“Thanks.”
He sets his tray down and takes a seat across from me. “Why are you being such a cunt nugget?”
Water spews out of my mouth and I drop my arms onto the table and laugh, wiping my mouth. “Cunt nugget?”
He nods and pops the lid on his soda. “Something’s off with you. You stared at that girl the entire time I was in line for food. You won’t tell me anything about her. You’ve been on edge since you got here this morning and it has nothing to do with the fact that it’s your first day back at school since . . . well . . . since your last day at school. And you haven’t even commented about how no one seems to give a shit that you’re even here today. Aren’t you a little excited everyone has stopped with the gossip?”
I would be excited if I was convinced the gossip had stopped. But it hasn’t stopped, it’s just been shifted in a different direction. I heard Sky’s name mentioned in every single class I’ve had today. Not to mention the shit I’ve seen slapped on her locker in the form of sticky-notes.
“They didn’t stop with the gossip, Daniel. They just found someone new to target.”
Daniel starts to reply, but he’s cut off by several trays dropping down onto the table. Guys slide into seats and several of them welcome me back, going on about how I made it right in time for football season. That leads into a conversation about practices and Coach Riley, but none of it can hold my attention like she does. I ignore everyone around me and watch her, still trying to figure her out.
I honestly don’t want to impede if she’s dating Grayson. If she’s happy with him, then fine. Good for them. But I’ll be damned if I don’t get to the bottom of what happened to her eye. I need a straight explanation from her before I can let it go. Otherwise, I’ll be going to Grayson to find out what happened to her eye, and I know how that’ll end.
The guy she’s sitting with nods in my direction when he sees me staring at them. I make it a point not to turn away, because I actually want to get her attention. When she looks at me, I nudge my head toward the cafeteria doors, then stand up and walk toward them.
I walk out into the hallway, hoping she’ll follow me. I know it’s not my business, but if I expect to make it through the rest of the day without murdering Grayson, I have to know the truth. I walk around the corner for more privacy and lean back against the row of lockers. She walks around the corner and spots me, then comes to a stop.
“Are you dating Grayson?” I ask. I keep it short and sweet. She doesn’t seem to like having conversations with me, so I don’t want to force her to do something she doesn’t want to do. I just want the truth so I can justify my next move.
She rolls her eyes and walks to the lockers across from me, leaning against them to face me. “Does it matter?”
Hmm. It shouldn’t matter, but it does. I have no idea what kind of person she is, but Grayson doesn’t deserve her. So yes, it does matter.
“He’s an asshole,” I say.
“Sometimes you are, too,” she bites back.
“He’s not good for you.”
She laughs and rolls her eyes toward the ceiling, shaking her head. “And you are?”
I groan. She’s missing my point completely. I turn around to face the lockers and hit one of them with an open palm, releasing some of the frustration she’s causing me with her stubbornness. When the sound echoes through the hallway I cringe. That came off a little harsher than I meant for it to.
But I am angry and I hate that I’m angry because I shouldn’t even give a shit. Les isn’t around for Grayson to fuck over, so why do I care?
Because I don’t want her with him. That’s why.
I turn around and face her again. “Don’t factor me into this. I’m talking about Grayson, not me. You shouldn’t be with him. You have no idea what kind of person he is.”
She rolls her head back against the locker, fed up with me. “Two days, Holder. I’ve known you all of two days,” she says. She kicks off the lockers and walks toward me, eyeing me angrily. “In those two days, I’ve seen five different sides of you, and only one of them has been appealing. The fact that you think you have any right to even voice an opinion about me or my decisions is absurd. It’s ridiculous.”
I inhale through my nose and exhale through my clenched teeth, because I’m pissed. Pissed that she’s right. She’s seen me go from hot to cold more than once over these past two days and I haven’t given her a single explanation. She deserves an explanation for my oddly overprotective behavior, so I attempt to give her one.
I take a step toward her. “I don’t like him. And when I see things like this?” I bring my fingers up to trace the bruise underneath her eye. “And then see him with his arm around you? Forgive me if I get a little ridiculous.”
The moment my fingers finish tracing the bruise, I fail to remove them from her cheek. Her breath hitches and her eyes grow wider and I can’t help but notice the obvious reaction she has to my touch. I have an overwhelming urge to run my hand through her hair and pull her mouth to mine, but she pulls away from me and takes a step back.
“You think I should stay away from Grayson because you’re afraid he has a temper?” She narrows her eyes and tilts her head. “A bit hypocritical, don’t you think?”
I keep my eyes locked on hers as I process her comment. She’s comparing me to Grayson?
I have to turn away from her so she doesn’t see the disappointment on my face. I grip the back of my neck with both hands, then slowly turn back around to face her, but I keep my eyes trained on the floor.
“Did he hit you,” I say with a defeated sigh. I look back up at her and directly into her eyes. “Has he ever hit you?”
She doesn’t flinch or look away. She just shakes her head. “No,” she says softly. “And no. I told you . . . it was an accident.”
