Almost Everything (Nickayla Quinn Trilogy Book 2)

by Jasmine Carolina

  She grabs a cup and pours water over my head, letting it run down my hair. I close my eyes and let her wash it, and it doesn’t take very long. After nearly six years of doing this, she’s gotten efficient and swift. She drapes one towel over my shoulders right before she lifts my long hair out of the sink.

  I stand up and walk back to the bedroom. Naomi sits down on her bed, and I take a seat on the floor, wedging myself between her legs.

  As she starts to detangle my hair with a round paddle brush, I close my eyes.

  “So, what’s up?” my sister asks, her adept fingers massaging my scalp in between strokes of the brush.

  I don’t know where to begin. It’s been so long since I’ve talked with her like this. “I needed to talk.”

  I can hear her small laugh behind me as she works her fingers through my curls.

  “Yeah, I kind of figured that. I haven’t seen you for more than twenty minutes in almost six months. So when you come over needing your ‘hair braided’, you’re either sick, upset, or carving pumpkins with Colin,” she says.

  I raise my eyebrow and tilt my head backward at her reference to Colleen Hoover’s Slammed series, and my little sister grins at me.

  “I’m not carving pumpkins. I told him what I needed to say to him before I came here. I just…I don’t know if I want to go home or not.”

  At that, my sisters hands in my hair cease their work and she guides my head backward so that I'm forced to look at her. Her large brown eyes are wide with shock.

  “Sounds like carving pumpkins to me. Why don’t you want to go home? What are you guys fighting about?” she asks.

  “He called me crazy,” I whisper.

  The minute the words leave my mouth, I hear a sharp intake of breath come from behind me.

  Naomi is the kind of person who refuses to pick sides. When Nikky and I would fight growing up, she’d get pissed at the both of us and go mute until we made up. She’s the one who is empathetic to everyone else’s feelings, but still won’t say who was right or who was wrong. That’s the thing that I love the most about my little sister. It’s also the thing that drives me crazy about her.

  Part of me came to talk to Nomi because I knew she wouldn’t choose sides. She’s the one person in the world who I know for sure would give me the best kind of advice when I need it.

  She doesn’t speak for a long time, but she recommences what she was previously doing in my hair. She parts my curls in half down the center of my forehead to the nape of my neck, then clips it up with a butterfly clip. She then parts my hair into four sections and clips three of them up.

  Silently swinging her leg over my head, Nomi walks over to her vanity and pulls out her blowdryer and a round brush. With quick hands, she gives me a blowout that leaves my hair straight and shiny. I feel her hands working through my hair again, and then I hear her sigh behind me.

  “Why on earth would Colin call you that?” Naomi’s voice comes out distant.

  I know why. It’s because we’ve never broached the subject of my mental illness when we talk to each other. When I tried to talk to her about it once before, she waved me off and just said that I was still her sister, no matter what. My illness didn’t change a thing.

  “I kicked Madilyn’s stuff out of the house.”

  “What?”

  I sigh, trying to stifle a laugh. When I think about it, it was really very funny.

  “I literally kicked her stuff out of the apartment. She said something absolutely horrible to me, worse than what she said last summer, and I told her to get out. When she didn't, I took her stuff from out of my girl cave. Then I put it on the edge of the steps and gave her an opportunity to follow it out and never come back. She didn’t take the opportunity, so I kicked her stuff down the stairs,” I explain.

  Now, explaining it, I do sound a bit crazy.

  Apparently, Nomi doesn’t think so, though, because she starts laughing.

  “And that pissed him off, I’m guessing?” she asks, continuing to do my hair.

  I shake my head. “Not at all. He just wanted it to be fixed. And he wanted me to apologize, and then go outside and get her shit.”

  “Which of course was not happening.”

  “But of course not.” I pause. “He doesn’t know why I put her shit out, and I think that’s where the problem lies.”

  Naomi drapes my long hair over my shoulder for a second. “Hold that.”

