Crowned with Guilt

by S. K. Rose

  I blink back tears and feel my hands tremble within hers. I refuse to meet her eyes and see all the pain I’ve caused this kind woman.

  “Tessa Kinsley, you look at me this instant and hear the words I say.”

  I snap my eyes up to meet hers.

  “I. Do. Not. Blame. You. It was a horrible accident, and although he was hurt badly, my boy is still alive and has a bright future ahead of him. Now, I know he doesn’t remember you, and we decided it was better to let him remember in his own time. All he knows is that there was an accident where he fell and hit his head very hard. Maybe he will never get those memories back, and maybe he will, but if you disappear now, he will likely never remember you and that would be a damn shame.” She takes a breath and gently wipes the tears from my face.

  “I don’t know where you’re living now, but I know it hasn’t been next door. I imagine you don’t really have a place to call home. You will stay here until you graduate and you will eat your fill at the dinner table each night because, dear, I hate to say this, but your ribs are starting to poke out. You are going to go get your things, move into our guestroom, and let my children fill you in on the rules I keep under this roof.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. I didn’t do what I should have when you were a child, but I will be damned if I make that mistake again. After I see that diploma in your hands, then we will figure out what your next step is. Do you understand me?” The stubborn, slightly scary look she gives is one I recognize intimately.

  “I understand. Th-thank you, Mrs. Blackwell,” I stammer, feeling dizzy from the bizarre change of events.

  What the hell just happened?

  “Don’t thank me just yet; wait until you’ve heard my rules,” she says with a wry smile and a wink as she busies herself with disinfecting the angry red nicks covering my body. I hardly feel the sting of the alcohol swab as my mind reels.

  Once she’s finished bandaging the worst of them, she cleans up and yells for her kids to come downstairs. A flash of pink hair arrives in the dining area suspiciously fast. She was definitely eavesdropping. Andrew is quick behind her, he flicks me a worried look before giving attention to his mom.

  “You are to both help Tessa learn our rules as she’ll be staying with us for a while. Marybeth, take my car and credit card. Go get her the same phone you have. Andrew, take Sparkles. You’re going to take her to pick up her things and run any errands she may need. Be back in time for dinner.” She claps her hands in dismissal. I raise an eyebrow at Andrew about “Sparkles”, but he’s eclipsed by Beth, who’s squealing and running over to me. I can tell she’s struggling between hugging me and not wanting to hurt me. Thankfully, she decides to go for not hurting me.

  “We’re gonna be roommates! I mean, it’s basically like we’re sisters now. I always wanted a sister, but nope! I got stuck with Andrew. Does he ever want to go shopping with me? No! Does he ever wa—” Her excited babbling comes to an abrupt stop when both her mom and Andrew yell at her.

  Her rambling may have stopped, but she’s still bubbling with excitement. Unfortunately for me, it’s just not within her ability to withhold a hug for long. Finding a loophole, she avoids my arms altogether as she wraps her tiny self around my waist giving me a quick squeeze.

  “Welcome home, Tessa,” she says before turning to leave.

  I give a nervous smile in response. Home. I haven’t really had one of those in a while, and hearing those words makes my heart feel full, even as nerves course through my veins.

  “You ready?” Andrew asks. I can’t help but try to read his face.

  Is he irritated that his mom invited me to stay? Or is he happy about it? Maybe he just doesn’t care one way or another.

  “Yep,” I respond with more confidence than I feel. I follow him out to a silver Prius. I raise both eyebrows at him this time, but he just shoots me a warning look. I’m guessing his parents picked it out.

  “So, where to?” Andrew asks as he pops on some sexy aviator shades that force me to look away before I drool all over his expensive-ass car.

  “Just, um to school.” He looks over to me, and then without saying a word, starts up the car, flips on the heater, and begins pulling out of the driveway. Although Mrs. Blackwell had given me some of her flats to wear, I’m still in Andrew’s old clothes. I wasn’t about to put my slutty nightclub dress back on, and it’s not like I can fit in Beth’s doll-sized clothing.

