Nowhere Girl (Foundlings Book 1)

by Fiona Keane

  Jameson’s combing fingertips paused, his palm spreading to press against the strawberry blonde mess beneath it. His security urged my words and they freely fell, just for him.

  “She heard it too.” I began to sob, swallowing the bile that rose. “He shot at me a second time and I just fell. I went to the ground. I had to.”

  “He shot you?” His words were short and alarmed. I could feel his breathing quicken beneath me.

  “Tried to. I pretended he hit me. I didn’t know what else to do. Jameson, I should have turned and hurt him. I should have killed him right there. She would still be alive.”

  “You don’t know that, Soph.”

  “I do.” I shifted to sit, staring out the window instead of at Jameson’s face or his feet, “He screamed at her about leaving Oregon. He found out somehow. He shot her. He killed my mom and I just lay there like a pathetic piece of garbage. I can still hear the gas stove click and feel the flames around us. I can feel it, Jameson. Even in my dreams. But I dream them anyway, just so I can see her.”

  “What else, Soph…”

  “He…” I was beginning to choke.

  He was next to me in a blink, without reservation, and I couldn’t breathe anymore, despite Jameson’s hands squeezing my face in reassuring encouragement to continue in the safety of his presence.

  “What else?” His words pressed through clenched teeth, eyes lit by the glowing moon scouring my face for more information.

  “He started the house on fire.” My eyes closed, struggling to bring myself to terms with my story. “Nobody came for us yet and I was just stuck in this inferno with my mom. I didn’t know if she was alive or dead at that point. I had to drag her through our kitchen.”

  “It was on fire?”

  “Yes.”

  “You dragged her out?”

  “Yes…”

  “Soph,” Jameson’s lips frantically searched my face, holding my mind within the touch of his mouth.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-FOUR

  I thought the morning would be impossible to manage. My head was throbbing and my eyes felt like marshmallows beneath my concealer. It was the last Wednesday before final exams. The last Wednesday until I could go; until I could run. There were only two more days of school to pull through before a shortened week with three days of exams. I had been tightly holding on to that concept—my time at FHS was coming to an end.

  “Morning, beautiful.” Olivia grinned, linking her arm with mine as she approached from the sidewalk.

  It had been a beautiful morning. I expected myself to be a floundering mess, having confided in Jameson things that I hadn’t even been able to discuss with Mr. Fitzgerald. However, I guess it was easier if those types of people already knew my business because then I didn’t need to rewind, I didn’t need to think back, and I could just…move forward.

  “Hi.” I blushed, avoiding her eyes.

  She was blabbing on about Owen and their study session last night, but my mind simply couldn’t connect to anything else in that moment.

  “Are you even listening to me, Soph?”

  “I’m trying to. I promise.” I laughed, which felt surprisingly good. “I’m just so tired, Olivia. I’m really sorry.”

  “What happened? Did you have a panic attack? Are you okay?”

  It was quite the opposite. I didn’t have a panic attack. Despite forcing myself to expose the deepest memories from the bowels of what haunts me, my mind was clear. Jameson kissed me. I shook my head, trying to smile at her so she would calm down and not probe too much. Olivia quickly grinned and continued mumbling something about her plans with Owen for the following weekend. I just needed to get through the day.

  ***

  Seventh period. I only had two more of those—the best part of my day—when Jameson showed. Derek was beaming as I entered, his eyes immediately locking with mine.

  “Hey!”

  “Hi,” I replied, scanning the room.

  “Do you and Olivia want to study for French again this weekend? I’m not feeling it after the review today. I’m going to bomb.”

  “No, you won’t.” I smiled. “It’s just stuff from the last quarter, Derek. We’ll totally be fine. But we can absolutely study together. We can go to the coffee shop again. Saturday morning?”

  “Perfect.”

  “Yep,” I agreed as my heart froze.

