They’re more than just famous. They’re human. I should’ve seen this from the start—I’m at fault here. I know that.
I didn’t break into their house because I knew there were babies and people inside, but that decision doesn’t free me from all the other shit ones I made.
I don’t know how to make amends for everything I’ve done. I’m not even sure I deserve forgiveness.
I’m not sure I want it.
But I have to say something. “It was stupid…I’m sorry…” I chew on my chapped lip. Did that sound sincere? Sickness churns inside of me. I am so fucking sorry.
Nothing I say will ever make it better.
So I think, just get to the point, Garrison. “Hey is Willow here?” I ask. “I know she’s a distant cousin, or whatever…”
Please be here.
“She’s coming around at two!” Lily tells me from inside.
“Lily,” Rose chides, opening the door slightly. Lily’s round face comes into view, and I notice how she tries to narrow her eyes at her older sister—but the glare looks goofier than menacing. Now that I think about it, I’ve never seen her chastise a single Superheroes & Scones employee.
“Willow and Garrison are co-workers,” Lily explains to Rose.
And then Loren Hale appears. Hand on the door, he pries it from Rose’s grip. The door slams into the wall. I can suddenly see everyone.
Daisy is sitting on her boyfriend’s shoulders near the staircase, and she bends her head beneath the mistletoe, kissing him upside-down. They’re in their own world. Thankfully not really noticing me.
Loren places a protective hand on his wife’s waist, and she scoots near him. While he focuses on Lily, I wonder, do you hate me like everyone else now?
I wait for Loren to acknowledge my presence. Not afraid. Not afraid. I’m not afraid. His dark glare drives through me, and fear curdles my stomach. I can’t even lie to myself. Can’t even pretend like I don’t care what he thinks of me.
I do care.
Loren’s glower carries ten times the potency of Rose’s—and her pierced eyes already make me want to run off this stupid porch.
Voice sharp like daggers, he says, “A co-worker doesn’t show up on Christmas morning looking for another co-worker.”
Dropping my gaze, I scrape the icy stoop with my boot. “Does this mat say welcome under here? I can’t read it with all the snow.”
“He’s funny,” Rose says in a way that makes it seem like I’m decidedly not funny. She looks one second away from seeking revenge for the punch I sprayed on her and her daughter.
“You’re scary, no offense.” I cough into my glove and check over my shoulder, hoping Willow will show up early. I can still wait for her here. I look back. “You’re going to make me invite myself in, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
My eyes flit to each of them. Rose looks fucking murderous. Loren glares like I’m the shit on his shoe he scraped off yesterday but then reappeared today.
Lily is literally the only one that smiles, but it’s a weak, pitying smile. I don’t deserve anything more than that.
Each one intimidates me in their own right, but I’m trying to form words. For Willow. I’m trying.
Open-mouthed, my breath smokes the cold air. “I just…I wanted to tell her that…” I’m leaving. I let out a weak laugh, my eyes burning. Whatever. It’s all fucking over anyway, right? What’s done is done. It’s Christmas. I don’t need to shit on their holidays too. “Never mind, it’s fucking stupid…” I turn to leave.
Rose snatches my hoodie, and she physically tugs me backwards.
“What the fuck?” My heart lurches, and I spin around and quickly jerk from her hold, my pulse skipping. I frown deeply, not understanding Rose Calloway at all.
She should want me to leave. Not force me to stay.
“Are you asking her to prom?” Rose questions. “Because this is the most pathetic proposal I’ve ever seen. You need flowers, first of all.”
“I’m not asking her to prom.” My voice shakes. I can’t help it. Prom. I won’t even be at Dalton for prom. The cold realization ices me over more than the winter air. Just let it out. I lick my lips and say, “I came to tell her that I’m leaving, and I guess to tell you too.” I nod to Lily.
No more Superheroes & Scones. Shit. I glance at Loren, but he still glares, so I avert my gaze to the ground.
“What do you mean?” Lily asks.
