by Linda Kage
At Cora’s room, I backed in, using my shoulder to nudge her door open. Then I dipped to flip on the light switch with my elbow. Cora didn’t even stir as I tucked her into bed. I usually put her on top of the bedding first, then made her comfortable before I pulled the sheets out from under her and covered her up. Thinking nothing of it, I slid off her high heels, unbuckling the delicate tiny straps first. Then I worked my way up and began to unbutton the top clasp to her skirt’s zipper when a gasp came from the doorway.
I looked up to find a wide-eyed Zoey in the doorway, gaping at me as if I was trying to take advantage of the passed-out drunk chick on the bed.
My face heated as I jerked my hands away from Cora’s skirt. “I was just...” I cleared my throat and jammed my fingers into my pockets. “I-I’ll let you see to her comfort from there.” I glanced one last time at Cora, restraining myself from the need to strip her down to her panties. She hated to sleep in clothes, and I hated knowing she was going to wake up feeling suffocated.
But a pair of appalled, wide green eyes compelled me to step away from her. Zoey scurried out of the doorway as I approached. In the hallway, I paused and ripped a hand out of my pocket to rub it uneasily across the back of my head. “Do you, uh, do you have everything you need for the night?”
I have no idea what I was really asking, but it felt wrong to leave her here like this in a place that was foreign to her without making sure she was okay.
She nodded and glanced into Cora’s room. “Is she going to be okay?”
“Oh. Yeah.” I grinned sheepishly as I turned back to study Cora. “Sure. She’ll sleep for the rest of the night, and probably late into the morning. Usually water, ibuprofen, and a little breakfast makes her feel best after she wakes up.”
Instead of looking reassured, Zoey shook her head and frowned. “But she shouldn’t be drinking that much. It’s not—”
When she broke off directly and squinted at me as if picking apart my brain and seeing what I was thinking, I tipped my head to the side, wondering what she would’ve said if she’d finished that sentence.
“It’s not what?”
Zoey straightened her back and drew in a breath. “Nothing.” Her eyes were filled with concern as she glanced in at Cora, though.
I felt as if I was being left out of a secret, but I was usually paranoid about people thinking the worst of me and keeping things from me, so I pushed my qualms aside.
Neither of us spoke for a good thirty seconds, so I blew out a breath. “I’m gonna...yeah.” I hooked my thumb over my shoulder and motioned down the hall toward the exit. “I’m going to go then.”
“Okay,” she said and nodded once more. She was big on nodding. Not so much on talking. But then, I was exactly the same.
I stepped in reverse away from her as I sent her a small smile. With a little farewell wave, I said, “Welcome to Ellamore. It was nice to meet you.”
“Thank you. You too.” She averted her gaze as color flooded her cheeks.
At first, I empathized. There was nothing I hated more than blushing, which I did more than I wanted to. It was one of those horrifyingly embarrassing reactions that came when you were caught thinking or doing something you knew you shouldn’t and making matters worse by letting everyone else around you know it.
But then it struck me that she was thinking something she knew she shouldn’t be. All I’d said was that it was nice to meet her. I don’t think even Ten could’ve found a way to turn that into a dirty thought, which meant...her body had just responded in a way she hadn’t wanted it to.
Whew. My sympathy turned to relief, glad she was also feeling the unwanted attraction between us. It’d been awful thinking I was experiencing it all one-sided. But to know it was shared was a relief. Except...wait.
Unease finally struck. Oh, no. This was not good. Poor, innocent Cora was lying mere feet away while her boyfriend and best friend were experiencing vibes for each other? How wrong was that? I needed to get out of here...like five minutes ago.
“’Night,” I mumbled, stumbling around so I could haul butt for the door.
I hardly ever felt instant attraction to women. I’d grown crushes on girls over the years after getting to know them or watching them for a while, but Cora had been the first to give me an instant punch in the gut the first moment I’d seen her. It didn’t seem possible that her best friend would be able to draw the same exact reaction from me.
