The Space Beyond (The Space Between Heartbeats #1.5)

by Melissa Pearl

  I don't miss the slightly bitter edge to her words. Her smile is glum as she gazes at her olive green kitchen counter.

  "As a way to motivate Dale after his accident, Charles talked a lot about Dale's dreams and what he wanted to do with his life. They sort of decided on Columbia together, and it was a big part of helping Dale recover. They researched the college, spent hours picking out the perfect classes. For Dale, setting his eyes on something positive really motivated him. I think maybe he feels as though he's let his father down somehow."

  "But he hasn't." I almost sound desperate. "It wasn't his fault he was rejected."

  "I know," Mary says quietly. "But in his mind, it is. He's been working overtime trying to prove himself to us, not that he needs to. But we just can't seem to convince him otherwise. I don't think he'll ever truly get over what he went through when he was fifteen. A part of it will always stay with him."

  I already figured that. I know what it’s like to live with mistakes. We've both had to learn to deal with the fact that we can't change the past, but Dale seems driven by this power to prove that his life was worth saving. It influences most of his decisions. He never wants to be his old self again…ever.

  "I guess Columbia was another step towards redeeming himself...to making his father proud." My heart cracks as I say the words.

  Mary nods, tears forming on her bottom lashes. "Dale never whispered a word to any of his friends about this. It was like their little father-son secret. They really had their hearts set on Columbia, you know." Blinking rapidly, Mary sniffs and shakes her head. "Charles will be so disappointed."

  I don't know how to respond to this. All I know is that I really want to see Dale, like now.

  Armed with my newfound knowledge, I ease out of the chair, giving Mary an awkward squeeze on her arm as I make my way to the stairs.

  "Make sure you leave the door open." In spite of her sniffles, Mary still manages to give her standard reminder. I roll my eyes before turning to face her.

  "Yes, ma'am." I nod and paste on a smile before racing up to Dale's room.

  Leave the door open. Seriously? This isn't the 1950s. And besides, when did that ever stop kids from getting it on? If we didn't do it here then we'd just find someplace else. Thankfully, my parents don’t have this open-door policy. They probably should, but I don't think it’s occurred to them, even after they found out what I got up to before I was hit by a car and left for dead—the four longest days of my life. My parents found out so much during that time; all my secrets were laid bare. We've been slowly working our way through them, building up trust, learning to communicate with each other.

  They trust Dale, though. That's no secret. They think the sun flippin' shines out his butt. I think they love him more than they love me sometimes.

  This twitches my insides just a touch, but I'm okay with it. I love that they love my boyfriend. It gives us so much freedom at my place. Most of our heavy make-out sessions and in-depth talks happen in my room, so I'm really not complaining.

  I tap on Dale's door. The immediate response is Jester's bark. I brace myself for his voracious greeting, doing my best to stay calm as the black Labrador bounds towards me.

  "Jess…" Dale's voice is low and filled with warning.

  Jester manages to control his urge to jump on me, but doesn't have any qualms about burying his nose in my crotch. "What is it with this dog?" I nudge him off me.

  "He knows a good thing when he sees it." Dale grins at his cute line, but the joy quickly fades from his expression.

  I finally get past Jester, but not before giving him a proper greeting. I rub his ears and pat his head before he relents and follows me to the bed. I carefully climb up next to Dale while Jester nestles at our feet. Dale's arm automatically comes around my back and pulls me close so I can rest my head on his shoulder. I love that.

  I trace my finger over the design on his T-shirt, not sure what I should say.

  "I'm sorry," I finally mutter.

  After a long sigh, he kisses my forehead. "I know there are other colleges, but Columbia was my first choice, you know? After the accident, it was one of the first things to motivate me. I made an effort to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I found my passion for writing. I made all these plans."

  "Wrote your bucket list, huh?" I look up at the pictures plastered over his ceiling—the stunning waterfall in the rainforest is my favorite.

