And I wanted to tell him how much he really meant to me, but I knew saying it would only force him further away.
Jared held his breath, then brought his right hand up to settle on top of mine. He pressed my palm harder against his chest, as if he, too, couldn’t stand the thought of letting me go. His voice was raspy, low, and so incredibly sad. “What are we doing, Aly?”
“I don’t know,” I answered with my mouth hidden in the fabric of his shirt. I loved the way he smelled, his shirt thick with the crisp scent of fresh laundry, mixing with the essence that always surrounded him – peppermint and cigarettes. It was the aura of the man that each second sucked my spirit deeper into him.
The fingers on my back found their way into my hair. Gently he tugged, like he’d done so many times before, only this time it was a fistful. “Christopher is right, you know. You were always my favorite.” The words came out in a murmur, his face focused on the ceiling, though his fingers soothed into my scalp.
Tingles spread along my neck, then rocketed down my spine.
“I don’t know what it was,” he continued with a soft reverence. “I guess I liked the way you followed us around. I liked that you couldn’t keep up and that I had to take care of you. I liked standing up for you. Protecting you. I liked the way you looked at me like I really mattered. I liked that when I thought back about you and Christopher after I was gone, I was thinking about the good times I had in my life.” He squeezed me closer to him and pressed his mouth to the top of my head.
“But I don’t get to have this, Aly.”
I shifted to lay my cheek on his chest. Sadness crashed over me in a breaking wave. I knew there was nothing I could say that would sway him, that there was no convincing him otherwise. He’d already promised me that last night. Instead I just held on to him, told him through my touch how much he meant to me and that he deserved happiness, too, whether he found that with me or someone else.
“I ruin every fucking thing I touch, Aly, and I refuse to ruin you.” His hold increased. “Fuck,” he groaned under his breath, tipping his face down toward mine, grief striking like a match in his eyes. “I shouldn’t even be in here with you.” He squeezed my back in emphasis. “Hanging out with you like this has absolutely been the most selfish thing I’ve done in a long time.” A short breath filtered from his nose. “I can’t do this with you anymore… this whole friend thing. I can feel it coming, Aly, that something bad is gonna happen and I’m going to hurt you, and I refuse to do it.”
“You’d never hurt me,” I said. This time I couldn’t keep myself from refuting his words.
Dry laughter filled my room. “You’re right… because I won’t ever let it get that far.”
Pain fisted in my chest. I was wrong. He could hurt me. He already was – hurting me and hurting himself.
But I guessed hurting himself was what he knew how to do best.
I laced my fingers through his right hand, lifted them so our hands shone in the dim light. My skin looked so pale woven with his, his skin darkened with the sun and his fingers marked with the year of his birth: 1990. Life.
I squeezed his hand, willing him to hang on to it.
He pulled our twined hands to his mouth and pressed gentle kisses to my fingers. He ran his lips along the back of my hand, brushed them over the puckered scars on the outside of my thumb. My throat constricted, and I was struggling to hold back tears.
“I need to go, Aly.”
Panic rose in me, and I struggled to hold him tighter. “Please,” I begged, trying to tug him down, “just lie with me. Just for tonight.”
His sigh was heavy and filled with sadness. But in it was his surrender. His arms tightened around me, and he pressed his lips to my forehead. His warm breath filtered all around me, wrapped around and cocooned me, and I shuddered as I fell completely into his embrace.
Maybe if I lay here and never closed my eyes, I’d be able to hang on to him forever.
And I tried. But inevitably they drooped and fell because there was not a safer, more comfortable place than resting in the security of Jared’s arms.
In the morning, I woke to an empty bed.
I hadn’t expected anything different. It didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. For a few seconds, I held my eyes closed because I didn’t want to face the wedge Jared had driven between us last night.
Rolling to my side, I pulled the sheets with me as I sought some form of comfort. Something crinkled on my pillow as I moved.
I lifted my head. A small piece of parchment paper sat folded on my pillow. My throat constricted, and I turned onto my stomach, eyeing the washed-out tan piece of paper, one side tattered from where it had been torn from some sort of journal. My fingers trembled as I reached out to take it in my hand. Slowly I unfolded it.
Tears welled in my eyes when I saw the simple statement written in a strong-handed scroll.
When beauty sleeps.
Turning onto my back, I held it against my chest, cherishing the words that Jared otherwise didn’t know how to say.
Two weeks had passed since the last time Jared left my room. He’d become distant. Withdrawn. Rarely was he at the apartment. I’d hear him creeping in at ungodly hours of the night and he was usually gone before I got up, as if he could hardly stand to be anywhere in my space.
And I missed him.
The hardest part was in those moments when he was in the apartment and I’d catch him looking at me.