I can tell by her reaction that she’s telling the truth. He didn’t hit her. He never hit her, and I’m more than relieved. But still confused. If she’s not dating him and he really didn’t hit her, then what’s her connection to him? Does she want to date him? Because I sure as hell don’t want her to.
The bell rings right when I open my mouth to ask her what her relationship is with Grayson. The hallway fills with students and she breaks eye contact with me, then walks back toward the cafeteria.
* * *
I haven’t seen Daniel again. I also didn’t have another class with Sky, which disappoints me. I don’t know why, though. We can’t seem to have a conversation without it ending in an argument, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to have another conversation with her.
I leave my books in my locker, still not sure if I’ll be back tomorrow. I grab my keys and walk toward the parking lot. I’m several feet from my car when I look up and see Grayson leaning against it. I stop and assess the situation. He’s eyeing me coldly, but he’s alone. Not sure what he wants or why he’s touching my car.
“Grayson, whatever it is, I’m not interested. Just let it go.” I’m not in the mood for him right now and he really needs to get the hell off my car.
“You know,” he says, pushing off the car with his foot. He folds his arms across his chest and walks toward me. “I really wish I could just let it go, Holder. But for some reason you seem so focused on my business, you really make it impossible for me to let it go.”
He’s within reach of my fist now, which isn’t very smart of him. I keep my eyes locked on his, but watch his hands out of my peripheral vision.
“You’ve been back less than a day and you’re already at it again,” he says, stupidly walking even closer to me. “Sky is off-limits to you, Holder. Don’t talk to her. Don’t look at her.” I can’t believe I’m still allowing him to speak. “Don’t go fucking near her. The last thing I need is for another one of my girlfriend’s to kill herself because of you.”
I’m in that moment.
The moment when rational thought is drowned out by anger.
The moment when a person’s conscience is stifled by rage
.
The moment when the vision of releasing every pent-up feeling I’ve had for thirteen months surfaces, and it actually feels good. His face would feel so good against my fist right now and the thought of it makes me smile as I clench my fists and inhale a breath.
But Grayson quickly becomes an afterthought when I look over his shoulder and see Sky across the parking lot, climbing into her car. She doesn’t even glance around the parking lot to look for Grayson. She just climbs into her car, shuts her door, and leaves.
It’s in that moment that I realize he’s full of shit.
They weren’t sitting together at lunch.
She wasn’t at the party with him Saturday night.
She’s not waiting for him after school.
She’s not even looking for him in the parking lot right now.
Everything falls into place as Grayson takes a step back, gauging my reaction, waiting for me to take his bait. Sky doesn’t care about him. That’s why he’s so pissed that I was talking to her in the hallway. She doesn’t give a shit about him and he doesn’t want me to know that.
He’s not worth it, I repeat to myself.
I watch as Sky pulls out of the parking lot, then I slowly refocus my gaze on Grayson. I’m oddly calm after coming to this new realization, but his jaw is clenched tighter than his fists. He wants me to fight him. He wants me to get kicked out of school.
He doesn’t deserve to get a single damn thing he wants.
I raise my arm. His eyes dart to my hand and he puts his own hands up in defense. I point the clicker toward my car and press the button, unlocking my doors. I silently walk around him and climb into my car, then pull out of the parking lot without giving him the reaction he was hoping for.
Fuck him. He’s not worth it.
Chapter Ten
I open the refrigerator door because I’m starving, but I haven’t had anything to eat in over thirteen months. I haven’t taken a single bite of food since Les died and it’s weird that I’m still alive after all this time.
It takes the refrigerator light a second to kick on, even after I have the door open. As soon as the contents of the refrigerator are illuminated, I’m immediately disappointed. Every single shelf is stuffed with Les’s jeans. They’re all folded neatly on the shelves of the refrigerator and it pisses me off because this is where the food should be and I’m fucking hungry.
I open one of the crisper drawers, hoping the food is hidden in there, but there’s no food. Just another pair of neatly folded jeans. I shut it and open the other crisper drawer and her jeans are in there, too.
How many fucking pairs of jeans does she need? And why are they in the refrigerator where the food is supposed to be?
I close the refrigerator door and open the freezer, but I’m met with the same thing, only this time the jeans are frozen. They’re all in freezer bags labeled “Les’s jeans.” I slam the freezer door shut, irritated, and turn toward the pantry, hoping to find something to eat in there.
I walk around the kitchen island and look down.
I see her.
I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again, but she’s still there.
Les is huddled in a fetal position on the kitchen floor, her back pressed up against the pantry door.
This makes no sense.
How is she here?
She’s been dead for thirteen months.
I’m hungry.
“Dean,” she whispers.
Her eyes flick open and I immediately have to reach my hand out in order to steady myself against the island. My body suddenly becomes too heavy to hold up and I take a small step back, right before my legs give out and I fall to my knees in front of her.
Her eyes are open wide now and they’re completely gray. No pupil, no irises. Just glossed-over gray eyes that are searching for me, unable to find me.
“Dean,” she says again in a hoarse whisper. She blindly reaches her arm out toward me and her fingers feel around in front of her.
