Heartless
Page 22
“Hey,” I greet in an overly cheerful manner that sounds nothing like me.
“Oh, hi.” She shoots me a shuttered glance I’m unable to decipher.
Yup, this was a bad idea. I should abort the mission. Already I can tell this won’t end well for me. But now that I’m at her side, I find myself reluctant to part ways.
When she says nothing more, I clear my throat. “It’s been a while, I wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.”
My gaze slides carefully over her, cataloging all the subtle changes most people wouldn’t notice. There’s a hollowness in her eyes that kills me and it’s obvious that she’s lost weight. Her clothing hangs a little looser from her frame. Lanie mentioned that she hasn’t been eating much lately.
Protectiveness surges through me. All I want to do is wrap her up in my arms and make everything better, but I know she won’t welcome the gesture. Skye has been keeping me at arm’s length. Any effort on my part to get closer to her is quickly shut down.
She shrugs and keeps her gaze focused straight ahead. “It’s fine.”
That’s so far from the truth, it’s not even in the same realm. I wish she would be honest with me, but I’ve lost that privilege. And I have no idea if I’ll ever earn her friendship back again. Right now, we’re nothing more than acquaintances.
“Is it?” I probe gently.
Skye presses her lips together as we push out of the building before heading down the stairs. The brisk November air hits us and she sucks in a deep breath before slowly exhaling it.
Once we’re out of the flow of traffic, I hike my backpack onto my shoulder. “I don’t know if you have plans right now, but I was wondering if I could take you somewhere.”
Caution fills her gaze as she shifts her weight. Her hand tightens on the strap of her backpack. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
It’s carefully that I close the distance between us until I can reach out and slip her fingers into my hand. That simple touch is enough to settle my jangled nerves. I have no idea if the contact has the same effect on her.
“I want to help you, Skye. That’s it. Will you let me do that?”
She stares down at our clasped hands. “I don’t know,” she mumbles.
I wrack my brain for a way to convince her to come with me. “Just give me an hour of your time and I won’t bother you again. What we’re going to do...it’s important.”
She gnaws her lower lip as indecision flickers across her face.
“Please?” I squeeze her fingers. “It’s just for an hour.”
“All right,” she says quietly.
Unwilling to waste another moment—or give her time to change her mind—I drag her through the heavy traffic on the pathway as we trek across campus. Instead of firing off a bunch of questions, Skye remains silent. Once we arrive at Middleton Hall, I slow my pace.
Color stains her cheeks from our rushed hike. “You know that your legs are much longer than mine, right?”
I run a hand through my hair as the corners of my lips lift. She’s right, they are. I was so afraid she would change her mind, that I wanted to get here as quickly as I could. “Sorry about that. I didn’t want to be late.”
Wariness enters her eyes as she glances around. “Late for what?”
Now that I’ve dragged her here, uncertainty fills me. It’s entirely possible that I’ve overstepped my boundaries. Maybe this was a terrible idea and I’ll only end up pushing Skye further away from me. But I’m more frightened that she won’t get the help she needs. It’s my concern for her that overrides all other thoughts and feelings.
“Come on.” I grab her fingers and tow her through the glass door to the front desk. Once there, I give the receptionist a polite smile. “Hi, Skye Sinclair is here for a ten o’clock appointment.”
Skye’s mouth goes slack with shock. My guess is that she just figured out why we’re here. Well…why she’s here.
“Wonderful. I’ll let Dr. Mestoff know right away.” The older woman extends a hand toward the grouping of chairs near the window. “Have a seat. It won’t be long.”
This time, it’s Skye who seizes my hand and drags me to the waiting area. Her nails dig into my skin. Already I can tell that I’ll be sporting crescent-shaped indentations for the rest of the day.
Skye whispers furiously through stiff lips, “Oh my God, you made an appointment for me at the counseling center?”
It might be asked in the form of a question but it’s not one.
She doesn’t give me a chance to open my mouth before snapping, “And you didn’t even bother to ask if that was something I wanted? Who the hell do you think you are?”
I shift my weight and lower my voice hoping she’ll do the same. The last thing we need is campus security getting called. “I thought it might be helpful for you to talk with someone about what you’re feeling.”
Her hands tighten into fists at her sides as she growls, “Why the hell would you think that?”
“Because you’re going through a really tough time.” I gesture with my hand toward the offices. “Maybe they can give you better ways to cope.”
She presses her lips together so tightly they lose their color.
“I was trying to help,” I add.
“Maybe you should try to help a little less. Or, hey—here’s an idea,” her eyes ignite with anger, “why don’t you mind your own business instead of butting into—”
“Skye?”
We both swing toward the receptionist. There’s a serene smile pasted across the older woman’s face as if Skye hasn’t been chewing my ass out in front of her.
A look of dread washes over Skye’s features. “Um, yeah?”
“Dr. Mestoff is ready to see you now.”
“Oh.” Skye’s gaze darts to the door as if she’s contemplating an escape.
