“Yeah, obviously,” I reply.
He shakes his head. “No, not the thunder or the rain. It sounded like a crash,” he says. “In the distance.” Nope. I didn’t hear anything. His catlike SEAL reflexes must be on alert. When he pulls away from me and stands from the bed, his eyes arenarrowed out the window, his gait sure and steady. It looks like he’s entered another mode—another skin.
“My bike is gone,” he whispers.
I jump out of bed and grab my phone, and then the horrified, sickening feeling rages in my stomach. “I didn’t turn the alarm back on,” I whisper.
“What?” Leif says, turning to look at me over his shoulder.
I run to the living room, and sure enough, the front door is wide open, the rain blowing in anytime a gust of wind strikes. “My mom. She’s gone. She left,” I scream out, but Leif is already out the front door at a pace that seems inhuman. “I didn’t turn the alarms back on,” I say to myself. How could I forget? Why would I turn them off and forget? What is wrong with me? Staring at the cell phone screen and the red disarmed buttons, I close my eyes and take a silent, horrified breath. “I did this. It’s my fault. It’s always my fault.”
I step into the rain and am soaked in seconds, my hair plastered across my forehead. With bare feet, I make my way down the driveway to the main road and look both left and right. When do I call the police? Now? The road is silent, we only have a few houses on our street, but there are a ton of trails cutting through the thick brush-like woods that surround our house. It’s from one of these trails that Leif appears several feet from where I stand, a rain-soaked hero, my mother sobbing silently in his arms.
“Get the car, Malena,” he calls out the order. “Her wrist is broken. She took a fall on the bike.” Her pink nightgown is covered in dark muddy spots highlighted by a lone, blinking streetlight. Turning on my heel, I start my car and run back to the house to throw on actual clothing and grab Leif’s shirt off the edge of the bed, a sight I’ll probably never see again.
He’s buckling her into the back seat when I peer out the window on my way to Mom’s room to get her clean clothes.When I get to the front door to exit, Leif is standing there, running his hands through his soaked hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t hear her sooner,” he mutters, shaking his head, unable to meet my eyes. “I’m losing it.”
“No, I’m sorry,” I say, tears threatening. “I’m always going to be the one who needs you more than you need me. That’s not fair to you.”
Leif puts his hands on either side of my face. “Malena, stop it. You can’t help what happened. This isn’t your fault,” he says, anger lacing his words. This time, I do cry. Hard and furious. He folds me into his cold, wet arms. “This is going to keep happening,” Leif adds. I hear it. The words he left unsaid.If you don’t do something about it.
This is my lifeline. My phone a friend. My Hail Mary. If I don’t recognize it, I’d be a daft, dumb woman, and I’m not that. “Please help me, Leif. Call Celia? I need more help. She needs more,” I whisper through sobs. “She deserves more.”
He nods against my head and promises to get everything sorted as quickly as humanly possible. I believe him. He shrugs on the shirt I offer and shivers against the cold rain. I get in on the driver’s side, and he shuts the door behind me. Rolling down the window, I’m going to thank him again, but he leans in and kisses me instead.
“Drive safe. Call me when you get there,” he says, then turns his eyes to my mom. “Feel better, Ms. Winterset.” Leif meets my gaze, the rain soaking through his shirt. “Call me,” he says, nodding his head. “I’m going to fix everything. Don’t worry about a thing.” He kisses me again. Slower this time, a hesitance to let me go, lips lingering, fingers caressing my face.
It was a kiss of a man who cares about a woman.
Leif just entered my bloodstream. With a kiss, he arrived and will never leave. His mouth left a stain on my soul.
Bringing my fingers up to my own lips as I drive toward the emergency room, I let the shock of my realization seep in. I’m falling for Leif Andersson. Better yet, I’ve already fallen for him.
All at once.
Because of a connection so strong I never knew it could exist. Is it breaking a rule if I don’t tell him?
SEVEN
Leif
Eva and Celiaare sitting across from me at the diner, the concerned looks on their faces making my stomach flip. They’re in parenting mode even though they aren’t my parents. Silently, I wonder if this is what every youngest sibling has to go through. This time it’s my fault. I asked them to meet me here in an effort to put it all on the table. Well, most of it anyway.
“She doesn’t seem stable. Are you sure you want to get mixed up in this?” Eva asks, glancing at Celia, then me. She sips her coffee slowly, giving me a chance to pick the correct words.
How do I tell her it’s too late? That I broke my own damn rule without my own consent. Talking to Malena all week, learning things about her, and discovering character traits I didn’t know I wanted culminated in a desire so strong I ended up at her house in the middle of the damn night. I chug down half of my water bottle.
Celia inserts, “We’re good people, Eva. I’ll help Malena regardless of Leif getting mixed up with her problems. It’s the right thing to do.”
Eva sends a pointed look to our sister. “We both know that’s not the question,” Eva barks, looks at me, and continues. “Why are you helping her this much? You told me you’re her friend. This is more than a friend, just as I suspected. Her home life is a wreck. A father who abandoned her, a mother who is certifiable.”
“Hey,” I cut in. “Don’t talk like that.”
“I agree, Eva. Don’t be a bitch. Just because our family is ideal doesn’t mean that’s the norm,” Celia says.
“Ideal?” I ask, eyes wide. “This isn’t ideal or normal. An ideal family would help without question. Without judging.” I shake my head, settling back into the booth. I remind myself to keep my voice down. Caroline, one of Malena’s best friends, works here, and she’s glanced over here a few times since this insane conversation began.
“Celia,” I say, looking at the more rational sister—the one who has already helped me without asking too many questions about my emotions. “You got Ms. Winterset into Garden Breeze. That’s the best one in the surrounding areas, right? When can she check in?”
