When Tomorrow Starts Without me

by Stacy Claflin

  I race out of the room.

  "Will you be back for dinner?"

  "That's the plan—both Kenna and me. If she shows up, can you text me?"

  "Of course."

  "Thanks again." I hurry to my car, my stomach twisting worse than before.

  Traffic is growing thick and I dart around slow cars, trying to make the best time possible. Not that it matters if I'm headed in the wrong direction.

  How did people ever live before cell phones? One quick call or text would have prevented this whole mess. I could rest easy knowing where she went.

  Finally, I reach Kenna's old neighborhood. I don't even know where to start—if she's even here. Her old house wasn't far away.

  As far as I could tell, nobody was home. There were no cars in the driveway like there had been before. A yellow duffel bag and purple backpack rest on the curb near the garbage cans.

  Could they belong to her? I glance around to make sure nobody's around, then I bound across the street, grab the bags, and stick them in my trunk.

  I want to knock on the front door, but if anyone else answers I'll be tempted to punch them into next week. If they say Kenna's not there, I won't believe them. It'll get really ugly.

  No, it's probably best I don't knock. Besides, she said she never wants to return.

  It's time to go back to the tracks. My breath hitches. I'll never forget the horror of seeing her—a pretty girl I didn't even know—hurling herself toward that oncoming train.

  If she's decided to go back, can I save her again?

  Kenna

  The train rumbles past me down the track, blowing my hair around. I hadn't been able to step in front of it. Rogan's face flashed in my mind, and I couldn't do it.

  He's stopped me twice, even though he isn't here now. Just the thought of his protective embrace is enough to give me second thoughts.

  What is it about him? The fact that he cares? Or is it more than that? I can't deny the way he makes me feel when he's close. Even just thinking about him makes my stomach tingle.

  "Kenna!"

  What the…?

  I spin around and there he is. Racing toward me. His eyes are full of desperation.

  He throws his arms around me and spins me in a circle, holding me so tightly I can barely breathe.

  "I heard the train… I thought you'd…" He rests his head on mine. "What are you doing out here?"

  I go limp in his arms, not wanting him to ever let go. "How did you find me?"

  "I went to your old house, but you weren't there. I didn't know where else to look." He squeezes me even tighter.

  "Easy there, cowboy."

  Rogan lessens his grip, but doesn't let go altogether. "Why are you out here?"

  "I… needed to think."

  "You can think at my house. Come on." He steps away and waits for me to follow.

  My body won't cooperate.

  "What's wrong?"

  "I—"

  "Your eyes are red. Have you been crying?"

  I look away. "It's been a tough day."

  "What happened?"

  My stomach lurches thinking about my altercation with Liz in front of my coworkers. The only good thing is that I don't have to face them again. I could never work with them after all the things she said back there.

  "Kenna." Rogan's voice is soft. His eyes are filled with pain. "Talk to me."

  I nearly break down again, but I manage to keep myself together. "I went to work and my stepmom showed up, pissed that Theo's in jail. She said some stuff, I said some stuff. The good news is that I don't ever have to see her again."

  He frowns and pulls me against his solid frame again. "Why did you come back?"

  "I had to go to work."

  "Why?"

  "Because I was scheduled. I need money."

  "For what?"

  I step back and stare at him. "For what? To try and pay my way. I'm not going to stay at your place rent-free."

  "Why not?"

  "It wouldn't be right."

  "We don't need your money."

  That feels like a slap across the face. I spin around and march toward the tracks.

  "Kenna!"

  "I'm not a charity case." I turn around and glare at him.

  "Of course not! Just be our guest. Don't worry about work or anything. It's the summer. I only want you to enjoy yourself."

  Enjoy myself? Hasn't he figured out that I don't know how to relax? The tiniest noise in a quiet room scares the crap out of me. I'm incapable of chilling. Life has taught me that letting my guard down is an invitation for the world to kick me in the shins and spit in my face.

  We stare at each other. Two people from two completely different worlds. Rogan doesn't get me, and I'll never be able to understand him. It's an impasse. We grew up in the same fairly small town, but it may as well have been worlds apart.

  And that's why none of this makes any sense. I've come from nothing. I have exactly nothing to offer him. He's on his way to becoming a rock star, and even if he doesn't make it, he has all the resources in the world to do anything else he wants.

  That lump in my throat swells again. Isn't there a way to get rid of that thing? I just want to rip it out.

  Rogan opens his mouth, but doesn't say anything.

  Part of me wants to run back into his arms and let him take care of me, but the rest of me wants to storm away and never let anyone close again.

  If I trust, I'm opening myself up to a world of hurt. It's one thing to be hated and mistreated by those who hate me—I can convince myself I don't care because I hate them too. But it's something else altogether to risk being hurt by someone I care about.

  Opening my heart to anyone is more dangerous than walking into a den of lions. Entrusting it to Rogan is risking everything. If he ever hurt me, I'm not sure I could survive. I already care. He's seen me more vulnerable than anyone ever has.

  Whatever I decide as he continues pleading with his eyes is going to be life-altering. I'm either going to walk into the biggest risk of my life, or I'm going to walk away from what could be the most amazing experience—the potential of love.

