Katherine seriously doubted that.
A horn honked outside, immediately catching the girls' attention. "That's Mallory," Abby said, stating the obvious. "I think she's waiting for me. We all drove together."
The redhead looked torn. It took a moment for Katherine to realize that her friend actually wanted to go with the vicious blonde. She supposed they'd gotten close since she'd left Middletown. Life, after all, had surely gone on without her.
"Go ahead," she assured Abby, ignoring the hurt that flared within her. "We'll catch up later."
Abby searched Katherine's eyes. "Are you sure?"
She nodded. "Of course."
"Okay," Abby agreed, pulling Katherine into another hug, this one much tamer than the first. "Call me the moment you get the chance!"
Despite having given the redhead permission to leave, Katherine couldn't help but feel somewhat betrayed as she watched her friend turn her back and walk out the salon door.
You thought Melanie had been your friend too, a traitorous voice whispered in the back of her head. Inwardly shushing said voice, she rubbed her suddenly tired eyes with her hands. "Sam, can we go home?"
“Why? Because of that jealous harpy? Don’t let her get to you.”
Katherine sighed at her sister's interpretation of the situation. "That was not simple jealousy. Mallory hates me."
"Don't be dramatic, Katherine. Besides, why should you let her ruin your afternoon? Now hold still and let Tamara finish painting your nails."
Katherine grumbled under her breath at the bossy demand, but obeyed her sister's order anyway. After Tamara had applied a third layer of polish, however, she had had enough and insisted upon leaving.
It wasn't even a half an hour later, when they were rounding the corner that led to their street that Mallory's threat came to fruition. The meaning behind her words – “I’ll make sure you get the attention that you clearly so desperately want." – become all too clear to Katherine as she spied the long line of news trucks lining the curb outside their parents’ house.
Mallory's mother, Katherine vaguely recalled, worked for Middletown's local newspaper.
"Shit," Sam muttered, letting out an uncharacteristic expletive as she eyed the chaotic scene.
Katherine didn’t blame her.
In addition the seven or eight vehicles clogging up the street, dozens of people with microphones and cameras were loitering on the fringes of her parents' lawn. Her father was on the front steps, waving threateningly at a man attempting to set up his equipment on their driveway.
It was an absolute circus.
And she had no doubt who they intended to make the star attraction – the freak so to speak.
Much like her stomach sank to the bottom of her gut, Katherine sank into the pliable leather of her seat, wishing somehow that she could disappear into it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Because reporters had blocked the driveway and clogged the stretch of street directly in front of their parents' house, Samantha was forced to park on the opposite side of the road, a good fifty feet from where their father continued to scold the ballsy cameramen surrounding his property.
Thankfully, Benjamin spotted them. He made a beeline towards the sparkling sedan, rapping on the driver's side window and indicating he wanted Sam to crack it open. She did so. "What's going on?" her sister hissed, glancing at Katherine out of the corner of her eye.
She continued to wilt into her seat, attempting to make herself as small as possible.
"Someone alerted the local newspaper that Katherine had been found. Social media is blowing the story up, and different television stations are clamoring to cover it. Apparently, it's a human interest piece special enough to catch the attention of national broadcasters." He glared behind him. "They're all foaming at the mouth to be the one to interview you, Katherine." He shook his head in obvious anger. "Haven't they ever heard of privacy? I told them all to take a hike, but they aren't budging."
"What should we do?" Katherine asked softly. Behind her father she could see reporters watching them, interest gleaming in their eyes as they tried to spot who was in the sedan.
Her father's eyes flickered to meet her sister's frank stare. "Sam, I want you to get out of the car and walk as briskly as possible towards the house." He met his youngest daughter's worried gaze. "Katherine, honey, while they're distracted by Sam, I want you to get out of the car. I'll wrap an arm around you and you are to hide your face as best as you can in my shoulder. I'll walk you into the house."
The girls nodded their understanding.
