By Your Side

by Kasie West

Dax nodded once, his smile falling. “I’ll leave.”

  “No,” I said, determined. “Let’s go.”

  We walked toward the exit. “How do you think they keep these floors clean?” I asked.

  “A really good janitor?”

  I smiled that he actually answered my question instead of making fun of me for it. “Did you take the bus all the way here?”

  He nodded.

  “How do you make money for bus fare?”

  “The old-fashioned way.”

  “Holding up train conductors? Robbing banks?”

  His smile was back, which was my goal. His hard-to-earn smiles made me feel like I did something not many others could.

  “Mowing lawns. Washing windows.”

  “I was close.” I clasped my hands together and offered him a bright smile. “The time has come.”

  “For what?”

  “For you to learn how to drive.”

  My body jerked forward, my head almost hitting the dashboard. “Easy on the brakes. No need to stomp on them.” We were in the school parking lot. It was the only place I could think of that was big enough and wouldn’t have a lot of obstacles.

  Dax eased off the brakes and the car rolled forward. He pushed on them again, and once again my body jerked forward. This time the seatbelt tightened and I let out a grunt.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Sorry.” I’d never seen him more out of his element or unsure of himself. Dax was always a presence. A confident presence.

  “It’s okay. It takes a little while to get used to how sensitive the brake pedal can be.”

  “I suck at this. I’m going to ruin your car.”

  “You’re not going to ruin my car.” I wasn’t sure if he understood what I said, though, since I was laughing so hard.

  He shot me a look. “Is this going to be one of your laughing fits?”

  I pointed back at the wheel. “Just drive. You’ll get used to it.”

  “Driving or you laughing at me?”

  “Both.”

  He inched forward again, his face a mixture of concentration and nerves. A surge of warm affection eased through me. I felt like I knew Dax pretty well, but I still wanted to know more about him.

  “Where were you born?”

  “Kaysville.”

  “How old were you when your dad left?”

  “Four. Too young to really remember him much.”

  “And is that when your mom started . . .” I didn’t want to finish the sentence.

  He did for me. “Doing drugs?”

  “Yes.”

  “No. That was later, when her mother died.”

  “And when did CPS get involved?”

  He rubbed his thumb over his left wrist. “When I was thirteen.”

  “You’re seventeen now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was she a good mom before all this?”

  “She was the best mom she knew how to be.”

  “I guess that’s all any of us can do.” I reached over and squeezed his knee.

  “Are you trying to mess me up? Like in the Frisbee throw?”

  I smiled, remembering our library competition. “Is it working?”

  “We’ve already established you’re a distraction.”

  I laid my hand back in my lap. My cheeks hurt from smiling. Dax circled the lot twice, getting steadier with each lap.

  “How’s the group home?” I asked.

  “Have you ever felt trapped?”

  I gave a single laugh. “Yes. I have anxiety.”

  “Right.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

  “Stop apologizing.”

  I stopped. “When I feel trapped, anxious, I think about the times I’m the happiest.”

  He dared take his eyes off the dark lot in front of him to level his gaze on me. The intensity in them took my breath away. Then he was focused again out the window. I almost apologized, thinking I had hit a nerve with that suggestion. But I held my tongue.

  Dax’s knuckles went white on the steering wheel and I looked out the windshield. Another car pulled into the parking lot at least fifty yards away. He slammed on the brakes, throwing me forward.

  “Seriously, Dax. You’re going to kill me.”

  “Isn’t that what I’ve been trying to say?”

  I laughed as I watched the car in front of us do a U-turn and exit the lot again. I laughed a lot around him, I realized. He made me happy. My insides felt like they were glowing, like I wanted to live in this moment forever. I played with the hot pink bracelet still firmly attached to my wrist and I took a deep breath and spit out, “You’ve definitely been added to the archive the last couple of weeks.”

  “What archive?” he asked.

  “The happy memories one. The one I’ll draw from in my dark times,” I said quietly.