  "Well, yeah. I guess. Not on paper or anything, but it's been swimming through my head for a couple of years now. I've always wanted to see New York, and Columbia's a great school."

  He hasn't mentioned his dad once. Part of me wants to call him on it, but one look at his vulnerable expression, and I can't do it. Maybe it's better that he doesn't know what his mom told me.

  I clear my throat. "There are other schools." My encouragement sounds so completely lame right now.

  "Yeah." He squeezes my shoulder. "But what's the bet they won't have me, either?"

  "Dale," I chide. "You'll get in somewhere."

  "Will I, though?" His voice sounds small and uncertain.

  "Yes." I prop myself up so I can look into his eyes. "You are a catch, Dale Finnigan. Any university will be lucky to have you."

  He sighs and tries to give me a smile. Another forced one that's totally for my benefit, not his. "I guess I just wanted Columbia."

  Pulling me down, he rests his cheek against the top of my head and lets out another sigh. All I can do is hold him.

  Chapter Three

  Okay, so Mr. Morose is still walking the halls of Barrington High. I haven't managed to get a smile from Dale in four days. The weekend sucked. Like, yeah, officially! In the end, I got so sick of his somber silence that I got pissy with him and left. He didn't come around to win me over like he usually does.

  No make-out session.

  Nothing.

  I was pretty livid when I spotted him this morning, but one glimpse of his troubled expression and I couldn't stay mad.

  I spent the rest of the day playing nice. We sat with his friends at lunchtime. Sophie—the girl who has been crushing on him for months—said all the right things, of course, even soliciting a genuine smile out of Dale. My insides were spitting with toxic envy by the end of lunch, and I told Dale I was busy after school. It was a lie. We both knew it, but I said it sweetly, and I think he was grateful.

  I slam the door shut behind me and stomp into the kitchen, throwing my bag onto the counter with a little scream.

  "Whoa, someone's having a bad day."

  Turning with a gasp, I spot my mother, her blue eyes dancing with a mixture of curiosity and amusement as she glides into the room with an empty mug in her hand. She’s wearing a black, knee-length pencil skirt with a dark red blouse tucked into it. It accentuates her slender waist, making her look gorgeous and sophisticated in spite of her bare feet.

  "I thought you were showing a house this afternoon." I murmur, pulling out a shiny black barstool.

  My mother, real estate agent extraordinaire, used to sell more houses than anyone in the San Bernadino area. That all changed after my accident. She dropped everything to help me recover, but once I got back to school, she slowly started into work again. I sometimes wonder if she'll become a workaholic like before, but…

  "They canceled, so I decided to come home early." She tips the dregs of her coffee into the sink and rinses out the mug. Closing the dish drawer, she turns to assess me.

  She crosses her arms and tips her head to the side, her eyes narrowing as she studies me.

  I roll my eyes and groan, which just makes her giggle.

  "Want to talk about it?"

  "No." I prop myself onto the stool and rest my elbows on the shiny white counter.

  "Dale still in a bad mood, huh?"

  "I don't get it.” I flick my hands in the air. “It's, like, one school. I mean, yeah, I get the whole father-son, ‘don't want to disappoint Daddy’ thing, but there are other schools." I pick at my silver na
il polish and mumble, "Closer schools."

  Mom reaches for my hands, no doubt an attempt to stop me littering her pristine counter with nail polish chips. "Sweetie, why don't you just tell him how you feel?"

  "What do you mean?" I jerk away from her.

  "Tell Dale you love him. Maybe he needs to hear that right now." Mom’s pale eyebrows rise, while my stomach plummets.

  "I can't do that."

  "Why not?" She fluffs the back of her blond curls, her forehead wrinkling with confusion.

  "Because I don't—I mean, I do. But that's—I can't say that to him."

  "Why?" She presses her hands against the counter and gazes down at me.

  "Because, he...he might not say it back." My voice is tiny, and I stare down at the pristine kitchen counter like it’s the only thing anchoring me to the chair.

