Where the Road Takes Me

by Jay McLean

  “Me, too,” I told him.

  Then Josh spoke up. “Remember that time when we came here, and I tried to grind along the bleachers?”

  Blake laughed. “The first time we came here and smoked?”

  Josh nodded. “That was so fucking bad. I was tripping so hard.”

  Blake laughed harder.

  “What happened?” I asked

  “Well, C-Lo,” Josh started. He pointed his beer at Blake, and Blake returned the gesture. “We were what? Fourteen?”

  “Thirteen, I think,” Blake answered. “Fuck, we were such cocky little punks.”

  That made me laugh.

  Josh continued, “We smoked, like, two puffs of weed, and we were gone—”

  “Josh thought he was Superman,” Blake cut in.

  Josh rolled his eyes. “Okay, kid-that-wore-a-cape-to-school-for-a-month-in-third-grade.”

  “What?” I laughed. I tilted my head to look up at Blake, but he was already watching me.

  His eyes danced with amusement when he said, “I also believed I could shoot lasers out of my eyes.”

  “Oh yeah!” Josh yelped. “Squinty!”

  Blake threw back his head and laughed.

  “The entire school called you Squinty for months. I fucking forgot about Squinty.”

  “Tell your story, asshole.” He took a swig of his beer and winked down at me.

  Josh told his story—about when he’d tried to grind on the edge of bleachers but failed. He’d fallen off the side of the railing, but his pants—which they admitted had hung way too low, almost at their knees, but they’d thought was so fucking cool at the time—had gotten caught on a bar at the end. It had made him flip over the edge of the rail, but he’d caught himself by throwing his arms out over his head.

  “He was stuck there, upside down, with his pants down to his ankles,” Blake said through his laughter.

  Apparently, he’d been there for so long his face had started to turn red. But the best part was that somehow Josh had managed to knock out two of his teeth. Probably from the board, but really, they had no idea. So there’d been Josh, hanging upside down, off the edge of the bleachers, for who knows how long, with his pants down—and Blake, also high, had been so busy laughing at him that he’d been unable to even grasp the concept of trying to help him down.

  “He was rolling around on the fucking ground, pointing and laughing at me!” Josh yelled. “My mouth was full of blood from my knocked-out teeth. And I kept trying to spit it out, but I was flipped over the edge, and high, and had blood rushing to my head, and my balls were sore from being so cold.”

  “Help me, Hunter! Help me!” Blake mocked in a feminine tone.

  “What happened?” I couldn’t stop laughing. “How did you get down?”

  “Some guy walking his dog saw us and called an ambulance,” Josh said.

  “Why the fuck didn’t he just get you down?” Blake yelled.

  “Why the fuck didn’t you just get me down?” Josh retorted.

  “What happened?” I was laughing so hard my sides hurt.

  Josh answered. “So the guy called an ambulance. It took them forever to get there.”

  “It was, like, two minutes, you pussy,” Blake said.

  “Fuck you, Squinty. It felt like forever.” Josh’s eyes moved to me. “So the ambulance gets there, and the dudes help me down, check my teeth and shit, and then they asked us what’d happened.”

  Blake laughed again and pulled me closer.

  “And?” I placed my hands over his and linked our fingers. “What did you tell them?”

  “This is so fucking bad.” Josh shook his head. “Hunter and I looked at each other, and I don’t even know what happened . . . I think we were both so paranoid from the weed that we thought we couldn’t tell them the truth.”

  “What did you say?” I needed to know.

  “Hunter here—” He stopped, unable to speak through his cackle. When he finally calmed down, he continued, “Hunter said that vampires came and tried to attack us! We tried to fight them off, but they got me, hence the blood, and then they hung me off the end of the bleachers as a warning to the werewolves that they’d been there!”

  We all roared with laughter.

  I looked up at Blake, with teary eyes. The good kind. “Vampires? Werewolves?”

  He just shrugged and said, “Twilight had just come out.”

  “Where to next?” The cab driver asked as he started to reverse out of Josh’s driveway.

  Blake pulled me so close to him that I was almost on his lap.

  “My house, I guess.” I looked up at him, but he was looking out the window, his mind somewhere else. “Blake?”

  His gaze dropped to mine. “Huh?”

  “The cab. My house or yours first?”

  His eyes fell shut. When he opened them, they were glazed and red. He was holding in tears. “Stay with me tonight?”

  And that was all it took.

  I’d known it was coming. And I’d known it would be soon. But I wasn’t prepared for it. I wasn’t ready for the moment where my mind caught up to my heart and the walls I’d built crumbled.

  I wasn’t ready to admit that I’d fallen in love.

  Without a word, he took my hand and led me up to his bedroom. I stood in the middle of his room while he went through his dresser and pulled out a shirt. He didn’t hand it to me like I’d expected. Instead, he set it on his bed, turned to me, and slowly slipped my dress over my head. I stood in front of him, in the darkness of his room—lit only by the moon outside—in nothing but my bra and panties.

  And I’d never felt more beautiful in my life.

