Catch Twenty-Two
Page 12
I want to toss Zeke’s keys into the field and leave his truck here to be towed, but that would be immature.
“I’ll follow.”
They both smile at me before walking toward Rowdy’s truck twenty yards away. I climb into Zeke’s truck, finding it difficult to move the seat forward enough to reach the pedals, and wait for them to pull out.
The drive is short, filled with silence and remorse for the things I did tonight. I wouldn’t be angry about sharing so many firsts with Zeke if he treated me respectfully after it was over. It’s his penchant for turning into a complete jerk that pisses me off.
My eyes are burning once again as we pull into the all-night diner, and I take a few moments just sitting in the cab of the truck to get myself together. As if sensing I need a minute alone, Shawn and Rowdy wait for me to climb out before they do the same.
If they can see my puffy eyes or the heat tinting my cheeks for being so weak, they don’t mention it. Rowdy slings his arm around my shoulders, just like he would if we were back on the ranch.
“They have crepes that will change your entire world,” Shawn whispers as a smiling waitress shows us to a booth.
I frown at their distance when Rowdy chooses to sit beside me rather than sitting beside his man. It’s a cruel world, and I imagine things are even worse in a region dominated by extremely religious people.
“I’ll take your word for it,” I tell Shawn as we accept the menus and place our drink orders. “I ate too much at the fair. There’s no way I could eat anything else.”
I don’t tell them I forgot my wallet like I did with Zeke earlier because I legitimately am still full from supper, but I have a feeling that if I were hungry, neither Shawn nor Rowdy would bat an eye at paying for my meal.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Rowdy asks.
I shake my head. I don’t even know how I feel about everything that has happened over the last several weeks.
“Talk about what?” Shawn asks, ignorant to the embarrassing scene that played out between Zeke and me.
“She’s got boy problems,” Rowdy offers, but he doesn’t go into further detail, protecting my fragile heart.
I know they’ll talk about it later when they’re alone, but I’m grateful that they don’t hound me for more information.
We fill the next hour and a half with small talk and safe subjects, but I can still feel the disappointment from Rowdy. As my friend, I’m sure he isn’t happy with the way Zeke treats me, and I know he’d be livid if he had all the details about what happened in the haunted house.
Eventually, their scrutiny fades as Shawn animatedly talks about one of his coworkers, and I find myself smiling and laughing with them. The dread of seeing Zeke again dissipates some, and even as we say goodbye in the parking lot, I feel lighter and grateful for having them to soothe my aching soul for a while.
I still have a smile on my face when I park Zeke’s truck on the backside of the barn so Nan can’t see it in the morning. I’ll never speak a word of what happened tonight to her and parking directly in the driveway would only bring a round of questions I want to avoid.
Chapter 21
Zeke
Tapping my fingers on my knees, my frustration grows by the minute. I’ve been waiting for Frankie to return home for two hours, and she’s just now pulling into the driveway. I fight the urge to rush to her and demand an explanation of why it’s taken her so long to get here.
I don’t bother to hide the knowing sneer from my lips when she pulls around the barn, effectively keeping my truck out of sight. Even after the shitty way I treated her tonight, she still doesn’t want her grandma to know how I’ve been treating her.
After several long minutes, Frankie rounds the barn and an unexpected grin plays on her gorgeous face, and for a single moment, a tiny slip of time, I forget that I hate her. I forget what she symbolizes. I forget that I’ve hurt her over and over and will probably continue to do so because she allows it so readily.
Then I remember that she’s not supposed to be happy. She’s supposed to be distraught and heartbroken after I rode away with friends and a girl on my lap only moments after making her come on my fingers.
She should have tears staining her rosy cheeks and a tremble to her hands.
The grin and bounce to her step only serve to antagonize me more.
“Where the hell have you been?” I snap, taking a little joy in the way she jolts in surprise.
I purposely hid in the shadows, needing the element of surprise, or the ability to hide from her if the pain in her eyes when she got home was too much for me to bear. Even in my head that sounds beyond brutal. I’m worried about her pain when I’m the one who caused it. I’m worried about the way her pain cuts me too.
Instead of answering me, she shoves my truck keys into my chest before attempting to walk around me. Unable to allow her to step past me, I grab her wrist, caught up in the moment and uncaring if I cause her physical pain. She needs to go inside, but I can’t let that happen. I don’t have the strength to let her walk away.
“Where have you been?” I ask again, enunciating each word to keep from raising my voice. I only barely hide the emotion that’s zipping through my body.
She glares at my hold on her arm, but she doesn’t try to pull away. I hate how closed off she is and the slow sneer marking her beautiful face even though I know I’m the reason it’s there.
“Let me go.” She says the words just as slowly as my own demand, but I don’t release her.
“Frankie,” I warn.
“I found a couple guys who didn’t mind spending time with me.”
Her words hit me like a sledgehammer.
I wanted to make her mad, wanted to hurt her when I left with Paul and Jason, but I never considered the possibility that she’d be allowed to do the same to me with one simple sentence. That ability gives her power, and my angry reaction translates into squeezing her arm tighter. When she flinches, her eyes scrunching in the corners from the pain, I ease up some.
