Six Years Gone (Gone #1)

by Jessica Gouin

  “What the fuck, man?” Nathan shouts as he moves on top of Lachlan and cocks his arm. At the same time, I rush forward in a hopeless attempt to stop them, which fails epically as I trip and fall forward into Nathan’s receding fist. The blow sends me sideways, colliding into a gate. A twinge pain radiates from my forearm, but, in the midst of the chaos, I ignore it. My entire body freezes. I wish I hadn’t taken a pill just before Lachlan came into the stall. I could have better focus.

  Nathan stills when he realizes he hit me, and Lachlan uses the fleeting distraction to grab him and roll over, gaining control. Lachlan swings, connecting with Nathan’s nose. Blood splatters everywhere, gushing onto his clothing.

  Terrified he won’t stop, I scream from my spot on the floor. “Lachlan! Enough, please. It’s over.”

  Lachlan halts mid-swing and looks back to me, as if remembering I’m in the same room. Without another glance at his former best mate, he climbs off and races to my side.

  “Fuck, are you okay?” He holds my arm, inspecting it. “Shit, you’re bleeding, babe.”

  I peek down at my arm. So I am.

  I cover the blood bubbling from my skin with my hand and glower at Nathan as he rises to his feet, staring at us, his expression vacant. He covers his nose with his forearm and shakes his head. “Babe? God, you really had me fooled, Lach. You’re not worth this shit. Neither of you are.” Then he turns and leaves the stables.

  “Let me help you up.” Lachlan holds my arm to help me stand.

  “I’m fine, really. I think you broke his nose. I can’t believe what just happened. Are you okay?” I touch his ruby jaw, and he recoils.

  “Don’t worry about me. I can’t believe that fucking asshole put a finger on you. He’s lucky you stopped me, or he’d have more than a broken nose. Let me see your cut.”

  I uncover my arm. The wound is still bleeding. It’s pretty deep, and the sight of my blood makes me wobbly.

  “I think you need stitches,” he whispers while inspecting my arm. As though he doesn’t want to spook me at the thought of getting sewn back together. “I’m taking you to the hospital just to be sure.”

  I want to argue, but I can tell he’s not going to take no for an answer. He removes his sweater and wraps it tightly around my arm to try and stop the bleeding. We emerge from the stable, and, to my surprise, no one seems to notice us or the fight which just occurred.

  Nathan’s nowhere in sight. He must have snuck away to get cleaned up. There’s no way he could just waltz back to his parents and pretend like nothing happened. He’ll have to explain why his clothes are dirty and have splatters of blood on them.

  “There’s Rose. I’ll run over quick and tell her you fell and I’m taking you to the hospital to get checked out. Meet me at my car in the lot.”

  I nod, and he vanishes into the sea of bodies. I amble toward the parking lot and notice his car parked in the second row. It’s unlocked so I slide inside, grateful to be out of sight behind the tinted windows.

  I use the next few minute to gather my thoughts and try to process what just happened in there and what it means for Lachlan and me.

  Lachlan opens the driver’s door and slips inside. “Rose said she hopes you’re okay and not to worry about anything at the ranch. She wants you to call her later to check in.” He reaches for my cheek, brushing hair away. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I nod, unable to speak through the lump in my throat. The worry radiating from him and the way he protects me is foreign. I feel safe with him, and that’s not a word I use for anyone besides Owen.

  We agree to tell the doctors I tripped at the ranch and leave out all of the other details. While I’m being sutured, Lachlan wanders in and out of the hallway, looking for Nathan. Not that he would admit who he’s looking for. If Nathan’s smart, he would stay low-key for a while. I’ve never seen Lachlan so angry. There’s no telling if he would have stopped beating Nathan if I hadn’t been there to intervene.

  Six stitches on my forearm later, I’m free to go.

  Lachlan drives me home and, not to my surprise, when we go inside, Sloane and Owen are in the kitchen. Whatever they’re doing in there, it smells heavenly. My stomach rumbles, empty with the smell of food in the air.

  I clear my throat, and they both turn from the stove at the same time to look at me. “Hey, what’s up guys?”