It’s obvious from the look on her face that she’s reluctant to meet with the counselor. I didn’t do this to make her uncomfortable or piss her off any more than she already is. I’m at a loss as to how to help her. And I’m not the only one who’s worried. Jax and Lanie are, too. She’s become a shadow of her former self.
“Give it a try,” I encourage, “what’s the worst that can happen?”
“Fine,” she grumbles before taking a few steps toward the receptionist.
“Do you want me to wait for you? I don’t mind.”
The icy look she tosses over her shoulder is enough to freeze me on the spot. “What do you think?”
“Umm…yes?”
She grits her teeth as a low growl vibrates from her chest before she disappears down the narrow hallway. I get the feeling she would have been all too happy to rip me a new one if there hadn’t been a witness. A moment later, the receptionist returns and takes her seat behind the desk. I stuff my hands into my pockets and pace the waiting area. Sure, I could take off and avoid the wrath of Skye when she’s done with her appointment, but I’m not going to do that.
If she’s pissed at me for taking matters into my own hands and trying to get her the help she needs, then so be it. I’ll take her anger over silence any day of the week.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Skye
A t the end of our appointment, Dr. Mestoff grabs a card from the coffee table before scribbling something on the back and handing it to me. The front has her name and contact information.
“We run several groups on campus for students who are dealing with grief. I wrote down where they meet and the times.” She gestures toward the card. “You’re welcome to join us and try it out. It’s an open group, meaning that people drop in when they’re in need of support. Sometimes they share and other times, they simply listen. It’s whatever you’re comfortable with.”
I glance up and meet her soft brown eyes. “You really think this could help?”
“I do. Feelings of grief can be difficult to deal with, especially alone. Many people find comfort in talking about it with others who are in similar situations. I also und
erstand that not everyone is comfortable meeting and talking in a group setting, which is why one-on-one counseling is available. What’s important to know is that Claremont has services to help you. Any time you need to talk, all you have to do is make an appointment at the center. Most of the time, we can squeeze you in the same day.”
“Thank you.” Rising to my feet, I slip the card into the front pocket of my jeans.
Dr. Mestoff walks me to the door. “I hope this was helpful, Skye.”
I’m surprised to realize that I actually feel better. Nothing has changed in regard to my dad, but maybe there are better ways for me to deal with my emotions. “It was. Thank you.”
“Good.” She nods and holds the door to her office open for me.
With a quick wave, I exit the room and head down the hall before finding the front entrance of the building. My mind rehashes everything we discussed. It was, at times, emotional but what helped was knowing that the feelings I’m experiencing are normal and there are professionals on campus who can equip me with tools to better deal with what’s happening.
As I pass the front desk, I give a quick wave to the receptionist. Out of nowhere, Hunter pops to his feet and I muffle a squeak of alarm. I wasn’t expecting him to wait around for me, especially after I gave him such a hard time about the appointment.
“Everything go all right?” he asks cautiously.
“Yeah, it did.” I glance away and lower my voice. “I’m sorry for the way I acted earlier. I was caught off guard when you brought me here. I didn’t think this was something I needed,” I pause and force out the rest, “but I was wrong.”
A rush of air leaves his lips and his shoulders release their tension. “Good. I’m glad it worked out. I was kind of afraid you’d want to kick my ass after that.”
The image his words conjure up makes me chuckle. “I guess you lucked out then. Don’t be too disappointed, I’m sure you’ll give me plenty of other reasons to kick your butt.”
“You’re probably right.” A smile flirts across his lips as he nods toward the entrance. “Are you ready to get out of here?”
“Yeah.”
As we push through the doors and leave the counseling center behind, Hunter clears his throat. “I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch.”
Thrown off by the invitation, I glance at him. A little zip of electricity skitters down my spine when I find him already watching me. He’s the only guy who has ever made me feel this way. Which is exactly why I shouldn’t have lunch with him. I’ve got enough going on in my life without adding any more complications. And Hunter Price is definitely a complication I don’t need. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”
His gaze darkens and his voice drops. “Spending time with you is always a good idea.”
My heart skips a beat. I don’t want to make a mistake where Hunter is concerned. Keeping my ex at a distance is so much easier than being around him. I don’t have to think about the attraction that hums through my body whenever he’s near or the fact that I still love him. There are times when I suspect I’ll always feel this way about Hunter. He was my first and only for so many things. It’s impossible for that not to hold meaning.
Before I can think better of it, I hear myself say, “Okay.”
His lips curve into a full-blown smile. One that makes my pulse flutter with awareness.
Twenty minutes later, we’re walking through the door of Melvin’s. It’s a diner we used to frequent when we were in high school. We were here so often that the staff knew us by name. It’s the one place I’ve avoided since my return.
As soon as I step over the threshold, I’m flooded with memories. There are so many of them that I have to stop and catch my breath. I glance at Hunter, wondering if he feels the same way. Our gazes meet and his lips tip upward as he propels me toward the back of the restaurant.
“Should we grab our usual booth?” he asks.
Probably not. Already I’m being slammed with so much nostalgia that I’m practically drowning in it.
“Sure.”