  Damn those sexy sunglasses. I can’t see his eyes to know what he’s thinking.

  Will he judge me when he finds out where I’ve been living? It's fucking embarrassing, but it’s not like I had a ton of options. I keep my eyes trained on the houses and pine trees that whizz by.

  “So, who’s Sparkles?” I finally ask, not able to stop the question residing on the tip of my tongue.

  He gives an exasperated sigh. “The car.”

  “The car is named Sparkles?”

  “Yep.”

  “Why?”

  “Because apparently this particular paint sparkles in the sunlight.”

  “So, your car is a vampire from Twilight.”

  This earns me a scowl. “We flipped a coin, and Marybeth got to name it. End of story.”

  “Sparkles, though?”

  “Oh, my God! Please stop saying it!” he yells.

  I let out a small giggle and return my eyes to the scenery outside. We ride for a few minutes in silence before I hear his serious voice speak up.

  “Tess, what happened?” I am not prepared to answer this question. Nope.

  “Practicing my swing. I might try out for the softball team ‘cause I hit bottles like a fucking champ,” I answer as casually as I can muster.

  “You know you swear like a sailor, right?” he sighs, clearly irritated with my bullshit response.

  “I’ve been told.” Many, many times

  “Most people practice with softballs, and not indoors, for that matter,” he grumbles.

  “What the hell is fun about that?” I place my hand over my heart in mock horror.

  “You’re impossible.”

  “I’ve heard that also.”

  I can’t see his eyes, but when he turns to glance at me again, I can only assume he’s glaring at me since his mouth has formed a tight frown. “You could have really hurt yourself.”

  “Fucking yolo, Blackwell.”

  “Are you always this frustrating?” His knuckles have turned white from his death grip on the wheel.

  “Yes, and you’re cute when you're frustrated.” I flash him a grin.

  He shakes his head and returns his eyes to the road, but before looking away, I see the corner of his mouth betrays him as it turns up into a frustrated smile.

  God, there is something about getting him riled up that’s so damn fun, and I’m not the only one who is enjoying the banter.

  It’s obvious Mr. And Mrs. Blackwell pulled out all the stops for making Andrew into the perfect gentleman. A sweet and considerate guy who knows how to handle a nice, sweet girl. Unfortunately for him, I am not a nice or sweet girl by any stretch of the imagination. We continue along the road, both lost in our thoughts.

  “It was you,” I hear him mutter.

  Every muscle in my body locks up and my blood runs cold. All the playfulness I was feeling is immediately sucked out as I’m reminded this isn’t a fucking date. This is Andrew, the guy who may never forgive me if he does start to remember.

  Could he really. . . does he remember me? Should I be happy or afraid? Fuck.

  “Mom told me that a mother and daughter lived next door. I assumed it was a little kid from the way she talked, but it was you. You’re the daughter, right?”

  I relax, no, he doesn’t remember. I’m relieved, but a tinge of sadness still tugs at the back of my mind.

  “Yes, although I haven’t lived there for a few years,” I respond robotically.

  “I’m guessing you don’t exactly get along with your mom?” He seems hesitant, but his curiosit
y is winning out.

  “Nobody gets along with my mom unless you happen to provide something she can pump into her veins.” My voice is unintentionally icy.

  “I’m sorry, Tess.” I can feel him studying me as I keep my eyes trained out the window.

  “Don’t be. I just got dealt a shitty parenting hand. It happens,” I deflect with a shrug.

  “And your dad, he’s in jail, right?”

  “He was in prison, actually, although that was before he was stabbed to death by his cellmate.” My voice wavers as I think of the letters.

  I hear a sharp intake of breath. “Jesus, Tessa.”

  Now I’m glad for the shades. I don’t want to see his pity. That’s the fucking worst. I’ve done fine for myself and I don’t want or need anyone’s pity like I’m some helpless kitten.

  “Yeah, well, I’ve heard your life hasn’t been all peachy keen either, Blackwell. With your accident and all.” Funny you should be asking about the very man who caused it.