Rose stares off in the distance, over my shoulder. Not paying attention to me anymore. She must see something because she grabs a coat from inside and slips on a pair of boots in the doorway.
I focus on Lily. “My parents handed me my only Christmas present this morning: a white envelope.” Bitterness dries out my voice. “I…they are withdrawing me from Dalton and sending me to this boarding school for ‘proper guidance’ to finish my senior year.”
Rose passes me on the stoop. Honestly, I’m glad she’s set her sight on someone other than me.
“Where is it?” Lily wonders.
“Upstate New York,” I say. “Faust Boarding School for Young Boys.”
Loren lets out a long laugh. Maybe he’s happy I’ll be out of his cousin’s life, but maybe not. I don’t know. His humor is too dry to read.
“Lo.” Lily elbows his waist. “Don’t be mean.”
My brows furrow, not understanding either of them. “What?”
“Connor went to Faust,” Loren explains, “and from the stories he’s shared, you won’t last a day.” He flashes a half-smile.
“Great,” I mutter and stare harder at the doormat. Coming here was a terrible idea. I just feel ten thousand times worse. I turn to leave, but his voice stops me.
“Hey,” Loren calls out. “You want to see my si—cousin Willow, right?” He stumbles over his words, but I zone in on the Willow part. Hope floods me for a second. Will he really let me stay?
“Yeah.” I nod over and over. “I just need to tell her about Faust. It won’t take long.”
Loren drapes his arms over his wife’s shoulders, pulling her back against his chest.
I swear she kind of unconsciously grinds her ass against him, but I try not to pay attention. If Lily noticed that I noticed, I think she’d be embarrassed.
Loren appraises me head to toe. “Connor says that I’m too forgiving—that you’ll probably bite my hand off if I extend it again.”
I won’t. I open my mouth to say the words, but a lump lodges in my throat. I feel sick.
Loren grimaces at me and then shakes his head. “Christ, I must be a masochist.” He nods to me. “You want to wait for Willow, then you have to do it outside. You’re not allowed in the house, got it?”
“Got it.”
“He’ll freeze,” Lily combats.
“Then he freezes, Lil. It’s his choice.”
Lily pouts like he’s being a dick.
Loren steals a kiss, and her cheeks flush bright red.
“You’re deflecting,” Lily notes.
“Me?” Loren feigns surprise. “Not me, love. I would never.”
I clear my throat, and Loren’s face contorts in a multitude of emotions. Landing on irritation. Lily starts advocating for me again—for maybe two or three full minutes—but it only makes Lo more and more pissed at me.
“I’ll be fine,” I suddenly say. Pulling my beanie further down, I warm my ears. “It’s why God created fleece-lined pants, right?”
“Let’s not give God credit for clothes,” Connor says as he saunters up the porch steps. He barely glances at me—like I’m not worthy of that attention. His face is utterly unreadable, but when he leans towards Loren, he says loudly, “He’s not coming in the house.”
Connor wanted me to hear that.
Loren nods. “He’ll be by the pool.”
At this, Connor disappears further into the house. He looks back as Rose picks up her confident gait and reaches his side. Hand-in-hand, they’re gone.
Lily detaches from her husband and race
s after them screeching, “What happened?!” Whatever that’s about, I’ll probably never know.
I’m lucky I’ve even been standing here this long.
Now it’s just me and Loren Hale.
Do you hate me? I want to ask, but I’m afraid. I can admit that this time.
Another dry smile dimples his cheeks, but then he nods towards the outside. “I’ll show you to the pool around back.”
“I can find it myself.”
“Just follow me.” He shuts the door and then passes me on the stairs. His sharp glare could kill.
I trail after him. So much rams into my brain. I can hardly make sense of anything, and some of which, it’s not my place to share. Like the guys at the mall, the ones that fucked with Willow because they personally hate Loren Hale.
I have no idea what’ll happen when I leave Willow alone at Dalton.
It makes me nauseous thinking about it.
I just realize I’m in the backyard, and Lo opens the pool gate.
