Page 36 of Older
Leather belts.
Mean, acidic words.
Loveless looks that were forever tattooed on my heart like a hot iron brand.
Selfishly deceiving a good man.
A few quiet seconds rolled by before he spoke. “I don’t hold on to grudges, Halley. I’m too old for that shit.”
He was subtly reminding me of his age, and even in my weakened state, I knew that. Forcing a small nod, I fell further against him, my temple pressed to the hard ridges of his shoulder. “That night didn’t mean anything…right?”
“Right.” The response was strained, just a whisper, almost like he didn’t believe it.
I licked my lips, my eyelids drawing closed. “But…maybe it could’ve meant something. If I’d been older…and less lost.”
He didn’t reply to that, and I hadn’t expected him to. I should probably be embarrassed, but the sickness was possessing my tongue, clouding my reality, so I allowed the words to dangle between us, unbidden and unwelcome. I focused on the feel of his warm body pressed to mine, knowing I’d soon drift away to a kinder world.
We could meet at the lake again, and everything would be different. He’d venture into the water, or I’d slip onto the sand.
Until I Fall Away echoed in my ears, mingling with his steady breaths, and sleep soon stole me away. But I swore I heard him mutter one last thing before I sailed into darkness…
“Happy birthday.”
Hours later, I awoke, drenched in cold sweat. A warm body was beside me, but when my eyelids flickered open, I discovered that Reed was gone.
Ladybug was curled up near my legs.
I reached a hand down to pet her fur, and she sighed contentedly at the attention, inching closer to me and giving me added warmth. The room was dim, the sun having already set. I pulled up on my elbows, shaking damp strands of hair out of my eyes as I glanced around the quiet room.
The CD had run its course. All I heard was commotion from downstairs—Tara laughing, dishes clattering, and Whitney chatting with somebody with a cheerful lilt in her tone.
I listened for Reed’s voice; I didn’t hear him.
But as I turned to face the nightstand, my empty stomach grumbling and craving that soup…
I saw something.
I blinked.
Smiled wide.
And for as sick as I was, I had never felt better.
Resting on the nightstand was the new Oasis CD, topped with a little pink bow.
CHAPTER 7
A week after my forty-eight hour flu bug had run its course, I was sitting out on the back deck, bundled up in one of Tara’s pale-pink North Face puffy coats and a pair of fuzzy earmuffs. Ladybug skipped around the backyard, leaping across the stubborn patches of snow as she chased a red rubber ball.
I lived for these moments: the crisp February air biting at my cheeks, a big wooden deck with a charcoal grill I couldn’t wait to use when springtime surfaced, and a golden retriever with a swiftly wagging tail who loved me like I was part of the family.
Smiling at the scene, I reached for my mug of coffee that sat beside me on a glass table. I curled my legs up on the white plastic chair and palmed the still-warm ceramic, savoring the quiet Sunday afternoon as Tara and her mom reorganized Tara’s bedroom.
I glanced up when the patio door rolled open.
Expecting Tara to come bounding out, I had my grin ready, but it wilted to a flat line when Reed stepped out on the wooden deck planks, instead.
It didn’t wilt because I was unhappy to see him, or because the sight of him brought me something other than spine-tingling heat and heart-clogging joy.