Looking at me as if he missed me as much as I missed him.
Just as quickly, he’d look away, drop his gaze, and pretend all those nights he’d spent lying with me in the sanctuary of my room had only been figments of my imagination.
As if they didn’t matter.
As if they hadn’t changed who we were.
But I didn’t push him. The last time it had backfired. He’d panicked and had driven this unbearable space between us.
Somehow I knew if I pushed him any further, I’d never see him again.
Sighing, I forced myself from bed. Exhaustion dragged my feet. Restful sleep had been scarce for the last two weeks. There was always that hope, this little flicker of anticipation that he might come back, slip inside my room, wrap me up in his arms, and whisper that he’d made a mistake.
But he never did.
It didn’t mean I didn’t spend most nights awake trying to will it to happen.
Now I crept out into the hall. Stunned, I stilled when I found Jared sitting silently at the bar, sipping from a mug of coffee.
Motionless, I indulged, appreciated his beauty in a moment when he had no idea he was being watched. He wore a pair of jeans and a thin white V-neck tee. His bare feet were propped on the footrest, his elbows heavy on the marble bar. He seemed consumed in his thoughts, a million miles and a hundred years away. His hair was all unruly, and it appeared as if he hadn’t shaved in at least three days, this coarse stubble shadowing his strong jaw.
My fingers twitched.
I wanted to reach out and run them down the side of his face. To whisper his beauty against his ear. To tell him I saw the good, that it was alive, so transparent in his words and in his eyes.
Instead I slinked by and murmured, “Good morning,” as I passed.
I could barely discern the subtle flinch in his muscles, but it was there. I’d taken him by surprise.
He mumbled, “Morning,” into his coffee cup.
I went to the fridge, grabbed the orange juice, and poured a glass. With my back to him I spoke. It was hard to do, but I didn’t want this unease to eat at us forever. “So, no work today?”
He grunted. “It’s the Fourth… boss closed up shop today.”
The Fourth of July.
Right.
I didn’t even realize the date.
Guess I’d been fixated on something else.
I leaned up against the counter that Jared had backed me into all those weeks ago when he’d first confronted me, and thought about the day. It was funny, how much I used to look
forward to this holiday, the days dense with summer’s heat, our revelry shared out in our field as we played the sunlight away. How the excitement would build as the sun began to set, and our families would gather to turn our faces to the night sky to witness the beauty of the fireworks.
It had always struck me with an overwhelming awe.
I remembered how deeply it always struck Jared, too.
I stared at the floor. Off to my right, his presence tugged at my spirit as if mine were chained to his, a tension that wound through my consciousness and congealed in the air between us.
I doubted now we’d ever escape it.
Christopher suddenly shattered the strain wrapping up the room by barreling down the hall.
“Morning,” he said as he clapped Jared on the back and came around the bar and into the kitchen. He dropped a swift kiss to my cheek. “And good morning to you, little sister.”
“Morning,” I returned, confused by the overeager man-child almost dancing in the kitchen.
“Is there milk?” he asked.
I kind of laughed as Christopher dug into the fridge. It was about three hours too early for my brother to show his face.
“Should be,” I said, grinning at his back.
He stood and flashed me a huge one.
“What has you in such a good mood this morning?” I frowned in question.
“It’s the Fourth. Why wouldn’t I be in a good mood?” Christopher tipped his chin in Jared’s direction. “We haven’t all spent it together in years, and Timothy has his annual Fourth of July party planned.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Just think it’s going to be really cool to spend the night with everyone.”
Christopher had mentioned the party at Timothy’s house several weeks ago. I’d been to a few parties at his place. They were always packed, crawling with so many bodies that I usually ended up in the backyard, trying to catch a breath of fresh air.
From the corner of my eye, I caught Jared shaking his head. “Nah, I think I’ll just hang out here tonight or maybe go for a ride on my bike or something,” he said.
“What the hell are you talking about? Not a chance. I’ve been looking forward to this party all week. And it’s been so long since we all were together.” Christopher turned to me. “You’re still coming, right?”
It wasn’t really a question. I knew he’d force me into it if I even thought about backing out. “Yeah, I’ll be there. Do you mind if I invite Megan? I haven’t gotten to hang out with her that much lately.”
“Sure, Timothy’s not going to mind.”
I nodded before Christopher returned his attention to Jared, leveling him with a glare that vowed he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Jared casually sipped from his cup. “I don’t really do the party thing.”
“Really?” Christopher asked, completely incredulous. “You do remember I picked you up at a bar?”
Jared smirked and dropped his cup to the counter, that old playfulness filling his eyes when he taunted my brother. “You picked me up at a bar, huh?” he asked, the question packed with innuendo.
There was my friend.