  My eyes drifted shut. I waited for him to touch me. For his hands to follow where his eyes had roamed. But it never happened. The touch never came. Then the soft material of his shirt covered me. His voice came out in a whisper: “I like you in my clothes, Not Abby.”

  He waited for me to get into his bed before following. Then he pulled me into him—the heat of his bare chest against my back. His hold was tight. So tight I almost couldn’t breathe. But that was fine—because in this moment, all I needed to breathe was Blake.

  His nose skimmed along the back of my neck, moving my hair to make way for his lips. His kisses were soft and slow, but they were also commanding. His hand moved under my shirt and flattened against my stomach. Then his palm crept higher. And higher. “Blake.”

  “Mmm?” The wetness of his open mouth, followed by his tongue, made me shiver.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. The frustration, the plea, the need in his voice was enough to make me turn in his arms. Once we were face-to-face, he continued, “I feel like I need to—no, we need to—do something so that you don’t forget me.”

  I reared back. “You think I could forget you?”

  He dropped his gaze, but he didn’t speak.

  “So you want to have sex?”

  “No,” he said quickly, lifting his eyes to meet mine. “I don’t know. Yes. I just want you to remember me.”

  My chest tightened at his words. “Would you forget me?”

  “Never.”

  “Then what makes you think I’d forget you?”

  “Because that’s your goal in life, Chloe. To be forgettable.”

  “That’s not fair, Blake.”

  He sighed. “Maybe not, but it’s the truth.”

  I let his words sink in and settle before I spoke. “I’ve had sex, Blake.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “With lots of guys.”

  His lips thinned to a line.

  “And I don’t remember them.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that it didn’t mean anything. Sex. It probably never will.”

 
He leaned his forehead against mine. “I wish I was enough,” he said quietly.

  “Enough?”

  “I wish that I could ask you to stay, and that it would be enough. That I was enough.”

  I wanted to tell him that he was. He was more than enough. But it wasn’t just about him. It was about me, too. It always had to be about me, and the people I’d leave behind.

  He took my silence as an answer. Sighing, he leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on my lips.

  I kissed back, lingering longer than he’d probably expected.

  His fingers on my back curled, gripping the shirt.

  “You know what I’ve always wanted? What I never let myself dream?” I said against his lips.

  “What?” he whispered.

  “To meet a guy that wanted to kiss me. Not because it would lead to sex, but because he felt like he would die if he couldn’t. I want to fall asleep, kissing someone, and for that kiss to be enough, to be everything. Just kiss. Sometimes when I’m with you, that’s all I want. I want to kiss you like my life depends on it.” My voice cracked, but I kept going. “If I could dream the same dream a million times over, it would be you—you would be my last kiss, my last breath.”

  “Chloe,” he sighed.

  And then he kissed me.

  He kissed me with everything he had.

  Every piece of him.

  Like his life depended on it.

  We never broke apart.

  Not even when fatigue set in, and we struggled to move.

  Or when fatigue won out, and we fell asleep.

  Not even when I dreamed that the cancer had won, and I was dying.

  And that Blake Hunter—he was my last dying breath.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Blake

  Her eyes fluttered open, and a slow smile spread across her face.

  “Hey, beautiful.”

  “You know what I love?” she said groggily.

  “What?”

  She skimmed her fingers over my nose. “These little freckles, right here. They don’t come out often. Sometimes in the sunlight. Barely ever indoors. But they’re out now. I bet it’s just for me.”

  “I bet it is.”

  Her eyes drifted shut again as she pressed her lips against my nose. And for a moment, I forgot that that was it. That the moment—right there—was as good as it would get for us.

  It was the greatest thing we’d never have.

  The thought created a knot in the pit of my stomach, and I couldn’t shake it. “You want to shower?”

  “Okay.”

  I kissed her once and tried to smile. “I’ll go after you, and then maybe we can get something to eat?”

  “Sounds great.”

  Last night, when she’d been in my arms, I’d asked her to stay—not in those exact words—but she’d known what I’d meant. She hadn’t responded, and that had been enough of an answer for me.

  I’d wanted to tell her that I loved her—or at least I thought I did. But then she’d told me how she felt about me, and the word love hadn’t felt like enough.

  I had three and a half days to find words that were enough. Even if she didn’t stay, at least she’d know how I felt about her.

  She’d told me she’d wait outside while I showered. When I stepped out of the house, she was leaning against my car, and my mother was with her.

  “I invited your mom. I hope you don’t mind.”

  What was I supposed to say? That I did mind? That I wanted her all to myself and that I wanted her to be mine? “That’s cool.”

  “I also rang Mary, and everyone else is going to meet us there.”

  “Okay.”

  “And Josh, too.”

  My smile was tight, but I nodded anyway.

  We got in my car and drove to Clayton’s restaurant, her hand on my leg the entire drive.

  My mom linked arms with me as I watched Chloe walking ahead and into the restaurant. “It might be the last time she gets to be with everyone, Blake. Don’t be selfish. Let her have this moment.”

  I looked down at her. “When did you get so smart?”

  “Honey, I write romance novels. You don’t think I know what goes on in the minds of two people in love?”

  Chloe

  I frowned when Mary, Dean, and the kids walked in.

