by Jenna Mills
Twenty minutes and a whole lot of cappuccinos, lattes, and frozen creations later, the rush was over and I was about to go wipe down tables when I noticed Zoe staring over her shoulder, her normally pale eyes dark and fixed somewhere beyond the artfully decorated windows.
“Hey…” I lowered my voice as I closed the distance between us. “You okay?”
She jumped, twisting back toward me with the oddest look on her face. “What do you mean?”
“The way you were looking out the window, like you were trying to find someone.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No one.”
Despite the fact we hadn’t know each other long, I was pretty sure she wasn’t telling the truth. “You sure?”
“Yeah. I just…” She hesitated, obviously trying to decide what to say. She did the same thing in Group. “I don’t know. Sometimes I get the strangest feeling, like someone’s there, watching me,” she surprised me by admitting, “—but whenever I look up…”
She’d been attacked. I knew that. Someone had been in her home, her bedroom. They’d pinned her down, tried to hurt her.
But after a struggle, she’d gotten away.
I couldn’t imagine what it would be like, living with that.
“Do you recognize anyone?” Through the We’ll Perk You Up! slogan swirled on the windows, a sea of strangers milled around Pearl Street.
Zoe shook her head, this time sending long strands of white-blond hair slipping against her face. “No. L.T. says it’s normal after what happened, but…I can’t make myself stop looking.”
That would explain why she was always glancing over her shoulder. “The guy who attacked you is in jail, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And there wasn’t anybody else?”
“No,” she said as a group of college kids pushed in through the door. Pasting on a smile, she took their order, and I made their drinks. But I could tell that no matter what she did or how hard she tried to pretend otherwise, she was definitely creeped out.
I would have been, too.
Several more customers came in. Several minutes passed before we could continue.
“Earlier,” I was finally able to say. “Before I got here…did you see Josh?”
She, with the way she was constantly looking around, was the perfect person to ask. But just saying his name sent a quick, jagged jolt through me.
Sliding the hair back from her face, Zoe glanced over, her eyes all glowy. “Are the two of you talking again? I didn’t realize—”
“No.” The word jumped out of me. “We’re not talking. We’re not anything.” Except over.
She looked confused. “Then why would he be here?”
I didn’t mean to look at the lily, alone on the table where a woman sat across the small shop. But I did.
And Zoe noticed. “Omigosh—you think he brought the flower?”
Another customer, a young mother with a baby in a stroller, came over and ordered.
“Did you see him?” I asked, after handing over the salted caramel fat bomb.
“No.” Zoe’s eyes held mine a long heartbeat before she added, “but it’s been pretty crazy.”
I let out a slow breath, surprised it could burn so badly with all the ice inside me.
“If you two aren’t talking, why would he bring you a flower?” Zoe asked. “As a peace offering?”
It was a good question, but not a good answer. Looking away, I picked up a rag and started to wipe down the counter.
“Oh,” she said, and I could tell from her voice she was catching on. “You’re not thinking the flower is a good thing.”
It was still hard to wrap my mind around Josh following me, leaving flowers like some kind of perverted breadcrumbs.
“Is he like that? Does he do creepy things?”
I stilled. “I don’t know,” I said, hating the way my voice came out all quiet like, but even more hating the truth behind the words. I’d known Josh Redding since kindergarten. Three months ago I’d thought I’d known him as well as I knew myself.
Now I had no idea. No idea who he really was.
What he really thought.
Wanted.
How far he would go.
How far I would.
“Maybe it doesn’t even have anything to do with you,” Zoe offered. “I mean…it could just be some random flower.”
I let out a slow breath. She was right—she was. I knew that. Anyone could have brought the flower in. It was only a lily. Lots of shops had arrangements on the counter and tables, to keep the air sweet smelling. There was even a flower vendor a few blocks away. Anyone could have picked one—or more—up. A man for his wife. A girl for a friend. A child. And they dropped one. Their hands were full, juggling coffee and everything else. Things got dropped all the time. I was forever picking stuff up—jackets, keys, phones, books—and putting them in the Lost and Found cabinet.
But even as I knew all that, I knew there was nothing random about the flower.
“There have been others,” I whispered, staring at the now empty table, where the crushed lily sat in its makeshift vase. “In the hospital after my accident.”
“Oh,” Zoe said, all breathy-like. Then: “Maybe it’s a friend then, someone trying to cheer you up, maybe…that coach guy.”
It was like being touched with a live wire. I twisted around, could feel my eyes going wide.
That.
Coach.
Guy.
“What?” I tried not to stammer, but my heart thudded hard. “Why would you say that?”
I’d never said his name to her, never spoken of him. Or had I? My mind raced. Maybe in Group…
She busied herself straightening the bags of coffee for sale along the counter, but not before I saw the quick flare in her eyes.
“Tell me,” I said, more forcefully than I intended.
“It’s nothing.” Obsessively, she lined up tea boxes. “Just…something Hannah told me.”
My throat went more than a little dry. Hannah. Hannah who’d gone to the same high school I had. Hannah who’d been in group with Zoe. Who’d worked in the same coffee shop where we both stood.
