I nodded. “Had her a little over a week now.”
Rojo licked at Charlie’s hand before prancing back over to the couch. She neglected the bed I’d bought for her completely, hopping back up on the middle cushion and looking at me like she expected me to resume the position I was in before Charlie showed up.
“She’s so cute,” Charlie said, crossing her arms over her chest. We both watched Rojo for a long moment, Charlie smiling and me frowning before I turned to her again.
“Charlie, what are you doing here?”
Her smile fell, eyes softening as she looked up at me. “I just wanted to see you.”
“Does your husband know you’re here?” I asked flatly, not bothering with niceties. I wasn’t in the mood to pretend.
Charlie narrowed her eyes then. “Of course he knows I’m here.” She sighed, eyes falling to the floor before she lifted them to mine again. “I just… I know what today is, and… I don’t know, I just wanted to check on you.”
Her words might as well have been a fist around my ribcage, crushing the bones into my lungs with the weight of them. I didn’t know what hurt worse — the reminder of what day it was, or the fact that she remembered, that she still cared about me enough to give a shit.
But not enough to be with me, I reminded myself.
“Thanks,” I finally said, sniffing. “But I’m fine.”
Charlie nodded, surveying my living room with a look that said she didn’t believe my lie for even a second. There was an ashtray on the coffee table, evidence that I’d been smoking like a chimney inside all day, and with only a couple of candles lighting the entire house, it felt as dark and dreary inside those walls as it did inside my heart.
“You know you can still talk to me, Reese,” Charlie whispered after a moment, her eyes on the low flickering flame of one of the candles. “I know things didn’t… well, I know that we—”
“Charlie, please,” I interrupted her, holding up one hand as my eyes squeezed shut against the possibility of what she was about to say. I shook my head, swallowing to steady my voice before I spoke again. “Don’t.”
I didn’t want to open my eyes again, to see her standing there and giving me the same look of pity she’d given me since the moment she told me she was staying with Cameron. But I didn’t have a choice.
Another knock at my door forced my hand.
Rojo jumped off the couch again, skittering into action just like she had before as I let out a frustrated growl. “Jesus fucking Christ, what now?”
I crossed behind Charlie, not bothering to apologize for my language before I ripped the front door open.
Sarah stood there just as Charlie had, except she had no umbrella, and no rain jacket. She was soaked from head to toe, a grocery bag slung over one shoulder and her oversized t-shirt hanging off the other, sticking to her skin as her eyes widened, brows tugging inward the more she searched my face. “Reese? Are you okay?”
The girl was soaked and standing in the rain, and she asked if I was okay.
I clenched my jaw, swinging the screen door open and ushering her inside before I shut it again. Rojo stopped barking once she saw it was Sarah, but she greeted her with a vigorously wagging tail as she licked at her soaked jeans. Sarah smiled at her, bending to scratch behind her ears with water still dripping off every inch of her.
And there we were, Charlie, Sarah and me, all standing in my now very-wet foyer.
Sarah’s smile fell when she saw Charlie, and her eyes flicked to mine and back again, all color draining from her face. “Oh… I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…”
“No, no,” Charlie assured her, holding her hands out. “Please, don’t be. I just stopped by unannounced. Don’t tell me I’m crashing your lesson… again.” She smiled at that, and Sarah tried to return it, though it looked a little more like a grimace.
“Well, actually—”
“Yes, we really should get started,” I interrupted Sarah, who gave me a perplexed look as I turned my attention to Charlie. “Thank you for coming by, though. I appreciate it.”
Charlie’s little mouth popped open in an o, but she closed it promptly, nodding with a glance in Sarah’s direction before she looked at me again. “Of course.” Her eyes surveyed me then, as if she’d just realized I was in my sweat pants and an old t-shirt. I knew she was trying to put the pieces together, because she knew I wouldn’t dress like this when I had a student expected. “I’ll let you two get to it, then.”
I avoided her questioning eyes, helping her into her coat and passing her the still-dripping umbrella when she was back on my porch. She said a goodbye to Sarah, wishing her luck with today’s lesson, and then just as quickly as she had come, she was gone again.
I shut the front door, locking it behind me like it would prevent any other unwanted guests from showing up. Then, I leaned my back against the door with my eyes on my bare feet, letting out a long sigh before my head fell back with a thud. I stood there for a beat, not wanting to meet Sarah’s heavy gaze for fear of what I might find there. And when I finally did, it was exactly what I expected.
She didn’t look at me with pity, or with sorrow or empathy. No, there was only one expression she wore when my eyes found hers.
Disappointment.
And it was the worst one of all.
***
Sarah
“I brought soup,” I said after a moment, holding up the reusable bag I’d had hanging from my shoulder.
Reese was still standing at the door, his back pressed against it, feet planted in the puddles of water my clothes had left on the hardwood floor and heavy breaths wracking his chest as he watched me like he knew everything I was thinking. I tried to smile, to at least level my expression, but I knew I was doing a terrible job of trying to hide the question I needed to ask.
“I’m not actually sick.”
I cocked one brow. “No shit.”
At that, Reese let out a loud breath, kicking off the door and crossing to the kitchen. “It’s not what you think.”
