by Carian Cole
I rub my face, trying to put myself in that position.
“A few years ago, I wouldn’t even think about talking to my father. But now? Yeah, I’d talk to him again. Everybody makes mistakes and goes through their own shit. As for Erin? That wound’s way too fuckin’ raw. If she ever got her shit together and got clean, I might. And that’s a big fucking might. She’d have to show a massive amount of remorse and do a shit ton of groveling after what she did to you.” I exhale a breath. “Me at eighteen would’ve said fuck everyone, but me now understands life and people a lot better.”
She stares up at the ceiling, chewing on her lip. “I’m going to think about it. I’m feeling a little anxious with the idea of people coming and going from my life again.”
Fuck. I wish I could be the one thing in her life that’s rock fuckin’ solid no matter what.
But I fucked that up.
“You’re young,” I say, hoping she doesn’t take that wrong. “There’s lots of time to mend fences. But I think, someday, you’re going to wish you had some contact with your family.”
She swipes her finger beneath her eyes, banishing tears from her cheeks. Something I should be doing.
“Will you watch a Christmas movie with me?” she asks, her eyes yearning for me to say yes. “I don’t want to go to sleep yet. Who knows where I’ll be next year for the holidays? I just want to enjoy being in a nice cozy house, and look at our pretty tree, and forget about reality for a little while.”
My stomach burns. I guess next year I’ll be back to spending holidays with Uncle Al and Aunt Suzy, and coming home alone to just my dog.
I nod. “Yeah,” I answer. “Let’s do that.”
I’d like to forget about reality for a little while, too.
Chapter 45
Skylar
At the front of the class, my English teacher drones on and on. It’s my first week back after the holiday break, and I try to pay attention, but my thoughts keep wandering back to Jude.
I focus on the hole in my jeans and scribble a heart on the revealed skin with my pen, then write Lucky’s name next to it in little blocky letters.
Now I get why people get tattoos with the name of the person they love. I want his name etched into my body forever. With me always. ’Til death do us part. Just like the vows promised.
But we’re not meant to be, after all.
Maybe the vows really were just lies we had to tell.
Jude has been spending most of his time in the garage after work and on weekends, working on his motorcycle. Apparently, he’s rebuilding his engine, but I wonder if it’s mostly to avoid being in the same space as me. He knows I won’t wander into the garage after his sister accosted me in there. There’s still a shadow of the blood stain on the garage floor, and it freaks me out.
I’m dying to open the necklace and put the letters together. It’s killing me not knowing what the letters spell out. Still, I refrain from doing so, because it doesn’t feel like the right time. I’m not even sure how I’ll know when the right time is.
But, I’ll wait for it to come.
“You’re so pathetic,” a voice to my right says. “Writing a pedophile’s name on your leg. So trashy.”
“Not nearly as pathetic as that makeup job trying to cover the bump on your nose,” I shoot back.
I think Paige’s dad ran out of money, because her perfect nose has yet to be resurrected by her plastic surgeon after I slammed it with my lunch tray.
I have no regrets.
She glares at me.
I smile back.
Technically, we’re not supposed to be near each other after the cafeteria incident, but the people who run this school are a joke and don’t even enforce their own rules. Therefore, I’m subjected to her endless torment every day.
“My older cousin went to school with your husband,” Paige whispers from her seat. “She said he was a stoner and a drug dealer. She said he had girls lining up giving him blowjobs at parties in exchange for joints and pills. She said she saw him having a threesome in a hot tub once, too.”
I grind my teeth together. I don’t know if any of that crap is true, and I’m not sure I really want to know.
I continue to fill in the little heart on my leg. “Sounds like your cousin was a nosy bitch in high school, too. Must run in your family.”
“You’re such a loser, Skylar. Your own parents didn’t want you, so you basically had to have some guy adopt you and raise you as a little wife-slave. Why don’t you just kill yourself?”
I wonder if stabbing her with my pen would be considered assault.
No.
I won’t do it.
This is my favorite gel pen.
My silence only eggs her on. “We’ve seen you going into that medical building downtown twice a week. We all know you’re seeing a shrink. What’s wrong with you? Are you depressed, little baby?”
“Leave her alone.” Mark, the kid who sits behind me, has come to my defense. I have no idea why, since we’ve barely spoken two words to each other since school started months ago.
“Oh, please,” Paige sneers. “You’re not going to get your dick wet defending her, Mark. She’s a married woman. By the way, Skylar, where’s your wedding band? Or couldn’t your drop-out, drug dealer husband afford one?”
“Just leave her alone. Stop being such a cunt.”
“Are you cheating on your husband already, Skylar? Figures, you dirty slut.”
“Excuse me,” Mr. Gold says loudly. “Unless you want to get up here and teach the class, I suggest you all shut your mouths.”
Shrinking back in my chair, I keep my eyes trained ahead as Paige and two of her friends continue to whisper and giggle.
By the time class is over, my insides are shaking with anger and humiliation, and there’s a burning feeling radiating from my stomach up to my throat.
