by Tracey Ward
“Come on, Grace. Can’t you lie to me?”
“About what?”
“That’s cold, but you’re honest. I like that.”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. “I should get to school. I’m going to be late.”
“Yeah, or . . .” He quickly looks both ways down our dead street before stepping into it. He takes a few steps toward me. “We could go together. If you want a ride. My truck’s already warm.”
“No, that’s okay.”
“I want to. If you want to.”
“I don’t. But thanks.”
“Cool.”
He doesn’t move. He just stands there staring at me, smiling slightly. It’s so weird.
“O-okay, well,” I stutter nervously, “I’ll see you at school.”
“You mean am I going to kill you?” he asks seriously.
I stop, my body going stone still. “What did you say?” I breathe.
Kyle grins. “Trust me, Grace. If I was really trying to kill you, you’d already be dead.”
My stomach is churning. It’s roiling like lava in the pit of a volcano. I feel like I’ll throw up or faint. I don’t understand what’s happening. Why is he saying things like that to me?
He chuckles suddenly, lowering his head to talk to the pavement. “Yeah, I guess that sounded creepier than I meant it to.”
“Super creepy,” I squeak out. I hurry toward my car, eager to put distance and a locked door between us. He doesn’t say anything else and I’m so relieved I could cry when he doesn’t follow me. He stands in the middle of the road smiling faintly as I back out of the driveway and slam the car into DRIVE. Just as I’m starting to wonder if he’ll ever move out of the way, he does. He goes to his truck, opening the passenger door. But he doesn’t get in. He smiles at the interior like there’s someone there before closing the door and walking around the front to the driver’s side.
I peel out, my tires spinning dangerously on the ice. I lose traction, then gain it too quickly. The car isn’t straight. I’m heading in the wrong direction. The car barrels across the road, up over the curb.
Grace! Kyle shouts desperately.
I crash head-on into a tree. My windshield blows out in a thousand shards of glass that rain down on me. Cold air surrounds me, swirls through my fingers and my hair. I close my eyes against the onslaught. I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out.
Cold water rushes in.
minute four
chapter twenty-three
“Look out!”
Whoosh!
A ball flies by my head. I nearly jump out of my shoes when it bangs like a gunshot against the door behind me.
“Why?!” I shout reflexively.
I was almost decapitated by some jerk in an orange shirt.
He’s running toward me, his face tight with worry. He’s tall and broad. His hair bounces as he runs—black as midnight, shining . . . with . . .
Wait.
“Are you okay?” he asks hurriedly.
I point a shaking finger at his face. “You kicked a ball at me. You almost killed me with that stupid thing!”
Kyle smiles. “I guess everyone already knows who I am, huh?”
“Of course I know who you are. You—” My breath catches in my chest. My memory kicks in. Hard. “You killed me.”
“It’s a small town.”
“Stop talking,” I whisper.
“That’s what the song says.”
“No. No, no, no, no. Stop. I’m not doing this again.” I shake my head sharply. “I don’t want to do this again.”
“Seriously, I’m sorry about that,” he tells me earnestly. He doesn’t hear me. He’s not listening. “I was running laps and the ball was there in the middle of the floor. I was worried someone would trip on it so I kicked it toward the door to get it out—”
“Shut up, Kyle!” I shout, darting past him. He keeps talking as I run from the gym, but I don’t listen. It doesn’t matter. Whatever he’s saying, I’ve heard it before. Who knows how many times now.
I run through the courtyard, out to the parking lot. My car isn’t there but neither is anyone else’s. It’s only second period but the place is deserted. It’s like a ghost town, frozen and empty.
“It’s okay,” I tell myself breathlessly. “Slow down. It’s alright. Remember what Ashley told you. Object permanence isn’t a thing in a memory. The cars are gone because I didn’t come out here. I didn’t see them. Ash said—” I gasp, suddenly realizing where I have to go.
Home.