I step inside. “I know you don’t like me,” I tell him, “but will you make sure that she’s okay when I’m gone?”
Lo freezes mid-step to the snow-covered lounge chairs. “I already do now.” His expression says, combat me. Tell me I’m wrong if I really am.
I nod a few times. “Okay.”
“If you know something—”
“Forget it, dude. I’m being an idiot.” I blink rapidly and stare up at the blue sky. “You hate me, right?”
I think I’m whiplashing him with my emotions, my swift detours, and he’s having trouble following my frantic mental pacing. “What?”
“You hate me,” I say, more forceful.
He laughs once. “Most of the goddamn universe is on my shit list.” With that, he walks off to the backdoor. Leaving me conflicted and confused again.
I’m standing knee-deep in the unknown.
19 BACK THEN – December
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
WILLOW MOORE
Age 17
I find Garrison waiting for me by Lo’s covered pool. Quickly, he stands off a lounge chair as I approach. The cold bites me through a puffy blue jacket and thin mittens, but I’d rather bear the winter with Garrison. A minute ago, I entered through the garage, and Lily said he was out back. And he had something important to tell me.
“Hi,” I breathe softly, scanning his solemn features.
Garrison cracks a few knuckles, on edge. “You should sit.” He brushes snow off another lounge chair for me.
My heart knots. Tension builds so rapidly, and for some reason, I feel like an avalanche looms in the horizon. I take a seat, and he sits on another lounge chair across from mine.
Garrison licks his lips and then says, “So…I saw your Tumblr post this morning.”
Is that what he wants to talk about…or is he just sidetracking? “Oh yeah.” I cup my cellphone in one of my mittens. Last night I made a post about X-Men: Evolution, the animated series. It was short and went something like:
Me: *sees Storm creating lightning and thunder*
Me: Strike me down, beautiful eternal goddess!
I nudge my glasses. “You didn’t think it was lame?”
Garrison looks like he wants to smile but can’t. “Have you checked your notifications lately?”
I slowly shake my head and remove a mitten. Fingers cold, I tap on my cellphone screen and pop open Tumblr.
I immediately smile. “You didn’t…” He did. Garrison made gifs of Storm from X-Men: Evolution where she wields lightning with her mutant powers. And he tagged me in them.
There aren’t many gifs of the X-Men animated series to begin with, and to have this—and know personally who made them, and that he made them for me—means more than he realizes.
“Merry Christmas,” he says. “Really, though, that isn’t the present I meant to give you.”
My smile fades, remembering that I forgot my Christmas present for him in my Honda. “I left my gift for you in my car. I didn’t know you’d be here right now, but I can go get it—”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says quickly. “I left mine for you at my house, too.”
So he’s not here to exchange gifts then. In the lingering silence, I fit my mitten back on, and Garrison hunches forward, winded by his thoughts alone.
“Can I tell you what I got you?” he asks. I think he must want to kill time before he unleashes the important news.
I nod tensely.
His blue-green eyes flit to my ears. “I know you always wear the star and the bat studs, but I thought you’d like something X-Men related.”
My lips stretch into an uncontrollable smile. “You got me earrings?”
“Yeah.” He pinches his fingers to try to describe them. “They’re X-shaped, with a circle around them.” The X-Men symbol.
A guy bought me a gift. A guy bought me jewelry. It’s hard to believe. “It’s perfect,” I say without thinking.
Garrison tilts his head. “You haven’t seen it yet.”
I push up my glasses again. A nervous tic now. “I don’t have to see it to know it’s perfect.” Because you bought it for me. “I made you something, so it’s probably not as good, and it’s sort of…”
His lips try desperately to lift. “What?”
“Dorky?” I cringe at myself. “It’s a scrapbook.” I just come right out and spoil it. Maggie would hate if I spoiled her about anything, and thankfully, she’s been texting me again as I update her on my life with Garrison Abbey.
I have to constantly censor myself with my friend from Maine, so it’s not as easy talking with Maggie as it is with Daisy Calloway. Recently, I’ve noticed that more and more.
