by Megyn Ward
Stopped feeling.
Even worse, what if I did feel. What if kissing her was everything I’d hoped. What if kissing her somehow fixed me. Made me real.
And what if she took it all away.
She thought it was because I didn’t want her. That there was something wrong with her when really, it was all me. I’m the one who was fucked up.
Still am.
So fucked up that even though I know how this is going to end for me, I can’t stop. I can’t walk away from her. Even though I know she’s going to use me and hide me and refuse to let me get close, I won’t be able to say no.
After I left her place last night, I drove around for hours, trying to get my head right. Figure out how I’m going to make this work. Keep seeing her, fucking her, without dying every single time I touch her. At around 2AM I came to the cold, hard truth.
I can’t.
It’s either pull out of this nosedive now, while there’s still a goat fuck’s chance in hell that I’ll make it out without losing my goddamned mind, or I keep diving and hope the crash kills me.
Because if I keep chasing this thing with her, it’s going to end ugly.
There’s no way it can end any other way.
She’s not going to stay. She won’t take me with her. She’s not going to love me. She’s not going to let me love her.
Not the way I want to.
So, it’s not really a question of if.
It’s just a question of when.
By the time Tess gets back from lunch, I have three more trucks serviced and parked out on the tarmac, waiting for pick-up.
“Brought you food,” she says, tossing a bag onto the workbench. “Take a break and eat, let me finish this one.”
“Can’t.” I pop off the fuel filter and toss it in the trash. “I’m supposed to take Henley to see her old man in a few hours, so I need to get this shit done as soon as possible.”
When she doesn’t answer me, I lift my head and look at her. She’s standing a few feet away, watching me the way you watch someone who has a terminal illness. Like she’s trying to figure out when I’m going die. It bothers me, but instead of getting into it with her, I give her a grin. “I’m good,” I say, nodding my head, even though it’s the biggest fucking lie I’ve ever told her. “I promise.”
She studies me, lip ring caught between her teeth. She wants to believe me, but she knows better. “Let me take her,” she says, shaking her head. “I know where to—”
“No.” The word comes out sharper than I intended, and I sigh when she visibly flinches. Straightening myself, I reach up and pull the hood down to slam it shut. “I promised Ryan.”
“Yeah… that’s what this is all about.” She laughs, the sound of it harsh and angry. “You promised Ryan.”
I know she’s gone. I know she’s probably never coming back, but I need you to look after her, Con. I know you can do that. I know you can do a lot of things you don’t want people to know about and I want you to do those things to make sure she’s okay. Promise me you’ll take care of her.
That’s what Ryan said to me after he enlisted. It was just me, standing with him in the bus station parking lot, next to the bus that would take him to basic training. There was no one else. Everyone else had either abandoned him or was too ashamed in themselves to show their face.
Promise me you’ll take care of her.
And I did. Even though the thought of her felt like hot needles were being jammed in my eyes and punched my lungs full of holes, I promised him.
I like to believe I’m keeping that promise because I’m a good friend. Because Ryan is family and I take care of what’s mine, but really, it’s about her.
It’s always about Henley.
Everything is.
“We’ve got four more.” I toss her the keys and jerk my chin at the concrete pad in front of the shop. “You want to argue, or you want to work?”
Tess snaps the keys out of the air and clenches them in her fist. For a second, I think she’s going to throw them at my head. She doesn’t. She just shoves them in her pocket. “You got it, boss.”
3
Six
Henley
I haven’t been this busy since college. Since graduation, my life has consisted mainly of helping my mother organize charity functions and society luncheons, in between marathon shopping sessions and spa days.
It’s nice to spend time doing something useful. Worthwhile. Something that doesn’t include trying on shoes that cost as much as a used car or having my face coated in whale sperm.
Conner said he’d meet me out front at five o’clock, so I’m surprised when I see him waltz through the main doors at a quarter after four. In beat-up jeans and a black T-shirt that looks new, tattoos stretched over the kind of body that ties your tongue in knots, he breezes past the information desk without so much as a glance in my direction while every woman within shouting distance openly stares. I think I heard more than one of them sigh. The bruises his brother parked on his face last night do absolutely nothing to detract from the perfection of his features. As a matter of fact, they intensify it. Somehow make him even more beautiful, which is as annoying as it is confounding.
“I was wondering when he’d show up.”
I look up and over to find Margo standing next to me, helping someone fill out an application for a library card. She’s not looking at me, but she’s smiling.
“That’s not Patrick Gilroy,” I tell her, thinking she must have them confused. Most people can’t tell them apart. “That’s his cousin, Conner.”
“I know who it is.” Now she laughs like I’m the one who’s confused. “And he took longer than I thought.”
I watch as he rounds the corner, heading toward the back of the library.
He wouldn’t…
“Excuse me,” I say to her, standing to push my chair in. “I’ll be right back.”
“Mind the cameras.”
What’s that suppose to—I feel my cheeks go hot.
