Liquid steel burns my veins, annihilating the pathetic protective streak. Hailey deserves pain. It’s her own goddamn fault she’s here.
My fingers cinch the coffee mug, squeezing hard as I lift it to my lips, letting the bittersweet aroma smooth my agitated mind. I’ve never been this confused, this torn.
“My dad thinks it might be helpful to write my flashbacks down so I can refer back to them if I get any more,” she continues, oblivious to the battle raging inside me.
“How many so far?”
She bites the inside of her cheek, eyes drilling into mine. It’s clear she doesn’t trust me one bit but... shewantsto.
Bad choice.
“Only two.”
“Two? You already filled ten pages.”
Her cheeks flush pink and the blush spreads lower, down her scarf-covered neck, and lower still to disappear under the neckline of her delicate, knitted sweater.
My imagination breaks off the leash, painting a vivid picture of what I can’t see and... fuck. It’s distracting.
She’s distracting.
With a sigh, she moves her arms, turning the notepad my way and quickly flicks through the colorful pages.
“Everything in black is memories as I saw them play out in my head. Questions they prompt are in red, other questions in yellow, possible answers in orange. Purple is for things that changed about... about me in the past two years.”
She turns the pages too fast, but I catch a few questions scattered across the margins.
Who was driving?
Where is Alex?
Why did we move to Ohio?
“Pink is for things that don’t make sense,” she continues, still flicking back and forth. “I can’t explain them in any rational way like—” She stops abruptly, eyes widening.
“Like...?”
She claps the notebook closed, tucking it deep into her purse, a resigned sigh escaping her lips. “Like why instead of black jeans and baggy t-shirts I have cute dresses, skirts, and silk scarves.” She points at her neck, smoothly changing the subject.
That’s not what she was about to say. She pivoted, not trusting me enough to share anything important.
“So your style changed?” I ask, playing her game.
Poking and prodding will only strengthen the defenses I need to work on dismantling as soon as possible so she’ll trust me enough to share her memories.
She nods, accepting the fresh coffee from the waitress, her eyes sparkling when a slice of apple pie lands beside it.
Yes, pretty girl, I pay attention.
“I don’t like this style,” she mutters, tugging the deep neckline of her dusty-pink sweater.
Now that she mentioned it, it does seem odd, trying to cover her skin with scarves and flimsy cardigans. I’d expect her to cover up completely. Especially since she’s obviously not comfortable showing this much skin.
“I haven’t seen you wearing a baggy t-shirt, so I can’t compare but I assume that fine ass of yours looks as good in jeans as it does in skirts.”
She smiles, catching the teasing hint in my tone. It’s fake. I’m not joking. Her assisdamn near perfect, but Hailey’s guarded so the flirting must be subtle.
Her lips part, a clever retort at the ready, I bet, but my phone rings again, cutting our conversation short.
