Please.
Please let them be sleeping.
Please let us get in and out without waking anyone.
Please,for fuck’s sake, don’t make me face him.
I pause in front of the door, Alex right behind me. I don’t even know what I’m feeling or how to deal with any of it. I’m shaking and sick and angry and terrified. Mostly terrified. And I want to turn and run. Get as far away as I can.
But I can’t do that. At least not yet.
Alex moves up even closer, his body nearly touching mine, and I feel his warmth. How he gives me so much strength and courage, how just his presence makes me feel safer, I’m not even sure. But I can’t deny that I’m secretly glad he insisted on coming, despite the dark pit of shame in my stomach.
“I’m not going to let anything hurt you,” he says quietly, as though he knows I need to hear it. Then, because he’s just the best person ever, he adds, “Fuck him.”
I almost laugh at the curse; I could probably count on one hand how many times I’ve heard Alex say the f-word. But the situation definitely calls for it. I turn my head and glance over my shoulder at him, and he shrugs with a half smile. Then he gets serious again.
“Ready?”
I nod, even though the answer’s a definiteno, and I reach out and turn the doorknob. My mom never locks up at night—small town, secluded house well off the main road, and all that—and I’m thankful for that right now as the door opens with only its usual squeak.
All the lights are off, and it’s silent—two more points in our favor. I step inside ahead of Alex, and he follows right behind me, shutting the door quietly.
I’ve lived here my whole life, and yet, right now, the house feels completely unfamiliar. It’s not. Not really, anyway. Nothing has really changed, except that the kitchen table is a mess, the sink is full of unwashed dishes, and there are empty beer bottles on the counter and coffee table. There’s also a staleness in the air, a thick heaviness that stops me from moving.
“Come on, let’s go,” Alex whispers, and then—god—his hand sets low on my back. My heart skips a beat or maybe two, and when he presses into me with a gentle encouragement, heat rushes through me, fast and strong. It’s a good distraction. Averygood distraction.
I nod and blink back the feeling that I shouldn’t be here, in my own home, and I get my feet to move. My room is right at the beginning of the hallway—another point for us, since we don’t have to walk past Mom’s room to get to mine. The door’s open, even though I know I left it closed on Friday night, but I suppose that’s better for us now. I walk in ahead of Alex, and he closes the door behind us, again. I head straight to the bed, stepping over the dirty laundry I left on the floor, and I grab my backpack, dump out all my notes and school folders and other things I don’t need anymore, and turn back to Alex.
My heart’s racing as our eyes meet, and before I can even ask the question that’s on the tip of my tongue, he nods.
“Grab as much as you can now,” Alex says, keeping his voice low. “Whatever you need for today, at least. We’ll come back for more later in the week, when he’s not here.”
It hurts and doesn’t at the same time, and I blink and look down at my shoes. “Your mom won’t mind?”
“Of course not.”
I know this. Laina Hayes has never been anything but extra nice to me and has always seemed to be happy to have me over. But I needed him to say it anyway. I look back up at him, and he gives me this knowing nod that’s warm and caring.
“Really,” he says, his tone taking on a softness I’m not sure I’ve ever heard before, even from him. He steps closer to me, and with a half smile that I can also see in his eyes, he adds, “I’ll talk to her today, but I’m sure it won’t be a problem. You shouldn’t be here anymore if he’s going to be here.”
I just nod. He’s right, after all. I swallow tightly and then step over to my dresser and start stuffing clothes into my backpack.
“Anything else you need that I can grab?” he asks in a low whisper, and I frown and glance over my shoulder at him as I shove a few pairs of briefs into my backpack.
“Uh, no. I—I’ll get everything,” I say, stumbling over the answer. It would feel weird to have him digging in my dirty jeans on the floor to get my keys and wallet. And the only other thing I want to make sure I have is buried in the back of my middle dresser drawer anyway.
I close the top drawer and open the middle one, and then I pull out a shopping bag that contains a set of new clothes—a pair of slacks, a belt, and a polo shirt—that I bought with what little money I managed to save up over the last few months. I stuff the bag in my backpack and frown, my shoulders tensing. Alex’s eyes are still on me, I can feel them. Hopefully he’s not really paying attention, though, because evenhedoesn’t know mysketchbook exists.
I shift a little to block his view and then reach into the back left corner of the drawer, under a few neatly folded pairs of pants that I never wear because they don’t fit me anymore, and grab my sketchbook and pencil bag. The pencils rattle around in the bag, and I flinch at the distinct noise.
Fuck. Please don’t ask. Please don’t ask.
Without turning around to look at him, I slide the sketchbook into the backmost compartment of my backpack, along with the pencil bag, which makes another of those traitorous rattling sounds. Then I zip up the compartment and spin around to finish packing. Alex backs up as I bend over to pick up my dirty jeans, and I fish around for a few seconds in the pockets to get my wallet and keys. The jeans get tossed right back on the floor when I’m done. They’re not my favorite pair anyway.
Straightening up, I avoid Alex’s gaze and let my eyes drift around the room. I don’tneedanything else. At least not today. And the clothes I grabbed should be enough for a few days. But it feels strange, like this is the last time I’ll be here in this room. Like I’m getting kicked out. Like I really,reallydon’t belong here anymore. And that feeling is almost painful.
Is it a coincidence that the day I graduated high school was the day my mom let that asshole back in her life?
