by Kasie West
Avi sat next to him. Lisa tightened her hold around my shoulders reassuringly.
I wasn’t sure what to say. Apologizing again seemed pointless.
Mrs. Matson poked her head back into the waiting room. “Okay, Autumn, come with me.”
I wished I could tell her to take Dallin instead but I knew she wouldn’t, and her saying no would only make it worse. I followed after her. When we were alone I asked, “Has the doctor said anything else about his recovery?”
“Tests have come back strong. His brain activity is good. He seems to have feeling in his limbs. He just needs to talk to us now and we’ll all feel better.”
I know I’d feel a lot better. “Dallin really wants to see him. He misses him.”
“I know he’s been here a lot, and I love that boy to death, but I can’t trust him to be calm in Jeff’s room. He’s too much of a jokester.”
I smiled. Dallin would probably find that reason funny. “Wait . . . he’s been here a lot?”
“Almost every day.”
I was surprised we hadn’t crossed paths, but that made more sense to me than the Dallin who had been putting on a face all week. He really was worried.
She opened the door for me and left me alone.
I slowly made my way over to him. The stitches on his head had been removed; angry red holes lined the bright pink line down his forehead.
“Hey, Jeff,” I said, sitting in my least favorite chair in the world. “How’s it going? How about waking up and talking so that you can be moved to the social wing. Isolation was never your strong suit.” And I’d like it much better too, because then everyone else would get to see him and I wouldn’t feel guilty for being the only one.
His eyes fluttered open, startling me, even though it wasn’t a new development. It was very disconcerting to see him like that, awake and yet not, but I tried to work past my initial reaction and be strong.
“Can you hear me?” I asked.
He blinked very slowly, but I didn’t know if that was an actual answer. I stood and put myself in his field of vision. His eyes were unfocused, almost glassy, but they were green and beautiful and I was so happy to see them open. I gently placed a hand on his arm. “Can you see me? Dallin said to say hi.” His eyes slowly closed and didn’t open again. I sat back down, my breath short, my heart beating double time. I only stayed for a few minutes after that, then let myself out of the room.
When I went back to report, the waiting room was empty except for Lisa and Mrs. Matson. My heart sank.
“Anything new?” Mrs. Matson asked.
“He opened his eyes for a little while, but that was it.”
She smiled. “I thought he might for you.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that.
Lisa stood. “Let us know when he gets out of the ICU so we can see him,” she said.
“I will.”
“Thanks.”
“Come back and see us soon, Autumn,” Mrs. Matson said.
I nodded, then left with Lisa. When we were in the elevator I asked, “Where did everyone go?”
“They all had different excuses, but I think they had planned on just staying to say hi and then leaving.”
I put my face in my hands. “Don’t sugarcoat it. Was everyone mad at me or just Dallin?”
“Mainly Dallin, but he’ll get over it. It’s not your fault.”
“I didn’t think Mrs. Matson would do that with everyone there.”
“Me neither.”
“I feel terrible.”
“Autumn, don’t feel terrible. You’re her hope right now. You were only trying to help. Don’t let Dallin make you feel bad.”
It was too late. I already did. The elevator dinged on the bottom floor and we got out.
There was something else that was bothering me too. “I guess Jeff didn’t talk about me to Dallin?”
“Not all guys tell their best friends everything. I’d trust his mom more than Dallin,” Lisa said. “And his mom acted like he talked about you all the time.”
“You’re right.” But I couldn’t shake the worry. If Dallin didn’t know Jeff liked me, maybe he didn’t.
CHAPTER 28
I had dropped Lisa off at home and was heading home myself when I saw a café and made a sharp turn into the parking lot. I was starving.
The girl inside was sweeping the floor.
“Are you closed?”
“No.”
I’d originally thought about getting a sandwich, turkey-avocado maybe, but as I walked toward the register I noticed a lit glass case of bakery items. There wasn’t much, the leftovers at the end of a long day, but somehow there were still two cronuts on a tray. My body seemed to let out a breath of relief just at the thought of them, at the memory they conjured. If the memory of a conversation with Dax could relax me so much, how well would an actual conversation work?
“Are you ready?” the girl asked, coming around the counter.
“Yes, I’ll take those two.”
She bagged them and I paid, then raced out to my car.
Dax’s caregiver raised his eyebrows when he opened the door.
“You’re back,” he said.
“Yes. I am. I’m Autumn, by the way. I don’t think I introduced myself last time.”
“Hello, Autumn. I’m Mr. Peterson. I take it I’ll be seeing a lot of you.”
“Much to Dax’s dismay, yes,” I said with a smile.
He smiled back and opened the door wider. “Come in.”
I silently cheered and followed after him.
The house was lived in but organized. A bench seat with hooks lined the wall to my right in the entryway, coats and hats hanging off it, shoes underneath it. I wondered how many foster kids actually lived here. I wondered if any of those things were Dax’s.
“Follow me.”
We passed four or five doors before coming to the one on the end. It was half open and I could see a bunk bed on the far wall. Mr. Peterson knocked on the door.