  “Sawyer. I thought you were at the ranch all day for the competitions then going to the game after?” Sloane says, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

  “What the hell happened to her?” My brother demands, pointing to my injury with the wooden spoon while eyeing Lachlan.

  “I had an accident at the ranch. Just a few stitches, no big deal.”

  “A few stitches?” Sloane rushes forward, taking my arm in her hands. “Was it bad? How’d you do it?”

  I pull free from her grasp. “It’s nothing really. I tripped and hit the latch on a gate. More importantly, what are you guys making, and is there enough for four? We’re starving.”

  “Bacon carbonara,” Sloane announces proudly. “There’s more than enough if you guys want in. I came by earlier to see you. Owen told me you got called into work and he was totally burning his food, so I helped him save the meal.” Sloane giggles and glances at my brother, who is staring at my best friend like she’s the funniest person alive.

  “It wasn’t that bad.”

  Lachlan looks from them to me and smiles. I shake my head, smiling back. “We’re in. I’m just going to get cleaned up.”

  “Lachlan, grab some drinks from the fridge and bring them to the table.” Sloane instructs while she drains the pasta. Lachlan gets to work, and I watch my three favorite people in all of the world work together in the kitchen before I head to my room. My heart is full at this moment.

  While changing, my bedroom door opens and closes. I wrap a shirt around my chest and peek past my closet door.

  “Just me.” Sloane holds her hands out in front on her.

  I turn back to finish dressing. “Just so you know, you don’t have to lie to me anymore. I know you didn’t come to see me earlier today. Admit you and Owen are dating.”

  “No, I really did come to see you. I swear.”

  “You’re such a bad liar. Would you at least confess you two are together? Like an item. You wouldn’t tell me anything in the library and you can’t avoid the subject forever. And aren’t you the one who’s all it’s so bad to keep relationships a secret?”

  When I’m done changing, I walk to the bed, where Sloane is picking at a thread on my pillow that she holds on her lap. I snatch the pillow from her and toss it onto the floor. “I’m waiting.”

  “I’m not avoiding any subjects because there’s nothing to admit. I really don’t know what’s going on between Owen and me. Yes, I like him. A lot. And I’m sorry if it’s weird or stupid or if it makes me a bad friend. I just get this feeling around him that no other guy has ever given me. For years, I’ve watched him take care of you and protect you. He’s such a good guy, and the world is full of assholes. Lately, we’ve been talking a lot when it’s just the two of us and…I don’t know. He probably just thinks I’m his baby sister’s lame friend.”

  I take a deep breath in and let it out. “Okay, I’m only going to say this once because, as much as I love talking about your love life, my brother’s love life not so much. Owen is into you. I can see it when you’re around. You bring out this lightness to him that he so desperately needs in his life. He might think he’s in the wrong for liking his sister’s friend, but trust me, he does like you. You need to take action. And this will be the last time I talk about Owen’s action.”

  We both burst into laughter. My door opens, and Lachlan pops his head in. “What’d I miss?”

  Sloane leaps from the bed. “Nothing. Is it time to eat?”

  “Ya, it’s all set.”

  Sloane leaves, and Lachlan steps inside my bedroom, looking around. “Sawyer Mathew’s bedroom. I’ve had so many fantasies abou
t being in here with you. Mostly ones where I crawl through your window at night and slip into your bed where we don’t sleep all night.” He grins and sits on the bed next to me. “Changing the topic before I throw you down and forget about dinner. How’s the arm?”

  “Still attached to my body.”

  “Well, I guess that’s a good sign. I just got a text from coach. Game’s off.”

  “Tonight’s game is cancelled?” With everything that happened, I’m relieved we don’t have to add one more thing to the list of today’s drama.

  “Yeah, uh, apparently, our pitcher was injured today.”

  “Probably for the best we don’t do our big reveal tonight anyway.”

  “Considering what happened when Nathan found out, you’re probably right. Are you sure you still want everyone to know?”

  “Guys, let’s eat!” Owen hollers from downstairs.

