is the little chocha?”

  “Again. I’m going to ask you to watch that mouth of yours. My patience is wearing incredibly thin. You’re drunk, and I don’t want my dear niece coming home to her mother in pieces on the freshly polished linoleum. So why don’t you leave?”

  A cackle erupts from my mom, churning my insides like butter. It’s the same sour laugh I’ve heard too many times before, usually after having my ass thrown against the wall. Still something I haven’t had the heart to tell my aunt about. I was scared she would do something drastic.

  “Hmm… I need to see my daughter.” Her words are slurred, and she mutters something I can’t make out.

  “I don’t care. I’ve been here since Thanksgiving, and she hasn’t mentioned you once. She doesn’t want to see you. Leave. Now.”

  There’s a clack of heels followed by the muffled sounds of something hitting the ground. I wonder vaguely if my mother tripped in her stupor or if my aunt pushed her.

  “I’ll be back, big sister.”

  “You won’t. And if you do…” I push my ear painfully close to the wooden door, straining to hear my aunt’s hissed warning. “I’ll make menudo from your guts.”

  I wince at the thought of my mother’s intestines floating in broth. This time though, my mother makes no sound and instead stumbles toward the front door. I skirt back, my pulse in my throat, and wince as I trek through the snow to the side of the house.

  Not one time did I ever consider what things would be like if my mom showed up. I’ve been happy living in this new bubble, pretending nothing else existed. It’s like I had replaced Mom altogether, so caught up in absorbing every ounce of love my aunt gives that it purged out my mother’s hate, like an antidote to a poison.

  But that’s not how it works, and of all people, I should know better.

  The pain my mother inflicted isn’t surface level, easy to push out in a few months. No, my mother’s toxins run soul deep, twisting in the pits of my gut, to the lining in my heart, curling around my brain stem and piercing into my cerebellum.