“I never took you for a whore,” I seethe.
“Says the boy smelling like cheap perfume and liquor.”
I won’t argue with her about it. I cringed every time the wind blows and I catch a hint of Cheryl’s perfume, and I did drink a beer with my friends before deciding I didn’t want to be in a crowd tonight.
“Jealous?” I taunt, hoping to make her feel the same way I feel deep in my gut with knowing that she found other guys to hang out with tonight besides me.
“I’m annoyed, Zeke. I’m agitated with this back-and-forth. I’m feeling like an idiot for thinking even for a moment that there’s any good in you. I hate myself for letting you draw me in when I know how it’ll end. I can spend my time with whomever I please, just like you did tonight. I’m no more jealous of those girls than you are of what I did tonight. You’re only acting this way because I didn’t stand in the parking lot after you pulled away crying. You’re mad because I’m not heartbroken that you touched me one minute and then left with another girl on your lap.”
Even though she says the words, I can see the pain in her eyes. I came over here tonight to apologize, not completely sure why I even interact with her when staying away would be better for the both of us. Acting out because my own life is in shambles isn’t fair to her, but I can’t seem to stop myself. She’s right, I always hurt her, and then I always regret it.
“Well, I guess I was right about you being a whore then.” The words are acid on my tongue.
She’s not a whore, not even close. Even after the haunted house, I know Frankie would’ve been uncomfortable sitting on my lap while other people were around to witness it. She’s not the type to stake a claim, because she’s the type of girl to know she deserves the assurance that a guy is hers.
“Think what you want. I don’t owe you an explanation, and I don’t answer to you either.”
She turns to head inside, but the sight of her back causes a wash of panic to rise in me.
“What?” she snaps when she only turns halfway around.
My mouth opens and closes, but I just can’t find the words.
“I’ll tell you, Zeke. Let me break this down for you.” She closes the distance between us, shoving her finger into my chest repeatedly. “Leave me alone. Don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me. Don’t come to supper. Just pretend I don’t even exist.”
Like that’s possible when she’s all I think about, all I see when I know she’s near.
“Fine,” I hiss. “That’s what I’ve wanted all along.”
Her chin trembles when I glare down at her, but after a brief nod of acceptance, she turns and leaves, closing the front door softly behind her even though the finality of it feels like a cannon blast.
I don’t know how long I stand in the driveway, first looking at the front door and then shifting my eyes to her bedroom window. She never turns on her light, and the darkness staring back at me matches the blackness in my heart.
She never told me who she was with, and I know I’m going to wonder about it incessantly, but I shouldn’t do that here. The chances are slim, but I can’t risk her grandmother finding me staked out in her yard. But going home is the very last thing I want to do. The meds and antiseptic make the entire place smell like death is lingering in the air.
I opt to head to the barn, hiding in the loft with a direct view of her window even though it stays dark for the rest of the night.
I spend over an hour running through everything Frankie and I have done since meeting. I think about seeing her in her window for the first time, which was ruined by Dad’s insistence to be friends with her, hoping it transformed into something more. I close my eyes as I remember the first time I caught the scent of her skin in Mrs. Jacobson’s kitchen. The first time I heard her sweet voice and saw her tanned legs. The first time I realized it was her making my heart rate spike and not the work I was doing.
Then I remember the hateful words I’ve spoken to her. The vile words I’ve whispered in her ears. Splashing her with mud. Refusing to tell her I’m grateful for how hard she’s been working around the ranch.
Before I can criticize myself for all of that, I try to focus on the things she’s done to piss me off, the things she’d never do or say in front of her nan, and I’m completely disgusted with myself when I realize the hatred is there because of me. She hasn’t done a damn thing to deserve the way I’ve been treating her. Not one single thing.
I swallow the lump of regret in my throat before climbing out of the loft and walking home. Staying away from her and pretending she doesn’t exist is best for both of us. It’s the only way I’ll be able to survive, because every touch, every kiss, every time I smell clean sweat on her skin drags me down just a little more.
Chapter 22
Frankie
I haven’t caught him looking in the direction of the house once in the last two-and-a-half weeks—not when I’m standing in the kitchen doing dishes, not when I’m upstairs in my room. His eyes don’t search for me when he comes into the house to speak with Nan. He’s kept to our angry agreement to stay away from each other, and I’ve been bored out of my mind. At least with him being angry at me, there’s a certain level of interaction. How messed up is it that I’d rather have him sneer at me than ignore me completely? I seriously need to get my head checked when I get back home.
When I arrived back at the ranch after the fair, the confrontation in the driveway drained me more than any other we’d had, which says a lot, because what happened after the haunted house nearly destroyed me. But when I walked away, I wasn’t sure that he could keep from insulting me or making snide comments, so I’ve kept my distance, holed up in the house like a shut away, but Nan doesn’t have cable, and I can only play so many different games on my phone before my eyes start to cross. I’ve never felt more isolated in my life which is crazy because back home, Piper is my only friend and I avoid everyone at school like they’re carrying the plague in the pockets of their varsity jackets.