"Both of you ignore any questions shouted at you. Eventually we'll have to make a statement I'm sure, but for now just keep quiet, okay?"
Swallowing down the nervousness rising in her gut, Katherine nodded. "Alright."
Samantha, too, agreed. And then the blonde was stepping out of the vehicle, projecting confidence as she started towards the house, ignoring the gaggle of people with microphones who shouted and followed after her.
Then it was Katherine's turn. She hopped out of the sedan, immediately burying her face into her dad's shoulder as instructed. Ears buzzing with the excited chatter of news reporters, she risked a peek.
And immediately realized that her dad's plan hadn't worked.
They were swarmed by reporters within seconds. Cameras flashed. Questions were hurled at her from all directions, some of which caused more than just a spark of her temper to flare. She grit her teeth as her father lugged her towards the house.
"Katherine, where have you been the last seven months?"
"Have you been held against your will?"
"Is it true that your disappearance was, in fact, a ploy for attention?"
"How did you escape your kidnappers?"
"Were you an associate of the two men who invaded your home in October?"
"How does it feel to be reunited with your family after all this time?"
Somehow she managed to keep her mouth shut, but even as she stepped into the entryway of the house and her father slammed and locked the door behind them, her shoulders couldn't relax. Tension radiated off of her small form in waves.
Her mother immediately wrapped her into a hug. "Are you okay?"
Katherine nodded stiffly.
"Do you know how this could have happened?"
Yes. And she went by the name of Mallory Flanders. But it hardly mattered. What was done was done, and nothing was going to change the fact that a dozen and a half reporters were loitering outside her parents' modest two-story anxiously waiting to get their hands on her.
She shrugged. "Does it matter?"
Samantha raised an eyebrow at the vague answer, obviously suspecting that Mallory was behind the incident herself, but followed Katherine’s lead and didn't offer up that bit of information to their parents.
Her dad sighed. "Not really, no," he admitted, running an agitated hand through his salt and pepper hair. "What's important is what we do next. I'll call the police to keep the rowdier reporters off our property, but there's no law that prevents them from waiting on the very public street for you to leave the house." He sent her a sympathetic look. "We'll have to schedule a press conference."
Katherine paled, a protest on the tip of her tongue, but her dad held a hand up to silence her. "I know you don't want the attention, Kit, but it may be the only way to get them," he gestured vaguely at the closed door, "to leave you alone. You can tell your story and answer any questions that they may have for you on your own terms. It's better than being ambushed at any rate."
Realizing he wasn't going to give her a choice in the manner, Katherine tuned out her father as he continued on, mumbling something about calling one of his buddies from college for advice. Apparently, his friend – Mike something or another – had majored in radio broadcasting and interviewed music celebrities on a regular basis.
Katherine was far from a celebrity, but her father hardly cared as he hurried into the kitchen to grab the phone and dial the man's numb
er.
Physically and mentally drained, Katherine followed her dad into the room and plopped down in one of the chairs there. She buried her head into her heads. Vaguely, she wondered what Bastian would think of this mess.
* * *
Three weeks and one grueling interview later, it appeared that the press had finally grown bored of her. She hadn't spotted a single reporter that morning as she'd stealthily peeked out of her bedroom window that overlooked the front lawn.
Frankly, it was about time.
Surely, she thought tiredly, there were more newsworthy stories than the tale of a little nobody teenager reappearing in the same town she'd mysteriously disappeared from seven months before.
Katherine grabbed a fresh outfit and slipped into her bathroom. For the first time in too long, she actually allowed her muscles to relax under the warm, heavy spray of the shower.
The press conference her father had called had been beyond awful. He'd scheduled it at the police station in Hayfield a mere day after the mass of reporters had shown up outside their house. Crammed between her stoic father and a rather gruff-looking Sherriff Sanders, she'd endured all sorts of questions thrown at her as she stumbled through her cover story, telling the reporters the same information she'd blabbed to her parents and the sheriff – although she’d refrained from mentioning Bastian’s name to the press.