  I could feel Jameson enter the room, the electricity that hummed between us zapping me to life. I continued pretending to listen to Derek, feeling awful he wasn’t getting my undivided attention, as I watched Jameson from my periphery. He was wearing a black t-shirt and dark jeans that hung down to his flip-flops.

  When Mrs. Calvin began our lesson, everyone scurried to their seats. I felt sorry for her—it must have been annoying to attempt teaching seniors in the last week of school. Nobody was paying attention, not even me. I noticed my phone, thankfully placed on silent, light up in my bag and glanced down at the text message. Jameson? He was sitting three rows over and texted me…in the middle of class.

  Jameson: How are you?

  I looked over at him, almost through the corner of my eye. He was staring forward at Mrs. Calvin, but a grin was forming on his face.

  Me: I’m okay. Thanks for staying last night. And for listening.

  Jameson: Don’t thank me. Are you going home right away?

  Me: I don’t have to…

  I swallowed, dropping my phone back into the bottom of my purse, nervous about where this exchange was heading.

  Mrs. Calvin was oblivious and I noticed I wasn’t the only student with a hand typing in their bag. My phone lit up again.

  Jameson: Meet me by the side door. Near my car. I owe you a date.

  And with that, I anxiously returned to taking notes. Derek turned around, rolling his eyes.

  “This exam is going to be insane.”

  “What do you mean?” I couldn’t focus. A date?

  “Didn’t you hear her? It’s take-home.”

  Oh. Good insane. I nodded, smiling through my lie.

  When class ended, I strapped my bag across my chest and pulled the bike key from my pocket, joining the swarm of students barreling out of the doors. I headed toward the side door, my heart racing and pounding into my throat. A date.

  As his text promised, Jameson was waiting for me by the cluster of palm trees near the side doors, his hands stuffed into the pocket of his dark denim jeans. I quenched the butterfly wings tickling my stomach when I noticed a grin twisting the corners of his mouth.

  “Hey,” his voice purred; the low roll of the hypnotic sound enticing eavesdropping ears. Jameson reached for my hand, twisting his fingers around mine as he pulled me away from the palm trees.

  “Hi.” He kissed my forehead and guided us toward his car.

  “I thought nobody dated Jameson Burke,” I teased, feeling unsteady in every way.

  “You’re not a nobody, Soph.”

  He lifted our intertwined fingers to his mouth, gently placing his lips against my knuckles in a kiss. Jameson opened the passenger door, helping me climb in, before running around to his side and starting the car. I looked at him, watching his eyebrows bounce at me in mischievous delight.

  “Where are we going?” My question was full of suspicion, but Jameson just smiled at the road ahead.

  “I told you,” he taunted me. “I’m taking you on a date.”

  “A date? Like a real you and me, talking…date…”

  I didn’t do those.

  “No running this time.” His finger touched the tip of my nose. “Either of us. And no passing.”

  “No pass? This sounds serious.”

  My lips fought against the smile that was burning my cheeks and I was reassured when Jameson’s fingers squeezed my left knee before he pulled out of the school parking lot. I could feel the charging winds that blew against Jameson’s SUV as he soared across the highway. The palms were angry, aggressively responding to the incoming hurricane. He parked t
he car along a block downtown, near the coffee shop I had been to with Olivia a few times. I met him at the parking meter, watching as he fished coins from his jeans.

  “It isn’t like last time.” He grinned, taking my hand. “We’re not those people. We’re not stuffy. So…ice cream?”

  His smile was hopeful and I eagerly nodded, agreeing entirely with the lack of formality. I was thankful for the length of my skirt as we walked along the breezy sidewalk in search of this ice cream. The winds were picking up, threatening more than the hem of my outfit.

  “This place is the best.” He held open the glass door of a small ice cream parlor, the warm smell of freshly made waffle cones intoxicating me. “They have the best sprinkles, the best ice cream, and you can eat it on the beach.”

  “That sounds dangerous. Sand and all.”

  “I live dangerously.” He winked at me, pulling me to his side while he ordered for both of us.