While I drove home, my fifteen-year-old truck trying to rattle apart around me, I realized one awful fact. As much as I’d been hoping to connect with someone who’d shared a similar past, I wasn’t going to be able to make friends with Zoey Blakeland after all. I was going to have to keep my distance from her instead.
Though it was late when I pulled into town the night before, I was up with the sun, unable to stay asleep, unable to calm my nerves.
But I’d done it. I’d really done it. I had escaped the home of Ernest K. Blakeland, bank president of North Heritage National and co-founder of the Ridgeway Gold Country Club.
If I was lucky, he’d never find me. If I was marginally fortunate, he wouldn’t discover my location until I’d done what I’d come to do. And if God hated me, he’d be downstairs right now demanding to know Cora’s room number.
But I wasn’t going to think about that possibility. I had plans, and I was going to see them through, no matter what he did.
Cora needed me.
The first thing I did was check on her. She was sleeping so soundly I had to put my fingers by her parted lips to make sure she was still breathing. I still couldn’t believe she’d put herself at so much risk last night by drinking.
As soon as she woke up, we were going to have a serious talk.
I let her rest for now, though. She needed all the rest she could get.
My next order of business for the day was to carry my boxes up to my apartment from my car. Henry, from last night, wasn’t on duty. The new guy who’d taken his place reminded me so much of the doorman off Curious George I almost expected to find a dachshund at his side.
I faltered and fidgeted, not sure how to introduce myself.
“Hi,” I finally mumbled. Okay, that was lame. Face heating, I tried again. “I’m Zoey. I just moved in last night.”
His grin spread. “Into 8E with Miss Wilder?” When my eyes widened in shock, he grinned. “Henry already told me. I’m Terrance.” He bowed. “Welcome to the Chateau Rivera, Miss Blakeland. Is there anything I can do for you on this fine day?”
“No.” I ducked my face and shook my head, not used to such respectful treatment. “No thank you. I was just going to carry in my things from my car...if that’s okay.”
“Well, sure. Let me help you.”
I don’t know how Cora had managed to find such an amazing apartment building, but I was grateful for Terrance’s help, especially five trips to my car later when my back was screaming and weakened leg muscles were shaking from carrying so many boxes. The doorman helped cut the work in half, but it still left me feeling sweaty and gross.
I didn’t stop working, though. I was so out of place here, I needed one small touch to make me feel at home. Finding the box I was seeking, I popped off the lid and let out a sigh of relief to find all my three-ring binders tucked neatly inside. I drifted my fingers over the cool, metal coils holding them together and pulled one free to flip open the pages.
The stories I wrote were silly. They were usually about lost little girls who’d strayed from home and found themselves in colorful, magical kingdoms full of new and frightening, yet wonderful things to explore. And there was always a love interest with a happily ever after. But they were everything to me. Writing was my peace, my sanity, and my heart and soul.
I spent the next half hour carefully lining the notebooks up on the bare shelves above my new bed. It was easy to tell which ones were older by their colored, frayed condition so I put them in order from oldest to newest. Then I blew out a relieved breath, feeling better about bei
ng here.
Resolved to my new future, I made Cora breakfast. It was way past noon; she needed sustenance, and I was beginning to get hungry for lunch myself.
She still wasn’t up when I finished, so I carried a tray into her room and set it on the nightstand, then I sat on the mattress beside her and drew the blonde hair out of her face carefully.
“Cora,” I sang softly. “Time to wake up.”
She groaned and rolled over onto her stomach, where she buried her head under a pillow. “Why am I wearing clothes?” came the vexed, muffled question.
I blinked, not sure what to say. “Um...because you passed out before you made it all the way home to undress, I guess.”
She made a very irritated sound before asking, “Where’s Quinn?”
“He went home.” I took the pillow away. “I made you breakfast.”
She lifted her face, her bloodshot eyes hopeful. “Waffles?”
I shook my head. “Scrambled egg whites. I heard they’re good for people on dialysis.”
