by Jay McLean
I grabbed his arm before he could get far. “You staying for dinner?”
He smiled. “You inviting me?”
I shrugged.
“I guess I have no choice then.”
Blake
Clayton led me to the playhouse and up the ladder. I knew he wasn’t interested in seeing it, but the thought of what he really wanted made me nervous. We sat quietly, waiting for Sammy to tell us everything he loved about the new yard. After a couple minutes, Dean came out and got him so he could wash up for dinner. “You staying?” he asked Clayton.
He shook his head. “I gotta take off. Blake will just be a minute.”
It felt weird, him speaking for me. My nervousness escalated, and I wondered what it was about him that I found so intimidating.
“You could be her change, Blake.”
That’s it. That’s all he said, before climbing down the ladder and heading out of the yard to the driveway.
You could be her change.
I had no idea what that meant, but I knew that I wanted it.
Mary sighed loudly at the dining table. It wasn’t the first time, and I wasn’t the only one who noticed. “What’s with you?” Dean asked. “You’ve been edgy all day.”
She seemed to bounce in her seat as she replied, “I don’t know. Something’s off. I feel like I’m forgetting something.”
Dean eyed her sideways before facing the kids, lifting his hand, and moving his index finger in circles next to his ear.
“She’s not crazy!” Sammy yelled through a laugh.
Mary smacked her palms flat on the table. “I can’t handle it.” Then she waved her hands in the air. “I’m getting my diary.” She stood up, shaking her head as she left the kitchen.
“Crazy, I tells ya,” Dean whispered jokingly. The kids laughed, but I noticed Chloe stayed silent next to me, her eyes fixated on her untouched plate.
Then Mary walked back in, diary in one hand, the other covering her mouth. Her eyes glazed over with tears. “Oh honey . . .” she said sympathetically, looking straight at Chloe. “I’m so sorry I forgot.”
“It’s fine,” Chloe answered.
Mary sat back down. “It’s not fine. I always remember your mother and aunt’s birthday. I’m so sorry.”
Shit.
Mary added, “Did you and Clayton have any luck finding it today?”
Chloe shook her head.
“Honey.” Mary tried to get her attention.
She finally looked up from her plate.
“I’m sorry. Not just for forgetting, but you know . . .”
Chloe nodded slowly but jerked her head toward the kids, sending a silent message.
Mary smiled, but the smile was sad. Then she sucked in a breath and faked a peppiness in her tone as she said, “So I caught Dean in the bedroom, watching himself twerk in the mirror.”
The kids’ laughter filled the room. Chloe just looked back down at her plate.
I leaned in close to her ear and whispered, “Are you okay?” She turned her head and looked up at me with such sadness in her eyes that I swear my heart actually broke. “Can I do anything?”
“No.” She tried to smile but failed. Then I felt her hand reach for mine under the table. “You’re already doing it.”
“See?” she said, pointing to a picture. “There’s a river or a lake behind them, but we can’t find where it is.”
“Do you mind?” I asked, taking the photo from her hands.
“Not at all.”
I scanned the picture quickly. “Holy shit, Chloe. You look just like them,” I said, before pulling out my phone and snapping a picture of the photograph, then handing it back. It wasn’t a lie. She did. Only younger and more beautiful. I kicked off the ground, setting the swing seat in motion.
Her smile was genuine. “I just want to find the place before I leave.”
I ignored the tightening in my chest and placed my arm behind her. “So, you’re still leaving?”
She looked up at me. “Of course. Nothing’s changed, Blake.”
I sighed, remembering Clayton’s words. I could be her change. “So . . . Mary told me about the cancer.”
“I know,” she said quietly, averting her gaze. “She told me that she did.”
“I just think—”
“Don’t, Blake,” she interrupted. “Don’t do that. Don’t think about it, and don’t think for me.”
I wanted to press further, but I didn’t want to push her. And I had a feeling that with her, if you pushed enough times, she’d push back. She’d push hard enough that one of us would fall off the edge and whatever delicate thing we had would be over. And that was the last damn thing I wanted. “So your plan’s still The Road?”
She nodded. “And what about you? What’s your plan?”
“I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “I thought I did, but a lot has changed lately.”
“Like what?”
“I got a scholarship to Duke.”
She gasped, her smile wide. “That’s amazing, Blake! Basketball?”
“Yeah,” I said quietly.
Her brow furrowed. “But you’re not happy about it?”
“No, I am,” I said quickly. “I’ve always loved basketball. Ever since I was four and my uncle got me one for Christmas. The fact that I’m good at it . . . That’s a bonus.”
“But?”
“But my dad’s army. His dad was army. His dad’s dad was army. So that’s what I’ve been raised to believe my future is. Army.”
“Does your dad know about the Duke scholarship?”
I shook my head. “No. Only Josh and Hannah. Hannah . . . she knew about shit with my dad, and she kind of used it as blackmail.” I laughed once, thinking about how petty it was. “She said that if I ever tried to break up with her she’d tell my dad about the scholarship. That’s pretty much why I stayed with her as long as I did. And I know that it’s not important, Chloe, but I just think that you should know that I didn’t love her.”