  It’s his turn to shrug. “I don’t even remember it, honestly.”

  Probably for the best.

  “I just woke up one day in the hospital with a searing headache. It was all so confusing at first, nothing made sense. Slowly, memories would come back to me. It was like my brain was trying to put a puzzle together, but some of the pieces went missing. The occasional seizure, slurred words, and headaches aren’t fun, but I’m lucky to be alive. I refuse to take it for granted,” he vows with steel to his voice.

  “I’m so sorry, Andrew,” I whisper. More than you know.

  He looks over at me with drawn eyebrows. I guess the sudden gravity of my tone didn’t go unnoticed. But dammit, the apology had been burning a hole in my tongue the moment I saw him. Even though he couldn’t truly understand why I was sorry, it felt good to get it out. Mrs. Blackwell’s words echo in my mind.

  I. Do. Not. Blame. You.

  The weight of this guilt has burdened me so long, and to hear those words angered me.

  How could she not blame me?

  I damaged her boy. Would I ever be able to forgive myself? Unlikely.

  I see a crooked smile appear on Andrew’s face. “It’s okay. I like a little challenge in life.”

  It reminds me of the note we passed around the other day in class, and by the annoying smirk on his face, that was his intent. Suddenly it feels cramped and hot as hell in this tiny car.

  “Could you turn down the heat?” I fan myself, trying to lower my body temperature.

  He looks down at me from above his aviators, eyes sparkling with mischief.

  “Hot?” he asks, pulling into the empty school parking lot.

  Yeah, you fucking are.

  After turning off the engine, he removes his sunglasses and shifts in his seat to turn toward me. With a tilt of his head, he looks at me intently, as if he’s trying to memorize every detail of my face.

  “Just a bit.” My voice sounds weird. It’s hard to think straight with his emerald eyes burning into mine. This is the first time in a very long time that we’ve been alone together. Apparently, it still has quite the effect on me. I lick my dry lips and try to ignore the sizzling waves of electricity that our close proximity always seems to create.

  I have seen my fair share of hot college guys at Oasis, but Andrew? He puts those poor bastards to shame. His smile alone lights up a room like a fucking Christmas tree.

  Looks aside, he’s sweet as pie—until he’s not. Then his arrogant, flirty side comes out to play, and I lose my fucking mind.

  It’s the perfect panty-dropping recipe.

  My eyes roam his body and how well his blue T-shirt clings to his defined arms and chest. That stupid, arrogant grin plays on his lips, making me want to slap him, or kiss him?

  Yes, I want nothing more than to crawl on his lap, pull off his shirt, and show him just how much of a nice and sweet girl that I’m not.

  “You’re staring at me again,” he hums.

  “Shut up!” I screech before grabbing the handle and swinging the car door open. Sliding out, I close the door behind me and lean against it trying desperately to catch my breath.

  It was like all the air had been sucked out of the car, and then was lit on fire. Wait, the science isn’t adding up here. Gah! This boy seriously fucks with my head.

  The sun is out, but there’s a chilled breeze rolling by that cools my blistering skin.

  What is going on with me?

  And why, oh why am I imagining ripping his clothes off after everything that’s happened today?

  I’ve fooled around, gotten hot and heavy with guys at work and did stuff, but I haven’t had sex since that. . . since Trent. But right now that’s all my body screams for, a sweet release.

  This is bad. Also, confusing. Mostly bad.

  And hot.

  I hear the door slam shut on the driver's side and watch Andrew go around the front of the car. He stops a few feet away and I feel his eyes roaming down my body.

  What have I gotten myself into?

  Chapter 34

  ─────

  Andrew

  I chuckle and reach back to grab my extra hoodie from the backseat. Getting out of the poorly named Prius, I walk around toward the most infuriating girl I have ever met. Once I’ve huffed my way around to her, I can’t help but stop dead in my tracks. She’s leaning against my car, sunshine bouncing off her shiny brown hair while she continues to taunt me looking sexy as hell in my clothes.