  Am I even capable of love? I'll never know if I don't take a chance. But the risk… I can't take any more heartbreak.

  It would be easier if I live on the streets and keep building the fortress around my heart. Rogan's already chipping away at it. Whatever choice I make, there's no turning back. I'm either reinforcing the wall or taking it down.

  If it comes down, I'll be even more exposed than I ever was with Theo. He never once came anywhere near my heart.

  Nobody has. The closest anyone ever came to that was Ruby, my old neighbor's cat—before they moved and took her away.

  "Kenna?" He holds a hand out toward me.

  Rogan saying my name sends a chill down my back despite the heat of the day. His eyes are kind, kinder than any I've ever seen.

  Tears blur my vision. I've never been more terrified in all my life.

  He could destroy me if he wanted—if I take his hand and walk away from my old life with him.

  If I put my hand on his, I'm basically placing my heart in his trust.

  Is this a risk I'm willing to take? The smart thing would be to run away.

  Rogan steps closer, his hand still extended.

  Can I trust him? Do I dare?

  Rogan

  I can barely breathe. She looks tortured. The array of emotions crossing her face is heartbreaking.

  More than anything, I want to pull her close and kiss her. Find a way to take away all the pain she's been through. But something tells me she needs the opposite—space, time, and friendship.

  I'll give her whatever she needs no matter how much it tortures me. This girl has been to hell and back, probably on a daily basis. I know that much from what little she's told me.

  Staring into her eyes, it's obvious I've barely scratched the surface. I have no idea if she'll ever be able to open up to me fully, but I'm willing to accept the risk.


  If nothing else, I want to give her the things she seems to have lacked her whole life—stability and love. And yeah, I know that sounds crazy. I've known her less than a week. It's only been a few days, but Kenna Mitchell has managed to turn my world on its head.

  I want to make her world a better place, even if there's nothing in it for me.

  I'm gutted just watching her struggle. There are so many things I want to say, but they all feel so out of place.

  This moment we're sharing, I don't want to interrupt it. Somehow, despite the fact we're not even touching, it feels more intimate than anything I've ever experienced. It's like she's sharing her pains with me on a level so deep words can't reach.

  That's why I can't bring myself to say another word. The last thing I want is to spoil what we have right this second.

  There's something both exhilarating and terrifying about caring for someone other than myself on such a level that it can only be described as spiritual. That's it. That's exactly it. We're connecting—truly connecting. That's why it feels so intimate.

  This makes physical intimacy feel like a joke.

  All of this is the stuff timeless songs are made of, and yet I never want to share it with the world.

  Kenna places her palm on mine. Her eyes shine with tears.

  This is big. Bigger than I can grasp.

  I pull her close to me and breathe in her hair. She smells of coffee. I hold her, never wanting to let go.

  The ground rumbles. A train is nearing. Terror runs through me. How can it not, given her magnetic attraction to the metallic beasts?

  I run my fingers through the length of her hair. "Let's go."

  She nods.

  Relief floods through me. If I never see a train again, it'll be too soon.

  I slip my fingers through hers, and we walk to my car in silence. The ground continues rumbling, and a breeze blows by as the train passes.

  Having Kenna with me feels like even more of a gift. I don't want to think about what would've happened if she'd gone through with her plan on the tracks.

  Instead of unlocking the doors, I open my trunk.

  She arches her eyebrow but says nothing.

  "I just want to know if these are yours." I gesture to the bags I'd picked up in front of her house.

  Her mouth gapes. "How did you get them?"

  "I was looking for you, and went to your house. These were outside. I thought they might be—"

  Kenna throws herself against me and squeezes me so tightly I can't speak. "Thank you."

  "My… pleasure."

  She releases her hold. "Sorry."

  "I thought we went over this. I don't want you apologizing for anything."

  Kenna steps closer to the trunk and stares at the bags. "I can't believe you got them."

  "I didn't want them going to the trash if they belong to you."

  She turns and holds my gaze, her eyes once again shining with tears. "Nobody's ever…"

  I kiss her nose. Oh, how I want to trail kisses to her mouth. I focus on her beautiful eyes. "Think nothing of it. You want some dinner? Miss Alice is making something. Or we can go out, if you prefer."

  She shakes her head. "Let's go home."

  The fact that she calls my house home is huge. She's letting me in. Letting me take care of her.

  I take her hand and open the passenger door for her. "Do you want to use my phone to call and quit your job?"

  She shakes her head.

  Disappointment washes through me. "But you—"

  "I already quit. If I have any say in the matter, I'll never return to this side of town ever again."

  "Thank God."

  She smiles. "So, what's for dinner? I'm starving."

  "I'm not sure, but I hope you can wait. We're making a stop first."

  Kenna tilts her head. "We are?"

  She is so hot when she looks at me with curiosity like that. How am I supposed to give her space? I just want to pull her as close as I can and kiss her until I can't see straight.

  "Where are we going?"

  I clear my throat. "You'll see. Climb in."

  "Okay…"

  I close the door as soon as she's sitting. What I need is a cold shower—and quick. I take deep breaths and walk to the other side of the car as slowly as I can.