  A smile stole away his hard expression before he wiped it off and pretended I hadn’t seen it. But I had. And it got added to the bank.

  “Happy memories can’t get you through everything.” He seemed to be talking from experience. He stopped the car and put it in Park, then turned toward me. “Did I leave my book at the park yesterday?”

  “Yes. I have it. I forgot. I’ll bring it to school on Monday.”

  “Okay.”

  I leaned my head on the seat, staring at him. His eyes held mine. They were intense. I’d never felt so exposed before. Like he was looking into me.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Thanks for coming tonight. I needed it.”

  “Sure.” He ran a single finger along the line of my jaw and I shivered.

  “You’re always cold,” he said.

  My eyes stared into his. “I’m not cold.”

  He was close. Too close. But I didn’t back away. In fact, maybe I had been the one to close the distance between us. I stopped myself from leaning in any closer. I breathed in his breath. Then it was him moving forward, his lips seconds from meeting mine.

  “We made a rule,” I whispered.

  “Unlike you, I don’t follow rules.” He didn’t give me a chance to respond. His lips met mine and stole my willpower. I pressed closer to him. I tried to move my right hand to his hair but the seatbelt prevented me from getting closer. I searched blindly for the release button, not willing to separate myself from him to find it. He was faster. He unlatched my belt, then pulled me closer.

  My hands found his hair, his neck, his shoulders. His hands found my hips, lifting and sliding me across the center console and onto his lap. There wasn’t enough room between him and the steering wheel but that didn’t stop me. My elbows rested on his shoulders as our kiss deepened.

  And then a horn sounded, loud and long. I gasped and pulled away. It was me, I realized. My back was pushing on the horn. I laughed, maneuvering myself back into my own seat. Silence filled the air. My lips felt swollen, my cheeks hot.

  “You’re in for it now,” I said, buckling my seatbelt again. “Attachment is in your future. I warned you.”

  He smiled and opened the car door. When he arrived at the passenger door and opened it for me, I realized we needed to switch places. I needed to drive. How was I going to drive? How was I even going to walk around the car with my wobbly legs? When I stepped out, he didn’t move for me to walk around, though. He pressed me against the car and kissed me again, his warm hands over my ears. I went up on my tiptoes in answer. His warmth poured through my body and I felt like I would explode from happiness. I finally pushed on his chest, breaking the kiss. I was feeling too much, too fast.

  Somehow I drove him home, wobbly legs and all, us barely speaking two words. When I pulled to a stop in front of the group home, he leaned over and brushed a kiss on my cheek, then another across my lips.

  “See you,” he said in a gravelly voice, and was gone.

  CHAPTER 38

  I had kissed Dax. What did that mean? Did he want to be together? Did I? My head spun all night long with these thoughts and others. So many that my brain felt like it
was going to explode. Guilt twisted my stomach until it felt like I was going to be sick. I tried to tell myself that Jeff and I weren’t together, were never together so there was no need to feel guilty. But I liked Jeff. I had been planning on being with Jeff for months, nearly a year now. Whatever was going on between me and Dax couldn’t happen. Not to mention if I walked away from Jeff now, everyone would hate me. All my friends would think I was a jerk. Dallin would only be proven right. Did Dax even want me to walk away from Jeff? Did kissing mean anything to him or was it just another distraction? I was so glad it was the weekend because I hardly slept at all.

  The next morning I pulled down a bowl from the cupboard, feeling like a zombie. My mom had a pot of oatmeal ready on the stove and I dished myself two spoonfuls. She came humming into the kitchen as I added my fifth scoop of brown sugar.

  “Did you want some oatmeal with your sugar?” she asked.

  “Funny, Mom,” I said, taking one more scoop, then stirring it in until my oatmeal turned brown.

  “You look tired,” she said.

  My chest was tight with the familiar feeling of anxiety. “I am.”

  “Everything okay?”