  She gets up again, grabbing a container of rubber bands from the top drawer of her vanity, and then grabbing her can of hairspray. Plopping herself down behind me, she grabs the end of my braid and ties it up.

  “I didn’t really want to tell him what she said. It’s not like he’d believe me anyway,” I say. “But I was willing to. I never had the chance to even explain myself.”

  I cover my face when Nomi uncaps the hairspray and then sprays it all over my hair. I drop my hands, then climb up onto the bed and lie down on my back next to her. I fold my arms across my chest and stare up at the glow in the dark stars we’d put on the ceiling back when we shared this room, and my sister turns onto her side, propping up on one of her elbows.

  “Are you mad at him?” she asks.

  Shaking my head, I close my eyes.

  “Just…hurt. That’s the one word I can’t stand, and it’s the one thing I never thought Colin would say to me. And what’s worse is that he honestly didn’t know why I was so upset with him.”

  “Well, did he say sorry?”

  “Of course he did. Once he knew why I was upset, he said sorry. Almost a million times, really.” I stare at my sister for a moment before my gaze drifts back to the ceiling. “But him apologizing isn’t enough. Not this time, at least.”

  Over the course of the next half hour, I tell my sister about everything. She braided my hair, so I might as well. She remains silent the whole time, in typical Nomi fashion, letting me yell and vent and cry until I feel like I’m finished. She doesn’t even object or interrupt when I think I’m finished and then realize that I’m not.

  When I finally am done, she gets up and walks out of the room. I stare after her retreating figure, and when she returns, she's holding a box of tissues. She sits next to me and hands me the box before she gives me a sympathetic glance. Grabbing my hand, my sister pulls me into a sitting position and I give her a small smile.

  “I'm a mess, aren't I?” I ask, wiping my tears away quickly.

  “Not at all. You're in love. And apparently this is what being in love does to you,” she replies. “Don't be so hard on yourself, Nic. And don't be so hard on Colin either. He doesn't know how badly he's hurting you.” A beat. “Grief does horrible things to people.”

  At her words, I'm a bit stunned. She's more perceptive than I thought she would be. But what stuns me more is the fact that the only person we lost to death was Grandma on Daddy's side, and that was five years ago. I had no idea Nomi was still hurting over that.

  “You referring to Grandma?” I ask my sister.

  She shakes her head. “Losing someone to death isn't the only way to experience grief, Nic. There're a multitude of ways, and I've experience with more of them than you'd think.” She gives a small smile. “When everything happened with Kyle, you withdrew, you became a totally different person. And you even told me that you lost yourself. And everyone who loves you lost you, too. And we all grieved together. That's the grief I’m talking about. We all changed after what happened to you and we didn't even know it. It was like part of you died.” She pauses, her voice breaking a bit. “But Colin…he brought you back to life. So whatever he did or didn't do, you can't hold him to it. I won't allow you to. You know I never take sides, Nic, but this time, I am. You have to forgive him. Whatever he's done or said as a result of his grief, it's bad, yes. He called you crazy, yes. And that shouldn't be taken lightly. But you have to forgive him. Because while he's hurt you, he also did the one thing no one else was able to do. He gave you back to us.”

  I glance at her, a bit
perplexed by what she said. I never thought of my depression affecting other people. I know that I lost myself, and I felt that loss, but I had no idea that the people around me felt it, too.

  “So you think I should go home?” I ask.

  “I think if I were you, I'd take some time to myself, then go home and work it out. I'm not saying what Colin said is okay, nor should this Mads bitch get away with what she said or what she thinks she's doing. But I do think what you have going with Colin is something most people never get to experience in their lifetime. And I don't think you should let it go just because you're going through a rough patch. You've gotta stop running away sometime, Nickayla.”

  I roll my eyes. “Why does everyone keep saying that? I do not run.”