I want to help her. I want to reach out and grab her hand but I’m too weak to move. Or my body weighs too much. I don’t know what it is that’s stopping me, but I’m only two feet in front of her and I’m doing everything I can to lift my arm and take her hand but it won’t fucking move. The more I struggle to regain control over my movements, the harder it becomes to breathe. She’s crying now, saying my name. My chest tightens and my throat begins to close up and now I can’t even calm her down with words because nothing will come out. I work the muscles in my jaw, but my teeth are clenched tight and my mouth won’t open.
She’s pulling herself up on her elbow, slowly scooting closer to me. She’s trying to reach out for me but her lifeless eyes can’t find me. She’s crying even harder now.
“Help me, Dean,” she says.
She hasn’t called me Dean since we were kids and I don’t know why she’s calling me Dean now. I don’t like it.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to focus on getting my voice to work or my arms to move, but all the concentration in the world can’t help me right now.
“Dean, please,” she cries, only this time it’s not her voice. It’s the voice of a child. “Don’t go,” the child begs.
I open my eyes and Les is no longer there, but someone else has taken her place. A little girl is sitting with her back pressed against the pantry door and her head is buried in her arms that are wrapped tightly around her legs.
Hope.
I still can’t move or speak or breathe and my chest is growing tighter and tighter with each sob that racks the little girl’s body. All I can do is sit and watch her cry, because I’m physically unable to even turn my head or close my eyes.
“Dean,” she says, her voice muffled by her arms and her tears. It’s the first time I’ve heard her say my name since the day she was taken and it knocks out what little breath I had left in me. She slowly lifts her head away from her arms and widens her eyes. They’re solid gray, identical to Les’s. She leans her head back against the pantry door and wipes away a tear with the back of her hand.
“You found me,” she whispers.
Only this time, it’s not the voice of the little girl anymore. It’s not even Les’s voice.
It’s Sky’s.
Chapter Eleven
I open my eyes and I’m no longer on the kitchen floor.
I’m in my bed.
I’m covered in sweat.
I’m gasping for air.
Chapter Twelve
I couldn’t go back to sleep last night after the nightmare. I’ve been awake since two in the morning and it’s now after six.
I drop down onto the sidewalk when I reach her house. I stretch my legs out in front of me and lean forward, grabbing my shoes while I stretch the muscles in my back. I’ve been tense for days and nothing I do seems to help.
Before I went to sleep last night I had no intention of running with her again today. But I’ve been sitting alone for over four hours, wide awake, and the only thing that even remotely appealed to me was the thought of seeing Sky again.
I also had no intention of going back to school today but it seems way more appealing than staying home all day. It’s like I’ve been living minute to minute since the moment I got back from Austin last week. I’m not sure from one moment to the next what I’m doing or where I’ll be or even what frame of mind I’ll be in.
I don’t like this instability.
I also don’t like that I’m at her house again today, waiting on her to come outside for her morning run. I don’t like that I still feel the need to be around her. I don’t like the fact that I don’t want her to believe the rumors about me. I don’t give a shit when anyone else believes them. Why do I give a shit if she believes them?
I shouldn’t. I should just go back home and leave her to believe whatever she wants to believe.
I stand up in an attempt to talk myself into leaving, but I just stand here, waiting on her. I know I need to leave and I know I don’t want to be involved with an
yone even remotely interested in Grayson, but I can’t do it. I can’t leave because I want to see her again a whole lot more than I want to leave.
A noise comes from the side of her house, so I take a few steps to get a look. She’s climbing headfirst out of her window.
Just seeing her again, even from a distance, reminds me of why I crave to be around her so much. It’s only been a few days, but since the moment I met her, no matter where I am, I’m constantly wondering about her. My attention is constantly homed in on her like I’m a compass and she’s my North.
Once she’s outside, she pauses and looks up toward the sky, inhaling a deep breath. I take a few hesitant steps toward her. “Do you always climb out your window or were you just hoping to avoid me?”
She spins around, wide-eyed. I try not to let my eyes dip below her neck, but the things I’ve seen her run in are hard not to stare at.
Keep looking at her face, Holder. You can do it.
She glances at me, but doesn’t make eye contact. Her eyes lock on my stomach and I’m curious if it’s because she likes that I’m not wearing a shirt or if it’s because she can’t stand me to the point that it’s hard for her to look me in the eyes. “If I was trying to avoid you I would have just stayed in bed.” She walks past me and lowers herself onto the sidewalk.
I hate that her voice does things to my body that no other voice could ever do. But I also love it and want her to keep talking, even if she is rude most of the time.
I watch as she pushes her legs out in front of her and begins to stretch. She seems fairly calm today, despite the fact that I showed up. I sort of expected her to tell me to go the hell away after how we left things in the hallway yesterday.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d show up,” I say, taking a seat on the sidewalk in front of her.
She lifts her head and looks me in the eyes this time. “Why wouldn’t I? I’m not the one with the issues. Besides, neither of us owns the road.”
Issues?
Losing Hope h-2 Page 9