She’d clung to her story about amnesia like a life line and flat out refused to respond to questions that painted her as a liar or made it out to seem that she was the one responsible for her own disappearance.
Immediately after arriving home from the trying interview, Katherine had locked herself in her bedroom, unwilling to speak to anyone. In fact, she'd denied her mom's request to come out for dinner and had stayed holed up until the next morning when Elaine had knocked smartly at her door, relaying to her that she had a visitor. An unexpected – though not entirely unwelcome – one at that.
Brad Thompson.
When Katherine spotted him, she took a private moment to gape. She hadn't known who it was that her mother had insisted she get up and see – she thought maybe Abby had finally decided to stop by seeing as she had never gotten around to calling the hyperactive redhead – but she certainly hadn't expected Brad to be sitting in the living room, her mother doting on him and offering to make him a snack.
"We have chips in the cupboard. It'll only take a few minutes to whip up some spinach dip."
"If you're sure it's not too much trouble," Brad hesitantly agreed.
"Of course not," Elaine assured before looking up and seeing her daughter standing at the bottom of the stairs, silently taking in the scene. "Katherine!" she exclaimed.
Brad nearly jumped out of his seat at the overly enthusiastic greeting, and his head whipped around in search of her. Their eyes connected immediately.
Katherine wasn't sure what to expect after her disastrous meeting with Mallory a few days ago and braced herself for the worst. She thought her jaw might go slack when the blond boy actually smiled at her. The expression looked sincere.
Using the arm of the couch he was sitting on, he pulled himself up. "Hey, Katherine."
She took him in. He looked much the same as she remembered. Stylish blond hair gelled to look deceptively messy. Blue eyes peering out at her from a classically handsome face.
She took a deep breath. "Hi."
Her mother cleared her throat. "I'll let you two to catch up. I'll be back in a minute with those chips, Brad, dear."
Elaine left and Katherine watched her ex-classmate fidget nervously as an awkward silence descended upon them. He sat back down on the couch. "Do you want to sit?" he asked before shaking himself, just the slightest hint of red creeping up his neck. "I mean – this is your house. You’ll sit if you want to sit. I don't know why I asked that. Sorry."
Katherine saved the both of them from any further embarrassment by silently taking a seat on the couch cushion not already occupied by Brad. She licked her lips nervously, still waiting for an explosion similar to the one she'd witnessed from Mallory only a few short days ago. "Is that why you came here?" she asked softly. "For an apology? Because believe me, I know I owe you a huge one."
Brad seemed genuinely surprised. "An apology? For what? I just wanted to come see for myself that you were really okay. I've been," he scratched his neck in a seemingly nervous gesture as he hesitated, "very worried about you," he finally finished. "The whole town has been."
"Thanks," Katherine muttered, looking down at her hands. She sighed before forcing them to look back up into Brad's baby blues. "But that doesn't change the fact that you were injured because of me. I asked you over here last October and you end up in a hospital bed. I'm truly very sorry. Mallory said you were really hurt."
Brad did a double take. "Mallory talked to you?"
"Yes," Katherine confirmed. "She told me that it's a miracle that you can even still walk. That you can't even play sports anymore because of me…” her voice slowly trailed off into a whisper.
"Hey," Brad protested, "what those sick assholes did wasn't your fault. And yeah, I'll miss playing sports, especially basketball, but I was hardly good enough to go on to play after high school anyway."
Katherine was positive he was downplaying his disappointment for her sake. "How bad was it?” she asked after a moment.
Brad shrugged. "My right femur was broken in a few places and my left ankle was fractured."
The way he said it made it clear that he was making light of the injuries, and though Katherine appreciated the sentiment, it didn't stop the guilt from flooding her, nearly overwhelming her senses for a moment. "I'm so sorry," she repeated her earlier apology, knowing it could never be enough.
