Chlorine and Chaos

by Jessalyn Jameson

  What have I done?

  Tig wondered how many times he could pace past the door to the women’s bathroom before someone thought to call the cops. What kind of creeper lurks just outside the door of a bathroom, anyway?

  He glanced toward the quickly emptying bleachers where Sage’s brother sat with Ellie Hall. Jimmy was visibly worried, his expression sad as Ellie ran her hand up and down his back. Almost as worried as Tig was, but luckily, unable to understand what Tig had sensed between Sage and Artie Langford.

  A sickening revelation that currently had his stomach in knots.

  The door swung open, and Tig spun around, startling the poor women exiting the bathroom. The older of the two grabbed the younger girl by the shoulders, pulling her close to her body. Her gaze was wary as she eyed him. Realizing he must really look crazed, Tig tried to soften his worried expression with a smile—grimace.

  He raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. “Sorry, sorry. I’m—”

  Sage exited the bathroom, successfully cutting off his words and all train of thought.

  Her gaze met his. Tig narrowed his eyes, zeroing in on the redness around hers. She’s been crying. His brain, though slow to focus at the moment, could at least signal that much. He strode to her, barely noting the two women dodge out of his way.

  “What’s wrong, Sage? Talk to me.”

  Her gaze flicked to the swimming pool.

  “Jimmy’s with Ellie. He’s fine.”

  Her gaze met his once more, wide and glossy, then flicked back to the pool, scanning the area. The hair on the back of Tig’s neck stood on end, like someone ran a cold, ghostly finger up his spine. Fear. There was no denying what he saw in those eyes.

  “Sage. What did Artie Langford do to you?”

  She snapped her gaze back to his, eyes wet with tears. Blinking once, she released them.

  “Tell me.” He tried to keep his voice level, but he knew she’d be able to detect the anger in him, the disgust—he’d misjudged Artie so terribly. He’d kill that bastard for hurting her. “Tell me, Sage. What. Did. He. Do?”

  She shook her head, then pulled away from him. His hands felt wrong, empty; he needed to hold her. He reached for her, but she backed up another two steps away from his outstretched arms.

  Sage shook her head. “He didn’t do anything to me, Brand. We….” She glanced toward the bleachers once more, then back at Tig. “I’m so sorry. I have to go. Please get Jimmy home safely. I’m so sorry.”

  She turned away, and panic surged in his chest. He reached for her shoulder, but she broke into a sprint. Time nearly stood still, his thoughts and movements in painfully slow motion. He wanted to follow her, but something nagged at the back of his mind.

  He shook his head, searching for some sort of clarity. “Sage! Talk to me!”

  “Get Jimmy home safe!” She didn’t even turn around. Just shouted the request over her shoulder as she loped toward the parking lot. Away from him.

  “How will you get home?” he whispered. He looked at Jimmy and Ellie, both of them watching Sage run away.

  Jimmy stood, then hurdled toward Tig, trampling down the bleachers and across the small lot that separated the swimming pool from the restrooms, his eyebrows lowered over angry eyes. “What did you do? What did you do to Sage?”

  Tig threw his hands up in surrender for the second time that night. “Nothing, Jimmy, I swear. I didn’t do anything to her, buddy.”

  Jimmy pushed him, hard. “Why’s she running away then?”

  Ellie reached the two men, just as Jimmy was about to push Tig a second time, placing her hands firmly on Jimmy’s shoulders. “Jimmy, honey, you know Brandon loves your sister. Let’s give him a chance to explain.”

  Jimmy stilled under her touch, but didn’t pull his accusatory gaze from Tig. “Tell me what you did, Tig.”

  Tig shook his head, unable to explain what just happened because he had no fucking idea what just happened.

  ‘He didn’t do anything to me, Brand.’

  Her words burned his brain, and he realized what had nagged him.

  Oh no.

  The shock. The tears. The way Artie Langford looked at her.

  Fuck no.

  Tig’s fists clenched and he saw red. Nothing but red.

  I’m going to kill that son of a bitch.

