Something in the Way: A Forbidden Love Saga: The Complete Collection

by Hawkins, Jessica

I let myself into her room. “Tiff?”

  She was still sitting where she was when I’d left, staring at her door. “What?”

  “Are you okay?”

  She blinked a few times and turned to me. “Are you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  My hands shook. Tiffany tried so hard to be tough, but I knew she wasn’t. Maybe I was the only one who knew that besides my mom. I couldn’t imagine how it’d feel to be on the receiving end of those things Dad had said to her. I crossed the room and she opened her arms right as I launched myself into them. I was the one who started to cry.

  “Stop,” Tiffany said. She laid us back on the bed, petting my hair. “They’re not worth crying over.”

  “Who?”

  “Men.”

  “Even dad?”

  “Especially dad.”

  I drew my eyebrows together. I wasn’t sure what she meant by that. I’d heard her crying enough times after their fights. “Are you leaving?” I asked. “I don’t want you to go. Please, just go apologize to him.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “But you said . . .”

  “I’ve said it before. I wasn’t serious, and he knows that. He’s not going to kick me out.”

  I couldn’t remember any of their arguments ending that way. It was as if Tiffany wanted to see how far she could push him. I looked up at her. “Why didn’t you just tell him you’d stop seeing Manning?”

  “Because that’s exactly what he wants. He’s trying to control me and you and Mom.”

  “That’s not true,” I said. “He just wants what’s best for all of us.”

  “For you and Mom, maybe. Me? He just wants to pretend I never happened. His life would be easier if I weren’t around.”

  She said the words so simply, someone else might’ve thought they didn’t affect her. That she didn’t care. I knew she did, though. How could she not? He was her dad. Even after all the fights I’d witnessed, I couldn’t believe she truly thought that. “He loves you,” I said. “Things are just weird right now. When you find a job, he’ll ease up.”

  “You don’t know anything, Lake. You’re too young to understand. I’ll never get the kind of job he wants me to. You will. I’m not going to be a doctor or a lawyer or any of those boring things. He can’t stand that he’s worked as hard as he has to give us opportunities just to have me waste mine.”

  Tiffany didn’t even try. She’d barely studied, and she’d skipped a lot of classes, especially her senior year. I didn’t know if I was smarter than my sister, but I definitely tried harder. “You could do whatever you want, Tiffany. If you apply yourself—”

  “Shut up,” she said without inflection. “You sound like dad. He says that all the time.”

  “But that fight could’ve been avoided,” I pointed out. “You said you don’t even like Manning.”

  Tiffany blinked up at the ceiling, tilting her head. Her hair tickled my neck, but I just watched her. Her eyes roamed until she finally said, “I thought I didn’t . . . but maybe I do.”

  My heart dropped. She couldn’t just change her mind back and forth like that. “Why?” I asked. “Just because it makes Dad mad?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. It just made me rethink the whole thing, like maybe I didn’t give Manning a real chance.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair, using Manning to get back at Dad.”

  Tiffany tore her eyes from the ceiling to look at me. She pushed me off and we both sat up. I thought she’d kick me out, but instead she looked right at me. “I guarantee Manning has done worse than that to a girl. Men don’t care about women. They use them. The sooner you understand that, the better.”

  My stomach churned. Not Manning. He wasn’t that way. When I looked at him, spoke to him, we connected. He’d given me Birdy when I was sad. He’d returned my bracelet. He’d eat anything I made. In my gut, I knew—he was a good person. “I think it’s the other way around,” I said gently. “I’ve seen guys go crazy for you, and you just ignore them.”

  Tiffany smiled a little. “That’s how you play the game. The truth is, men think they have power, but they don’t. We do. Like tonight, with Manning. When he wouldn’t do what I wanted, I told him not to call me again and walked away. And you know what he did?”

  My heart thumped. I knew. I tried to pretend I didn’t, but I did. I’d seen it with my own eyes.

