No.
I tried to cover myself, wrenched over as I sobbed.
Janel just sneered. “You should have known better than to fuck with me.”
Then it hit me. A pie. Splattering. Blueberries in my hair, streaking down my chest, dripping on my belly.
Howls of laughter.
“Happy birthday, Rynna,” Janel mocked. She tossed me my dress.
I gasped out in relief, scrambling to gather the fabric that landed two feet in front of me and hugged it against my body.
Jeers and abuse struck me from all sides, and I clutched the material to my chest, as if it might stand the chance to shield me from the torment.
Take it away.
Hide me.
The confession tumbled from me on a downpour of tears. Rex clung to me, horror in his posture as he held me as close as he possibly could.
“I ran home. Mortified. Knowing those pictures were going to be plastered all over the school the next day. Knowing my gramma would see them and know what I’d done. So I ran. I ran and ran and ran and I never stopped running, Rex. Not until I came back here.”
Not until I’d collided with this mesmerizing man.
“Rynna, what’s going on?” The sleepy voice filled with concern hit me from behind.
Torment lashed like the crack of a whip. My eyes slammed closed, and the words trembled from my mouth. “I’m so sorry, Gramma, but I’ve got to go.”
The floor creaked with my grandmother’s footsteps. She sucked in a breath when she rounded me, shocked by my battered appearance. “Oh my lord, what happened to you?” Her voice quivered. “Who hurt you? Tell me, Rynna. Who hurt you? I won’t stand for it.”
Vigorously, I shook my head, finding the lie. “No one. I just . . . I can’t stay in this stupid town for a second more. I’m going to find Mama.”
I hated it. The way the mention of my mother contorted my gramma’s face in agony.
“What are you sayin’?”
“I’m saying, I’m leaving.”
A weathered hand reached out to grip my forearm. “But graduation is just next month. You’ve got to do your speech. Walk across the stage in your cap and gown. Never seen anyone so excited about somethin’ in all my life. Now you’re just gonna up and leave? If you can’t trust me, then you can’t trust anyone. Tell me what happened tonight. You left here just as happy as a bug in a rug, and now you aren’t doing anything but runnin’ scared.”
Tears streaking down my dirty cheeks, I forced myself to look at the woman who meant everything to me. “You’re the only person I can trust, Gramma. That’s why I’ve got to go. Let’s leave it at that.”
Anguish creased my grandmother’s aged face. “Rynna, I won’t let you just walk out like this.”
She reached out and brushed a tear from under my eye. Softly, she tilted her head to the side, that same tender smile she had watched me with at least a million times hinting at the corner of her mouth. “Don’t you ever forget, if you aren’t laughing, you’re crying. Now, which would you rather be doin’?” She paused, and I couldn’t bring myself to answer. “Wipe those tears, and let’s figure something out. Just like we always do.”
Sadness swelled like its own being in the tiny room. Loss. Regret. Like an echo of every breath of encouragement my grandmother had ever whispered in my ear. “I can’t stay here, Gramma. Please don’t ask me to.”
With the plea, my grandmother winced. Quickly, I dipped down to place a lingering kiss to her cheek, breathing in the ever-present scent of vanilla and sugar, committing it to memory.
Then I tugged my suitcase from the bed and started for the door.
Gramma reached for me, fingertips brushing my arm, begging, “Rynna, don’t go. Please, don’t leave me like this. There’s nothing that’s so bad that I won’t understand. That we can’t fix.”
I didn’t slow. Didn’t answer.
I ran.