  Two scoops of macadamia nut and butter pecan, piled into a warm waffle cone, and I was already in heaven. We were sitting at a black, iron bistro table covered with a shaking pink umbrella.

  “Is it safe to be out here?”

  “Until they issue the watch, yeah. It probably won’t be a hurricane though. We’re usually safe.”

  “Oh. The worst weather I’ve been in is a mudslide. That wasn’t even too bad. Just the main highway was closed for a week.”

  “Yikes.” His eyes widened. “Well, then I guess we should prepare you for how things get here.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “Listen, Soph,” Jameson’s posture changed, leaning across the table toward me. “I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate you confiding in me the other night. That was brave.”

  “Oddly enough, I trust you.”

  “Oddly?” Jameson’s laugh tickled my toes as I continued to lick from my melting ice cream cone. I nodded in response.

  “Well…” He grinned. “I know it’s hard to trust people. I trust you too. I know you know that, Soph. I just feel…when I’m with you, or even my thoughts when I’m not with you…it’s like I’ve known you forever, almost like you’ve been a part of this for always.”

  I could feel the nervous tingle beginning in my fingers, quickly scurrying up my arms and into my heart and lungs. Nobody had ever spoken to me like this before. I eyed Jameson without expression, hoping he would continue.

  “I owe you a lot, Soph, for what you’ve done to me.”

  “I haven’t done anything. You don’t owe me anything, Jameson.”

  “I do.” He was persistent, so I just licked my ice cream, glancing between the intense hazel glow radiating at me and the flapping palm leaves behind him.

  Jameson switched chairs, coming to sit at my side instead of across from me, reaching his arm around me to rest on the back of my chair as he leaned in. Oh my gosh. I’m melting. I’m actually melting. He is literally in my bubble right now.

  “You’re not the only one who has secrets.” He swallowed, his eyes searching my face. “You’ve given me a huge part of you, Soph, and I owe you part of me.”

  “Okay.” I swallowed. Lick. Lick.

  “My mom was murdered too.” And right then, my heart shattered. The remaining ice cream and cone fell from my hand, dropping against our sandaled feet.

  “Crap!” I shouted, I’m sure too loudly, and I clumsily bent to the ground with a pile of napkins, hoping to clean our toes of the sticky macadamia and butter pecan heaven. What did he just tell me? Holy crap.

  “It’s okay.” Jameson calmly bent down in his seat, reaching for the napkins in my shaking hands. Our heads were bumping into each other as we both struggled to wipe up the spilled ice cream.

  “What’s this?” an unfamiliar voice mumbled from behind us.

  I was praying it wasn’t…Yep. Just my luck. The last thing I needed was Simon and Jules pestering me about being out with Jameson, and surely they’d hear of it from their close friend.

  “Thomas,” Jameson’s throat cleared, his posture straightening. “Elizabeth.”

  “Hi, Jamie.” Elizabeth smiled politely, glancing at me twice before returning her eyes to Jameson. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Sophia.”

  “You as well, Mrs. Kerry. Mr. Kerry.” I smiled at them both, receiving only a faint response from Mrs. Kerry.

  Between my shaking fingers and the fact Jameson’s demeanor had altered entirely into a rigid block of ice, I was close to bolting. But the tension that glued us together in that moment was impossible to escape.

  “Don’t you have exams to be studying for?” Mr. Kerry questioned, eyeing us suspiciously. He glanced at the ice cream covering Jameson’s foot and sighed.

  “Jameson.” He pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing. “We need to talk when you come home tonight.”

  “Dinner is at six, sweetheart.” Mrs. Kerry touched Jameson’s shoulder as they strode off. Jameson and I watched them, speechless from utter awkwardness, studying their departure until we could no longer see their silhouettes on the sidewalk to our side.

  “He’s a hard ass,” Jameson grumbled. “I’m sorry he was such a dick to you. Both of them. I don’t know what their issue is.”