“Ugh.” She flopped her face back onto the mattress with a dramatic sigh. “Don’t mention that word today. I just want to forget about anything medical for the next twenty-four hours.”
It was all I could think about, though, so...no. Forgetting wasn’t an option for me. I’d obsessed about her health for the past six weeks, ever since the night I’d received that dreaded phone call from her.
“How about some water and ibuprofen?” I asked, remembering Quinn’s instructions from last night.
She sat up, looking cross and still tired. I bit my lip, beyond worried as she silently took the pain reliever.
Her voice was raspy as she said, “Mmm. Warm water, good. The cold water Quinn brings me first thing in the morning always hurts my teeth.”
Her morning voice reminded me vaguely of how she’d sounded when she’d been sobbing and hysterical on the phone. “I’ve entered the fifth stage of kidney failure. They’ve started me on dialysis three times a week. This is the end stage, Zoey. If I don’t get a transplant, I could die.”
Those four sentences had haunted me every night since hearing them. I didn’t want my best friend on earth—my only friend—to die. So I’d made a life-altering decision before that dreaded conversation was over.
I’d offered to be a living donor. The problem was, I couldn’t tell my father because he’d never agree to it. He’d find a way to keep me from helping her.
But I wasn’t going to let that stop me. Instead of preparing to attend the college nearest my hometown where he’d enrolled me, I had secretly applied for admission into ESU, the college Cora attended some six hundred miles away from Ernest K. Blakeland.
The day I’d gotten the acceptance letter from them, my planning had started. I was already pretty good at saving back money. Father had never allowed me to do or get anything, so the monthly allowance from my mother’s inheritance trust fund merely sat in the bank, gaining interest. Transferring money over to an account my father knew nothing about was a bit of a challenge, since he happened to be the president of the bank. But I managed to get it done. To be safe, I’d transferred it again, and then once more for good measure, so he wouldn’t know which financial institution the money ended up in.
It was my money and I was finally of legal age. I shouldn’t have had to hide it from him, but “shouldn’t have to” wasn’t a term my father knew when it came to me.
After withdrawing a sizable chunk of my interest for cash, I’d taken a bus to a few towns over and bought a car. Then I’d driven it back to my neighborhood and parked it down the street behind an abandoned garage where one of our neighbor’s summer homes was being foreclosed. Each night, I’d carried one or two boxes down and stored it in the car in preparation for the big escape.
Three days before my planned breakout, Father had attended a benefit charity dinner. Thinking there might not be a better time to leave, I jotted out a quick note, telling him I was leaving and never coming back, and if he’d ever cared for me at all, he wouldn’t look for me. And then I’d become free.
I had no idea free was such a scary thing until I was suddenly on my own with no rules to tie me down.
“So what are our plans for the day?” I asked Cora, nudging her hip with my knee as I scooped up a forkful of scrambled egg whites, hoping she’d give me some guidance to help me with all my freedom anxieties. “Are we going to visit the doctor and tell him I’m going to do the transplant with you?”
When I held out the forkful, she obediently ate the bite, only to choke on it and wave her hand in front of her face, her eyes watering. “Salt,” she gasped.
I shook my head. “Too much salt can’t be healthy for you.”
She pushed my hand away when I held out another bite. “I’m dying. Do you really think I care about eating healthy right now?”
The casual way she said that shot an arrow of cold, panicky fear right through the center of my chest. “You are not dying. That’s why I’m here, remember. And yes, you do need to eat healthy if you want to get better. And probably drink less.” I lifted my eyebrows to let her know how much I didn’t approve of all the drinking I’d seen her doing last night.
She rolled her eyes. “If there’s anything I’ve learned in the last few months it’s that life is short, and I’m going to spend it doing whatever the hell I want. So just get off my fucking back about what I eat or drink. Okay?”
I blinked, startled to hear such language. She ignored me as she ripped off her clothes until she was down to a matching bra and panty set. I just sat there, stunned. She’d turned so angry and defiant since the last time I’d seen her. It made my heart ache.