It’s a long run but I don’t feel it. My muscles never tire. The cold doesn’t touch me. I run down icy sidewalks in nothing but jeans and a thin t-shirt, but it doesn’t matter. None of it’s real. I don’t have a memory of this so it can’t touch me. The only thing I feel is the cold sting in my fingers that’s plagued me for . . . how long? How long have I been looping through my memories like this?
What the actual hell is happening?
“Ashley!” I scream into the house as I burst through the door. I don’t bother closing it. I throw it open, letting it bang off the wall with a heavy silence that makes zero sense. “Ashley!”
“Calm down,” she says from the living room.
She’s sitting on the couch, a blanket in her lap. She looks so cozy and normal, it makes me angry.
“He didn’t kill me—us,” I growl hotly.
Ashley shakes her head in disbelief. “You saw the memory. You lived it. Twice now. Get it through your head, Grace. Kyle killed us.”
“It’s a lie. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“It doesn’t matter if it makes sense. It’s what happened.”
“No,” I snap obstinately. “I don’t believe it. It was someone else.”
“There was no one else there. It was just us.”
“Why? Why would he do it? He loves me!”
She stands slowly, giving me the eternally patient look I give Ashley when she’s freaking out. “He loves us, Grace,” she reminds me quietly. “And I think that’s why he killed us. He loves us too much. We said no to marrying him and he couldn’t take it. He thought he was going to lose us forever, and if you haven’t noticed, Kyle isn’t exactly the kind of guy who is used to hearing ‘no’. He’s used to getting what he wants, no matter what.”
“That doesn’t mean he’d kill us.”
“How many shows have we watched where that was exactly why someone got killed? Most murders are committed by a person the victim knows, and the first suspect the cops go for is the spouse or boyfriend.”
“Oh my God,” I moan. I run my hands through my hair to clear it from my face. “They’re going to go after Kyle. They’ll think he did this.”
“Because he did!”
“No, he didn’t!” I scream at her. At me. At myself and the lies I’m trying so desperately not to buy into. “I will never believe he did it. He’s not some insanely possessive boyfriend with the whole if-I-can’t-have-her-no-one-can mentality.”
Ashley scoffs. “Oh really? Are you forgetting the time in the swimming pool before he left for the summer?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“God. Fine,” she groans. “Here. I’ll show you.”
Ashley lunges for me. She grabs my hand before I can pull away, yanking me into the darkness on the other side of this frozen moment.
She drags me into another memory.
chapter twenty-four
“Grace.”
Kyle’s voice is muffled. It’s hard to hear under the weight of the water, but I swim toward it. I kick for the surface, finally breaking it with a gasp.
“I couldn’t get it,” I breathe heavily. I push my hair back from my face, feeling frustrated. The bright pink toy is still at the bottom of the pool. Chlorinated water pours warm and bitter down my face, over my lips. “I can’t open my eyes under there. It’s too chemically.”
“I think my dad overdid it,” Kyle admits from the div
ing board. He’s sitting on the edge, his feet dangling just above the water. The sun is shining hard on his tan skin. Water glistens in his hair that’s slicked back against his head. It makes his eyes look bigger. Darker. “Do you wanna wear the goggles?”
“No. I don’t want the lines that it leaves embedded in my face.”
“You’re so vain,” he teases.
I scoff. “I’m vain?”
“You’re gonna go off about the waxing again, aren’t you?”
“You got your chest waxed, you diva!” I laugh.
“And you love it, you hypocrite!”
“I mean, yeah, but still. You got waxed, Kyle.”
“It was for the swim club.”
“Did it really make you faster?”
He shrugs, closing his eyes to turn his face to the sun. “It didn’t hurt.”
“I can’t believe you started swimming on top of everything else.”
“It’s helping me stay in shape for basketball.”
“And of course you’re good at it. ‘Cause you’re good at literally everything.”
“Not everything.”
“Name one thing you’re bad at.”
“Spanish.”
“Lo siento,” I mutter as I hoist myself out of the water. “I forgot about Spanish.”