“How do you know what I think?” I probed, following him. He disappeared inside his refrigerator as I threw the grocery bag on his kitchen island, and when he returned, he held a beer in his hand.
“Maybe the fact that you’re wearing your disappointment like a full face of makeup.” He cracked the beer open, swigging half of it down in one gulp before he leveled with me again. “She just showed up, okay? I didn’t invite her, and she was here for all of five minutes before you got here.”
I crossed my arms, shifting my weight to one hip as I waited for more — not that he owed it to me. I was honestly surprised he even acknowledged Charlie’s presence at all before I brought it up, and I wasn’t even sure I would have.
It wasn’t my place, even if I desperately wanted to know.
Reese sighed. “Look, I know it looks bad. I fake sick and cancel our lesson and then you show up, and she’s here, and…” He stopped, shaking his head like it didn’t matter before he took another drink from the can. “Why are you here, anyway?”
“I was trying to be nice,” I said, and I couldn’t place the annoyance that slipped through in my statement. “You said you were sick, and it’s raining and gross outside, so I thought maybe you’d like some soup delivered.”
“You’re my student, Sarah. It’s not your job to bring me soup when I’m sick.”
My nose flared, chest hollowing at the way he threw that in my face. Like we weren’t friends. Like everything I thought we’d shared together was all in my head.
And maybe it was.
“I didn’t realize being your student meant I couldn’t also be your friend, but thank you so much for reminding me.”
With that, I turned on my heel, abandoning the bag I’d brought with me on his counter. I convinced myself I didn’t care as I stormed across the living room to his foyer, Rojo trotting behind me all the way to the front door. I didn’t care that he didn’t want me there. I didn’t care that he’d cancelled our le
sson, faked that he was sick, and then I’d found him with Charlie.
So what, he was with the same married woman who’d broken his heart, the one he’d been pining after for two years.
So what, they were alone, doing God knows what before I showed up.
So what, I’d looked like a fool, bringing him soup to be nice only to find I had interrupted… something.
So what.
My neck was hot, teeth clenched together so tight I knew I’d give myself a headache if I didn’t release the tension, but I couldn’t find it in me to care. I had my hand on the front doorknob and a string of curse words ready to let loose in the safety of my car when Reese called from behind me.
“Sarah, wait,” he said on a sigh, his footsteps heavy as he crossed the house.
I paused, hand still gripping that knob. I didn’t turn at first, debating whether I should adhere to his request or rip that door open and get the hell out of his house.
But the way he said my name wouldn’t let me leave.
I turned, hand still on the knob as I faced Reese. He stopped a few feet from me, running his hands back through his disheveled hair — which was down and flowing to his shoulders for the first time since I’d met him. He let his hands fall back to his sides with a thwack, his eyes searching mine, begging me for something — understanding, perhaps? Or maybe just for me not to go. Either way, that look pinned me to the spot, and I traced the pain that was etched into every inch of Reese’s face. It twisted up the longer he looked at me, his hands reaching up again to fist in his hair, throat constricting with a heavy swallow.
“I’m sorry,” he finally croaked out. “I’ve just had a really rough day and… please, stay.”
My shoulders fell at his words, chest squeezing at the desperation underneath them.
“Please?” he asked again when I didn’t respond, taking a few tentative steps toward me.
Rojo looked up at me, too, her eyes wide and pleading, and I chuckled when she nuzzled my leg.
“Y tú, Rojo?” I said, bending to rub behind her ears with both of my hands. I glanced up at Reese, who was smiling down at us now. “I kind of regret begging you to get a dog now.”
Reese threw one fist in the air. “With our powers combined, we—”
The air went out of him in an oof as I yanked one of the throw pillows off his couch and chucked it at his stomach. He caught it easily, grinning when it was in his hands.
“You’re making me soup,” I said, standing and making my way past him back into the kitchen without another glance.
Reese chuckled, following behind me. “That’s fair. But so is the warning that I am a terrible cook.”
“You just have to pour the contents of the can into a pot, throw it on the stove, and take it off once it’s hot,” I deadpanned.
Reese held his hands up. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I sighed, shoving him to the side when he went for the grocery bag. “Move. I’ll make it.”
He grinned. “Works every time.”
We both fell silent as I dug out the ingredients, turning the knob on the stove to get it warm as he pulled a pot out from a bottom cabinet. He took a seat on one of the barstools, letting me work on the soup as he watched.
“I’m sorry I cancelled our lesson,” he said.
I shrugged. “You’re the teacher. You kind of make the rules here. If you didn’t want to have a lesson, it’s not a big deal.”
Reese nodded, taking a sip of his beer before we both fell quiet.
“So, you going to tell me what happened?” I asked after a while, keeping my eyes on the can I was opening.
Reese was silent for so long, I glanced over to be sure he’d heard me. He stared at the beer can in his hands, fingers tapping away on the sides, his eyes tired, lips turned down.
He still didn’t speak.
I poured the chicken noodle soup into the pot, putting it on the stove before I rounded the island to stand next to where Reese stood. He glanced up at me briefly, then returned his gaze to the beer can I was almost certain was empty by now.