  Sage wasn’t surprised that Brand’s red truck was parked in her apartment complex’s parking lot. She’d known what to expect when she returned, known he’d beat her home, but she couldn’t possibly stay outside a moment longer. Her lips were numb to the touch, or maybe it was her fingertips that had no feeling; her nose was frozen solid and might crack and fall to the ground at any second. Her teeth chattered loudly, and she wondered when she’d chip a tooth from the violent shivers.

  Nope. She couldn’t avoid this confrontation any longer.

  She reached for the railing, steadying her weak, trembling knees, then slowly made her way up the stairs. Trepidation mixed with the night’s seeping cold temperature, but she didn’t know which chilled her to the bone more, as both contributed to the icy burn inside her.

  Brand was a smart guy, and she’d said too much standing outside the public restrooms at the high school. He’d have figured it out by now for sure.

  Time to face the music.

  She reached for the doorknob, but the front door swung inward before she made contact. Sage brought her gaze up to Brand’s face, then flinched.

  “You fucked Artie Langford?”

  She sucked in a breath, then looked past Brand into her apartment, eyes wide as she scanned the room for Jimmy.

  “He’s having ice cream with Ellie. I figured they shouldn’t be here for this.”

  Sage swallowed, then bravely—or stupidly—brought her gaze back to Brand’s. Green eyes flared with anger. His face…she looked away. She couldn’t do it, couldn’t look at him with all that rage so clear in his features.

  “Tell me you fucked Artie Langford.”

  Sage’s heart fell with each word Brand spoke, his disgust dripping from each syllable like molasses, dragging out his accusations…a slow and painful death. She looked up at him again, her stomach twisting violently, the freezing temperatures forgotten. With his eyes narrowed, and emerald gaze steady, Sage found it difficult to keep from squirming.

  “Tell me.”

  She nodded, pulling her lip in with her teeth, then looked away again, her eyes downcast.

  “Look at me.”

  She did. Pain scorched her heart. He’d never forgive her for this.

  “Tell me you slept with a student. Tell me you fucked Artie Langford.”

  Her pulse sped, her palms sweating even though she was too cold to feel her damn hands. She nodded again, her pain and fear quickly blossoming into irritation, defensiveness. She hadn’t been with Brand when it happened. Hadn’t cheated—

  “I want to hear you say the words.”

  She stood taller, squaring her shoulders, and narrowed her own gaze right back at him. “You’re a sick bastard, you know it?”

  “Oh, that’s rich! I’m a sick bastard?”

  She sucked in a breath. “I didn’t know he was a student! Hell, I didn’t even know he was a swimmer! He told me—”

  He’d told her nothing. But he’d smelled of chlorine. Sage should have known.

  I couldn’t have known! A war raged within her mind, then she decided to hell with it. She hadn’t done anything wrong—she’d had no idea he was a student. He was at a bar, for crying out loud!

  Brand grabbed her elbow as she tried to push past him, halting her in the doorway of her apartment. Her own goddamned home! She rounded on him, refusing to cower beneath his death-glare, but wanting to. Oh how she wanted to.

  “I want you to tell me that you fucked my student, Sage.”

  She shook her head, her own disgust mimicking his. “Fine. I slept with your student, Brandon. Artie what’s his name. Happy now?”

  She pulled out of his grasp, took a step backwar
d, then slammed the door in his stunned face.

  He’d asked for it. He didn’t want to hear anything else from her, didn’t offer her a chance to explain. Didn’t give a damn what she said.

  She hadn’t known that her one-night-stand was a student at Lorimar. Couldn’t have known.

  ‘I want you to tell me that you fucked my student, Sage.’

  “Dammit!” She threw her purse at the wall, watching her compact fly out, then bounce across the coffee table, the makeup inside shattering to a million pieces all over the glass, then falling to the carpeting below.

  Like her stupid, trusting heart.

  Sage dropped to her knees. She’d lost him again.

  Monday morning arrived as it always did—chipper and full of vomit-inducing sunshine—the perky cheerleading Rosalind Sanchez to Sage’s angsty former self.

  She groaned when the knocking started on her bedroom door, but didn’t open her eyes. She could barely think straight. Could barely move. She fought to get out of bed, having left only for bathroom trips since crawling into bed Friday night, a colossal mess of shattered dreams and damaged heart.