  Mom lets out a shocked little gasp then starts to laugh. "Nicky, are you kidding me? Dale adores you."

  "Then why hasn't he said it yet?” I slap my hands on the counter and look up at her. “Why did he apply for a school on the other side of the freaking planet?"

  Her smile is empathetic as she reaches for my hands and gives them a squeeze. "What you two have will defy distance. The only thing that will cause a rift between you is how you deal with this situation. Don't push him away out of fear."

  "I'm not pushing him away.” I wriggle my fingers out of her grasp. “He's pushing me away."

  "He's feeling sad...and maybe it's not just about this one rejection...or the stuff with his father. He might be wrestling other demons right now. Maybe he's afraid he'll be rejected by every school he applies for."

  My shoulders slump. "I know he is. But..." I frown. “He's so amazing."

  "I know that, but a police record is a police record.” Mom shrugs. “It's not something that can just disappear."

  I look up at my mom's soft words. Man, I love that we can talk. I basically tell her everything now. We grew really tight during my rehab, and she's probably the closest thing I have to a girly friend. That should be lame, but it's not. My mom is cool.

  My face crests with a pleading sadness. "What do I do?"

  "Love him." Her eyes sparkle as she smiles at me.

  "Love him?"

  She nods.

  "How? You mean like...phys—physically?"

  "No." Mom blanches, her blue eyes darting to the counter top. "Well, unless you guys..."

  I shake my head with a glum smile. "He's waiting for the right one."

  She looks more than relieved.

  I scowl at her.

  She grins. "It might still be you, sweets. When the timing's right." She touches my cheek. "But remember, there are so many ways to say, I love you."

  "I’m not very good at this.” I rub my temples. “I don't know what to do."

  "You'll figure it out." She reaches across the counter and rubs my arm. "I know you're too afraid to say the words right now, but show him you love him more than you love yourself."

  "What?" My nose wrinkles.

  Mom tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, her fingers shaking just a little. "I know it sounds weird, but when your father and I put each other's needs above our own, we live in a much happier household. We weren't doing that before your accident and look how miserable we all were. Think about it."

  And that's all I can do. Her words ring through my head all night. I'm so restless I end up reading until one o'clock in the morning. This does nothing for my grumpy mood as I drag myself out of bed to get ready for school. I try to skip breakfast but Dad forces the last half of his banana smoothie into me before Dale's car horn gets me off the hook.

  In spite of my tired stupor, I made an extra effort with my appearance today…and Dale notices. His eyes linger over me as I walk toward his car in my black skinny jeans, a teal fitted sweater and snug leather jacket. I'm also wearing the Granite dog tags he gave me. They swing against my sternum as I strut (as best I can) towards him in my new kicks. Mom got them for me in LA, and they match my teal top perfectly.

  Dale's standing by the passenger door, holding it open for me. I love that he's such a gentleman.

  Once I'm in, he closes it softly. I watch him walk around the car, playing with his keys. He still looks sad around the edges, but I can tell he's trying to put on a brave face and move past this.

  The engine kicks to life and Granite blasts through the car. He makes a dive for the volume control, mumbling his apologies. I laugh and tell him not to worry about it.

  We head to school in silence, enjoying the rock music. I hum along and Dale soon joins me. We glance at each other and grin.

  I love you. The words are right on the end of my tongue, and I nearly blurt them out. This gives me such a fright, I stop humming and press my lips together, looking out the window to hide my face.

  Dale places his hand on my thigh and gently rubs it. "You okay?"

  "Yeah." I turn with a smile. "Are you okay?"

  He shrugs.

  "You'll get in somewhere awesome, Dale. I just know it."

  "Yep." He cuts the word short. Man, I wish I could get inside his brain right now. He's usually really good at talking, having spent months in therapy after losing four friends in a car accident.

  About this, though, he's staying tight-lipped, and I'm not sure how much I want to pry out of him.

  "Have you...have you told your dad yet?"