“See. You know more than I do and you’re not even taking it.”
“Anyone who watches a Taco Bell commercial knows more Spanish than you do. You don’t even try.”
He grins at me. “It’s because I don’t care. I wonder what would happen if I cared?”
“You’d probably be fluent in an afternoon.”
“Maybe. We’ll never know.”
The cement around the Rixton’s swimming pool is hot under my feet. It would burn if I wasn’t still dripping pool water onto the light gray surface, staining it dark with every step. That’s how I feel when I’m here. Like I’m sullying everything with my touch. I’m not exactly welcome, which is why Kyle and I usually go swimming at the lakeside campground where we spent the night three weeks ago. There’s no time to go there today, though. Kyle’s mom wouldn’t let him leave the house because ‘he has too much to do’.
He has nothing to do. They’re already packed and ready to fly to Miami later tonight. Mrs. Rixton made sure Kyle was ready last night. That’s why he couldn’t go to dinner with Makena, Scott, and me. He had to do laundry and inventory his underwear. Whatever it took to keep us apart.
Ever since the school year ended, Kyle’s mom is cracking down on him harder than ever. This next year is crucial to his NBA prospects. To The Mission. He has to shine for the scouts. He needs to focus, she says. His dad is getting stricter too. He’s nicer than she is about it but he’s made it clear that this trip to Florida for the summer is a chance for Kyle to get some distance from our relationship. He talked a lot about ‘destiny’ and ‘finding peace apart’. It sounded like something a preacher would say. It wasn’t cruel but it made zero sense to me.
Mr. Rixton is nice and all, but he’s pretty weird.
“I’m gonna miss you, Gracey,” Kyle tells me seriously.
I smile, shaking my head. “Don’t call me that. My dad calls me that.”
“I like it, though.”
I don’t fight him because I actually like it too. I love the way he says it, like he’s enamored by me. Like he’s saying ‘I love you’ just by saying my name.
“I’m going to miss you too,” I tell him sadly.
He glances at the sliding glass door leading to the living room. The curtains are open. I can see his mom watching TV on the couch where she has a clear view of the swimming pool. Kyle slides slowly off the diving board, holding on tight to lower himself in without a sound. The muscles in his arms bulge with the effort but he makes it look so easy.
When he’s in, he smiles up at me from the deep end of the pool. “Get back in here,” he whispers.
I check the door the way he did. Mrs. Rixton hasn’t moved. “You’re playing with fire.”
“Can’t get burned in the water, Grace.” He jerks his head toward the pool. “Come on. Before she comes out here. This is our last chance to say goodbye.”
I hate the way that sounds. I know what he means, but it sounds so final. So freaking awful I feel my throat tighten up a little. But I smile through the dread that’s building in my belly and I slip quietly into the pool with him. He meets me halfway, taking my hand to pull me to the deep end where his mom can’t see us from the living room. We’re hidden here. Cocooned the way I love to be with him in the warmth and the sunshine of our own little world.
Kyle treads water effortlessly as he wraps his arms around me. His body is warm, slick, and so solid against mine, I feel a little breathless. And when his mouth covers mine in a tender kiss, I feel something else. Something so heavy in my heart that I think I’ll sink us both to the bottom of the pool.
It’s love, big as a boulder. Taller than the mountains in the distance. Wider than the oceans I dream of swimming in. It’s Kyle and his eyes and the press of his hands on my back that tell me I’m safe and in danger of losing myself all at once.
“I love you,” I whisper again and again, like I worry he’ll forget. Like if I say it enough, he’ll hear it in his sleep no matter where he is or what he’s doing. No matter how much distance his parents put between us. “I love you. I love you.”
“I love you,” he grunts with the effort of keeping us afloat. “I’ll always love you.”
“Even from Florida?”
“Everywhere. Always.”
“Promise me?”
He rests his forehead against mine; wet and warm. “I promise you. I’ll be back, Grace. We have another year and then we have forever.”