  “What’s wrong?” Blake asked. He must’ve been watching me.

  “Harry’s not here,” I said into his shoulder.

  He put his arm behind me and brought my temple to his lips. “I’m sorry.”

  They all joined us in the corner booth.

  “Harry’s coming,” Dean said. “He wanted to meet us here. Said he had something he had to do.”

  I felt a weight lift off my shoulders.

  “Dean, Mary, this is my mom, Celia.” Blake made the introductions. They talked among themselves for a while as I watched the seconds tick by. My eyes moved from the clock to the front door, waiting for Harry. When I saw him walk in with a skateboard under his arm, my heart leapt. I couldn’t contain my smile. Blake squeezed my shoulder once before standing up to bump fists with him. He took a seat on the other side, suggesting that Harry sit next to me. It was a small gesture, but one that didn’t go unnoticed. I was thankful that he’d thought of it. I was thankful for him.

  “Hey,” Harry greeted.

  “Hi,” I squeaked. I was nervous. I wasn’t sure what Harry would say to me.

  “Can I sit?”

  “Of course.”

  He sat down and placed a bag on the table. “I got you something,” he said quietly.

  “You didn’t have to get me anything.” I was still looking down at the table. Too ashamed to face him after what had happened between us.

  “It’s not really for you. It’s more for me.” He tipped the bag and emptied the contents.

  A phone.

  “It’s an upgrade from your old flip phone. This one has Internet and stuff.”

  I finally managed to look up at him. He was smiling, but the moment was awkward.

  “I bought enough credit for a year. They charged it while I was buying it. I loaded Facebook on it and made you an account.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you have a Facebook account now. I’m your only friend. You can chat, send me pictures. Whatever.” He slid the phone over to me. “And it’s a gift. Mary always says never to look a gift horse in the mouth. I don’t really know what that means, but I think it means that if you get a gift, then you have to use it. This is my gift to you—you have to use it. You have to stay in touch. Send me messages. Pictures of where you are and what you’re doing. You have to let me know that you’re okay, and that you’re healthy.”

  Mary sniffed, pulling me out of my thoughts. She buried her face in Dean’s arm.

  “I didn’t mean to make you cry, Chloe,” Harry said.

  “Thank you. I love it,” I said, wiping my cheeks.

  “Promise me you’ll use it.”

  I laughed. “You’re going to have to show me how.”

  He grinned and picked up the phone.

  I tried to listen to his instructions, but instead I noticed Blake watching us the entire time, his eyebrows drawn and a frown on his face.

  He stayed that way until the bell above the door chimed, and Josh ran in, carrying Tommy. “Hey, everyone,” Josh’s words rushed out, and then he set Tommy on the floor. Tommy stood on wobbly feet. “Okay, Tommy. Do it!” Josh ordered.

  Tommy dropped himself on his diaper-covered butt.

  Josh rolled his eyes, picked him up, and set him on his feet again.

  We all watched.

  “He did it this morning, took his first step,” Josh informed us, his eyes trained on Tommy. “Go on, buddy, do it again.”

  Tommy
stood still. His little eyes moving from one person to the other.

  “Come on,” Josh encouraged. “You’re making a liar out of your daddy.”

  Tommy moved.

  We held our breaths.

  But then he fell on his butt again.

  Josh sighed and set him on his feet.

  Tommy pulled out his pacifier and pointed to Blake. “Hunt.”

  Blake’s eyes went huge. “He can say my name!”

  “You want Uncle Hunter?” Josh said excitedly. He pulled Blake out of the booth and stood him two feet in front of Tommy. “Go to Uncle Hunter,” he cooed.

  “Hunt,” Tommy said again.

  And then he took a step. Followed by another. And then another. He fell on the fourth, but it didn’t matter. We were out of our seats and cheering by the time Blake picked him up off the floor and sat him on his lap. “I’m your Uncle Hunt,” he said through a smile.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Blake

  Graduation day.

  The last day of Chloe.

  It sucked.

  Almost as much as the fact that when I woke up that morning and opened my eyes, Dad was hovering above me with what looked like a gift basket containing a basketball and Duke Blue Devils jersey. “What the fuck is this?”

  For a second, I got scared. I let his intimidation work. And then I remembered Chloe and, all of a sudden, dealing with Dad didn’t seem so hard. Not compared to saying good-bye to her.

  “What does it look like?” I threw the covers off me and stood toe to toe with him.

  His eyes widened in surprise, but for only a second, before he recovered and glared at me. His lips turned into a snarl when he growled, “Did you tell them you were enlisting? Basketball is not a future, Hunter. What the fuck kind of lessons and achievements are you going to get from throwing a damn ball around?” His voice got louder with every word.

  The thing was, if he would have actually sat down with me, tried to talk it out, maybe made suggestions as to why I should have chosen to enlist rather than play college ball, I would’ve listened to him. I would have heard him out, really considered his point of view. But all he’d done was make me want to tell him to fuck off and that he had no fucking clue about my life or me. So I bit my tongue and contained the rage that had been building for so long. Then I brushed past him, got in the shower, and dressed in the stupid graduation gown.