  Why didn’t I give her some of Marybeth’s clothes instead? Who cares if she had to wear a little pink? The way she looks in those shorts.

  No, she’s in love with someone else. Her heart is taken, these thoughts have really gotta stop.

  I hold out the sweatshirt, knowing that just a few minutes out here with the sun threading in and out from behind the clouds, she’ll be freezing. She accepts it without hesitation.

  “You ready?” she mumbles while tugging her arms through the hoodie.

  Dragging my gaze away from her pouty lips, I nod and wave my arm out, motioning for her to lead the way.

  I follow a few steps behind, until she reaches the side gate of the school, and the padlocked chains are just loose enough for us to squeeze through. She goes past the classrooms, past the football field, and toward an old building out by the track. I’m sure it was used for something before, but it’s been locked off and out of bounds for students for a while now—or so I’ve heard. She looks around, making sure we’re alone, and heads toward the double doors of the building.

  “This was the old locker room, before the new gym and football field got put in a few years ago. Before that, this is what everyone used.” She talks as she once again wiggles her way under chains, something she appears to have had a lot of practice with. Chains that are apparently the only thing keeping one of the double doors closed, considering the lock is busted. I watch as she winces when the chain rubs across the bandaged cut on her shoulder. Before I know it, she’s slipped inside the building and I’m left with my mouth hanging open, trying to process the hard truth.

  She lives here? At school? I thought maybe she just had some stuff stashed somewhere, but that’s not the case at all. She actually lives here.

  I stare at the double doors a few moments longer before I move. I’ve never trespassed into a building before. I don’t break rules or do stupid crap. Basically, anything that would cause my parents more stress I try to avoid. They worry enough about me as it is.

  But right now, in this moment, the adrenaline has kicked in and I have never felt so alive. The sound of pumping blood roars in my ears, and it reminds me of the way I feel when I’m close to Tessa. I love my parents, but perhaps it’s time to stop living in fear of my own shadow.

  It’s not until I’m trapped between a door and some very cold chains that I consider the fact that I’m quite a bit larger than Tessa and may, in fact, be stuck.

  Guess trying to bulk up some muscle finally has a downside. Looks like I’ll have to re
consider my criminal career of B&Es.

  After a few more seconds of struggling, earning a nice, long scratch across my bicep, I’m able to pop through the chains and into the mysterious building.

  Waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dark room, I watch as Tessa bustles around collecting things and shoving them into a backpack, purposefully avoiding looking in my direction.

  This really is where she has been living.

  The smell is funky and unpleasant, and the air feels damp and stale. Graffiti covers most of the lockers, and there is only one cloudy window that brings in natural light. I slowly wander around and see clothes strewn across open locker doors, a Muse poster is taped up to the wall, and there’s a little makeshift bookshelf made of boxes. Peeking into the locker bathrooms, I see a toothbrush, toothpaste, makeup, and other odds and ends sitting around the edge of the sinks. Heading toward the middle of the room, I inspect what appears to have once been an office space that is surrounded by giant windows. I’m guessing by the wrap-around desk and locked cage that this is where the coaches would do their paperwork as well as keep uniforms and equipment under lock and key.

  Standing in the doorway of the office, I’m floored by the idea of anyone having to live like this. The constant smell and cold temperature alone would be enough to drive anyone insane. My curiosity pushes me forward as I take a step into the office and head to the caged off area in the back. I stop abruptly when I discover what’s inside.

  This is her bedroom. There’s a cruddy makeshift bed in the corner and I’m struck with a pang that resonates deep in my core. From the spot I'm rooted in, I can see that her bed is compiled of a couple old weight mats and some bundled up PE uniforms make a pillow. A few forgotten tennis racquets lean up against a wall nearby a box full of gray uniforms. There are about five blankets neatly folded and stacked on top of her bed, blankets that I can't stop my brain from imagining her malnourished body shivering beneath during the freezing winter nights. I do spot a small, personal heater so she must have electricity. Thank God for that.