“We can keep her here until her relatives come to get her,” another cop beside him says. The woman cop behind the desk glares at him in response, but he ignores her. Nathan’s father opens his mouth, but Nathan speaks before he can. I tense when I see his expression as he faces his father. Nathan looks livid. “She is not staying here. She’s coming home with us.”
His father returns the angry glare. “Oh, is she?”
“Yes, she is.” Nathan turns and storms away before his father can say anything else. He strides toward me, his eyes still holding fury. “Get up. We’re leaving,” he says before he even reaches me. I stand, and he grabs my arm when he reaches me, not hard but firmly enough to lead me out of the station.
I want to push his hand away, but don’t want to upset him any further. It doesn’t hurt anyway.
He leads me down the steps, toward his father’s car. He releases his hold on me when we reach the car. He opens the door for me, then climbs in right behind me. Neither of us say anything as we get in and buckle up. We have to wait for his father now.
The silence is almost maddening as the clock on the dashboard changes by the minute. I want to break the silence, but I can’t think of anything lighthearted to say.
I’m angry, but not nearly as angry as Nathan is. He’s still breathing heavily; the rage rolling off of him in waves. At this point, I’m waiting for the windows to fog up. We both need a few minutes to just breathe and seethe in silence.
I’m angry at his father, but as the silence between us drags on, I become more and more angry with Nathan. This whole thing is his fault. He told his parents; what did he think was going to happen? Did he expect his family to welcome me—a homeless girl that has been missing for nearly a year—with open arms? I could have told him how all this was going to play out. As a matter of fact, I had told him.
“I told you something like this would happen.” My voice is quiet, but I couldn’t keep my mouth shut anymore. I had to make him understand what he’s done. He has to know what will happen now. “I’m not eighteen yet; I’m going to be sent to a foster home—”
“I won’t let that happen.”
“You won’t have any control over it,” I snap, turning to face him. The seatbelt restrains me from turning as far as I want to, so I furiously unbuckle it so I can slide closer to him. Nathan doesn’t move; doesn’t look at me. “Don’t you see? I might have a place to stay tonight, but your dad is going to kick me out, Nathan, and you won’t be able to stop him.”
“He can’t just throw you out,” he objects.
“Yes, he can,” I say slowly, deliberately, so he hears each word. He finally turns to look at me. “I can’t just live with you till I’m eighteen either—that wouldn’t be fair. I’m either going to have to run away or go into foster care.”
“You don’t have to think about this tonight,” he says, hastily. He takes my hand in his. I’m still angry with him for what he’s done, but I don’t pull away. “Let’s just go back and talk and get some rest, okay? We can think about what to do tomorrow.”
My chest is tight. I don’t want to make a hollow promise to him. I’m not the kind of person to break one just to get back at someone else for breaking one of the promises they made to me. I just nod, crossing my fingers with the hand he isn’t holding.
His father yanks open the driver’s side door then, starting up the car without saying a single word or even acknowledging us.
The ride is tense. None of us say a single word the whole way as the rage continues to flood the car. You could cut the tension with a knife. When we reach Nathan’s house, I’m only relieved to be out of a small confined space. Nathan quickly helps me from the car when his father parks in front of their house.
Once inside, he hurries me upstairs. We slip into his sister’s room—where he shuts the door behind us. Normally, that would make my heart race, but I wasn’t in the mood to even think about kissing him. When he turns to face me, I open my mouth, but before I can get a word out, he holds up a hand. I clasp my mouth shut, willing to hear what he has to say as long as nothing stupid came out from those perfect lips of his. Okay, so maybe I am wrong about not thinking about kissing.
“Just let me speak first. Please.” I wait, and he sighs. “Okay,” he says to himself, looking at anything but me as he shifts his weight anxiously. “I’m sorry—” He looks right into my eyes as he says this—“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just—My mom was asking questions about you and—I couldn’t help it. I told her everything I knew about you. Leaving out that you’re depressed and suicidal, of course.”
I raise a brow at this. “You tell her that I’m living in an abandoned apartment building, but leave out the fact that I’m suicidal?”