  Not only had Sage been plagued by the broken heart she now cradled within her chest, but since the blowup with Brand, her sleep had been restless and riddled with nightmares from her past. Haunted first by Brand’s beautiful face, then the pockmarked face of one of her foster fathers, then Jimmy, then another abuser-disguised-as-parent’s face—the images rotated and swelled, then switched around again, nightmarish, nonsensical visions of a tormented mind.

  She’d lost Brand a second time, and it couldn’t be fixed. Not this time. Not after what she’d done. Why should she ever get out of bed again?

  Monday was the thorn in her side, and her give-a-damn was busted beyond repair.

  “Sagey? You going to school today?”

  Sage turned toward the wall, pulling the baby blue chenille blanket around her and cocooning herself away in her fuzzy prison. She covered her head, closing her eyes tight, not even wanting to see Jimmy. She didn’t deserve the joy he brought her.

  “No,” she called, then coughed, trying to sound sick.

  “I called Ellie last night. She’s worried about you. She’s coming by at eight o’clock to give you a ride in her car.”

  Sage’s eyes popped open, and she sat straight up, still wrapped tightly like a sad little burrito. “Eight o’clock this morning?”

  “Yep!”

  “What time is it now?” She reached for her cell and powered it on.

  “Eight o’clock!”

  Sage groaned, quickly climbing out of her chenille safety net. Jimmy laughed and, now that she was unwrapped, Sage realized that Jimmy’s voice wasn’t muffled through the door but coming from beneath it, through the crack. She smiled when she pictured him on all fours in the hallway.

  “You can come in, Jimmy.”

  The door flew open not two seconds later, and Jimmy came thumping inside. He plopped down beside her, a smile on his face.

  Sage tilted her head. “I know that smile. What are you up to?”

  Jimmy’s face flushed beet red, and his grin broke loose, pulling his cheeks up nearly into his blue eyes.

  “Jimmy.”

  “I lied!”

  Sage waited.

  “It’s only seven o’clock!”

  “Oh.” Sage laughed, unable to be mad at her brother for giving her back the hour she needed to get ready for work. “You know lying is bad, Jimmy.”

  “But it worked. You’re awake.”

  Couldn’t argue with that. “Yes, it did, but you should have told me the truth in the first place, Jimmy.”

  “Okay. Sorry.”

  “Why did you call Ellie last night? Why is she coming to get me?”

  “I told her you screamed in your sleep.”

  Sage’s eyes widened. “Oh, Jimbo, I did?”

  “Yeah. And you cried. I couldn’t wake you up, so I wiped your crying from your face.”

  Sage glanced to her nightstand at the prescription sleep aids she rarely used, realizing that she needed to change that rarely to never. Not only had the pills made her dreams chaotic and terrifying, bringing all that raw pain to the surface, but she’d been so dead to the world that she’d scared the one person she was put on this Earth to protect.

  And what if something had happened? What if the apartment caught on fire, and Jimmy couldn’t wake her?

  Sage shook her head, then patted Jimmy’s knee. “I’m sorry, buddy. I’m sorry I scared you. I’m glad you called Ellie.”

  “She came over last night, too. She couldn’t wake you either.”

  Oh God. Sage nodded, mortified. “Okay. You did the right thing.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I am. I’m just a little sad, and I must have been really tired last night. I’m sure I’ll feel better after a shower.”

  “And school! Everyone always feels better at school!”

  Her stomach dropped. He couldn’t have been more wrong about that.

  An hour later, Sage sat in the front seat of Ellie Hall’s little red sedan, palms sweating and stomach in knots. On top of the stress and trepidation that coursed through her system—she was terrified of running into Brand—Sage felt like a child destined for the principal’s office. Ellie hadn’t said a word to her yet, not one single word.

  They turned down the long, snow-edged street that housed Lorimar High School, and finally, the woman sighed.

  Sage swallowed, then turned to face her. “Go ahead, Ellie.”

  “I don’t want you taking drugs when your brother is in your care.”