We slide into the same booth we’ve sat in over a hundred times. A waitress bustles over and hands us menus. Even though I know what I want, I bury my face in the plastic to avoid looking at Hunter. I need a break from the intensity of his gaze and the feelings that are coursing through me.
“Can I start you two off with something to drink?” she asks.
“Sure, we’ll both have Cokes.” There’s a pause. “And I think we’re ready to order.”
I lower the menu and chance a peek at Hunter. I’m about to tell the waitress what I want when he beats me to the punch.
“We’ll have two cheeseburgers with the works and a large chili cheese fry to share.”
It’s exactly what we used to order whenever we stopped by.
The waitress scribbles on her notepad before glancing at us. “Anything else?”
One side of Hunter’s mouth hitches as he pops a brow. He knows what I want to add.
“A chocolate milkshake,” I say.
The older woman flashes me a grin. “You got it, honey.”
She disappears, once again leaving us alone together. My gaze travels over the restaurant, looking for any subtle changes that would mark the passage of time, but there aren’t any. Everything is exactly as it was when we were in high school. The décor, the menus, the smell of greasy food being fried in the kitchen. Like Hunter, it’s all so familiar and it tugs at something deep inside me.
Our drinks are delivered, and I take a sip before asking, “Do you come here often?”
Melvin’s is a fifteen-minute drive from campus. There are a lot of restaurants closer in proximity to the university. This place has always been more of a hangout for locals than the college crowd. That’s part of its charm.
“Nope.” Hunter shakes his head. “I haven’t been back since high school.”
“Oh. I thought…” my voice trails off as confusion fills me.
“After you left, I didn’t want to come back. It was difficult to be around anything that reminded me of you.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumble as my gaze drops from his. “Maybe this was a mistake and we should have stopped somewhere else.”
Hunter reaches across the table and snags my fingers. “Don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong and coming here after all this time feels right. I’m glad you agreed to have lunch with me. I haven’t given you any reason to trust me, but I really hope we can be friends.” His grip on my hand tightens. “I’ve missed having you in my life.”
I suck in a breath as the intensity grows between us. A change in conversation seems to be in order. “Thanks again for making an appointment at the counseling center. It’s not something I would have done on my own.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad it was helpful.”
His thumb rubs delicate circles against my palm. The caress is distracting, and I feel myself getting lost in his touch. When I realize what’s going on, I have to jerk myself out of the haze that has fallen over me.
I clear my throat and refocus my attention on our conversation instead of the attraction humming below the surface of my skin. “Dr. Mestoff mentioned a grief group they run on campus.”
“That sounds interesting. Are you going to check it out?”
“I think so. And I’m going to make another appointment to see her next week.” What she helped me realize today is that I can’t handle this on my own. Dr. Mestoff has thrown me a lifeline and I need to grab hold of it with both hands.
It’s almost a relief when the waitress arrives with our burgers, milkshake, and an order of chili cheese fries for us to share. Another punch of nostalgia hits me. It’s difficult not to be wistful for what Hunter and I once shared.
“Enjoy!” she says before taking off.
“This looks so good!” My belly rumbles and I realize how hungry I am. Lately, it doesn’t seem like I have much of an appetite. I can’t remember the last time I sat down and had a full meal.
I point to the ice cream drink. “Do you want some?”
We used to share them all the time.
“Sure.”
I slide the tall glass toward Hunter. His gaze stays pinned to mine the entire time he sips from the straw. It’s the silliest thing, but butterflies wing their way to life in the pit of my belly.
When he’s done, he gives it back. “It’s better than I remember.”
My lips curve into a smile. “That’s funny, I was thinking the same thing.”
After that, we fall into an easy conversation as we finish our lunch. Hunter tells me about his ACL injury and how worried he was that he’d never get the chance to play football again. A pang of regret fills me. I wish I could have been there to help him through that tough time. Football has always been Hunter’s drive and purpose in life. I tell him about UW-Madison and what it was like to live in the Midwest.
Once we’ve finished every last bite and the check has been paid, I rise to my feet. “Give me a minute to use the restroom.”
“No problem.” He flashes me a smile. “I’ll be here waiting.”
Five minutes later, I’m headed to our booth when I spot someone talking to Hunter. My footsteps stutter when I realize that it’s Mason.
What’s he doing here?
My heart thumps a painful staccato against my ribcage. As I take a hasty step in retreat, fully prepared to hide out in the bathroom, Hunter glances up and our gazes catch. Even from this distance, it’s easy to see that he’s pissed off. His jaw is tightly clenched, and his mouth is an angry slash across his face.
I gulp and freeze.
He immediately moves from the booth before coming to his feet. Mason turns and his gaze lands on mine. I’m almost shocked by how much his appearance has changed from when I ran into him at the game. There’s a haggardness to him as if he hasn’t slept in weeks.
When Hunter holds out his hand toward me, a silent command filling his gaze, I force myself to close the distance between us. When I’m no more than a few feet away, Hunter reaches out and slips an arm around my waist. Strength radiates from him and I take comfort in that.