Page 6 of Bad Man on Campus

In other words, even if I am still a hot mess, no one at SPU will blink an eye.

On the other hand, Kace will want to hold me to a higher standard, the standard of my old well-adjusted, carefree self. The one without a permanent limp in her soul and a penchant for drinking beer for extra courage.

Right now, I wish I had another bottle. Or two. He opens the door and the interior light pops on. He studies me like I’m a diamond and he’s looking for flaws. I know where all the scrapes and dents are, but I’m not ready to show them in spite of my initial spurt of bravery. It was a shallow well, apparently.

“You sure you want to come inside?” he whispers then takes a deep breath. “It was a shock for me yesterday when I came home—the stillness, the sameness of everything, even the smells of the place were the same as always. Like I walked into a time capsule.”

He looks at the dashboard as if it’s a teleprompter and he’s reading his lines, except his words come from a deep intimate place inside. I know he’s sharing his soul, trying to let go of the ghost that haunts him.

“Except Sky isn’t there. Mom’s not there. I don’t know how my dad fucking stands it.”

“Did you ask him?”

He closes his eyes and makes a derisive sound that should be a laugh. “No. Talking about Sky is off-limits according to his fianc—his new wife.” His words cut the air and his mouth tightens like he’s trying to hold a feather between his lips. My hand reaches out to him and he takes it.

“Let’s go inside. The kitchen is safe. I’ll make us something to eat and we can talk,” he says and we share an unspoken truth. Sky never cooked, avoided the kitchen like it was purgatory. It was her mom’s domain and she was her daddy’s girl.

Hopping from the car, I don’t bother to wait for him to open my door, though he would. He catches up with me in a couple strides of his long, strong legs and we head for the back door. It’s unlocked, like it always was, and he pushes it open. A breath bursts from me like I’ve forgotten to breathe until we step inside and then dizziness spins me around as the familiarity combines with the horror of the last time I was here. Kace squeezes my hand.

“Glory, you okay? Maybe we shouldn’t have—”

“No.” I shake my head, force myself into the here and now, pinching my arm and taking a deep breath. “It’s fine. I just needed a moment. It’s … strange.” That’s not the right word. Emotions well up, none of them good, so I pack them back down and stare into his eyes like he’s my savior, which is weak. I look away and take a few steps with false bravado deep into the kitchen. Fake it till you make it, right?

He follows me, his heat close, and turns on all the lights. He’s in his element here and I focus on him, on everything about him because that’s why I’m here, right? To drink him in, to reconnect, to appreciate the man he’s become and give him whatever I have to build something new.

He goes around the island to the gas stovetop and takes out a griddle.

“What are you making?”

“Grilled bologna and potato chip sandwiches.” He grins. “For some reason, I’m in a nostalgic mood.” He looks around. “We should be celebrating her instead of mourning her, Glory. Let’s start with eating her favorite meal together tonight. I have a feeling she would like that.” He looks up. I see the gleam in his eye before he takes a deep breath, turns on the burner, then goes to the fridge.

“You’re right,” I say, not believing it. My guilt still too big, but I take a step past it and go for the bread drawer and find what we need. His dad is one of those predictable guys, the kind that could be labeled neurotic by the people-labelers. I retrieve the bag of Wonder Bread and open the cabinet door where the chips used to be kept to find the usual assortment.

“It’s like we never left, like we’re eighteen years old,” I say almost to myself.

“That’s Dad. It’s a wonder he conceded to the major change of marrying a new woman. But I think he’s too horny to go without and Sally insisted on marriage.” His tone is relatively neutral, the derision toned down.

“You don’t like her?”

He shrugs. “It’s not that.”

“It’s that you’re like your dad and you don’t like change?”

He gives me the finger with a grin because we both know they’re opposites, that he’s more like his mom, a go-with-the-flow guy, easy and accommodating. If he wasn’t, I would never have gotten away with invading his night tonight.

“Truth is, I don’t know her. She doesn’t know me. But she tries too hard and doesn’t come off as genuine.” He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter, though, does it?” He looks at me. “Because I’m never coming back home to live. Ever.”

“I don’t blame you.” Maybe I’ll get to that point, but I don’t feel the need the same way he does. My family didn’t fall apart that night like his did. He butters the bread and assembles the bologna and chips then puts the sandwich on the griddle. A satisfying sizzle of steam rises with the delicious smell of my childhood and memories of happiness and giggling and playful shoving, all the things that accompanied our time in this kitchen.

I was friends with Kace before I was friends with Sky, but it didn’t take long for my relationship to cement with her when we found ourselves on the same school bus after spending the summer playing at the community pool.

“Want to hear what the kids at the church day care did for me on my last day?” I say, suddenly needing to come back to the present. It’s where I have to be. Even here in this kitchen honoring Sky with late-night bologna and potato chip sandwiches.

“Let me guess—they drew pictures of you and made construction paper cards.”

“Close. They drew pictures of me with them on balloons and signed them, giving me a big bouquet. They’re made of mylar so I can keep them when they deflate—sometime next year.” I grin, a fresh boost of happy from just thinking about all their little faces lifting my heart.

He smiles and puts my sandwich on a paper plate, adding a pickle slice to mine and a dollop of ketchup to his.