  “He kissed me. He puts on a good show—for a while there, I didn’t think he liked me at all. But he’s just like every other guy.”

  I knew in my heart that wasn’t true, and maybe it made me a bad sister, but I didn’t tell her so. I wanted Tiffany to believe Manning was just another guy, because then she’d treat him like one. She’d get what she wanted from him and move on.

  12

  Lake

  Monday afternoon, I was alone in the house for the first time since Manning had come over for dinner. I didn’t have to look out the window to know the crew was working next door—I could hear them.

  I went into Tiffany’s room to borrow a pair of shorts. I wasn’t brave enough to take her skimpiest pair, but everything she owned was shorter, tighter, or lower-cut than anything in my closet. I picked some from Tommy Hilfiger and held them up to my waist in the mirror.

  Tiffany’d been right the other night about Dad. The morning after their fight, Mom had made bagels and coffee, Dad read his Wall Street Journal, and Tiffany had waltzed into the kitchen like nothing’d happened. She’d even mentioned going out to look for jobs that day and he’d kissed her on the forehead on his way to work.

  I put on the shorts. In a tank top and Converse, I grabbed my Young Cubs flyer before heading out the door. The first time I’d met Manning, I didn’t remember being nervous. Now, though, as I walked to the curb, I had butterflies in my stomach and sweat on my hairline.

  There was lots going on, but I couldn’t see Manning. I walked through the dirt, passing under scaffolding. A man in goggles glanced at me as I ducked into the frame of the house, but he didn’t stop me.

  I found Manning toward the back, his profile to me, arms raised, a drill in his hands and a screw between his teeth. Goggles, a hardhat, and a red bandana around his mouth hid his face, but I would’ve known him anywhere.

  He drilled into a wooden beam. His navy shirt rode up, tan skin slivering over his waistband, bicep muscles bulging from the effort. I covered my stomach, unaccustomed to the violent way it flipped. Manning lowered the drill to inspect his work.

  “Hi.”

  He jerked his head to me and ripped the bandana off his face. “What are you doing in here?”

  Shit. He looked not only unhappy to see me, but kind of pissed. Maybe I shouldn’t’ve barged in like this—I mean, I could’ve just waited for him at the wall until his break. “I—”

  “Don’t ever walk onto a construction site without the proper protection.” He tossed the drill onto a worktable, his boots pounding the concrete as he came to me. “It’s dangerous.”

  “I—I’m sorry. I hadn’t really thought about it.”

  “Why do you think we’re wearing all this?” He punctuated his question by removing his hardhat and dropping it on my head. It was hot, sweaty, and heavy—and it was Manning’s. With a large hand on my shoulder, he pushed me out of the house, walking with me. His warm, rough palm on my bare skin gave me that tightening feeling again, only it started lower this time, not in my stomach like before.

  “Watch your step.” He grumbled his words. “There are nails, and—just . . . watch where you’re going.”

  I inhaled men’s sweat and sawdust. Outside in the dirt again, he pulled the hat off my head and tossed it on the ground. I looked up at him as he removed his goggles. His black hair stuck up everywhere. Despite the heat, he wore a dark, long-sleeved t-shirt with the construction company’s logo printed across the pocket. A cigarette butt peeked out the top, and dust dirtied his collar.

  “Is it time for your break?” I asked.

  “I already took it,�
�� he said but led me over to the wall.

  “How was your weekend?” I asked.

  He leaned back against the brick and took out his pack. “You’re not supposed to be over here.”

  It definitely wasn’t the greeting I’d been hoping for. “I didn’t know how else to get in contact with you.”

  He wiped his face with his shirt, flashing his flat, hard stomach. A tool belt weighed down his pants, and my heart nearly stopped. The dark hair I’d noticed before was actually a trail leading down to his waistband, where there was more of it. He dropped his shirt, but there was still dirt on his face. “Your sister, maybe?”

  I swallowed, dumbstruck. “What?”

  “She could’ve called me if you’d needed something.”