I laughed, and Christopher did, too. “Fuck you, dude.” Christopher pointed at him. “You’re coming.”
Jared chuckled mildly, then sobered as he stole a glance my direction. I knew he was feeling me out, wondering if I wanted him there or if he’d already hurt me enough that I didn’t want to be anywhere around him.
I offered him an easy smile, one that promised I still would take whatever it was that he would give. And I would. I could be his friend. I could shove all these feelings aside, lock them in that place that had always been reserved for him. Could pretend that I didn’t crave his touch on my face, pretend he hadn’t spoken things that I knew he’d only ever spoken to me, pretend this bond we shared was just an invention of my imagination.
I’d been successful at hiding my feelings for so many years. What had changed?
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at myself.
The change currently sat at the bar in my apartment, his expression guarded but achingly tender at the same time. Could either of us ever forget the connection we’d shaped, one carved out in those perfect hours spent alone in my room?
No. Not me.
But I could pretend.
Resigned, Jared turned back at Christopher. “Fine. I’ll go.”
Warily, he chanced a glance back at me again, his eyes wavering as they fluttered over my face. Then he dropped his gaze back to his half-empty cup.
Was it foolish that I was excited for him to be coming? Foolish that this was the first Fourth I’d looked forward to in all the years he’d been gone because this was the holiday that had always been ours?
I risked lifting my face to find his eyes downcast, his hair flopping down to cover his gorgeous face.
Yeah, I guessed it probably was.
THIRTEEN
July 4, 2002
It was hot. The sun shone down, scorching everything in its path, the sky so bright it hurt to look up. Sweat beaded on Aly’s neck, and she pushed back the bangs stuck to her forehead. For what felt like the millionth time, she jammed the shovel into the hardened dirt, barely making a dent.
“If we’re going to make any jumps, we’re going to need a whole lot more dirt than that, Aly,” Christopher said, frowning at her progress.
“But it’s hard.” Both the work and the ground. Aly felt out of breath, and a blister threatened on the palm of her right hand. She’d been helping Jared and Christopher build their stupid bike track all day and she didn’t think she could work any longer. But if she didn’t work, she knew Christopher would still try to make her go home. Even though she was ten, he was still always trying to boss her around. The only difference was now that she’d gotten older, she didn’t listen to him all the time.
“Christopher, Aly, Jared!” Her mom’s blond head peeped over the top of their backyard fence as she called for them. “Come on home! We’re getting ready to leave.”
Thank God.
Christopher dropped his tools, jumped on Jared’s bike, and shot across the lot over the tracks they’d just made, laughing at them over his shoulder as he left them behind.
“Do ya always have to be such a jerk, Christopher?” Jared yelled after him, throwing his pick onto the ground. “Damn it,” he swore, kicking at the dirt. Then his attention flashed to her. “Sometimes I want to pound your brother’s face in.”
Aly bit at her lip and felt her cheeks flush red. Jared was gonna get grounded if his mom heard him talking like that. But Aly was too damned tired herself to remind him of it. She dropped her hands to her knees, leaning over as she tried to catch her breath.
“You tired, Aly Cat?” Jared asked, his anger over the plundering of his favorite bike all but vanished. Christopher and Jared never fought for long. Her mom said they should’ve been brothers, the way they were fighting one second and best friends the next.
She heaved hot air from her lungs. “I think I’m going to pass out.” She didn’t really think so, but she liked what Jared’s face looked like when he thought something was wrong with her.
“Come on, Aly. Hop on my back.” He bent down so she could climb on.
She didn’t hesitate. She jumped on his back, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.
Jostling her around, Jared hoisted her higher; then he laughed and darted across the field, holding her by the legs as she fiercely clung to his neck. She bounced against his back as he ran.
“Hold on tight, Aly Cat.” Jared dipped and twisted, and he laughed loudly as they soared.
To Aly, there was no better sound.
“Don’t you dare drop me, Jared Holt,” Aly shouted near his ear as he raced across the lot, ducking down to miss a tree branch as they passed.
“I won’t drop you, silly girl.”
But really, she already knew that. Jared would never hurt her.
He hiked her up higher, and Aly held on tighter
. When it was just the two of them like this, her stomach felt funny – light and excited and a little bit scared – and she knew it must be a real secret because she instinctively knew no one else should know. Least of all, Jared.
She didn’t want him to laugh at her.
He dropped her to her feet at the hole in the fence. “Beat you to your house,” Jared challenged before he took off running.
Aly almost kept up, her exhaustion from before all but forgotten. Her legs had grown long. She was almost as tall as Christopher. Her mom said it wouldn’t last, that boys got their growth spurt later, and she’d told Christopher not to worry that his little sister would pass him up.
Come to Me Quietly (Closer to You) Page 12