  I grab Lachlan’s hand and tug up to stand, pulling him into an embrace. I know what Sloane means about feeling safe and protected. When you have that feeling with someone, you never let it go.

  “Let’s eat.”

  If I thought the town was corrupt with gossip and rumors before, whispers had increased dramatically since the weekend. It’s amazing how well everyone plays the telephone game. She tells him one thing and he tells another person something different, then they run and tell a whole other version, and so on. Even though Nathan made up some bullshit story about being jumped by a group of guys, there are variations of the truth floating around. Especially with Lachlan’s bruised jaw and my bandaged arm.

  At school, I’m in a bathroom stall during my second period class when two girls walk in and head straight for the mirrors.

  “Can you believe Nathan would lie for her? I mean, I can’t believe he would sneak around with some white trash nobody,” one says, cracking her bubble gum.

  The other sucks in a breath. “Right. So crazy. Did you hear that Lachlan caught them, and when he called Nate out for being with her, they actually got into a fight? I guess Coach found out and that’s why he called off the game on Saturday.”

  “Nate’s staying home for a few days. Maybe we should visit him. Get the dirt right from his mouth.”

  “What if his trailer-trash girlfriend is there?”

  Gum cracker snorts. “Doubtful. I’m sure she’s moved onto the next one. Just like her momma.” They snicker and leave the washroom.

  I turn the lock and open the stall door, taking their place in front of the mirror. My reflection screams misguided youth—sun-kissed arms with tattoos etched into my wrist, forearm, and shoulders, stray blonde hairs escaped from my messy high bun, thick charcoal liner surrounding two cobalt oceans. My eyes hold so much anger and far too many secrets. Anger toward those stupid girls for talking shit about me when I did nothing wrong. Anger toward my mom for giving them a reason to talk shit about me. Anger toward Nathan for creating more drama in my life, drama I don’t want or need. Most of all, I see anger toward myself. For being this insecure girl filled with hate toward the world.

  The same reflection Lachlan says he’s in love with glistens as my skin pales, excluding my cheeks which flush. Turning the tap on, I splash cold water onto my face. It doesn’t help the queasiness flourishing inside my belly. My mouth waters, sending me running into the stall to vomit my lunch. When my stomach is empty and I’m dry heaving and breathless, I flush the toilet and drop to the floor. I don’t care if I’m sitting on the tiles of the dirty school bathroom.

  I pull my cell from my bag and send a text to Sloane.

  Me: Puking in the girls’ room. Second floor. For real though FML

  Sloane: Ew. I’m coming

  Me: Bring water

  Sloane: On it xo

  I try to find Lachlan after I clean myself up to let him know I’m leaving school for the day. He’s nowhere to be found, and I’m desperate to brush my teeth and lie down, so I send him a text and leave with Sloane. Her parents are still at work for the next few hours. She drives to her house so we can lay low for a bit. The nausea subsides, and I feel better after Sloane nurses me with some soda and saltine crackers.

  Just as my eyeballs burn and become sluggish, she turns off the made-for-TV movie. “Did you hit your head or something when you got hurt at the ranch? Did the doctor check you over? It could be a concussion.” She tosses the remote onto the lavender nightstand she just refinished.

  Sloane has grown her talent this year with restoring and painting furniture. Her dream is to open her own antique shop in the busy part of town. I can totally picture her doing that. And thriving at it. When I think about it, I envy her for knowing what she wants to do with her life and having the talent behind her to make it happen. I also think about leaving my best friend after graduation and it hurts to think we won’t get to see each other every day. I don’t even want to think about what’s going to happen with Lachlan and I after Owen and I move.

  I wonder if Lachlan would want to come with us….

  “No, I didn’t hit my head. I just don’t feel well. Maybe’s it’s all the stress of graduation or something.”

  “You’re worrying about school?” She chuckles. “Doubt it, but, if you get sick again, I’m taking you back to the hospital.”

  “Fair enough.” I stretch out my stiff limbs. I don’t think— “Shit, I’ll be back.” I whip off the quilt and bolt for her toilet.