  His expression goes rigid and he shakes his head. Okay, so not ready to go there then. The mere mention of his dad has embedded these deep worry lines into his forehead. My insides squeeze tight.

  "How about other schools? Have you heard back from any of them?"

  "I applied for Columbia way before the others. I wasn't even going to try for anywhere else, but after big chats with my parents, I decided to pick five other schools…just as back-ups…in case…" His voice sounds small as if the effort to speak is almost too much. "I only sent those applications off a few weeks ago."

  "Okay, so, I guess you'll hear soon then." I'm trying to sound positive, keep my voice light and upbeat.

  His eyebrows bunch together, and I feel my heart squeeze. "What?"

  "I got another rejection letter last night." He licks his lip and refuses to look at me.

  "From where?"

  "Princeton." He shakes his head with a wry smile. "I was dreaming with that one." He blinks rapidly, and I swear he looks like he might cry.

  This is killing him. He's freaking out that every college out there will send him an, I'm sorry to inform you... letter.

  He doesn't deserve that. Do they not realize he's gold?

  I love him.

  I love him so much I'm actually hurting for him right now. I'm angry on his behalf. I'm gutted on his behalf, and I want to make this better for him.

  As Dale lets go of my leg and steers his car into the Barrington High parking lot, my mother's words run through my head once again.

  This isn't about me.

  Dale wants to get into a good school. Better yet, he wants the school he picked out with his dad. There's no other option. Dale has to go to Columbia. And damn it, I am going to make that happen for him.

  He helps me out of the car and leans down to brush a light kiss over my lips. I grab the back of his head and deepen it, catching him by surprise. Thankfully, his hands curl into my jacket, pulling me close. I press against his firm chest and seriously want to happy sigh at this moment, but my mouth's too busy. Butterflies dance through my stomach. The world around us fades to nothing as I send him a silent promise with this one kiss.

  The bell ringing across the school finally pulls us apart, and I can tell Dale's grateful for my spontaneity. His smile is soft and sweet as he takes my hand and walks me up the front steps. I relish his pleasure, my insides buzzing with the thought of just how big his smile will be when he gets into Columbia.

  All I need to do now is figure out how I'm going to make that happen.

  Chapter Four

  I'm totally distracted during
first-period English, followed by French, which I hate anyway. The bell trills and I burst from my seat, sort of awkwardly, and make a beeline for the computer room. It's my study block, and I plan to do anything but study. Having had nearly two hours to mull this over, I've decided I'll look up Columbia online and print out the application forms again. Maybe I can reapply for Dale, fudge a few minor details...forge his signature?

  It takes me ten minutes to find the information I want. My finger is hovering over the mouse, ready to print out the pages, when a heavy dose of uncertainty lands on me. Forge his signature? Lie on his application? I'm like the dumbest person on the planet. How the hell would I ever get away with that? And Dale would hate me to lie for him. It goes against every grain in his body.

  No, Dale getting into Columbia has to be legit.

  I flick the mouse away and slump back in my seat with a huff.

  What am I going to do?

  I know Dale made some mistakes in his past, but everybody does. It just sucks that they’re coming back to bite him on the ass now. Maybe that's where I should start? Trying to wipe the misdemeanors off his record. But how?

  I run my thumb over my bottom lip as my mind whirls from one useless solution to the next. All of them are so filled with holes I can't even get them off the ground.

  I'm just starting to get really pissed with myself when a deep male voice distracts me.

  "Yeah, Columbia's a really good school. I didn't know you were applying there."

  "I've kind of applied everywhere, man."

  "Yeah, right, Adam."

  Adam?

  I sit up and peek over the study cubicle. Adam Hutton.

  My eyes narrow with a dark glare.

  I still haven't really forgiven him for what he did to me. Not only did he hit me with his car but if it hadn't been for Dale stepping in, he was planning on burying me alive—well, almost alive. When that didn't work out for him, he pointed a gun at us then freaked out and turned the gun on himself. I do pity him, but it’s a real struggle to see past his cowardice.