I fish the bottle of chewable DGL licorice tablets out of my bag and pop two into my mouth. They’re supposed to help calm the acid bubbling in my throat, but I honestly don’t even know if they do.
How am I ever supposed to get healthy if every time I start to feel better, these bitches start in on me and get my anxiety all ramped up again? My therapist tells me to ignore them, but how am I supposed to do that when they’re right here in my space, and the teachers don’t do anything about it? Paige and her friends are relentless with their nasty comments all day, every day. As luck would have it, they’re in every one of my classes this semester, so there’s no escape.
I leave school two hours early, biting back tears as I walk to the parking lot, and then sit in my car for twenty minutes, hoping the panic attack will subside before I drive home. My mind is spinning and dizzy with horrible thoughts, my heart is racing and pounding, my stomach is burning and rumbling.
Taking deep breaths, I rub my fingertips back and forth over my jeans.
He had girls lining up giving him blowjobs.
Your own parents didn’t want you.
Are you depressed, little baby?
Some guy adopted you.
You dirty slut.
Nausea rises up to my throat in waves and I swallow it back down. I hate this so much—this shaky, overwhelming feeling of being stuck in my own head, feeling like I can’t escape the terrible things people are saying about me and Jude. The more I think about it, the worse the acidic burn in my stomach and the throbbing in my head persists.
After a few minutes of internal debating, I pull my phone out of my purse and call Jude.
“Hey,” he says when he answers. “You okay?”
The tone of his voice is immediately concerned, because he knows I should be in school right now, and he also knows I never call unless it’s important.
“I-I’m having a panic attack.”
“Oh, shit. Where are you?”
“Sitting in my car. In the parking lot.”
“I’ll be right th—”
“No,” I say, quickly regretting calling him. “Just talk to me for
a few minutes. You don’t have to come.”
“Skylar, I don’t want you to be alone. I’m only two minutes away.”
The last thing I need is anyone seeing him coming to my car during school hours. It will only fuel Paige and her posse.
“Please, Lucky, I just want to hear your voice. If we talk for a few minutes, it’ll pass.”
“Okay,” he says, then I hear him talk to one of his crew. “I gotta take this. I’ll be back in a few.” A few seconds filled with the sound of footsteps go by, then a car door opening and closing. “I’m here, baby,” he finally says. “Are you okay?”
Baby. A slip of the tongue that makes my heart jump around in a totally different way.
“I feel really dizzy and shaky. And my stomach is burning really bad.”
“Take some deep breaths. What are you wearing?”
My fingers tighten around the phone. “Um, are we going there with this call?”
“I meant for your texture touching.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling stupid.
“But if you want to describe your outfit to me in detail, I’m not opposed,” he jokes.
I let out a little laugh. “Are you in your truck?”
“Yeah, I wanted some privacy. Did something happen today?”
“Kind of…”
“Was it one of those asshole stuck-up bitches again?”
“Of course. They’re so nasty. Usually I can ignore them, but some days…” I can’t even finish my sentence because I can feel the tears coming on again.
“You want me to talk to the principal? And the parents of these little spoiled douchebags? I’ll fix this shit right now.”
“No… I don’t want you to do that. We can’t have you ending up in jail.”
“I’ll do it for you, Sparkles. As long as you promise to visit me and give me some conjunctival visits.”
I burst out laughing. “It’s conjugal.”
I know he’s trying to make me laugh, and it’s working. I miss our playful teasing so much.
“Whatever it is, I’d have to have it.” I hear the sound of his lighter snapping open, then closed. “Did you take your pills?”
“Just the ones for my stomach. I don’t want to take the anxiety pills. They make me spacey.”
“I hear ya.” He exhales, and I can picture smoke blowing out his window. I wish he’d quit smoking. “Are you feeling better?”
“I am now. Talking to you helps. You always make me feel better. And you make me laugh.”
“You always make me feel better, too.”
“Really?” My mood brightens a little. “I never knew that.”
“Now ya do,” he says in his sexy, teasing voice. “Are you still in your car?”
“Yes,” I answer, just as there’s a soft tapping on my window.
“Open the door.”
Turning toward the door, my mouth falls open and I quickly unlock it and push it open. “Jude! What are you doing?”
He kneels down next to my open car door and leans inside. “I had to make sure you’re okay.”
With tears in my eyes, I throw my arms around him, not caring who sees or what they think or say. Screw all that. None of that matters.
This is all that matters—this man who just dropped everything he was doing for me without the slightest hesitation.
We hug for several long minutes. I don’t want to let him go. He feels like home, and it reminds me how much I’ve missed this closeness with him.
When we pull away, he cups my head in his palms and rubs his thumbs across my cheeks, wiping my tears.
“You didn’t have to come,” I say softly.
“Yeah, I did. You think I’d let you sit in a parking lot by yourself when you need me? I didn’t let you do it the day we met, and I won’t do it now. Or ever.”
I grin at him and sniffle. “You’re kind of amazing.”
“I know. So are you,” he says, winking at me. “Are you okay? I can drive you to work, or home.”