“Can I ask you something,” I said, leaning a hip against the counter.
Again, his eyes found mine for just a second before he nodded.
“Why don’t you just tell her to leave you alone?”
Reese’s fingers paused, bringing the drumming he’d been doing to a stop.
“I mean, just be honest with her. Tell her that while she might want to be friends, you can’t do that. You’ve tried, you thought it was what you wanted, too — but it’s hurting you.”
I paused when he didn’t respond, his brows tugging inward like what I was saying was absolutely outside of the realm of possibility.
“I mean… unless…” My cheeks flamed as it dawned on me that maybe that’s not what she wanted… to just be friends. “If you guys are still…”
At that, Reese sighed, squeezing his eyes closed and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ, no. No,” he said firmly, shaking his head with his eyes still closed. “This isn’t about Charlie.”
I swallowed.
“Oh… I just, she was here, and I thought—”
“Trust me, I know what you thought,” he said, cutting me off. He opened his eyes then, finding my own. “And I know I’m not the easiest person to believe, but I wasn’t lying when I said she just showed up here. Right before you.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know,” he said, a heavy sigh leaving his chest. He wrapped his hands around the beer can again. “I’m sorry. I just don’t really know how to talk about this.” At that, he sort of laughed, more to himself than out loud. “Funny, what happened between Charlie and I slipped out so easily when I told you, up there on the Incline. But this…”
His face grew even more grim, like his stomach had soured with those last words. I wanted to reach for him, my hands nearly doing just that before I mentally stopped them, crossing the kitchen to stir the soup, instead.
“You don’t have tell me, then,” I said, stirring as the storm raged on outside. The wind picked up, so I spoke louder over the sound of it. “We can talk about something else. Like…” I thought for a minute, resting the heel of my left foot on the opposite calf. “The weather. Or that eccentric couple that keeps coming into The Kinky Starfish — you know the one, guy always has a feather in his hat and his wife laughs at everything you say to her, even if it’s just let me take you to your seat? Or we could talk about the election coming up. Are you a Republican or a Democrat?”
Reese didn’t respond, so I kept going.
“I’m a Democrat, though I really don’t like siding with one or the other. To be honest, I think the whole system is flawed. Why can’t we just have independent people running for what they believe in, whether it falls in red or blue or whatever. Like, is there no—”
“It’s the anniversary of my family’s death.”
My hand stopped mid-stir, all the words I’d planned to say instantly gone, like they’d been zapped by a powerful laser into nothingness. I just stared at the soup, at my hand gripping the wooden ladle.
“They died five years ago.”
I closed my eyes, a familiar ache in my chest spreading like a slow fire as I thought of my own father, of that loss. I abandoned the ladle on the paper towel next to the stove, crossing the kitchen to stand next to Reese again. He was still staring at the can in his hands, and I just stared at the floor in front of my feet.
“That’s a long time,” I said after a moment. Saying that I was sorry didn’t feel right, and I knew it never made me feel better when people said it to me, when I told them about my dad.
He nodded. “Which is what knocked me on my ass, I think. Five years. Five years without them, with life moving on like they didn’t matter.” Reese gripped the beer can a little tighter, the sound of the aluminum folding breaking the silence.
I wanted to reach for him again, the urge so strong now that I shifted until my hands were
behind me, tucked between me and the counter I leaned on. “What happened to them?” I asked.
He cracked his neck, heaving himself up from the barstool long enough to trade his empty beer can for a full one. When he was seated again, he cracked it open, taking a long swig before he spoke.
“Did you ever hear of the mass shooting in New York City?”
I swallowed. “Which one?”
At that, his face paled, his hands stilling before he shook his head. “God, that’s so sad.”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to.
Reese ran a hand back through his hair, and I traced the movement, marveling at how much hair he had. It was always tied back in a messy bun at the nape of his neck, but today, it flowed freely, the loose waves in it barreling down just past his shoulders.
“It was in Central Park, right behind the Met,” he said after a moment. “There was a little concert.”
Five years ago, I’d been about to go into my senior year of high school. It was a hard year for me, applying for college without my dad being there, hoping and praying I’d make it into my top choice — Bramlock. I hadn’t really watched the news, but a distant memory of the shooting he was referring to came to mind. I remembered my mom staring at the TV, one hand over her mouth as she listened to the account of what had happened.
“I think I remember,” I said softly, heart aching. “Were they… were they there?”
He swallowed. “Front row.”
I tore myself from where I stood, forcing a breath to keep myself from crying as I crossed the kitchen and stirred the soup again. It was done, so I cut off the burner and moved the pot to one that wasn’t on to let it cool.
I doubted either of us would want a bowl now.
Turning, I leaned against the counter, keeping distance like if I heard the rest of the story without standing next to him, I’d somehow be unaffected. “Were you there?”
Reese shook his head, frowning. “No.” Then, he laughed to himself again, a sardonic sort of chuckle. “No, I was at their place, waiting for them to get home. Waiting to ask them for money.” He laughed again, louder this time. “Like the absolute piece of shit I was.”
Best Kept Secrets: The Complete Series Page 65