  What is wrong with me? I know everything she's been through. The last thing she needs is a physical relationship. Yet that's all I can think about.

  It's a good thing I have plenty of self-control. I know the importance of waiting. Flaming Combustion would have never gotten to where we are without it.

  By the time I climb into the driver's seat, I'm feeling a little more normal.

  Then she looks at me.

  I'm a goner.

  This, at least, is something I can write a song about.

  "You won't tell me where we're going?"

  "I'm getting you a cell phone," I spit out. With all my focus on not tasting her full lips, I can't keep a reign over my mouth.

  Her eyes widen. "You're what?"

  I turn away from her and start the car. "You heard me. I'm not racing all over town next time I don't know where you are."

  "But… but isn't that expensive?"

  "Not really. We already have a plan. Mom added her parents to it, so I know it's no problem."

  "I don't know what to say."

  "Say you'll answer my texts when I don't know where you are."

  "I can do that."

  "Thank you."

  She laughs.

  "What's so funny?"

  "You're buying me a cell phone, and you're thanking me?"

  "It makes perfect sense to me."

  Kenna

  I close the texting app and open another one. I'm not even sure what it does. Between Rogan and Sutton, I have more apps than I know what to do with.

  I've heard of a lot of them, but some are a complete mystery.

  Crash!

  Something rolls across the stage, and Ellis runs after it.

  "He's such a klutz these days." Poppy glances up from her phone and rolls her eyes. She's the one with the pink hair and nose ring, and she has an exotic look to her. I want to ask her what her race is, but I'm worried the question will be awkward. I'm guessing she's Japanese.

  I made a point to memorize their names before coming to the club. If I'm going to be hanging out with the band and their girlfriends, I need to know what to call them.

  Cove fluffs her now-shoulder-length blonde hair and glances at me. "Is it too short?"

  I shake my head. "You look great. It makes your eyes look bigger."

  She grins. "Really? You think so?"

  "Definitely."

  Cove purses her lips and takes a selfie.

  "Hey, don't leave me out!" Tiana runs her fingers through her super-short honey-brown hair and leans over. Cove snaps more pictures.

  Poppy joins them, and I turn back to my phone.

  "Get over here," one of them says.

  "Me?" I glance up.

  "No, the other girl sitting in your chair."

  "Hold on." I switch my camera over to the selfie view and check my makeup and hair. Everything looks great—Sutton practically gave me a makeover. I bet nobody from my school would even recognize me.

  Smiling, I bring my phone over and join the other girls. We all make faces and snap shots with our phones, laughing and teasing each other.

  I peek over at the stage, and Rogan's watching with a smile as he belts out one of his new songs. He's been practicing every waking minute, and I've enjoyed every moment watching.

  "Make this a good one!" Cove's voice brought me back to selfie central. "I'm making this one my profile picture—no matter how it comes out!"

  "You're crazy!" Tiana scowls.

  "And I'll use it even with you looking at me like that!" Cove laughs. "On three. One… two… three!"

  We all make ridiculous expressions, and the picture comes out hilarious. I laugh with them until my stomach hurts, and I
can't take it any longer.

  Once I catch my breath, Cove holds up her phone and smiles. "Got my profile pic set." She turns to me. "I can't find you to tag you."

  My smile fades. I don't belong to any social media sites. It's one of the side effects of not having my own phone or computer. Well, not only that, but Dad had threatened me if he ever found out I'd been online for anything other than schoolwork. No games, no snooping for Mom, nothing un-educational.

  "What's the matter?" Cove leans over the table.

  "I, uh, well…" My face burns like never before. I always sound like an idiot when I tell people I have no online presence. This feels even worse—these girls actually like me. "I'm not online."

  "I told you!" Tiana shoots Cove a knowing glance.

  My mind races. "I have to protect my privacy, you know."

  "Seriously?" Poppy looks at me like I'm crazy.

  I shrug. "It keeps things simple."

  "You need something." Cove is practically whining now. "I have to tag you. At least set up a profile and make it completely private other than the profile photo."

  "Yeah," Poppy agrees. "I can't believe you don't have anything set up!"

  Tiana looks at me like she thinks I'm hiding something.

  "Come on," Cove begs.

  My dad's many warnings run through my mind, making my stomach twist in knots.

  "I'll help you." Poppy grabs at my phone.

  I pull it away from her, my mind racing. Rogan bought me this phone and I don't live at home anymore. There's nobody to stop me from joining any app I want. "Okay, I'll do it!"

  Cove and Poppy cheer. They gather around me and help me join then set up my profile. Tiana still watches from the other side of the table. She really doesn't trust me. I guess I can't blame her. I mean, who doesn't have an online presence?

  Technically, I do have something to hide. My family. My past. The abuse and humiliation of a family who had total control over me. Trying to kill myself. I don't want my new friends to know anything about it. I just want to be Rogan's… whatever I am.

  Once everything is finally set up—they'd had to set me up with an email account first—Poppy showed me how to use the app. They'd helped me add the three of them and everyone in the band. Now the app is even giving me suggestions for people to connect with.