  But you’re my friend, I wanted to say. “You’re mad I came?”

  He looked into his pack of cigarettes a while, and then set them on the wall. “Was everything all right at home?” he asked. “After I left?”

  “It’s fine.” Sure, Dad had threatened to kick Tiffany out, but he didn’t do it. I didn’t want Manning to feel worse than he probably already did because of that night. “I brought you something.”

  He looked over at me. “What is it?”

  I pulled the flyer out of my back pocket, unfolded it, and gave it to him.

  He used his sleeve to dry his temples. “‘Young Cubs Sleepaway Camp,’” he read.

  “It has all the info for being a counselor,” I told him.

  He scanned the page. “Except what it pays.”

  “Eleven dollars an hour.”

  “Eleven?” He sounded surprised. “That’s high.”

  “The days are eight hours long, even though you’re kind of working the whole time. Even at night.”

  “But you get to do stuff outdoors, right?”

  “All that stuff I said, like canoeing and fishing and more. There’s also campfires. You even sleep in the cabins with the kids.” I was rambling, but I couldn’t stop. “The cut off to apply was last week, but she said you should try anyway because she thinks they’re understaffed.”

  “She?”

  “The receptionist at the Y,” I explained.

  He peered at the flyer more closely. “YMCA puts it on? My sister and I used to go to our local Y after school.”

  By the way his stance and expression eased, I guessed that was a good thing. The problem was that camp started soon. I didn’t know much about construction, but our new neighbors’ house didn’t look quite finished. “The next two weeks we have training and meetings for the counselors. Then we leave. It doesn’t look like you’ll be done in time.”

  He folded up the flyer. “Can I keep this?”

  I nodded. “The first meeting’s tomorrow night at six-thirty.”

  He picked up his pack and slid out a cigarette.

  “You probably can’t smoke there,” I said. “At least not where anyone can see.”

  “I’ll manage.”

  “So you’ll come?”

  He studied me a moment. “You want me to?”

  I squinted at the house. A flock of birds formed a “V” above us. Did a cloud want to float aimlessly? Did a sky want to be blue? I didn’t know. I couldn’t control my want for him. It just was. “Yes,” I said.

  “How come?”

  “I feel safe when you’re around.”

  His eyebrows lowered. “Is it dangerous up there?”

  “No, not at all,” I said quickly. “I mean, there might be bears.”

  The wrinkles between his eyes vanished. “You think I can protect you from bears?”

  “I . . .” I couldn’t tell if he was teasing me or not. If anyone could take on a bear, it’d be him. “No? Maybe?”

  He laughed, a rare sound that made me relax.

  “Why is that funny?” I asked. “You’re as big as a bear.”

  “Maybe to you, Birdy.”

  I couldn’t contain my smile, even if I wanted to. “The meeting’s at six-thirty.”

  “You said that already.”

  “We could meet there ten minutes early, and I’ll introduce you to the director. Or I was going to have my mom take me, but I could go with you instead?”

  He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. “What do you think, Lake, that I can just pick you up in my truck and take you somewhere?”

  Yes. Yes! A thousand times yes. I had never wanted anything more. “Why not?”

  He shook his head, looking away. “Have you talked to Tiffany about this?”

  Like a wet blanket, the mention of my sister’s name ruined the moment. I stuck my hands in the back pockets of my jean shorts. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Probably shouldn’t.”

  “Do you like her?”

  He paused. “That’s something I should discuss with her, don’t you think?”

  My throat felt dry. I didn’t care. I wanted to know. “She discussed it with me.”

  He studied me. “Oh yeah?”

  “I’m not going to tell you what she said.”

  “I didn’t ask you to. I’ll talk to her about it.”

  I sighed up at the sky. Nobody ever told me anything. “But it’s not fair. You and I were friends first.”

  “Friends?” he repeated. “Do you think that’s appropriate?”

  I frowned. “I thought we were.”