A voice that wasn’t Dax’s said, “Yeah?”
Mr. Peterson pushed open the door. “Hello, Russell,” he said. Then, “Dax, you have a visitor.”
“Who?” His voice sounded from a part of the room I couldn’t see.
Russell was staring at me with a half smile.
“Autumn,” Mr. Peterson said.
I wasn’t sure if Dax made a face or something but Russell said, “Might not want to voice many opinions; she’s standing right there.”
Dax appeared around the door, again looking neither surprised nor happy to see me. His eyes went to the bag of cronuts I held, then back up to my face.
“She can stay until eight thirty,” Mr. Peterson said, then walked away.
“What?” Russell called after him. “Why don’t they have to follow the rules?”
When Mr. Peterson didn’t respond, Russell got up and followed after him with loud protests.
I inched my way into the room that Dax had not emerged from. It was small, just fitting the bunk bed and two desks. “What rules are we breaking?” I asked.
“Free time is over at eight o’clock on school nights.”
“Oh.” I looked at my phone. It was ten after eight. “You get a whole twenty minutes extra?”
“Yes, apparently you’ve charmed Mr. Peterson.”
“It wasn’t hard,” I said behind my hand like I was sharing a secret. “I could teach you.”
He smiled and it transformed his whole face.
Before Dax could question my being there, I said, “I brought you the cronut I promised. We never had them when we escaped the library.”
“You didn’t promise.”
“Well, I told you about them, so it’s only right I provide.”
I walked with determination to his desk. He backed up several steps so I didn’t run him over. Now we both stood by his desk and I set the bag on top of it, next to his book. “You’re still reading Hamlet,” I said.
“The never-ending book.”
<
br /> I picked it up and fanned through its pages. “I’ve never read it.” The book naturally opened to where the envelope addressed to Susanna was stuck between two pages. He still hadn’t mailed it. I met his eyes.
If I’d thought Dax had changed his private ways in the last week and was now suddenly, of his own choice, going to share with me what this letter was all about, I was wrong. He nodded his head toward the bag I’d set on his desk. “Are we actually going to eat them?”
I set the book down, opened the bag, and pulled out a cronut. “There she is. Heaven.”
He took a step closer and my skin prickled to life. “It doesn’t look life-changing.”
“Do not speak ill of the cronut until you try it.”
He accepted the challenge and took a bite.
“Pretty good,” he said through his mouthful.
“Pretty good!? Pretty good? It’s the best.” I retrieved mine and ate it in four bites, then let out a happy sigh. “You’ll never be able to eat another donut again.”
“You’ve ruined me?”
“Yes.”
I watched his hands as he finished his off. “You’re still wearing it,” I said quietly.
“What?”
“The bracelet.” That had to mean something. He really did need me as a friend in his life. I held up my wrist and freed mine from beneath my jacket. “Me too.”
“I’ve just been too lazy to find a pair of scissors.”
Right. Dax carried a knife around in his boot. I didn’t believe that for a second. But I did believe that he was too proud or private or something to admit he needed a friend.
When I looked up, he was staring at me. I met his stare, determined not to look away. That was easier said than done. His eyes were deep brown and so piercing they seemed to see right through me. I was right. There was something about being around him, someone who had seen me at my worst, that made me relax.
He let out a frustrated breath. “I’m leaving in six months. You shouldn’t come back.”
“I know. You don’t want attachments,” I said. I’d have to try something different with him if I wanted this friendship.
“I don’t have any. I’m worried you might.”
I let out a scoffing breath. “I don’t have any attachments. You’re just a good distraction for me. I need a distraction.” This might work if I could control my facial expressions.
“Distraction.”
“I’ve been at the hospital. That environment stresses me out—sick people, the pressure to miraculously heal someone. It would be nice to have someone outside of that circle to talk to, to hang out with. No expectations. No pressure. Zero commitment.” And that was all true. Maybe that’s why he seemed to believe me.
He nodded. We were close. Too close. I should’ve taken a step away but for the first time all week the tension in my shoulders and the back of my neck was gone, so I was going to stay where I was. Even if it meant Dax staring at me. Even if it meant smelling his familiar scent of laundry detergent and spice. Even if it meant feeling the heat from his body radiating against mine.
I grabbed the sides of his shirt, surprising myself with the action. He didn’t step away, and the rest of the tension in my shoulders drained down my spine. He snaked one arm around my waist and pulled me into a hug, smashing me against him. The move shocked me and I gasped, but didn’t pull away. Friends hugged, we could hug. The tightness in his shoulders seemed to lessen as we stood there as well.
I looked up at him. His face, only inches away, seemed just as calm as I now felt. He was moving toward me, smelling like sugar, when I blurted out, “But no kissing. Just friends.”
“Friends?”
“No. Friends are attachments, right? So no, we’re distractions. Distracted friends.”
He stopped, his look amused. “Okay.”
Why couldn’t I stop talking? “And distracted friends don’t kiss. Guys get attached when they kiss me.”