  “It’s probably me.” My voice shook. “I’m…I’m not from here, I’m a mess…”

  Jameson’s hands grabbed my shoulders, almost shaking me. “Don’t ever say that again. You’re perfect, Soph. You should believe that about yourself.”

  Perfect? It was as if Jameson had scrubbed away the rusty, tarnished coating and exposed a new Sophia that only his eyes and memory could hold. Perfect? Even with the faults, the anxieties, the me, Jameson thought I was perfect.

  “Let’s take a drive.” He reached for my hand, which hung rigidly at my side.

  “A what? Where? Why? But your foot…”

  Jameson bent over to wipe the rest of my ice cream from his flip-flop and his face returned to my vision, plastered with a forced smile.

  “Come on. I can’t think when they come around.”

  What does he need to think about? I complied, not questioning the excruciating grasp he held around my right hand as he pulled me through the ice cream shop and toward his car. Jameson opened my door, but quickly ran around to his side and started the engine. I shook my hand out in the car, trying not to bring attention to it, but his face contorted as he glanced at me.

  “Oh my god, Soph.” He reached over, grabbing the sore hand, rubbing his thumb across my knuckles and boiling my blood until it melted my heart. “I didn’t mean to…I hurt you?”

  “N-not really,” I stuttered, pulling my hand away from his and placing it in my lap.

  “I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry, Soph.”

  “Jameson, it’s just my hand. See?” I lifted it up again, waving at him before squeezing it into my other hand in my lap. “All good. So where are we going?”

  “I want to take you somewhere…before I take you home.”

  I nodded, watching Jameson’s smile slowly return as he pulled away from the parking spot and flew down the freeway. It was a tense, silent drive, but he held my hand the entire way—looser this time. He idled and swerved into the emergency lane along the desolate freeway and turned off the car. The flashers were on, lighting the dimming area with a pulsating orange glow.

  “Where are we?” My inquiry was left to float in the air, not responded to, as Jameson climbed from his car and came around to my side.

  I hopped out, taking the hand he held for me, and let him guide us over the metal barrier. A wall of boulders was the only thing between us and the brewing storm that danced along the waves. However, it was surprisingly calm, almost peaceful.

  “I come here sometimes.”

  “To the side of the road?”

  “Yeah.” He laughed, considering my words. “But to this spot in particular. Come here.”

  He pulled me along the steps of boulders, taking me toward a small cove that was protected by leaning palm trees and a pa
tch of gravely sand. It was isolated, entirely free from the violent wind and angered waves. It was even void of sound from the freeway. Jameson knelt down, pulling me to his side before sitting against the sand. The waves were only ten feet away. I watched drops of water reach the sand at our toes. We were so close to the edge, it was as though nothing was behind us anymore.

  “You feel it too, don’t you?” His voice was almost a whisper as he spoke into my ear, tickling my neck.

  “I come here because all I can see is forward,” he pressed. “I don’t think about what’s behind me, my aunt or uncle, school, nothing.”

  “You come here a lot?”

  “Once in a while. I haven’t had to much lately though…not really since I met you.” His eyes burned into mine. “Maybe only twice since then.”

  “Oh.” My cheeks were on fire. Flaming.

  I hated the fact this cove was mute because I couldn’t escape the pounding in my ears. I turned away, staring out at the angry Gulf, my mind entirely blank and colorful in the same thought. It seemed like forever had passed with Jameson and me sitting in utter silence before I felt him move.

  “I should get you home,” he sighed, standing and reaching for my hand. “Thanks for letting me bring you here.”

  “Thanks to me?” I blushed, smiling at Jameson. His hair was a mess, flying around in the breeze, while he stood just outside of the cove holding my hand.

  “Thank you,” he repeated, pressing his lips against my forehead, making my knees soften at the hinge.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SIX

  JAMESON

  I was pacing back and forth in front of Thomas’s desk as he studied me with livid condescension from the comfort of the leather wingback chair in his study. His left fingers were woven around his chin as the weight of his elbow rested against the chair’s arm.

  “You’re nauseating me.”