"Like I said, it wasn't your fault." Brad shook his head. "And despite anything Mallory may have said, I, for one, am very glad that you've made it back home safe and sound."
Katherine returned to her previous activity of staring at her hands. "That's really sweet," she said quietly, mostly to fill the silence threatening to descend on them again.
Brad hesitated. "But if you really want to make it up to me, there is one thing you could do."
Katherine frowned. "What?"
"You can say no," Brad continued nervously.
"You haven't even told me what it is," Katherine reminded him gently, fighting to keep the amused exasperation out of her voice.
The blond boy waited until Katherine's eyes were connected with his before blurting it out. "A kiss," he said hurriedly, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck when he took in her resulting flabbergasted expression. "Believe me, I know it sounds weird, but I guess I've always wondered…” he trailed off. "Will you humor me here? Please? Just one little kiss."
In her shock, Katherine didn't say no.
Brad took it as affirmation. He leaned forward, his eyes intent upon her lips.
And Katherine almost let it happen.
The guilt she was practically saturated in demanded that she did allow him to kiss her, in fact. But she couldn’t go through with it. It wasn't that Brad was ugly – he was certainly good looking enough in an ordinary sort of way – or that he was a bad person, because Katherine knew that he wasn't. It wasn't even the fact that she knew he had a girlfriend – a girlfriend named Mallory Flanders – that stopped Katherine.
It was Brad's eyes. They were blue like Bastian's and yet nothing like the other man's at all. They were too light. Too soft. Too easy to read.
At the last possible second, Katherine jerked away from Brad and his lips landed on her cheek instead of on her mouth.
Brad pulled away, looking incredibly embarrassed.
"Sorry," Katherine whispered softly, hating that she had to keep repeating the word to the boy she owed so much too. He really had been a good friend to her.
He sighed sadly, but offered her a halfhearted smile. "It's okay. I sort of figured." He pushed himself up out of his seat. "I should go."
Probably.
"You don't have
to," she denied, standing as well.
He peered into her eyes. "Yeah, I do."
Right then, Katherine's mother strolled back into the room with an unopened bag of tortilla chips in one hand and a piping hot bowl of spinach dip in the other. She frowned at the both of them before turning her attention solely on Brad, who looked more than mildly disappointed. "Where are you going, dear? I hope Katherine isn't chasing you out of here." She gave her daughter the side eye.
Bless his heart, Brad shook his head. "No, no, nothing like that. I've just got to get home, Mrs. Mayes. Thanks anyways," he said, nodding at the chips. He looked at Katherine one last time before turning to take his leave. "Bye," he whispered.
It sounded final.
Katherine bit her bottom lip. "Bye," she answered softly in turn, but he didn't look back.
"Katherine Elizabeth Mayes," Elaine demanded as soon as the front door closed shut, “what did you do?"
Katherine didn't answer. She was too focused on the flip flopping of her stomach. She wasn't sure what had caused the nauseating feeling. The awful stench radiating off of the homemade spinach dip in waves? Or the guilt that threatened to swallow her whole as she’d finally taken note of Brad's limp as he walked away from her.
Katherine scrubbed roughly at her arms with the loofa she was holding, still mad at herself over how her meeting with Brad had ended. She should have been more... she didn't know, considerate of his feelings? Appreciative of what he’d done for her? Instead, she'd denied him the simplest of requests and couldn’t even bring herself to sit still and let the poor guy kiss her.
And it was all because of that jackass. Bastian.
Even the act of saying his name in her mind made her want to cry. Stubborn as she was, however, Katherine didn’t allow the tears to fall. She still couldn't believe that he'd lied to her.
She wasn't a fool. She knew that people lied to each other about little things – nonsensical things – all the time. Every day, even. But this was different. This wasn't a tiny white lie. Bastian had told her that her parents – her very much alive parents – were dead. And he’d let her believe it for months.
Shy (Once Bitten, Twice Shy, #2) Page 11