A full smile took over his face now. “No kissing, then.” His voice was low and scratchy and I wanted to immediately throw my rule out the window. The only rule I knew would protect me from the arrangement I had just made up.
“Rule number four.”
He laughed a little. “Okay.”
“Just a distraction,” I said, straightening up and backing away from him. I smiled. “A really good one.”
He grabbed hold of my wrist, keeping me from moving farther away. “Just a distraction?”
I nodded. “We can make rule number five ‘No Attachments’ if you’re worried.”
Dax smiled and pulled me close again.
Mr. Peterson was true to his word and kicked me out right at eight thirty with a loud throat clearing as he walked down the hall, then a quick knock and a “Free time over.” I grabbed the empty bakery bag, crumpled it into a ball, and said, “Thanks. See you later.”
I didn’t look back. I didn’t want to know if Dax regretted our new arrangement. It didn’t matter. He needed a friend right now, whether he wanted to admit it or not. And so did I, someone to get my mind off everything when I was feeling stressed. But my real commitment, my focus, needed to be on Jeff and helping him recover. This would work out perfectly.
CHAPTER 29
I got to school a little early the next day and waited in the parking lot for Dallin to arrive. He always parked in the same place, in the back row, facing out. I watched him as he backed into the spot. He reached over to the passenger seat, grabbed his backpack, and stepped out of the car. I did too. I had to make things right with Dallin. Not only had he been Jeff’s friend forever, but in the last several months, I’d felt like we had become friends too. I didn’t like him being mad at me.
“Hey,” I said, holding up my fist for a bump.
He just stared at it and I let my hand fall to my side. He did manage a “Hi,” though, as he continued to walk.
I fell into step beside him. “Dallin, I didn’t ask to see him. I’m sorry. His mom told me you were her top choice of visitors but she was worried about the jokes you might play.” There was nothing wrong with a little white lie in the face of hurt feelings, right?
“Nice,” he said. Not the reaction I was hoping for.
“Are you upset that you haven’t been able to see him or are you upset that I have?”
“Both.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t think you’re right for him. Jeff thought otherwise, so he asked me to try with you. And I have, I’ve been trying. I’ve been trying even harder since he’s been in there, hoping he could somehow sense it, or at least the universe would take notice. But I still don’t feel like you’re right for him. You’ve been messing with his head for months now.”
“Messing with his head?”
“It’s true. You don’t care. You’re constantly disappearing. Running off. Making Jeff chase you. I threw a party for you and you disappeared. It’s like you think you’re too good for us.”
My mouth dropped open in shock, no words coming to me at first. That’s how my anxiety was perceived by my friends? They thought I thought I was too good for them? “No, I don’t. At all. I have other issues, but I’ve never thought that. Never.”
I needed to swallow my pride and explain more, tell him about my anxiety disorder, but it’s like he didn’t hear me because he kept going. “He’s always looking for you, chasing after you. Sneaking off with you. Just like he did at the bonfire.”
“I wasn’t at the bonfire. I never showed up. You guys left me in the library.”
“But if you didn’t have a history of disappearing . . .”
“He still would’ve left. Like you all did.”
“But after you were discovered at the library and I found out you hadn’t been at the bonfire, I realized he was chasing after you. And if he hadn’t been, he wouldn’t have been in such a big hurry. He would’ve been more careful.”
My heart seemed to stop in my chest. “You think him being in the hospital is my fault?”
I stopped walking, my eyes stinging. He pivoted slightly, gave me a shoulder shrug, and kept walking. I stood there in the middle of the parking lot watching him go.
It took me a couple of minutes to decide if I was going to stay at school or get back in my car, drive home, and crawl into bed. At home I would dwell on Dallin’s words all day long. They would circle around and around in my brain. I needed to talk to Lisa, to Avi and Morgan. Make sure Dallin was the only one who felt this way.
But in the meantime, I needed a distraction. Someone who I didn’t have to talk about this problem with. Someone who I knew for sure didn’t feel this way about me.
I found him by the buses with ten minutes to spare before school started. “Dax,” I called out to him.
He nodded.
“Hey, can we talk? Can I talk to you?” I asked, breathless.
“Uh . . .” He looked at the students surrounding us.
I looked around as well, for somewhere more private if that’s what he needed. The greenhouse was the closest building, rarely used in the winter. Without another word I headed there and hoped he’d follow. I also hoped it was unlocked. It was and he did. I stepped inside.
It was warmer, the air humid and smelling of soil. Rows of black planter boxes filled with mostly yellowing plants lined the tables.
“Tell me something happy,” I said, turning to face him.
“Did you mistake me for someone else?”
That sentence alone lightened my mood. “I’ve had a crappy morning.”
“But it’s only seven thirty.”
“I know.”
He moved a planter box and sat down on the table. “What happened?”
“Stupid stuff. I don’t want to talk about it. I need to get my mind off it.”
He pointed at himself. “With your distraction?”
“Exactly.”
He smiled and leaned back on his palms. When he was like this, unguarded and open, he was so cute. Okay, even when he was intense and closed off he was cute.