“I’ll be right back.” I say it again, jerking my tailored jacket off the back of my chair to pull it on, like an extra layer of clothes will make my point clear.
Margo makes a mournful sound in the back of her throat. “That’s too bad.”
The woman she’s helping nods like I just said the saddest thing she’s ever heard. I skirt the desk and start after him without replying. I’ll be right back. They’ll see.
“Plenty of blind spots in Reference.”
I stumble and stop to shoot a glare over my shoulder at the older librarian I’d always looked up to when I was a girl. “Who are you?”
That one earns me a laugh and enough time to escape around the corner without further comment which is good because there’s Conner, sprawled out in a faded, tie-dyed beanbag chair, book held up in front of his face.
My book.
I have to bite my tongue to keep myself from saying it. Instead, I stop in front of him and stack my hands on my hips. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Splitting atoms.” He says, his face still hidden by the book in his hand. When I don’t react to his smartass answer, he turns the page. “What are you doing?”
“You can’t be in here,” I say instead of answering him. “I’m going to have to ask you to split your atoms elsewhere.”
Now he looks up at me and smiles. “Why?”
That one catches me off guard. “Why?”
“Yeah.” He marks his place in the book with his finger and drops his hands into his lap. “Why?”
“Because—” I’m struggling to keep my temper in check. I have one and it can be ugly, but it takes a lot to get me there. Talking to Conner is like taking the Temper Express. Always has been. He’s the only person I’ve ever met who can get under my skin without even trying. “This is the teen reading center.”
“So?”
“So, you’re twenty-six. Hanging out in here is a little creepy, don’t you think?”
He shrugs. “Th
ere’s no one in here.”
I shoot a glare over his head and he turns, a slow smile spreading across his face when he sees the trio of women who followed him in here, crowded around a spinning book rack full of Sweet Valley Highs. “Afternoon, ladies.”
They giggle and wave.
At least one of them is old enough to be his mother.
“I’m serious, you can’t be in here.” I don’t know why I’m pushing the issue. He’s right. It hardly matters. I haven’t seen one kid come in here all day.
He cocks his head and gives them a crooked smile. I know because they look like they’re ready to faint. “You guys don’t mind that I’m in here, do you?”
All three of them shake their heads like their lives depend on it.
“See?” He turns his smile on me. “No one cares but you, Daisy.”
I almost threaten to get security to escort him out, but I don’t because I know how it’ll end.
The security guard on duty is a woman. She’d probably end up handcuffing him and frisking him as an excuse to cop a feel.
Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly before trying again. “Sir, I really am going to—”
“Ma’am—” He flashes his dimples at me, a surefire sign he knows he’s getting to me. “I’m just looking for a quiet place to read.”
“There are plenty of reading nooks in the main—”
“I said quiet.” He shakes his head. “It’s too noisy out there.”
He’s right. The main floor is dominated by a large bank of computers and every single one of them is occupied. The incessant clicking of fingers on keyboards has been slowly driving me crazy all day.
“There are plenty of quiet places to read on the third-floor,” I say before I can think to stop myself.
Third floor.
Reference.
Like he can read my mind, Conner’s grin takes on a predatory edge. “I don’t know where that is,” he says. “Would you mind showing me?”
I can feel the women behind him staring at me, silently willing me to say no so one of them can be his guide. “You know where it is.”
He shrugs. “I forgot.”
“You have an eidetic memory.”
He grins again. “It’s selective.”
“Fine.” I’ll play along. Show him where to go even though he knows this library like the back of his hand, same as me. “Follow me.”
I turn and retrace my steps, the sound of my heels clicking across polished concrete as I cross the atrium, on my way to the elevator.
I push the button before stepping away from the panel, clasping my hands together in front of me to wait for the car. Conner is standing behind me, far enough away to maintain decorum. Anyone looking at us would think we’re total strangers. That we’re simply waiting for the elevator.
But they can’t feel the way he’s looking at me.
What having his eyes on me is doing to me.
The doors slide open.
I mean to direct him from here.
Press three and get out when the doors open.
Instead, I step into the car and turn, watching while he steps in after me.
Rather than look at him, I look out across the atrium and see Margo at the main information desk, still helping the same woman with her library card application. The doors start to slide closed.
Margo gives me a cheeky grin and a thumbs up.
4
Seven
Conner
2009
It’s finals week. No reason for me to be here since, technically, I graduated high school when I was eleven. For all intents and purposes, I should be just about anywhere but here. But here is where I am because I haven’t seen Henley in days and I’m hoping to at least catch a glimpse of her. Make her talk to me.
Yeah. Make her talk to you. Like this morning when you practically chased her through the quad.
I showed up early, stationing myself by the gate so I could see her when she showed up. Fifteen minutes later, I was surrounded by people, all of them talking and laughing. Trying to get my attention. I’m popular. I know that. Six months ago, it felt like some sort of accomplishment that I’d fooled all these people into thinking I actually give a shit about anything they have to say. Now, they’re nothing more than a low-level annoyance. Like flies, buzzing around me. I talk back. Smile. Laugh. Engage. Pretend to be something I’m not.