  “Oh, no, they’re not drugs, they’re prescript—”

  “Prescription drugs, Sage Shepard. Now, that boy loves you, and he trusts you, and frankly, you scared him to death last night when he couldn’t wake you.”

  Sage bowed her head, unable to retort. Ellie was right. She’d had no business allowing her grief to consume her so. Not when Jimmy depended on her. Not when the state had finally granted her guardianship over her beloved brother.

  “I don’t know what happened between you and Brandon, and I’m sorry you’re hurting—I know how deeply you two love one another—but Jimmy’s wellbeing is more important than your relationship. If it is going to get in the way—”

  “No. It won’t.” There is no relationship. Sage felt a tinge of defensiveness, but pushed it back down. Jimmy was lucky he had a friend as devoted as Ellie. Sage was lucky she’d kept an eye on him all these years. Just like Brand had. With a curt shake of her head, she pushed Brandon Tiggs from her mind.

  He was her past and, like it or not, she needed to focus on her future.

  Or, more honestly, just get through the damn day.

  “Ms. Shepard?”

  Setting her pen down atop the file on her desk, Sage looked up at the young man standing in her doorway. “Yes? May I help you?”

  “Yes,” he said, his eyes wide and pleading. She noticed his gaze flick to her chest, but ignored it. Boys would be boys after all. “You see….” He gently closed the door behind him, “I’ve got this pain, this heavy, relentless burning feeling. And, well, I was hoping….”

  Sage stood, wary of the way he spoke to her, the way his gaze became hungry, predatory as he closed the short distance between them. She smoothed her wool slacks, then smoothed them again as her gaze flicked to the windows, and the empty hall beyond. She tugged on her blazer, then buttoned it when his gaze landed on her chest once more.

  He took another step toward her, then another. He licked his lips, his grin becoming as predatory as his gaze.

  “That’s far enough.” She sounded firm; Sage was proud of the authority in her voice.

  “I disagree, Miss Shepard, I don’t think we’ve gone even close to far enough.” Another step toward her.

  Sage grabbed the phone, her hand shaky. She hoped he couldn’t see that she was scared. Fear was not what she wanted to show this boy. “I said that’s far enough. I can ha
ve security in here in three seconds flat.”

  The boy looked up, as if pondering her words, then comically tapped his finger against his chin. When his gaze met hers once more, the predatory look had magnified.

  Sage’s heart sped. She swallowed hard.

  “Three seconds isn’t enough time, and there’s nothing flat about you.”

  “You need to leave.”

  “What? Why? You haven’t even checked me out yet. Aren’t you the school nurse?”—he lifted his burgundy football jersey, reaching for the zipper of his jeans—“I told you I’m in pain—”

  “That’s enough! How dare you act like this?” Sage lifted the phone to her ear, then began to dial the school office, but he stopped her by placing his finger on the base and disconnecting the call.

  “What’s wrong? I know you like ‘em young. You only fuck swimmers?”

  Sage gasped. Her stomach fell to the floor.

  “Yeah. That’s what I thought. But listen, sweet tits, you don’t have to go all the way to the bowling alley to skank around if you want to go all cougar on someone. I’m right here and I’ll bend you over the desk and stick it to you better than some pussy-ass swim punk named Artemis.”

  Tears streamed from Sage’s face, relentless and uninvited. She clenched her jaw, trying to find her power, but he was so close to her, so much bigger than she was. Regardless of age, this kid played football, and could easily pin her down if he wanted to.

  Someone knocked on the door, and before she realized she spoke, Sage called, “Come in!” with a shaky voice.

  The kid leaned toward her, all daring blue eyes and evil grin. “Next time, then.” He turned to exit as his Coach entered the office.

  “Why, Hank Doyle, you little schmuck! What’s wrong, got a paper cut?”

  Sage grimaced. Coach Simmons was the last person she wanted to see.

  The kid—Hank—laughed, then turned briefly to wink at Sage before addressing his coach. “Nah, man, I’ve got this ache that just won’t go away. Nurse Shepard promised to help me with it later.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Coach Simmons said as he slapped the kid on the back. “Get to class before I have to boot you from the team for attendance bullshit.”