“A scrapbook of what?” He takes off his beanie to rake his hair out of his eyes.
Sometimes (a lot of the time) his whole bad boy persona intimidates me. The tattoos, the skillful sarcasm, and the good looks, but he’s always gentle with me. He has his mother’s innate and natural beauty, I’ve realized, and of the pictures I’ve seen of his father, he has his hair and lean build.
“Um…it’s hard to explain. I’ll just have to show you later.” My heart races at the sight of this person I really, really like. I can’t imagine not crossing paths with him. Not becoming friends. I can’t imagine my life without the company of Garrison Abbey.
He stares at me for a really long moment. His deep expression practically caresses my cheeks. My chest swells, and I find myself covering my face with my mitten-hands. I feel undone, and we’re just sitting across from one another.
“Hey,” he whispers, his voice low. Garrison stands and brushes off more snow beside me, and then he takes a seat next to me on the lounge chair. Our shoulders touch, but good nerves swarm me.
Nerves that shout, “Carpe Diem, Willow Moore!”
“I’m glad you’re here,” I suddenly say what I feel. Instantly, the bottom of my stomach plunges and I regret every single word.
His features contort, breaking and breaking. Then he rubs his face with his gloved hand.
I hold onto my knees. Lost for words. I can’t look at him, but I feel him drop his hand and turn his head towards me, studying my anxious face and body.
“I’m leaving,” he tells me abruptly.
“What?” My voice spikes, sounding strange. I feel even stranger. Like this out-of-body experience belongs to another Willow in an alternate dimension. Not me. Not here.
Not right now.
Garrison fists the beanie in a hand. “I’m leaving,” he repeats, as though trying to make sense of this too. I dazedly hear his explanation about Faust, his parents, and being forced to finish his senior year at the boarding school in upstate New York.
The news pummels me. I jinxed myself. Moments ago I was thinking about how I can’t imagine not sharing his company, and now he’s leaving? I don’t just need Garrison with me at Dalton Academy and Philly.
I want him.
And I’ve never wanted a friend like this. Never yearned for a
person to be next to me. Never slept and smiled thinking about seeing them tomorrow.
The more he explains his fate, in a very dry but hollow voice, I slump forward. My stomach caves, and the avalanche begins to roar down the figurative mountain that is our lives. I shield my face with my hands, afraid that I’ll start crying.
Crying is hard for me in front of anyone, and he needs encouragement. Strength. He needs, it’ll be okays. Not a blubbering, dejected friend.
My throat and eyes burn.
“Willow,” he whispers, his voice raspy.
I inhale deeply and wipe my running nose. “What about Superheroes & Scones? Maybe…maybe you can work the weekends.”
“…maybe,” he says, not entirely sure himself. “It’s not like you’ll be alone.”
My face twists. “What do you mean?” I meet his reddened eyes.
“Ace Davenport? He’s totally into you.” His face is unreadable, and his voice is too flat to make sense of.
My gaze widens, and my face keeps twisting into a wince. “That’s not funny.” I think I might cry now. I quickly rub the corners of my eyes.
Garrison looks genuinely confused. “He always talks to you at work.”
“To tell me how I stock the shelves incorrectly,” I say. “And every day, after I help a customer with comic book suggestions, he makes a comment about how I’m a know-it-all, and that I’m really some poser trying to be cool.” Ace is mean to me.
His nose flares, restraining hot emotion. “Why didn’t you tell me he was a dick to you?”
“I thought you knew.” I swallow the rock in my throat. “You always seemed irritated by him…”
Garrison stares up at the sky, tormented by this news too. “I knew this would happen,” he mutters more to himself than to me.
I shake my head. “What would happen?”
He touches his chest. “I’m cursed…and I hung around you long enough, and I cursed you too.” His voice breaks.
“I’ll be okay,” I try to assure him, rubbing my dripping nose as fast as possible. Pressure bears on my chest so hard that I feel physically sick. “We’ll be okay.”
Wherever You Are (Bad Reputation Duet Book 2) Page 18