Two Blue Lines (Crossing The Line #1)

by Sc Montgomery

She popped up, paced away from me, some strange emotion rolling off her. “Why are you telling me this?”

  Confusion clogged my throat. “What?”

  She whirled around, her brows thundering down. “I mean, why would you come here and tell me this? Why do you think I would even care?” Her voice rose in pitch with each word, her body practically vibrating.

  I was thunderstruck by her reaction. I opened my mouth, but unable to find words, snapped it shut.

  “Well?” she demanded. “Why? You know I hated Noah! I hated him!” Tears quivered on her lashes as she wilted into her desk chair.

  I had no idea. No. Idea.

  He’d always been an ass to Jonah and me, but what would give her cause to detest him so much? Not understanding a thing about girls or pregnancy or hormones (assuming that’s what this could be,) I rose and approached her tentatively.

  “Babe?” I whispered, placing a reassuring hand on her neck.

  She sniffled but didn’t respond.

  I sighed. “I thought you’d care because Jonah is our friend . . . my best friend . . . and even if Noah was a douche, he was his brother.”

  “Yeah. I know,” she relented, her body still stiff. “Sorry.”

  She glanced away quickly like she didn’t really mean it, mumbling something about stress and being tired, but I wasn’t sure I believed her. It was just something . . .

  We sat silently for several moments as I rubbed her neck and upper back before she finally met my gaze again, her black-brown eyes waterlogged with unshed tears. “So, you’ll be at my next appointment with Dr. Foster, right?”

  I nodded. I got it. Conversation over.

  The day of Noah’s funeral dawned sunny and bright—a complete oxymoron to the deceased.

  I milled around the sea of sad faces by myself since Melissa refused to come with me. My parents and Izzie had disappeared to offer their condolences to Mr. and Mrs. King before the service.

  Jonah sat alone in the front pew, his head bent over in what probably appeared to be silent grief to everyone else, but I knew was just his attempt to be alone. So I let him be and slid into the back, my eyes pinned to the open casket. Humbling to think that our lives end up in a box. A gleaming, satin-lined box, but a box nonetheless.

  His mother’s cries drew my attention, her shoulders shaking violently with her sobs, as if her anguish was going to cause her to crumble at any moment. And perhaps it was. Who was I to say?

  Mr. King held her up and settled her into the pew a few feet over from Jonah as their other children filtered in obediently and lined up in order of birth, the youngest next to her. She turned red-rimmed eyes to her baby, Esther, and pulled her into a fierce hug. The woman’s pain was obviously real. Guess a mother’s love transcends a child’s sins. And Noah had more than his share.

  My gaze drifted back to Jonah, knowing deep in my heart how he truly felt, and the guilt he felt for it.

  I shifted as my parents and sister slid into the pew next to me and my mom offered me a sad smile. She had no idea what an evil dick Noah truly was and how he tortured me and Jonah. I’m sure the mom in her was trying to empathize with Mrs. King.

  As the music started up and the first strains of “Amazing Grace” began, my eyes swiveled to the back of Mr. King’s head. Was my dad feeling anything for him? Should I?

  I swallowed and looked down at my lap.

  I was going to be a father soon. Shouldn’t I feel something . . . I dunno . . . fatherly?

  God. Should I be wondering what it would feel like to love a child then lose him? I hadn’t even figured out how to love my kid yet.

  But I wanted to. That meant something, right?

  I was a better person than Noah ever dreamed of being. In the grand scheme of things, surely that counted for something. I was destined for more than just another shiny box and crying mom, right? If not, then what the hell?

  As if sensing my thoughts, my dad reached across my mom’s back and clamped my shoulder. I glanced over as the preacher’s voice intoned about the Lord giving and taking away, and a small, half-smile tugged my dad’s lips.

  Warmth curled through me.

  The service continued on, a bunch of fake crap, if you asked me, about what a wonderful guy Noah was. How he’d be missed. More churchy music. Finally it was over. Everyone filed out of the pews and we lined up and slowly passed by the casket for a last look, last respects.

  The family went first.

