Nothing but a pile of shit that meant nothing to me, which left me with even more questions.
I cut out early. After I shoved everything into a garbage bag, Max and I stared at each other through blurry eyes. “Why don’t you just get out of here for today, Dean. Go home. Have a few beers. Forget.”
“Some things you never get to forget,” I said under my breath, but I went home anyway. Hoping at least for some sort of solace.
Around the corner from my house, I pulled over and cried.
Sobbed, really.
I cried for my friend, who had to have been in so much pain to do what he did. I cried for failing him and for not knowing how to help him when he needed it the most. It took thirty minutes and a few bloody knuckles against my dashboard to calm myself down enough to get to my house.
Backing into my driveway, I saw the neighbor’s daughter fighting with a giant mattress on her front lawn. The scene was absolutely absurd, and on a better day, I would have snapped a few photos of the ridiculous feat and memed the crap out of it. “Hey,” I called out to her as I climbed out of the car. “You need a hand with that?”
Liv bolted straight up, and the mattress flopped flat on the ground. It was good that the damn thing was completely covered with plastic. Her front yard was full of mud and slush.
She held a hand over her eyes to block out the bright sun, another jammed up high on her hip. “Thanks, but I’m doing fine,” she answered.
“If by ‘fine’ you mean losing a street fight with a mattress…” I said.
“Go away, Dean,” she huffed, angrily.
What the shit? Immediately, I racked my brain for anything I did to offend her in the last two days I’d seen her here. Nothing came to mind. “You’re mad at me for something?” I asked, folding my arms across my chest. “Last time I saw you, I think I pretty much saved your mother’s life. Or am I mistaken?”
She glared at me, and I suddenly remembered her eating a slice of pizza.
I cocked my head, trying to bring the memory into focus. “Why do I have a blurry image of you, me, pizza, and porn?”
“Because thatwasour night last night,” she said with a small smile tugging at her lips.
“Oh damn,” I sighed. “I hope I didn’t say anything inappropriate. Did I? Or did I do something?” Suddenly, the way she was looking at me made me feel all kinds of messed up.
“No,” she sighed, letting her shoulders drop. She brushed a strand of flyaway hair from her face and waved her hand at me. “You were fine. It was just a really good slice of pizza.”
What the hell could that possibly mean in girl language?
“I feel like I’m missing something here…”
Her smile widened mischievously, and my chest tightened. She was beautiful. And shit, if I thought that now, what could I have said to her drunk last night? The possibilities made my already tight chest harden into knots. “Honestly. What happened last night?” I asked seriously.
“We ate pizza, and you had a temper tantrum,” she said with a teasing snicker.
“So, I didn’t sleep with you?” I asked, quietly.
“What? Definitely not!” she yelped, and smacked my arm. “Where would you get that idea from?”
My shoulders instantly relaxed, and air raced back into my lungs. For a split second, the tension I felt coming from her made me think I had done something stupid and out of character. “I honestly don’t know. I mean, I’m standing here hoping that didn’t happen, because that would be something horrible to forget, you know? I’d want to remember that, I think,” I said, trying to lighten the strain between us.
Her cheeks darkened, and she looked away. “You were always a big flirt.”
“Yeah, not so much any more,” I whispered. There wasn’t much time to flirt or meet new people. Not for me, I had a hard time trusting new people or just dealing with them in general.
Even before Thomas’ suicide.
She rubbed nervously at the back of her neck and looked down at the mattress. The world kind of fell away behind her, drained of all color, but her rosy red cheeks, and the burning color that traveled down her neck.
I found myself liking the idea of making her blush. Then, I cut the thought dead. I cleared my throat and politely smiled at her. “So what’s going on with your mother? Did you touch any of her stuff?” Being the wise-ass seemed a safe place to stay.
Her smile got wider and for a moment, a brief one, I forgot about being so angry, so full of grief.