Standing at the kitchen sink, I watch the barn for movement, and only decide it’s safe to leave the house when I don’t see Zeke around for an hour. I’m a jerk for avoiding Rowdy because he’s been nothing but nice to me, but those two usually go hand in hand, and I’d like to avoid another nerve-racking encounter with Zeke.
“If you’re heading to the barn, take those boys something cold to drink,” Nan says absently as she futilely dusts in the living room. It’s like she can read my mind, and just that thought terrifies me. My head is a scary place right now.
I release a slow breath, eyes closed to gain strength before preparing two glasses of lemonade, doing my best to resist spitting in one the way Zeke accused me of doing the first time I was obligated to bring him some. I manage to make it out of the house without spilling either glass.
I’ve missed the warm sun on my face, so I take a moment in the middle of the yard to close my eyes and tip my chin to get as much as I can before continuing on to the barn.
Just as expected, Rowdy is working in the center of the barn, so I laser focus on him, keeping my eyes straight ahead, even when my brain is telling me to look around and locate Zeke. Be aware of your surroundings. It’s something I’ve lived by due to the hell I go through daily at Westover Prep, but Rowdy is here, and I know Zeke won’t be mean to me when there are witnesses. No, he likes to spit vile things in private.
“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” my friend says as I approach, holding out the cold glass to him. He takes it, tilting it to his lips with a bright smile. “Thanks, sweetheart.”
A grunt from the other side of the barn makes my spine stiffen to the point of aching, but I don’t turn in Zeke’s direction. I simply put the other glass of lemonade on top of a crate for him to get if he wants and focus on my friend.
“Hey,” I begin. “How are things out here?”
“We’re managing,” Rowdy says with a genuine smile. “The grass could always be greener. The cows could be fatter, but we’re making do with what we have.”
Rowdy’s eyes dart behind me, and I wonder if he’s nervous that I’ll let it slip about Shawn. I’d never out someone like that, so I give him a reassuring smile that I hope translates that his secret is safe with me.
“Anything I can help with?” I offer, needing to do something before I go stir-crazy just sitting in the house and napping the day away. I miss the burn in my muscles from working hard. I miss sweating and feeling satisfied with a hard day’s work.
“Besides distracting the entire crew?” Rowdy muses with a knowing grin.
My lips turn down. There are only two people out here to distract, and it’s as if his words heighten all of my senses and I can feel Zeke’s eyes drilling a hole into my back.
I roll my shoulders to try to alleviate the sensation, but it doesn’t work. Even looking at Rowdy, my attention is on the man who’s made my life miserable since I arrived, and I can tell his angry energy is directed at me as well.
“I don’t—” I sigh, resigned to going back inside to let them work. They have so much to do on a daily basis, I don’t want to be their reason they fall behind, no matter how bored I am.
“I have a better idea,” Rowdy says, reaching for my arm as I turn to walk away. “I was just fixing to head into town for some supplies. Wanna keep me company on the drive?”
“I, umm…” I turn slightly so I can see Zeke from the corner of my eye, and even though I can tell he’s watching the two of us like a hawk, his eyes are directed to the bag of feed he’s just cut open. “Sure.”
Coming out here was a bad idea and getting away from the malice in his eyes is my top priority. I grin again, grateful that he’s offering me a reprieve.
“I’ll meet
you at the truck,” Rowdy says, and I don’t miss a beat getting out of the barn.
After letting Nan know I’m going to head into town with Rowdy, I climb inside of his truck. It’s ten times nicer than Zeke’s with a working radio and a functioning air conditioner, but as Rowdy climbs inside and drives off the property, I find myself missing the wind in my hair the way it was when I went to town with Zeke.
“Did you finally give up on him?”
I swallow thickly, unsure of how to answer the question. I’d like to think I’m the type of person to never give up on anyone, but Zeke makes it very difficult to even be in the same room as him. He’s agitating at best, and when he’s at his worst, he’s hostile and belligerent.
“It’s complicated,” I mutter after Rowdy makes it clear with his silence that he’s not going to let me go without responding.
He chuckles. “Love always is.”
“Not even close to love,” I say, turning my head to look at him.
“You know, when Shawn and I first met, he was just as angry as Zeke. He hated the world. He couldn’t accept that he was different from what his family told him he should be when he was growing up. He carried a lot of hate and anger around for a very long time.”
“Well, Zeke is just hateful and malicious. He isn’t fighting societal beliefs because he doesn’t fit into a certain mold.”
“But he has his own troubles,” Rowdy counters.
“I know he’s having a hard time. I know his father is very sick, and I can empathize with that, but there’s no need to act the way he does. He has treated me poorly since day one, long before he found out his dad was sick. He’s just mean. I don’t have time for people like him in my life.”
Rowdy only responds by nodding in agreement. Silence fills the cab of the truck as we head into town, and it’s several long minutes before he speaks again.
“Being a teenage boy is hard.”
I scoff. “Being a teenage girl is no easier.”
“He’s been dealt a crappy hand.”
I glare at him, but he keeps his focus on the road ahead of us. “Really? Did he sit down and tell you about his life? Are you guys like besties or something?”