  Mrs. King sobbed and folded into her husband’s arms again.

  The kids rushed by, barely looking.

  But Jonah stopped and stared at his brother, seeming to take in every feature of his face as if to commit it to memory. Then he stepped away and the guests began to walk by.

  When it was our turn, my mom grabbed Izzie’s hand and they passed without looking and my dad gave a cursory glance. But I couldn’t help myself. Noah had been a huge chunk of my childhood. He’d helped form who I was in some ways, I suppose. I’d learned to swing a right hook because of him. I’d figured out what a cherry bomb was—the firework, car part, and the drink—thanks to his shenanigans. I’d seen my first dirty movie because Jonah and I had snuck it outta his room.

  But as I looked into his pale, lifeless face, I saw . . . nothing. Felt nothing.

  I guess it was over for me.

  I just wished I could say the same for Jonah.

  October 20th Continued

  Noah King is dead.

  I’m not sorry. He was an evil asshole who spent entirely too much time torturing people for his own enjoyment. He did it to Reed, certainly Jonah . . . everyone in his orbit.

  I know I probably freaked Reed out with my reaction, I couldn’t help it. I’ve got years of ugly feelings smoldering where he is concerned. And I hate it. I wish I could bury all these painful emotions, all my confusion, all my shame, along with him. Maybe then I’d get some relief.

  Reed asked me to go with him to the funeral. For Jonah.

  No.

  There is nothing in this world that would’ve made me go.

  Zombie Confusion

  Jonah didn’t show up to school the next couple of days and hadn’t returned any of my calls. Guess the shit must’ve been hitting the fan at his house. Poor dude. But I knew he’d call when he was ready. As it was, I was practically a walking zombie from working ‘til midnight, school, and trying to see Mel whenever I could. Which wasn’t nearly as often as I would’ve liked ever since her weird blowup about Noah. She’d started having her mom bring her to school, claiming she was running late or some other lame excuse, when I’d try to pick her up. Then she’d find reasons to not be around at lunch. My girl was avoiding me. But, why?

  Chicks.

  I slammed my locker shut and made my way toward Chem class when I spotted her by the girl’s restroom, looking kinda pale and strange.

  I rushed over. “Hey. You okay?”

  She pressed a hand to her forehead and leaned against the wall. “Um, yeah.”

  Liar. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  I dropped my books and propped her up under my arm. “Baby,” I cajoled. “Tell me. Are you sick?”

  She shot me a weak glance. “No. I’m fine.” But that didn’t stop her from leaning into me a bit more. “I just got a little dizzy there, is all.”

  “Do you need to go to the doctor?”

  She waved away the idea. “No. They’ll just tell me I’m being stupid and overreacting. It’s just normal pregnancy stuff.” She sucked in a breath and straightened a little. “I feel better.”

  I rubbed her arm. “You sure?”

  She studied my face. “Yeah.” She bent to try and pick up my books, but I beat her to it. She met my gaze as we both leaned over.

  “Mel . . .”

  “Reed.”

  “What?” I said as I stood.

  She suddenly looked nervous as her gaze darted everywhere but at me and she started wringing her fingers.

  “Mel? What’s wrong? Wh
y are you avoiding me all of a sudden? Did I do something wrong?”

  The bell rang but I ignored it. Screw the tardy. I wanted to hear what she had to say.

  Her eyes reluctantly met mine. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing,” I insisted. “You’ve not been yourself since Noah. Please—”

  “It’s nothing,” she reiterated with force, but I saw the lie in her eyes. She leaned up and brushed a kiss to my cheek. “I’m sorry.” My lips. “I love you.”

  I tried to hold myself from kissing her back. But when she pressed her lips to mine a second time and whispered ‘I love you’ again, I caved. Mel was my slippery slope. My Achilles heel. I could no more refuse her than refuse to breathe.

  And just like that, Mel was back.

  Again, chicks.