“You’re not going to see one of your countless exes, fall madly in love with her, and forget my name, right?” I joke halfheartedly.
Kyle falls still against me. We droop in the water until it hits my lips; tangy with chemicals and doubt.
“Kyle?”
He swims us to the edge where he can hold onto the concrete with one hand. The other he keeps wrapped around me tightly. His eyes bore into mine with a seriousness I rarely see in him. “Grace, you don’t ever have to worry about that, okay? There’s no one back in Florida. There never was. My parents are dragging me back there to try to split us up, but it won’t work. I promise. Nothing will ever come between us.” He shifts his arm around me, hugging me to him possessively. “Do you believe me?”
“Yes.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
He grins wolfishly. Cocky the way I love. “Do you love me?”
I smile. “More than anything.”
“Don’t forget me when I’m gone.”
“Never.”
“Don’t even go near Mark.”
I frown, surprised. “Why would I go around Mark?”
“He’s been calling, hasn’t he?” Kyle’s eyes are sharp. Intense. “He’s been trying to get back with you?”
“Yeah, basically since we broke up, but I blocked him. And you threatened to kill him, so . . .”
“So why is he calling again? Actually, I’m more interested in how.”
“He must have gotten a new number. How’d you know about that? I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to be mad like this.”
“Makena told Scott. Scott told me, but it should have been you. If an ex is sniffing around, you should tell me.”
“‘Sniffing around’?” I chuckle. “You make me sound like a fire hydrant.”
“Well, he is a dog.”
“I won’t argue that.”
Kyle scowls. “I don’t like him. I don’t trust him. Definitely not with you.”
“But you trust me,” I remind him gently. I run my fingers through his thick hair, smoothing it back against his head. It makes his eyes look bigger. Harder. “Nothing is ever going to happen with Mark and me again.”
“You and anyone.”
�
��What?”
“Nothing’s ever going to happen with you and anyone again,” he insists, his eyes searching mine almost frantically.
I’ve never seen him like this. I didn’t think Kyle could be jealous, but this summer separation has us both freaked out. We know what his parents are trying to do. Neither of us wants them to succeed but what if they do? What if we can’t take the time apart and our relationship disintegrates before he gets back? He’s as scared about it as I am. It seems like that should worry me more, but for some reason it makes me feel better than I have in weeks.
I smile playfully. “Well, I don’t want to commit to that. What if Ansel Elgort comes to town and sweeps me off my feet?”
“He’s not good looking,” Kyle snaps, falling right into my trap.
“No? I think he is.”
“He’s not.”
“Makena and Marcy think he is. Half of Hollywood thinks he is.”
“Whatever,” he mutters.
I pull back, frowning at him. “Hey.”
I’m relieved when he smiles. “Sorry. I forgot.”
“‘Whatever’ is some harsh stuff to say to your girlfriend before ditching her for the summer. You might want to try something sweeter so she has that to remember you by.”
“Okay. How about this?” Kyle kisses me. It’s not sweet. It’s not gentle, but it is loving. It’s intense and wanton, and I feel my heart swell with excitement as he holds me. “When I come back,” he murmurs, his nose nudging into my wet hair. His lips finding my throbbing pulse in my neck. “I’ll show you how much I love you. How much I missed you.”
My fingers dig deep into his shoulders. My mouth falls open on a gasp as he nips at my skin; more brazen than I’ve ever known him. “I’ll wait.”
“How long, Grace?” His tongue tickles the outside of my earlobe. “How long would you wait for me?”
“Forever.”
“My girl,” he whispers roughly. His fingers dig into my hip almost painfully.
This is a side of him I hardly ever see. The hungry side. The sexy, needy side that can’t keep away from me. It happens now and then when we’re alone together and kissing feels too little to live off. He knows how to make me melt. How to make me moan. He knows my body better than I do, and I whimper faintly as he pins me up against the side of the pool with his strength and desire.