I woke to Jacks scowling above me. "Hey, I heard what happened to you. I'm so sorry. Why didn't you tell me?"
After Harry left, I just sat in my living room watching trash television, and then I probably went up to sleep. I honestly don't remember.
I frown, not understanding how he knows about the woods, then I realize he probably saw Mr. Warner. "Did you see Mr. Warner then?"
His face falls solemnly and he nods. "He told me to tell you that it wasn't your fault and that he's glad that you guys got out, and it's because of you that Duncan is alive. I should thank you for saving my best friend, by the way."
Jacks is clasping his hands close to his sides as if he's contemplating baling them into fists and punching something. Even if he did, it wouldn't cause any damage. He knows he can cause some real damage with focused energy, but he refuses to talk about that sort of thing.
He looks paler, and I reach out, then instinctively touch his hand. His eyes widen a fraction, and he grips my skin tighter as if resisting some invisible force. Skin color returns to his skin, and he lets out a moan. of pleasure bordering on sexual.
And for some reason I'm not letting go of him, even when his eyes are locked on me silently begging for something. Something stretched between the two of us, something that I was familiar with. For a second, images of that night came back to me—his skin on mine and how it felt—but another image also stayed longer than the others. Whore.
I could not let him get to me. I could not do this with him. No matter how much my body ached for another round, knowing who I was speaking to was important.
I made out an audible cough. I let go of his arm, he tried to shake his head as probably shaking off whatever that was.
He sat on my bed, fisting the bed sheets, then releasing it in the huff. He left his arms splayed over my blanket inches away from my legs, now tucking into a sitting position as I had my arms hugging my knees. He looked at me, his lips pursed in a frown. "Are you okay?"
I hated that he asked again. I hated that he cared, and above all, I hated that I cared about him asking.
"Why do you care?"
I didn't mean to ask it, but the words came out anyway. Jacks looks so offended that he backs away from me, his face falling even further.
He stays quiet, seeing his mind working. His entire body strains, and I think I almost do not hear it until he whispers, "Because I care about you."
"Bullshit! You want me to help you with your ghost shit. You want me to recharge you like a fucking phone every time you come over because I am …"
He cut me off, his face turning into anger, roaring ".... Because you are the only thing that is keeping me on this side of living."
"You barely know me," I mutter under my breath, and although it's quiet, he still hears me somehow; he always does."
His face turns solemn as he laughs, and it's a hollow laugh, a mocking one. "Really? I don't know you?"
That laugh makes me angry and fuming, and I shuffle away in the bed, turning to get out of it, but he blocks my path, holding my knees into the mattress. He stares right into my eyes, burning. Heat feels like it should burn but only soothes me in a way that my body should really not like.
He leans over, going near my lips, and I go rigid. When I think he's going to do something I really don't want to think about. He goes for the side of my face, my ear, and whispers, "Purple bow with polka dots."
My brow creases. What the fuck?
He looks aside, his eyes glazed as if lost in memory. "It was the first day of school. That's what you had. You were very proud of it."
I stare at him, disbelieving, but he keeps going as if I'm not even there. "You were so smiley at the gate. Your mom was scolding you for a smudge on your dress. I never thought that a person could smile that much. That day was one of the worst ones. In my life, my mom moved us after the divorce to her boyfriend's place. Although I didn't want to leave behind my friends, she didn't listen to me. She never does."
A smile tugs on his lips, but his words are so sad, so heart-wrenchingly honest. A thought occurred to me that he might smile a lot, but I don't think he knows how truly broken he is.
"You can say I love things about me, but you can't say that I don't know you."
He stays quiet for so long that I think he will never talk, so I say something first because this silence will kill me. "So why didn't you talk to me at school?"
He opens his mouth, but I answer for him because I'm not sure I'm going to like the answer. "Because you would never come anywhere near me," I laugh.
It's a maniacal one, one that turns my belly into knots. I laugh and laugh, despite the tears. I see his face, concern written in every rigid line of his handsome features. I opened my mouth to ask him what's wrong, but I can hear the screeching of wheels coming up the driveway.
They're here. Fuck my life. My parents are back from their fucking vacation. Yay.
------
"It was one thing with the party, but totally another to get up in the storm in the middle of the woods. You could have died!"
Mom scolded me with a pointed finger in the living room. She summoned me as soon as she got back home. Dad quiet for all of it, standing by Mom and their suitcases stood by the door. I got punished for the party and had to trim down the lawn, paint the shed, and help with every house tour she could come up with.
My mom always thought the worst of my actions. No matter what I did, someone from school called. There has to be something wrong with me winning an award for science class. came back home bruised? It has to be my fault that I fell out of the public bus after some idiot tripped me.
The tingling of guilt came back. After all, I went for that vacation to unwind after Mom lost...
Grief flooded back into my chest, and I scolded myself for showing the emotion on my face. Mom's face softened, and she huffed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She looked at Dad for help, but he just shrugged. "I'm happy alive, baby girl." He gave me a small smile, and I gave him one back.
"What were you doing at the woods?"
I clamped my mouth shut. I didn't tell them about the search party because I honestly could not think of a reason that I could give my parents that would be believable. They knew me too well. I just went out of my way to find Jack's just because you showed up at my party, and although part of me wanted to tell Mom all about what Grandma said at her last moment before she left, I knew she would think I was crazy.
There was a reason why we didn't talk to Grandma for years now.
Mom didn't like Grandma tell me about the other side and how she could see ghosts all she did was take me to the funeral house to tell me about how ghosts like to linger for funerals. great gossip and all that. Mom find us and yelled "don't put things into my daughter's head
The very last time I saw her grandma before we lost contact, she was maybe on the other side of town, but that might as well have been Mars because Mom forbade me to have any contact—no calling, texting, or going to her house.
I guess I stayed quiet for a while because she started to frown at me. I coughed quickly, saying "I just went up a track and ended up at the storm." Then I quickly added, "Then I found Duncan, and we both hid until the storm was over."
The frown in her brow creases into the full-on glare, "Who is Duncan?"
"A guy in my school. He was doing the same track as me, and we accidentally found each other. "I was full-on rambling by now, but I couldn't stop myself. "I was lucky to find him, Mom. He kept me safe. I passed out. I didn't know where I was until I got back home. he even brought soup," I pointed defensively to the counter with the empty pot.
She turned her back to me, but I could have sworn she muttered under her breath, "I could make soup."
I could have sworn Dad bit down laughing, and we both shared an amused look. "Are you rested for tomorrow's school?" she said.
I am nodding.
"You can take a sick day off." I lifted my eyebrows at that insinuation because she never let me take a day off. I once went to school with a forty-degree fever because Mom said that unless I was chained to a hospital bed, I was not missing school.
If she were offering that, I didn't really know what to think of the situation. Was she feeling.... guilty? Damn.
I considered the situation. I really didn't feel like going anywhere, and I really wanted to stay home, and I was not going to give up the chance to stay on her good side, so I nodded. My hand got to the back of my neck, rubbing on the sensitive part. "I'll get back upstairs."
Dad flung his hands and pulled me into a hug. I squeezed tight, letting him know that I love him. I did the same to Mom, and I got back to my room. Jacks was nowhere to be found, and I was glad for it.
Right?
I had to be. Because this is how it had to be. He was dead, I was alive. I didn't give a shit about him, I just had to remind my body of that.