  October 26th

  I feel like absolute crap today. Big, bloated, nauseated (again?) crap. I’ve had headaches a lot of mornings, too. And sometimes I get super dizzy and see floaters. I’m kinda freaked and scared about what’s happening to my body. If it’s like this now, what will giving birth be like? Bringing home a baby? I’m barely making it through school and babysitting anymore seems to be out the window. Ugh.

  I’m going with Reed to a Halloween party tonight. Even though it’s at Chloe Seymour’s house, I’m gonna try to get over myself and suck it up. Physically and emotionally. Reed is mine and she has no power over us. Plus, I can tell he really wants to go, and I have a sneaking suspicion it’s because Jonah’s been skipping school since the funeral and Reed’s hoping he’ll show up. I’m not sure what I want.

  God, I hope I feel better by then . . .

  Martyrs and Warrior Princesses

  So Mel and I were back to our same ol’ selves (well, plus one bun in the oven) when we decided to go to a party at Chloe’s the Friday night before Halloween. I still wasn’t 100% comfortable around Chloe, but I figured I could avoid her. I was really hoping Jonah would be getting back on the normal train and show up.

  I donned my traditional zombie mask and rang Mel’s doorbell, wondering what costume she’d concocted this year with her belly.

  Her brother answered, his face troubled and serious, but he quickly pasted on a smile of greeting. “Hey, Reed. What’s up?”

  “Hey, Chris.” I laughed at how quickly he recognized me, his gaze raking up and down my costume with amusement. “Melissa!” he called over his shoulder.

  She came up behind him and he sauntered away. She grinned and faked a little squeal of fright. “Ooh, scary!” She giggled. “No blood this year?”

  “No.” I pulled off the mask and smiled down at her. She was in pigtails, little shorts, and a T-shirt with tiny handprints on her belly that said ‘Help! Get me outta here!’ “Nice costume.”

  She shrugged and grabbed her purse. “Best I could do in the maternity department.”

  I followed her to the car. “It’s cute.” I kissed her nose before she slid in, eyeing the way the tight shirt molded to her ever-growing chest.

  I shut the door and swallowed my lust. God, it was getting out of control, and she would barely touch me. I could hardly wait until this kid was born . . .

  Wait. What was I thinking?

  That’s what had gotten us into this mess in the first place. But man, were we supposed to hold out until we were married? Well . . .

  I rounded the car and hopped in, torn between my hormones and my conscience.

  Mel glanced at me. “What’s up? You look funny.”

  I forced a smile. “Is it because I’m dressed as one of the undead?”

  “No.” She studied me as I started the car and took off. She gripped my thigh and I couldn’t help but flinch. “What is it?”

  I darted a glance her way, wondering what I should say. Could I be honest? Would it make me sound like a perv?

  “What?” she demanded.

  I pinned my eyes to the road. Swallowed against my suddenly dry throat. “You just look really good tonight . . .”

  “Oh. Thanks.” I heard the confusion in her voice.

  I flicked another quick look her way. “I mean really good.”

  She nodded, understanding dawning on her face. I was white-knuckling the steering wheel.

  “Reed . . . ?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What are you saying?”

  My heart was racing like the first time I asked her out, the first time I kissed her, the first time I touched her. “Well . . . just . . . it’s been a long time. For us, you know? And I . . .” I gulped, unable to finish. I felt like a fool.

  She was silent and it was like a slap. Suddenly I couldn’t shut up. “And, Mel, we made a baby together. It’s not like we have to worry about that anymore. And even if that was a stupid mistake, it’s done, so I don’t understand why you won’t touch me anymore. Like that, I mean.” I sucked in a breath. “I understand pregnancy changes things, but I love you and I need—”

  “Do you want another girl?” she interrupted me.

  “What?” I snapped a surprised glance her way.

  Her gaze was riveted out the windshield. She wouldn’t even look at me. “Do you want another girl?” she repeated as if I hadn’t heard the stupid question the first time.

  “No! Why would you even ask that?”

  She faced me, shadows of uncertainty and pain crossing her face. “Well, if you have . . . those needs . . . I don’t think I can right now, Reed.” Her eyes dipped to her belly. “I’m so sorry. I love you, I do, but I just don’t think I can.”