Normal.
Ryan shows up and I fight the urge to ask him where Henley is. He’s been weird around me lately. Spending a lot of time with Declan. It makes me worry that my asshole brother has pulled him into his bullshit. Makes me wonder if he knows that I’m in love with his sister.
Jessica keeps flipping her hair and giggling like an idiot, trying to get me to notice her. I notice her, not because I want to but because I notice everything. She keeps texting me. Showing up at my house. Monday afternoon I finally told my mom I don’t want to see her and why. What she did to Henley.
Yesterday, when she showed up, my mom chased her off the porch with a broom and told her we didn’t feed stray cats. It was the first good laugh I’d had in days.
A few minutes before school starts, I see Henley pass through the gate. I wasn’t planning on approaching her. I just wanted to see her. I hadn’t for days and I just needed to see her face, that’s all. To know she was okay.
But then I caught her looking at me. I know it shouldn’t but seeing how miserable she looked gave me hope.
I was halfway across the quad before she bolted. I supposed I have Tess to thank for slowing her down and giving me a fighting chance, but by the time I get to where she was talking with Tess, she’s already gone
Standing next to Tess, I call out to her in frustration. Something I know isn’t going to win me any points and Tess proves it by laughing at me.
“Way to go, Romeo,” she says, shaking her head at me. “I’ll be surprised if she stops before she hits Connecticut.” But she lays a hand on my forearm and gives it a commiserating squeeze before she walks away too.
Now, walking into calculus, the first thing I see is Henley. She’s sitting in the same seat she’s sat in for the entire semester. Ramrod straight in her seat, hands folded on her desktop. Face aimed at the whiteboard at the front of the classroom. First row, five desks back. Directly across from the door so she can duck out as soon as class is over. I don’t expect today will be any different. She’ll bolt as soon as the bell rings.
Walking up the aisle, I can see her face, but she doesn’t look at me. Her gaze doesn’t waver from the front of the classroom. I look at her hands, folded on top of her desk, hoping against hope that I’ll see it. That she’s wearing my ring.
She isn’t.
Stopping in front of the desk behind her, I glare at the kid sitting at it until he gets the picture. As soon as he gathers his stuff and moves, I slip into the vacated seat. Her unruly hair is wrangled into one of her braids, revealing a cluster of freckles scattered like buckshot across her nape. Like she can feel me staring at them, a red flush erupts from the neck of her T-shirt to creep into her hairline.
It’s been nearly a week since she knocked Jessica out in the library, but people are still talking about it. Still talking about her. About how she went crazy and attacked Jessica for no reason. This is her first day back at school since it happened and they’re all staring at her.
I lean forward in my seat, elbow planted on the desktop in front of me. “Ignoring me doesn’t mean I’m not here, Henley.” I say it loud enough to cut through the bullshit whispering around us and her shoulders instantly stiffen under the worn seams of her shirt.
Now they’re staring at both of us.
“I’d like to start the final now, if that’s okay with you, Mr. Gilroy?”
I look up to see Mr. Kitteridge, our calculus instructor, glaring at me from the front of the room. I slump back in my seat and shrug. “I’m ready if you are,” I say, stretching my legs out under my desk.
Like most of my teachers
, he doesn’t like me. Doesn’t want me in his class. Tolerates me because the school board says he has to. Historically, I don’t give a fuck how he feels or what he thinks about me and today is no exception.
Kitteridge’s face turns an unhealthy shade of purple while laughter erupts around me. I meet his glare head on, practically daring him to open his mouth again. When he clamps it shut, I give him a smirk and cross my arms over my chest, while he passes out exams.
I stare at the back of Henley’s neck for the next forty-five minutes listening to the furious scratching of number two pencils flying across paper. Like I predicted, as soon as the bell rings, she’s out of her seat, exam in hand. As soon as she’s handed it in, she’s out the door.
I’m right behind her.
“Henley.”
Like earlier this morning, she ignores me, weaving her way through the crowded hall toward her next class. English. She has English next.
I reach for her arm, trying to slow her down, but she pulls free, shooting me panicked, wide-eyed look over her shoulder. I told her I’d leave her alone. I told her I was through with trying to make this work, but I can’t. I can’t just give up on her.
On us.
Not without a fight.
As soon as our eyes connect, hers slide to the left just as I feel someone brush up against me. I don’t even have to look to know who it is. It’s Jessica. This morning, before school, she kept trying to hold my hand, just like she is now. Even if she hadn’t turned into a total stalker, I’d know who it is. The look on Henley’s face says it all.
“There you are.” I feel Jessica slip her hand into mine. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
I tune her out like last time and watch Henley disappear in the crush of people without so much as a backward glance. I stop walking, watching her disappear.
“…thinking maybe we could head to Penny’s after school, since it’s a half-day. Her mom doesn’t—”