  Those crackers were either a good idea because there was something in my stomach to throw up, or a bad idea because they were the reason I got sick again. Either way, I want to die. I drag myself to Sloane’s room once I gargle with mouth rinse, and plop onto her bed, groaning. “I feel like a bag of crap. That was stomped on. Then run over by a car. Then lit on fire.”

  She’s quiet, which is not like my Sloane, so I peek under the arm draped over my face. Her mouth is hanging open.

  “What the hell are you staring at? It’s creepy. Do I look as awful as I feel?”

  She clears her throat and stands to pace the small space of her room. She opens her mouth to speak three times before she stops to face me. “Did you use anything?”

  “No…. The Doctor gave me pain meds, but I don’t think that’s what’s upsetting my stomach—”

  “No.” She holds a hand up. “Try to stay with me on this one.” She sits next to me on the bed and speaks as though she’s talking to a toddler. “Did you and Lachlan use anything? Any protection when you had sex at Newport Beach, I mean.”

  Oh!

  Oh, no. No.

  I’m not.

  No way.

  But…maybe?

  Fuck!

  I cringe. “Okay, I’m going to play the part of the naïve teenager here and say I’m on the pill, so we may not have used a condom when we had sex.”

  Sloane leaps off the bed with hands in the air. “You cannot be serious! Were you napping during health class? Even if you were asleep, you are not dumb enough to not know it just takes one time, and you can’t just use one type of protection and think you’ll be okay. Oh. My. God. You should have known better, Sawyer!” When she sees my panicked facial expression, she stops yelling. “Okay, maybe we’re jumping to conclusions here. Let me run to the drug store and get a pregnancy test. That way we’ll know for sure what we’re dealing with here. I’ll be right back, ’kay?”

  She heads for the door without waiting for my response then turns, her hand on the door frame. My gaze is drawn to the hot-pink nail polish she has on. It seems so upbeat. I wish I was as happy as her fingernails.

  “No matter what happens, everything will be okay, Sawyer, I promise.” Then she disappears, leaving me alone with my thoughts crashing around inside my skull.

  Twenty minutes later, I’m perched on the edge of the tub in her pink-and-teal bathroom, waiting for a white stick to determine my future. I thought everything changed before. This, if this is happening, will alter my life forever. No matter what choice I make after the test is ready, nothing will ever be the same again.

&nbs
p; I won’t ever be the same.

  My parents fought a lot before my dad left. It could be something small to bring on the feud, such as running out of groceries with no money for more. Or, it could be something bigger, like my mom being found in another man’s bed. In our house, there was no such thing as closed doors or hushed arguments. My mom would call my dad awful names on a daily basis, right in front of Owen and me. My dad would return the sentiment and, more often than not, one-up her. We were never asked to leave the room when arguments began, but we did anyway.

  Behind the hanging clothes in Owen’s closest, there’s a crawl space used for storage. It was big enough to fit the both of us. Owen would grab his flashlight, and we would hide out until the yelling faded into the silence of a cold house. Every minute spent in the crawl space was another minute I promised myself I would never be like them. I would never grow up and turn into my parents. More importantly, I would never bring an innocent child into this awful world.

  The alarm on Sloane’s phone sounds.

  It’s time.

  Neither of us moves. I focus on Sloane’s stone-cold face, unwilling to take the two steps to the seashell-shaped sink where a damn white stick awaits me.

  I hate that stick.

  “I’ll look,” she offers. One glance at the test. Then a glance at me.

  I can’t take the suspense anymore.

  I jump up and snatch the test from the sink and stare at the display window. “Give me the box,” I order, holding out a trembling hand. She reaches into the waste basket and hands it over. I glance from the test to the box and back.

  Then I shake it, as though it’s an etch-a-sketch and I can erase the picture.

  Shit. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

  I toss the ghastly stick into basket and pull the bag out to tie it. Sloane’s parents cannot find a pregnancy test in her bathroom. They would murder her and any male within a hundred mile radius of her. After I throw the bag in the garbage outside, I return to her room and lie down on her bed.

  She positions herself next to me. Both of us stare at the ceiling for a while. The quiet is pleasant.

  “What are you going to do?”