  “You do so run. You run away and you carve pumpkins and you try to take the easy way out of everything. You were raped and his dad died and I'm sorry to tell you…there's no easy way to deal with any of this. You two have been through some heavy shit. And the only way it'll work is if you stop running from him and deal with it together. Otherwise you're going to break, and you'll both be worse off because of it.”

  I nod.

  I'm taking everything she's saying into consideration. I hate that everyone thinks I'm a runner, but after all she's said, I'm starting to think that maybe they're right. I run from him when shit gets sour and that’s my part in the slow deterioration of our relationship.

  “Can I spend the night?” I ask, as if this is her house. I only ask her because I'll be sleeping in her room.

  “Sure. Mom’s making chile con carne and homemade tortillas tonight,” Nomi replies. “But—and I say this with the utmost of affection—you have to leave tomorrow. You can't leave this up in the air. Stay the night, take your space, then go home to your boyfriend and fix whatever this is.”

  “And if I don't?” I'm grinning now.

  “I'll kick your ass, and I'll let Madilyn watch.”

  “Bitch.”

  “Shut up. You love me.”

  “I do.” I'm beaming. I reach over and hug my sister, resting my chin against her shoulder. “Thanks, Nomi.”

  We sit together for a while, unsure of what to say to each other when a text message comes through on her cell phone. She leans forward, ready to answer it as she sucks her lower lip in between her teeth and bites a bit. She stares down at her phone as she types a response and then grins widely.

  “Who’s that you’re texting?” I ask.

  “Trevor. He’s just a guy. You’ll meet him soon.”

  At that, I perk up a bit. Naomi and I have been allowed to date for the past two years, and in that time, she’s never even talked about a guy. This is the first I’m hearing of one since Daddy gave us the okay to be actual teenage girls.

  “Will you tell me about him?” I’m a bit too relieved to be able to stop talking about Colin and me.

  My sister nods.

  “Well, he’s in your grade, but he goes to Barton High instead of any of the Harlow schools. His name is Trevor Strattan, but he prefers to go by Trey. I actually prefer to call him Trevor. I’ve been talking to him for about three months now? And—” Her cell phone buzzes again, and her eyes dart up to meet mine. “Has Colin called you at all since you guys got out of school?”

  I shrug. That’s a wonderful question. It’s also one that I don’t know the answer to.

  “I dunno.”

  “What the Hell do you mean, you don’t know?” my sister replies, her expression confused.

  I shrug again. “My phone’s off.”

  My sister rolls her eyes, then sits forward and places her hands on both sides of my face. She’s staring at me like I’m stupid or something. “What do you mean, ‘off’? ‘Off’ as in it’s disconnected, or ‘off’ as in you turned it off?”

  I knew that that question was coming, but somehow, I wasn’t exactly prepared to answer it. My sister is too smart for her own good. Next time, I’m going to talk to Nikky about this. Chances are, he won’t be as perceptive as Nomi, because he won’t want to hear about my problems with Colin.

  “I turned it off. I didn’t want to have to talk to him.”

  My sister lets go of my face and groans. “Runner!” she accuses, pointing her finger in my face.

  I smack her hand away, trying as hard as possible not to be annoyed.

  “Stop saying that! I’m not running!”

  “Pumpkin carver!” She’s cackling a bit now, amused with herself. Her cell phone buzzes again, and she lifts it up with a gargantuan grin on her face. “Lucky for both of us, Colin’s a lot smarter than you are.”

  When I glance at the phone, Colin’s face is on her screen, clear as day. And when she doesn’t answer, a list of her recent calls appears. Right beside Colin’s name is the haunting fact that no matter how much he’s grieving, this boy loves me and refuses to let me go.

  He’s called my sister fifteen times today.

  Sixteen.

  Last night, after the lecture I got from Nomi about how I should go home to Colin, I got the same one from my mom when she got home from work. I thought that was funny, considering that she was the only one who was skeptical about my relationship with him. But either way, it appears as though my family is Team Colin, and although I’m glad they all finally approve of him, I wish they didn’t have to do so when we’re in a fight.