  Jesus.

  I yanked the car to the side of Burnett Road and threw it into park.

  “Mel.”

  I waited until she looked up at me. “Melissa, I will never need another girl. Never. Do you understand?”

  She didn’t respond, just stared at me, her coffee-colored eyes swimming with uncertainty.

  Tell her. Tell her. Tell her. The mantra began to pound like a bongo drum in my brain. But would she understand or would it push her further away from me?

  “Melissa,” I whispered it like a prayer, hoping this was the right decision.

  She blinked up at me.

  “I need to tell you something.”

  “Oh, God,” she said, as if she already knew what I was about to say. “What?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and poured out my confession.

  Silence.

  I finally slid my eyes toward her to see the tears quietly leaking down her face. “Babe.” I reached out, grateful she let me take her hand. “I’m sorry. Please believe me. I know it’s no excuse, but I was drinking and missing you and—”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “What?” Of course it mattered. If the roles had been reversed I’d have been obliterated.

  She squeezed my hand as her tears picked up in earnest. “Well, okay, it does matter. It matters that we were broken up and you had the chance to get with another girl and you didn’t do it. Because you love me.”

  “But . . .”

  She wasn’t ragingly pissed at me? It was not computing. This was not the old Mel.

  She smiled through her tears. “Okay, I’ll admit I’m a little jealous of whoever this Robin girl is, and if I ever saw her, I’d probably claw her freakin’ eyes out. But the point is, you stopped, Reed. You could’ve had her and I would’ve never known, but you didn’t. For me.”

  I nodded dumbly. I certainly hadn’t expected this.

  “Now,” she rubbed her thumb over my knuckles, grounding me. “That still doesn’t change how I feel about . . . you know.” She blushed adorably.

  My head swirled as wasps stung my stomach. “Don’t worry about it, Mel. I’ll be fine.” I’d have to be, wouldn’t I?

  We pulled up to Chloe’s, to a melee of kids in the front yard and a street full of cars. Our little “discussion” had made me and Mel fashionably late.

  She peered up at me, looking suddenly ner
vous when I opened the car door for her.

  I grabbed her hand. “What’s wrong?” Surely we weren’t still back on the sex thing.

  Her gaze darted to the noisy mob behind me. “It’s just . . .”

  “Just what?”

  She stood, pulling her little T-shirt down, straightening the tiny handprints on her belly. “I don’t really know anyone here.”

  “It’s fine.” I tugged her fingers. “They’re cool.” I studied her anxious face. When had Mel become so shy? “If they make you uncomfortable, we’ll go. Okay?”

  She nodded. “’Kay.”

  She had nothing to worry about. My friends were way cooler and more accepting than her stuck-up drill team snobs. Mike, Aaron, and Dean from work greeted her without glancing down at her baby bulge once. But Mike and Dean’s girlfriends, Mackenzie and Sierra, huddled around her and tittered and squealed, their hands pressed to her tummy like she was just the cutest thing they had ever seen.

  I knew the feeling.

  She turned shocked eyes up to me, obviously not used to being treated this way. I simply smiled. She deserved it.

  ‘You okay?’ I mouthed.

  She nodded as the girls started asking if we knew if it was a boy or girl and if she had a baby shower planned yet. Girly stuff that was way out of my league.

  I left her to her adoring fans and moved on, through the slightly inebriated crowd that smelled heavily of beer and the swinging Halloween decorations of skeletons and pumpkins, in search of Jonah. I finally spotted him, huddled in a quiet corner by himself looking sullen, nursing a red Solo cup.

  I grabbed a Pepsi from a cooler—ignoring the bootleg beer and liquor because we all knew how well drinking worked out last time, plus I was driving Mel and Peanut tonight—and made my way over.

  “Hey.”

  He glanced over. “Hey.”

  “How’s it goin’?”

  He shrugged, sipped from his cup that smelled strongly of alcohol, reminding me of our Vodka binge on Homecoming. I cringed.

  “And your family? Your mom? Is everything okay? I haven’t heard from you, I was worried.”