  “Your sister and I are friends. You and I—yeah, we are, too. But you have to think about how that looks. When you introduce me to the director of the camp, maybe say I’m your sister’s friend. You know?”

  “No, I don’t know,” I lied, just to hear what he’d say. “How does it look for us to be friends?”

  Manning exhaled deeply. “I’m older and wiser. Just trust me.”

  Of course I understood why we had to keep our friendship to ourselves. It wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, but not everybody would understand it. That meant that to other people, there was only one thing linking us: Tiffany. “Are you going to ask Tiffany to go to camp?”

  “Yes.”

  “But why?” I asked. “She thinks camp is for losers.”

  “Because it would be good for her. Think about it. She’s not working right now, maybe a little aimless.”

  “A little?”

  “Maybe she’ll end up liking it.”

  I looked over my shoulder at the house, surprised nobody at home had thought of it. It was a good way for Tiffany to make some extra cash and get some space from Dad. But it meant I’d be giving up a week alone with Manning. I turned back to him. “Is that really the reason you want her there? Or is it because it looks bad for you and me to be friends?”

  Manning took out a cigarette. “I have to go back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Fine.” Frustrated, I walked back along the curb toward my house. I’d have to trust him. He’d been good to me so far. He’d won me a pelican. He made eye contact with me. He didn’t talk over me like a lot of people did. Whatever his reason was for wanting Tiffany there, I’m sure he was looking out for all of us.

  When I reached the front door, I turned and looked back. Manning still leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a lit cigarette hanging between his lips.

  * * *

  Tiffany parked her car with a sigh and stared out the windshield at the YMCA.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I reminded her.

  “Manning asked me to.”

  “So you like him again?”

  She looked over at me. “I never stopped.”

  “After dinner last week, you acted like you weren’t sure about him.”

  “And yesterday I hated overalls, but this afternoon, I went to the mall and bought two pairs because I saw them on Heather Locklear. It’s not a crime to change my mind.”

  Thankfully for her. Tiffany changed her mind about a lot of things, like outfits and friends. She’d do the same with Manning, too.

  I got out of the car and looked around the parking lot, half-expecting Manning not to
show. But there he was, leaning against the side of his truck, smoking. I waved, but it was dusk, and I couldn’t tell if he’d seen us, so I started over toward him.

  When I was close, he put his cigarette out on the ground. “You’re late,” he said.

  He didn’t talk much, but when he did, my heart dropped into my stomach. All the time, when we were apart, I thought about his deep, rumbling voice and wondered when I’d hear it again. “I told you six-twenty,” I said. “It’s six-nineteen.”

  “Your clock’s slow.”

  “No it’s not,” I said. Actually, I didn’t know who set the clocks in my house, but I’d always been on time for school. “Is it?” I asked. “Are we really late?”

  He lifted one corner of his mouth.

  When he smiled, I smiled. “Are you teasing me?” I asked.

  His expression changed when he looked behind me. “Hey, Tiffany.”

  “Hi.” She brushed by me and opened her arms.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I’m trying to hug you.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Do I look like a ten-year-old girl?”

  “Please?”

  With a sigh, he opened one arm. Tiffany snuggled into his side, wrapping herself around his torso.

  My stomach soured like I’d eaten rotten seafood.

  “I missed you,” Tiffany said.

  I turned away. If they were hugging, he might kiss her again—and I was certain I’d puke if he did. “We should go in,” I said, walking off.

  There was no time to introduce Manning to the director before the meeting. Gary was already standing at the front of the small, crowded room, trying to get everyone to settle down. There was a podium in the center, but Gary never used it. I’d know him anywhere just by his thick, black curly hair that would’ve been down past his ears if it didn’t grow straight out. A beach bum his whole life, he had a perpetual tan and bloodshot eyes, and he was the only person I knew who’d rather have a conversation with kids than adults.

  There was only one pair of seats left, and the rest were singles. Fine. Let Tiffany and Manning sit together. I took a seat near the front so I wouldn’t have to see them hug.