She nodded slowly, as if she understood, but all she said was, “So it’s basketball or the army. What are you going to do?”
I sighed and rubbed my hand across my jaw. “You know, until I met you, I thought this decision was the hardest thing in my life. I thought it was make or break. Life or death. With the pressure from my dad . . . the expectations of my teammates and my coaches . . . I put so much pressure on myself that it was all I could think about. I felt like I was drowning in it. Some days I still feel like that.” I paused for a beat, before adding, “The night I met you . . . when I was out for a run . . . I was trying to escape it. That’s what I do when I feel like things are too much and I don’t want to feel them anymore. I run. But now, I see things differently. I actually have a choice, and there’s nothing life or death about it.”
Her eyes snapped to mine, and she must have known what I’d meant. I was talking about her.
She looked away when her eyes started to glaze. I changed the subject, because the last thing I wanted was to upset her. “I signed the letter of intent for Duke. The truth is I’ve always wanted basketball, and not just the game, but Duke specifically.”
“So go to Duke,” she said, as if it was the answer to my problem.
I waited a moment, forming my thoughts before adding, “But there’s also a huge part of me that wants to enlist. Meeting you, Mary, and Dean—it’s kind of . . . I don’t know. It’s made me want to do something more with my life. It’s made me want to make a difference, you know? My dad is right in a sense. Being able to shoot a ball through a hoop isn’t going to do anything to improve the world. Joining the army—being part of a team, waking up every day and knowing that you have a purpose, a reason—there’s something satisfying about that. Something special, you know?”
She laughed quietly and shook her head.
“What?”
“Every time I think I know you, Blake Hunter, you just keep surprising me.” Then her mouth was on mine. But it wasn’t just a kiss; it was more. Her lips didn’t move. Her tongue didn’t search. And just as quickly, it was over. She settled back in the crook of my arm, with no answers or apologies. Which was perfect—because I didn’t want or need either of them.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Chloe
I knew something was about to happen, even though there were no physical signs. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and my palms began to sweat. Butterflies formed in my stomach, and the beating of my heart thumped faster, harder—and even though I was staring down at the floors of the familiar hallways of high school—I knew that when I’d lift my gaze, something was going to change. And then I looked up—and the beating of my heart stopped for a split second. The boy with the messy dark hair and the piercing blue eyes was watching me—a hint of a smile on his beautiful face that was enough to kick my heart back into gear. But then he turned around and walked away—not for him—but for me. Because he knew that was what I wanted, and I knew that he only wanted me to be happy.
Blake Hunter—he was my change.
“I saw you at school today,” he said, coming out of the food-prep room. I had my back turned; leaning my elbows on the counter, I was looking out at the lanes, trying to act cool, as if being around him didn’t set my heart racing.
“I know. I caught you,” I joked, straightening up and spinning around.
“You think it’ll be busy tonight?”
“I doubt it. There was only one person here on Monday, and I’m pretty sure he only stayed for the hot dogs.”
He laughed.
“What?” I asked, leaning my back against the counter.
“Chloe, he didn’t stay for the hot dogs. He stayed for your tits.”
“What!”
He chuckled lightly, moving in closer to nudge me with his elbow, only he didn’t shift back. He just stayed there. Far enough from me that we weren’t touching, but close enough that I knew he wanted to.
“Well, he’s not here now, so I guess they weren’t worthy of his return.”
“I beg to differ.”
I leaned back slightly, trying to see his face. “Are you being a pig?”
“Yes,” he admitted freely.
A single swipe of the broom, and the lights were off.
“Skate time, you little punks!” Josh hollered.
We didn’t waste any time. When his hands weren’t on me, his eyes were.
“You staring at her like that doesn’t make her yours,” I heard Josh tell him.
“Shut up, asshole.”
That made Josh laugh.
“Shit. I gotta go.” I tried to brake on the board but couldn’t, so I just jumped off, letting the board hit the wall in front of me. “Oops.”
Blake got up from his seat and picked it up. “I’ll walk you out.”
“So I guess I’ll pretend to not be seeing you at school tomorrow?”
I smiled as I threw my bag onto the passenger seat. “That would be perfect.”
I tugged on his shirt until he stepped forward. I threw my arms around his waist, and he drew me closer to him, with his hand on the back of my head.
“Good night, Blake.”
He kissed the top of my head. “Good night, Not Abby.” I started to pull back, but his hold on me tightened. “Do you want me to follow you home? Make sure you get there safe?”
I laughed into his chest and attempted to remove myself. He let me this time. “You’re always trying to save me.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve already saved me.”
You look extra beautiful today.
That was what the note in my locker said. Red ink on torn white paper. I read it again for the millionth time, and each time it left me with the same feeling. A change was coming.
But it wasn’t the change I expected.