I shake my head. “No, I feel a lot better now. I don’t have to work today, so I can go home.”
That’s when I notice he’s staring at my leg.
Oh, no.
“And what’s this?” he asks, touching his name written on my leg through the hole just above my knee.
“Um… a fake tattoo?” I say lamely, feeling way too much like a teenage girl with a crush writing a boy’s name with hearts all over her stuff.
He turns his gaze back to me with that damn smirk. “I’ll take you to get a real one if ya want.”
I push his hand away. “I was just scribbling.”
“It’s cute,” he says. “I’m kinda flattered. I don’t think anyone’s ever written my name on them before.”
I pull at the frayed threads in the hole and avert my eyes from his. “Is it true that you traded blowjobs for drugs?”
He chokes. “What?”
“Apparently Paige’s cousin went to school with you. She said that’s what you did at parties.”
“What the fuck?” he says, shoving a hand through his hair. “Skylar, I was six-fucking-teen.”
“So, it’s true?” I ask, horrified, and hoping he’ll deny it immediately.
His shoulders lift. “I think I did that once.”
My mouth frowns in disgust and disappointment. “So gross, Lucky.”
“C’mon, it was stupid kid shit.”
“Okay.” It’s really none of my business, and I have no right to be feeling the jealousy boiling in my blood.
“I’m not gonna lie about it, Skylar. I have a scuzzy past. I can’t change it.”
“I know… you’re right.” I smile weakly at him. “Your past doesn’t matter. I like who you are now.”
He touches my hand. “I like you, too.”
I remember he said those same words way back when we went to the park for the first time, and laughed on the swings together. I wonder if he remembers that day like I do. I wonder if he felt the same sparks when he helped me stand up, with my hand in his.
Our first hand hug.
“You’re better now? he asks hoarsely.
“Yes.” I nod. “Thank you for coming to sit with me.”
He pulls his hand away slowly. Just as slow as he did that day. “I gotta go back to work. Text me when you get home. Drink some tea, cozy up with a book. I’ll make us grilled cheese when I get home.”
I nod and watch him walk casually back to his truck. How dare he look just as sexy from the back as he does from the front.
I wish I didn’t want him, but I still do. So damn much it hurts.
I’m in such a daze on the drive home I don’t even put any music on. I just want quiet so I can hear his voice in my head, saying those four words.
I like you, too.
I wonder if he misses me as much as I miss him.
When I get home, I take Cassie out in the yard for a few minutes, hugging myself against the frigid breeze, then go upstairs. I text Megan on my way to my room.
Me: In case you’re looking for me, I left school early. Paige was annoying the shit out of me.
Megan: She’s such a witch!
Me: I know :-( I’m so sick of her. Can I call you tonight? What time will you be home?
Megan: Try me at nine. Are you okay?
Me: Yes, just wanted to vent and stuff
Megan: Okay. Vent session scheduled at 9. xo
I change into yoga pants and an oversized sweater, and flop on my bed. Gus jumps up next to me and I kiss her head as she does happy paws across my stomach.
Reaching across my nightstand to pick up my book, I accidentally knock my phone onto the floor and it bounces under my bed.
“Crap,” I mutter as I hang off the bed to pick it up. Something catches my eye as I’m down there, and I realize it’s the card Jude left in my room the day I had oral surgery.
I was waiting to open it that night, but Gus must’ve knocked it and it fell behind the bed. I rip the envelope open and pull the card out. A
smile spreads across my face when a twenty-five-dollar lottery scratch ticket falls out.
It’s a cute get-well card, and Jude has written:
Don’t worry, life gets better! No matter what, I’m here for you. Always. All my love, Jude
The smile slowly falls from my lips. I wish I had read these words sooner. Was he trying to tell me how he felt about me way back then? Did he think I read this and just ignored it?
All my love isn’t exactly a platonic way to sign a card.
Is it?
“Why is everything so confusing, Gus?” I say, holding the lottery card. I don’t know how many times I’ve told Jude not to waste his money on these expensive tickets. I’m totally happy with the one-dollar scratch-offs.
I scratch off all the little glittery squares and scrape the residue into my trash can before glancing at the rows of numbers and symbols.
Holy.
Shit.
Letting out a gasp, I stare at the numbers. My fingers tremble, jumbling the ticket in my hand.
I have all the numbers.
I blink and scan the card again, convinced my eyes are going screwy from crying and I’m not seeing clearly.
But they’re all there.
Every. Single. One.
With my pulse racing, I read the instructions on the back of the ticket over and over—convinced I must be missing something—that there has to be a mistake.
Except I can’t find any sort of mistake.
I won.
I just won two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
“Oh my God!” I shriek.
I pick up Gus and dance around the room with her. “We won! We’re rich! We can get our RV, blow this town and everyone in it and never look back, Gus.”
I can’t wait to tell Jude. And Megan.
Giddy, I twirl around and round the room until I’m dizzy and my vision blurs, and I swear I see a shadow in the doorway.