As she crawled off the bed and pulled on a loose top and shorts, I shook my head.
“You’ve really changed,” I murmured. I didn’t know the woman before me anymore. What was worse, I didn’t know how to help her, either.
Being nine months older than me, she’d left home for college last year, while I’d been stuck there to suffer through my senior year of high school without her. It had been difficult, but we’d always been able to talk online. And through all our messages, I hadn’t been able to tell just how much she’d altered.
I was curious if college, her declining health, a mixture of both, or something else entirely was the cause of it.
She sniffed. “Changed for the better.” Turning away, she started for the door. “You go ahead and eat that crap. I’m having Cocoa Pebbles.”
I don’t know why—maybe it was stress—but I followed her orders and shoved the bland egg whites into my mouth, chewing robotically, as I trailed her into the kitchen.
“Damn, I wish it was Saturday morning,” she grumbled without explaining why.
I stood in the doorway, silently polishing off her eggs while she prepared herself a bowl of cereal and then seated herself at the table and propped her feet up until she could balance the bowl on her knees. Catching sight of me hovering, she rolled her eyes. “Sit.”
I sat, upset that I seemed to be such an annoyance to her. After drawing in a deep breath, I asked, “So, are we going to see your doctor today about the kidney transplant?”
She made a disgusted sound, letting me know she still didn’t want to discuss any of that. But then she swallowed her mouthful and shook her head. “I have a consultation set up for us on Wednesday. Today is car wash day.”
I paused chewing. “Car what day?”
A wicked gleam entered her eyes as she laughed. “The football team’s annual charity car wash,” she explained. “They have it every year on the Friday afternoon before the first day of class. But this year, they’re inviting a bunch of girls to help, so we’re having a competition of sorts. Girls against the guys to see who can draw in more business. And since you showed up early, you get to go, too. Which means...we have to dress you up sexy.”
I swallowed the last piece of egg white wrong. My eyes watered as I pounded on my chest to clear my airway. “Wait...what?”
Half
an hour later, I was fresh from a shower and pulling on my swimsuit with great reservation. My best friend’s life was in grave danger, yet we were preparing for a car wash as if nothing whatsoever was wrong? This just didn’t feel...right.
Thinking I could talk my way out of wearing this thing—unlike the way I’d been unable to talk my way out of attending the car wash with Cora—I marched from my room to hers.
“Cor—”
She wore nothing but a towel around her head and one wrapped around her body, but I could see her patting something onto the inside of her forearm. She whirled around, and we both contorted our faces into horror the moment we saw each other.
“What the hell are you wearing?” she squawked as my gaze widened on all the bruises she was concealing with makeup.
“Wha...where...? Who did this to you? Quinn?” I hurried to her and grasped her arm to examine all the ugly purple, blue and green marks trailing up her arm.
Even though Cora tried to pull away, she threw her head back and laughed. “Quinn? You think Quinn would hurt me? Oh my God. You are so far off track. Quinn wouldn’t hurt a freaking ant. Instead of killing spiders in the bathtub, he catches them and sets them free outside. He’s the most harmless guy I’ve ever met.”
I bit my lip and gently ran my fingers over her bruises, hoping she was telling the truth. “I saw him push someone against a wall last night.”
Cora merely shook her head. “Um, no, honey. There’s no way you saw Quinn push anyone anywhere. He’s not the least bit violent; he’s just not capable of it.”
I decided not to argue that point with her, even though I was a hundred percent certain I had seen him doing exactly that. Instead, I focused on her arm. “Then...where did those come from? Cora, if someone is—”
“Oh my God,” she groaned, cutting me off. “Just shut up already. It’s from the dialysis, okay?”
My eyes widened. “The...? Wow, it really tears you up, doesn’t it?”
Cora’s jaw tensed as she continued to dab concealer over each bruise. “If you saw how many times they stick things in you, you’d think this was mild.”