  No, I wanted to scream. But then what? “I just have an unsolvable problem.”

  “Something I can help you with?”

  “I wish.”

  “Try me. Your mom is good at finding solutions.”

  I looked around in jest. “My mom? Then I better go find her.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with speaking in the third person.”

  “I’m fine, Mom. Really.” This was something only time could solve.

  Owen brushed by me in the hall on my way to the bathroom. “It’s been so nice seeing you this week, sis.”

  I knew he was being sarcastic. I had hardly been home at all and it was already Saturday and he was irritated. “Sorry.” I felt like I was always apologizing to someone. “Let’s hang out now.”

  “Can’t. I actually made plans.”

  My phone rang, Lisa’s name flashing across the screen. “Hello,” I answered.

  “Hi! Today is my hospital day and I want you to come with me.”

  I closed my eyes. Now was the time to say no, when I knew I should stay home. But then I thought about the hour and a half we’d have in the car there and back and how I really needed to talk to someone, so I found myself saying, “Okay.”

  A light snow hit the windshield as Lisa and I drove on the freeway to the hospital. The heater in Lisa’s car had stopped working, so the defroster was blasting cold air, and we were both shivering. I wrapped my scarf around my neck three times, then said, “I kissed Dax.” It probably wasn’t the greatest of conditions to tell someone something surprising. The car only swerved a little with her reaction, however, and she corrected it quickly.

  “What? When?”

  “Last night. We kissed.”

  “So . . . not a distraction anymore?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Because of Jeff?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel about anyone right now.”

  “I thought you were in love with Jeff before the accident.”

  “Not in love . . . definitely in like.”

  “I think Dax screwed you up. If he wasn’t in the picture, you’d know exactly how you felt.”

  She was probably right about that. “You think?”

  “You’ve known Dax for weeks, Autumn. Weeks. You’ve known Jeff for years. Dax is just some new shiny toy. Jeff is someone who fits with you. Who fits with all of us.”

  “I feel like I need to tell Jeff about last night, though. About what happened with Dax. I don’t want to be dishonest.”

  “I think you should think about it longer. Decide what you really want. Before you talk to Jeff.”

  “Do you hate me?” I asked.

  “No! Why would I hate you?”

  “I don’t know. Jeff is so likable and everyone loves him and I did something stupid.”

  “Autumn.” She reached over and squeezed my hand. “You’re my best friend. I would never hate you. I’m team Autumn all the way. No matter what you decide I’ll be on your side.”

  Jeff’s mom, like she often did, greeted us with a hug when we arrived. “He has a surprise for you,” she said.

  “A surprise?”

  “Come on.” She led us to his hospital room door. “Wait here.”

  We stood in the hall as she disappeared into his room.

  “What do you think the surprise is?” Lisa asked.

  “No idea.”

  A few minutes later, the door opened and Jeff was sitting in a wheelchair. “Look who can get around now.”

  He looked so much more alert and awake. The drugs they had pumped into his system after the accident must’ve been mostly worked out. “That’s awesome,” I said.

  “Go stand at the end of the hall.”

  “What?”

  “Walk to the end of the hall and wait there.” He shooed us away with a wave of his hand.

  Lisa and I both followed his directions, walking until we were about forty feet away, then turning to face him. His mom moved behind his wheelchair and pointed it in our direction. He bent down and lifted the footrests, then stood.

  “You’re not going to tell him about Dax now, are you?” Lisa asked under her breath.

  “Not on your life.”

  Lisa gave me a sympathetic smile and then turned back to Jeff. “That’s so amazing.”

  “Wait for it,” he called. Then he walked several unsure steps in our direction. Steps that made me want to rush forward and take his arm so he didn’t fall. But I noticed his mom hovering off to the left of him, there to assist if he needed it, so I held my ground. He made it all the way to us, then wrapped me up in a hug, leaning a little against me for support.