  I walk through the front door of the apartment, and the first thing that I hear is Colin’s voice, but I’ve no idea where it’s coming from. I set my backpack down on the floor, but I don’t close the door behind me. I can tell that he’s in the kitchen, and I can see his unruly curls from where I’m standing.

  “I’m so sorry,” he’s saying. “Please, just call me back, baby. I’m so worried about you. I just…I just love you. ‘Kay, bye.”

  I close the door, and the minute that I do, his head snaps in my direction at the same time that he drops his cell phone and shoves away from the table. He darts over to me, and he doesn’t waste a second before he places his hands on either side of my face and kisses my lips quickly. “Oh, thank God!” he exclaims. He starts kissing me all over: my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, my hair, my lips again and again and again, muttering “I’m sorry” and “I love you” in between every single kiss. I’m loving this version of Colin, the one who is apologetic and loving and wastes no time in doing whatever he wants with me. This is the same Colin I got acquainted with before the last time he touched me and really touched me. “Jesus, Nickayla. I love you so much. I’m sorry.”

  I’ve only just noticed that I’m letting him put his hands all over me and I haven’t even returned his hug, let alone any of his kisses. He starts kissing my hair and I wrap my arms around his waist as I melt against his sculpted body and rest my head against his chest. His hand comes up to cradle the back of my head and the other rests on my waist. We’re just standing there, holding each other in complete silence, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I’m starting to believe that everything will be okay.

  Finally.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls, Colin,” I whisper into his chest. “I was carving pumpkins. I needed space. And I turned my phone off. I’m sorry.”

  Colin shakes his head and holds me tighter, like he’s afraid that if he loosens his grip, I’ll run away from him again. That’s incredibly hard to stomach.

  “Nickayla, I don’t give a shit about the fact that you didn’t answer my calls. I’m just…fuck, I’m so happy you’re here. I’m happy you’re home. Thank you for coming home.”

  I nod against his chest, and then I pull away from him, leaning up on my tiptoes and returning his earlier kisses. He blinks in confusion for a while, but then he leans forward and deepens the kiss, holding on to me tightly.

  “You know we need to talk about this, right?” I ask.

  He nods against me. “Yeah, I know. But let’s not do it today, okay? Let’s both just avoid this and enjoy each other’s company. We can talk about everything later.”<
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  At that, I brighten up a bit. I was expecting him to agree with me and sit down so that we could discuss what’d happened and why I freaked out on Madilyn. I’m even sure that he wants to know why I totally shut him out at the lake house, but right now, he wants to avoid the serious shit? That’s more than fine with me.

  “So we’re carving pumpkins together today?” I ask.

  He glances down at me, perplexed. His eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth pulls to one side.

  “It’s March, Nickayla. No one’s carving pumpkins until September, at least,” he says.

  I burst out laughing, completely forgetting that the only people who know what ‘carving pumpkins’ stands for are fans of Colleen Hoover’s, and that’s totally fine with me. I’m such a bookworm that sometimes I speak solely in book references, and I forget that not everyone understands what I’m talking about all of the time.

  “It’s a metaphor. Just…never mind. It means that we’re both avoiding the subject, and I’m happy about it because then you can’t accuse me of running.”

  “Well, you do run,” he points out.

  “So I’ve heard. Stop talking to my sister, okay?”

  Again, he stares at me with the confused look, and I just give a small laugh.

  “My entire family is on your side right now. You’re too charming or your own good, Mr. Westwick.”

  He grins, lifting me off my feet. I wrap my legs around his waist and he holds on to my thighs. Kissing my lips softly, he guides me over to the couch in the living room. “Well, I guess now I get to work my charm on you, yeah? Use it to my advantage so you’ll stop being so mad at me?”

  I shake my head, leaning back so that our lips are no longer touching. “I’m actually no longer mad at you. I just needed to be alone for a while. I’ve decided that I want to play for Team Colin, too. Team Nickayla was feeling rather lonely.”