Hannah who was no longer alive.
Who’d overdosed.
We’d never been friends, not really. Friendly, kind of, in that “hey, how are you?” kind of way. But we’d never gone out together. Never moved in the same circles. Never shared intimate details of our lives.
It was more than a little bizarre to think of Hannah talking to Zoe about things that might involve me. “Hannah told you something about Coach Grimes? Why?”
Pulling back from the counter, Zoe glanced toward the door, the windows, like she always did. Then, finally, her eyes found mine. “He was in here one day while we were working, and he was real friendly. I thought it was weird, but she laughed and said that’s just how he was. That he liked young girls. That everyone at your school knew it, that’s why he coached the girls’ cross country team. That there was this one girl…”
I felt myself go very, very still, even as the rhythm of my blood started to rush. “This one girl…what?”
The blue of Zoe’s eyes darkened. “Who he really liked,” she said, all super quiet. Almost guilty, apologetically quiet. “That everyone thought he was doing.”
My throat closed up on me. I couldn’t have moved if I’d tried.
“You,” she whispered.
The coffee shop tilted. Vaguely I was aware of reaching out a hand, for the counter, of my fingers pressing against the cool wood surface. But shock dulled everything else, everything but what Zoe was saying.
“I didn’t pay much attention to her, but then I met you and realized there was no way you’d hookup with a teacher. Not you. But…” She hesitated, bringing her hands together. “I don’t know. Lately things seem different.”
A quick rush went through me, and for a dangerous heartbeat, I could see him again, see the way he’d looked at me, the way his eyes had narrowed, an
d the brown had darkened.
I’m always here if you need me.
“It’s not like that,” I made myself say, but could do nothing about the dark whispers echoing through me. “I babysit for him. I’ve known him since I was twelve.”
Long strands of blond hair fell against Zoe’s face. “Doesn’t mean anything. You’re not twelve now. For the past few weeks, ever since you started working here, he’s suddenly in here every day that you are—don’t you find that kinda odd?”
I hadn’t realized that was different than before. “A lot of people come in every day,” I pointed out, just as I’d told Lexi the day before. “Even your cop…Detective Cooper.”
Her eyes flashed. “That’s different.”
“How?”
“Because it’s his routine. He’s one of those guys who does the same thing every day. It has nothing to do with me.” She looked down, obviously hesitating again, before looking up with the strangest expression on her face. “Besides, L.T. doesn’t look at me like I’m not wearing a shred of clothing.”
A soft, quick whisper went through me. “That’s how Lexi says you look at him,” I said, without thinking.
Zoe rolled her eyes. “Whatever. It’s how she looks at him—and it’s how your coach looks at you.”
I stood there, in the coffee shop but not really, back in time for a moment, to the night before—to his house, when I’d awoken to find him sitting across the room from me.
“Just be careful, okay?” Zoe jarred me back into the moment by saying. “You’re vulnerable right now. I don’t want him to take advantage of you—I don’t want to see you hurt anymore.”
Slowly, I turned back toward the flower, but as the hours piled up and daylight faded into dusk, the cold inside me kept right on swirling. At eight, I went on break and walked across the hard floor to the table by the window, where a noticeable chill bled through the glass. Slowly, methodically, I reached for the lily—
“Hey.”
The unexpected voice jumped through me. I spun around, knocking the paper cup over as I did.
“Hey,” Coach Grimes said again, this time not in greeting but more like to soothe. “Didn’t mean to spook you.”
As if I’d been doing something wrong, I shook off his apology. “No big deal,” I said as casually as I could—but there was nothing casual about the way he was looking at me—or the sudden quickening deep inside.
He reached for the cup and set it upright as I spread the rag I wore at my waist over the spilled water.
“You okay?”
The hoarse words stopped me. Some people were made of stone. No matter what they felt or thought, their faces and body remained the same. Everything was stashed away behind their mask, safe, secure, shielded from the world. You never knew when they were happy or sad, when they hurt.
Lexi Abbott was one of those people.
And Josh.
Others were chameleons, able to blend and adapt, but in moments when caught off-guard, you could catch glimpses of what was inside. That was Zoe.
And then there were those made of glass, every thought, feeling, every reaction naked for the world to see.
That was me.
I looked up, yanking at my internal curtains, hating that Coach Grimes knew me so well—but it wasn’t me he was frowning at. It was the lily.
He held it gently in his hand, the soft white of the petals a stark contrast to his rough, calloused skin.
His ring finger was empty.
“Yours?” he asked.
I snatched the stem and put it back in the cup. “No.”
The look on his face told me he didn’t believe me, but he let the subject drop.
“The girls made you something,” he said, removing a plain brown bag from under his arm. I hadn’t noticed it before. That was happening a lot since the accident, like living in a fog where I could only see a few feet in front of me. Dr. Rivers and my neurologist said it was normal and would resolve itself, but I wasn’t used to feeling so spacey.
“They begged me to bring it to you.”
Concentrating on my breath, I pulled one deep into my belly, then let it out slowly.
“Thanks.” I took the bag and sunk down into a chair, my feet and legs aching from standing for four hours straight.