When my teacher stopped next to me in class and told me I had to go to the principal’s office, I knew something was wrong.
And when the uniformed officers just outside the principal’s door came into view, I knew it was bad.
Classes were in progress. The halls were empty. Each step toward them got harder, heavier. My heart thumped faster, louder in my ears. “Miss Thompson?” one of them asked.
I used the wall behind me to keep me upright. “Yes?” I think I said. The walls closed in, and everything else disappeared.
“Would you like to talk somewhere more private?”
I shook my head. It felt as heavy as my feet only minutes ago. Or was it seconds? I didn’t know. I couldn’t tell.
“It’s about Mr. Clayton Wells.”
The bile rose; I swallowed it down. My eyes stung. “Shut up!” My head pounded. I covered my ears with my hands. “Don’t say it.” I pressed them firmer. I didn’t want to hear another fucking word.
“We’re so sorry for your loss, Miss Thompson.”
Blake
I walked down the empty halls, with a stupid smile on my face, remembering how she had felt in my arms when we’d said good-bye last night.
But just like that, my smile was gone.
“No,” she gasped, her hands pressed against her ears.
She slid down the wall. I wasn’t aware how I got to her. Or that I was even there. Not until she looked up with tears streaming down her face. “Blake?”
I was on my knees, holding her while she cried into her hands. “It’s okay,” I whispered to her, then louder to the cops, “What happened?”
Before they had a chance to answer, the bell rang. “Take me home,” she cried.
I got her to my car as fast as I could.
She cried hysterically the entire way to her house. Each sob had the same effect as a vise surrounding my heart. I didn’t bother to ask her what had happened. I just gripped her hand tight as it rested on her lap.
The car hadn’t even come to a complete stop in her driveway before she was out the door, up the porch steps, and in the house.
I followed.
“Did you know?” She was yelling at a wide-eyed Mary, sitting in the living room with Sammy. He had a paintbrush in his hand with an art smock on. His hand was frozen midstroke on the paper in front of him. He looked scared. Hell, I was scared. “Did you?” she yelled again.
Mary’s eyes narrowed, but they didn’t move away from her. “Sweetheart,” she said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Clayton! Did you know that he was depressed again? Did you know he’d gone back to using?”
“What?” Mary asked, the shock clear on her face. “I didn’t.” She took a comforting step toward Chloe. “Honey, you have to tell me what happened.”
“He killed himself, okay?” she screamed, her face scarlet. “He fucking killed himself!”
Fuck.
Silence.
The only sounds in the room were heavy breaths and the ticking of the clock coming from the kitchen.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
Then Sammy’s little voice. “What?” His face contorted. A cry escaped. “What’s that mean?”
I turned to Chloe, but she was gone, her feet thudding up the stairs so fast there was no sound separating her steps.
“Go with her.” Mary took the brush from Sammy’s hand and tried to hold back her tears. “Now, Blake.”
She had a small suitcase on her bed, already half-filled with clothes. I sat down next to it and watched her for a moment. I couldn’t speak. I didn’t know what to say. What the hell do you say in this situation?
She wouldn’t stop crying. Her cries came out louder, more uncontrolled. She threw more and more into the suitcase. Once it was filled, she flip
ped the lid and began to zip it shut. Then my sense kicked in. Where is she going? I panicked and grasped her wrist, stopping her from sealing her bag. “Chloe, stop. What are you doing?”
“I’m leaving. Fuck graduation. Fuck this place. I don’t want to be here anymore. Not without him.”
My stomach dropped. She can’t leave. “You can’t leave.”
“Why?” The word echoed off the walls in her tiny room. “Give me one good reason, Blake!”
I had a reason, but I knew it wasn’t enough. Not even close. Still, I told her, “Because I’m not ready to lose you yet.”
Her eyes snapped shut. Her head fell forward, and all the fight she had in her disappeared. “He’s gone, Blake.”
“I know. I’m so sorry.”
Then she looked up. Her eyes locked with mine, holding so much pain, anger, and sadness that I felt it, too.
Her pain was my pain.
“He’s gone,” she said again.
I pulled on her wrist until she was between my legs, and my arms were around her waist, holding on to every single piece of her. “He’s gone,” she repeated. But it was different this time.
It was final.
“I know, baby, and I’m sorry.”
Her arms went over my shoulders, bringing me closer. Then she curled into a ball on my lap. “Will you just hold me, Blake?”
She cried until she fell asleep in my arms. I moved her so she was under the covers and her head rested on the pillow. And then I made my way downstairs.
Dean was home now. The kids were at the neighbor’s house while Mary and he took some time to gather their thoughts. I didn’t know much about Clayton, but I assumed they had fostered him, too.
“Hi, Blake.” Dean’s forced smile was overshadowed by the solemn tone in his voice.
“How is she?” Mary asked from next to him.
“She’s asleep.”
Dean nodded.
“Is it okay if I stay with her tonight?”
He nodded again.
“I thought you’d left.” She sat up, letting the covers bunch at her waist.