  I patted his back. “I’m so proud of you.” And I was. So proud. I needed to be there for him as he finished out his recovery. Me telling him I was unsure of where we stood or how I felt wouldn’t be helpful right now. That could wait. Or maybe I’d figure out my feelings and realize Jeff and I were meant to be.

  In the time it took for the hug, his mom had already positioned the wheelchair behind him and I helped him sit down. He was beaming.

  “Can the girls take me for a walk around the hospital, Mom?” he asked.

  “Of course. Be good,” she said, pointing her finger at him like she knew the kind of trouble Jeff could get into.

  He just smiled up at her in innocence. “I’m always good, Mom.”

  CHAPTER 39

  “Okay, Autumn, sit on my lap, and Lisa, push the wheelchair as hard as you can,” Jeff said.

  We were outside of the hospital now. It had stopped snowing and we’d pushed Jeff and his chair up the sidewalk to a park the hospital built. He had decided the sidewalk was just wide enough and had just the right amount of decline that it would create the perfect speed ramp.

  I pointed at the swings in the play equipment. “Wouldn’t you rather try that out? It’s especially built for wheelchairs.”

  “Are you chicken, Autumn?”

  “Yes, actually. That pole down there looks like it would be very painful to crash my head into.”

  He positioned his wheelchair. “I’m going with or without you so you might as well protect me.”

  “With my body?”

  “I won’t let you get hurt.”

  There were so many things wrong with this scenario, the least of which was climbing onto a recovering patient’s lap. Lisa held her tongue during the whole exchange and when I looked at her for help she seemed to sense my discomfort and said, “I’ll try first so we can see if it’s safe.”

  “Nope, me and Autumn first.”

  Lisa widened her eyes at me, almost like telling me to say no.

  I opened my mouth to do just that but then made the mistake of looking at Jeff’s hopeful face and said, “Fine.”

  Jeff patted his lap with both his hands.

&
nbsp; I put one hand on the armrest. “I feel like I’m going to hurt you. Are your legs in pain?”

  “No. My legs are uninjured. You will not hurt me.”

  I took a deep breath and climbed on his lap.

  “Ouch.” He sucked a breath between his teeth.

  I jumped off but he caught my wrist with a laugh. “I’m just kidding,” he said. “Sit down.”

  My heart was in my throat, and it had been so long since I’d been a part of one of Jeff’s “adventures” that I’d forgotten this was how I always felt during them—on the verge of panic.

  I sat anyway, putting one arm around his shoulder and my other awkwardly propped behind me, holding on to the armrest. Beads of sweat were forming along my upper lip as I imagined careening off the sidewalk and re-injuring Jeff all over again. His mom was going to kill me.

  He reached down to the right, undoing the wheel lock. “Okay, Lisa, give us a shove.”

  She reached for the handles and gave me one last look as if asking me if I really wanted to do this. I closed my eyes and nodded. I felt the wheelchair lurch forward. Then I opened my eyes so I could see if at any point I would need to jump off. “You’re dead to me,” I mumbled to Jeff.

  He just wrapped an arm around my waist and laughed.

  When we started to pick up speed Jeff’s laugh tapered off into a nervous chuckle. That didn’t help my already active imagining of how this would end. As if on cue, we reached the flat section of the sidewalk and hit a bump that made the wheelchair catch a half second of air. We landed, our heads smashing together. The chair finally stopped when it hit a patch of grass at the very edge of the sidewalk.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, jumping off his lap and examining his head where mine had collided against it.

  “I’m fine. I have a hard head.”

  My temple throbbed but I resisted the urge to reach up and rub it. I hoped it didn’t bruise or swell. I must have succeeded in playing it off because he didn’t ask if I was hurt.

  Lisa came running down after us. “Are you okay?” she asked. I thought she was looking at Jeff, but she was asking me.

  “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

  Jeff put his hands in the air. “Push me back up. It’s your turn, Lisa.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I said. Surely a guy who just had a head injury shouldn’t take this risk.