From inside the bag, I withdrew a purple and green friendship bracelet.
“They said those were your favorite colors.”
I eased the woven thread onto my wrist, then pulled out the folded sheet of white printer paper. A large purple heart greeted me from the top portion, inside a hand-drawn picture of two little girls and one big girl, each carefully labeled: Brinkley. Delaney. Emily. We were holding hands. Above us the sun shone, below flowers bloomed into purple hearts, with the words, We love you!
“They’re so sweet,” I whispered.
“They really do love you,” Coach Grimes said. “They were worried that you’re still sad and wanted to cheer you up.”
I bit down on my lip.
“I’m worried, too.”
It took a second to realize he’d taken the chair across from me, and that his hand covered mine.
“I meant what I said last night, you know.”
I told myself to pull back, to break the contact. That it was wrong. I knew that it was. So very, very wrong. But it was also warm, and I was tired of the cold. I didn’t want to pull back, not when soft twirls danced from my fingers up along my arms. Soft twirls that I needed, wanted—craved—so very badly.
I refused to think about the source.
“You deserve someone who makes you feel as special as you are.”
“Does that usually work for you?”
I yanked back and jerked up in one broken breath, my heart slamming violently the second I saw him standing not one foot away.
Josh.
Chapter 6
“YOU JUST CAN’T wait, can you, you fucking son of a bitch. Can’t wait to get your hands on her—”
Coach Grimes surged to his feet, his six-foot-plus height equaling Josh’s. “Easy, son.”
“Don’t son me, you fucking piece of shit! You’ve wanted her all along. You think I didn’t know that?”
Everything just kinda froze.
“I’ve seen you,” he gritted out, his voice rising as the coffee shop quieted. “And I told her.” His face was twisted, his eyes narrow shards of glittering blue. “I warned you,” he said, this time focused fully on me. “All those mornings practicing, those special runs, just the two of you. The one-on-one treatment for shin splints. It was never about making you a better runner.”
“Stop it!” I exploded. And then I was standing, too, and the tilting started, all over again, tilting hard. Fast. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The hell I don’t.” He exhaled roughly, and I smelled the liquor. “All this time he’s been grooming you.”
“That’s enough,” Coach Grimes said.
Zoe rushed over. My manager hovered nearby.
“Please,” I whispered, grabbing onto the back of the chair. “Don’t do this.”
But Josh was beyond the point of listening. “Come on, let’s go,” he said, and then he was reaching for me, his hands closing around my wrist. “I’m not letting you—”
Everything happened fast, like a bomb of craziness going off. I yanked back. Coach Grimes lunged between us. Josh shoved. Someone screamed. Someone else shouted, “call 911!”
And then two guys materialized, pulling Josh back while Coach Grimes positioned himself between us.
“You need to leave now,” he said in an eerily quiet voice. “And you need to stay away. You’ve done enough damage—she doesn’t need you anymore.”
But I have no idea if Josh heard him, because his gaze was locked onto mine, locked hard, narrowing the coffee shop, the whole world, to just the two of us in that one suspended heartbeat, and it was all there in his eyes, glittering like the brightest of stars, every moment, every breath, every promise. He didn�
�t say anything, not one word, but I heard them all, every whispered I love you, every laugh, every dream for the future. All the pain, so much pain—
“Josh…” I whispered, and that place inside me, the one locked away, locked safe, broke open, and all the hurt spilled out. “You have to stop doing this—he’s right. It’s over.” Saying the words aloud hurt in ways I’d never imagined. “You don’t belong here anymore.” Couldn’t belong here.
For a second he said nothing, did nothing, only looked at me as if I’d just given him a terminal diagnosis. But only for a moment. Just as quickly, he broke from the hands restraining him and twisted away, storming out of the coffee shop.
And then Zoe was there, too, reaching for me as the tears started to fall, hot and salty, one after the other, leaking from my eyes and streaming down my face for the first time since the accident.
Tears.
I’d been so sure they were gone.
“Hey, it’s okay,” she murmured as Coach Grimes urged me to sit.
“Emily, are you okay?” That was my manager, Cheryl. She squatted down with a glass of water.
“I need him to leave me alone,” I said, trying to breathe, trying so, so hard to breathe. But the invisible ties kept pulling me, dragging, tugging me under.
“Why don’t you take the rest of the evening off?” she suggested. “Go home and catch your breath.”
I took the water and sipped deeply.
Coach Grimes squatted down in front of me, strong—steady. Always so, so steady. “I can drive you, if you like.”
Zoe shot me a look.
I took in the small crowd gathered around me, the concern twisting their faces, and something inside me snapped. I didn’t want to be that girl, the lame one everybody felt sorry for. I didn’t want to be the victim. I wanted—
Abruptly I stood.
I wanted away from there, away from the ugliness, the memories, the invisible ties that bound me to the past.
I wanted to move forward.
To live again.
To breathe without it hurting.
I needed it so bad.
“I gotta go,” I said, pushing past them.
Someone tried to stop me. I’m not sure who. Zoe maybe. Coach Grimes. But the buzz roaring through me distorted everything. There was only the door, and the darkness beyond.