He smirks. “I wanted to make a good impression.”
He’s trying to lighten the mood—trying to get me to smile. But I just can’t. This is serious. My life is about to change for the worse, again, and it’s his fault. If he hadn’t said anything, we wouldn’t be standing here having this conversation.
And I wouldn’t be thinking about disappearing.
“And that was definitely the way to do it,” I say, dryly, my tone displaying obvious sarcasm.
He’s shaking his head. Although he’s smiling, it’s a nervous, pleading smile. “Will you let me talk?” He waits for me to say something, but I keep silent, waiting for him to continue. “She promised me she wouldn’t tell my dad when I realized my mistake. I made her promise, but she obviously broke it. But, Taylor—” He breaks off again, shaking his head for what seems like the hundredth time. “I’m glad she said something. Now I don’t have to lie awake every night, wondering if tonight will be the night that that damn building collapses on you.”
He strides toward me, taking me by the shoulders when he reaches me. Neither of us tear our eyes away from the other. “Now I don’t have to lie awake tonight wondering if you’ll die. My biggest worry tonight will be whether or not you will be here when I wake up in the morning.” He strokes my cheek with the back of his hand, his touch light, careful as if he were touching something that could break if handled with anything more than great care. “Please be here when I wake up.”
His eyes are so tentative, clear and sweet. I can’t deny him. No matter how mad I am at him, I find found myself unable to say no. I don’t want to run off when I’m angry and without a plan. I nod against his hand, telling myself that I’m only agreeing to stay for one night as my skin brushes against the back of his hand. “I’ll stay. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
He pulls me into him, wrapping his arms around me protectively. I bury my face in his shoulder, marveling in how his arms feel around me. I analyze every feeling as I stand in his embrace, hugging him back as he keeps me imprisoned against him. I want to commit every feeling—physical touch and emotion—to memory.
Because soon, all I might have of him are memories like these.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Against Him
Air.
I can’t breathe.
Air! I jolt awake, my eyes flying wide as the terrors fade from my mind. I don’t feel dazed, but alert as my heart pounds against my chest. I’m gripping the sheets with such force that my knuckles are beginning to turn white. I release them to bring a hand up to cover my mouth as I sob, “Can’t breathe! I can’t breathe.”
My chest is heaving, making it difficult for me to breathe. It feels like it might crush my lungs and heart altogether.
“Taylor?” a quiet, groggy voice breaks through my whimpers. The bed shifts and his arms are suddenly around me. He tries to calm me, telling me that everything is okay and that I can breathe. Just breathe.
I do what he says as he holds me in the dark, brushes my hair back and kisses my face. He waits patiently until my cries become quiet, and I let my hands fall from my face. I feel him release a long, relieved breath. Only a few tears continue to escape, but damp trails still remain from the ones that had already fallen.
&
nbsp; “It was just a bad dream,” he tells me, kissing my hair. No, it wasn’t. It was painfully real. More silent tears escape. “Hey, hey, shh. Don’t cry.” He pulls me back down to rest against the pillows, but his arms stay around me. He stays close, keeping my head buried against his chest.
I can hear his heart as it beats strongly against my ear. It’s a comforting sound that eventually lulls me to sleep when I had thought it would be impossible.
I slowly open my eyes against the light. It’s morning. I roll over to face Nathan, only to find the other side of the bed empty. I sit up, looking around the room, but finding every corner absent of his presence.
Maybe he went to his room after I woke him up last night.
Releasing a long breath, I fall back against the pillows. I lie still for a long time as I struggle not to think about last night’s nightmare.
I don’t know how long I went without moving, but it felt like hours before I was released from my thoughts when a knock sounds from my door. I quickly wipe the tears from my eyes but don’t bother getting up. I know who is on the other side of the door. I call for him to come in, and the door opens slightly without making a sound, unlike what would’ve happened back at my apartment.
Nathan’s head pops around the door. “You up, sleepy head?”
“Kinda,” I respond with a yawn.
“I’m going for a swim and wanted to see if you wanted to come with me.” He pauses, and I can tell he’s remembering what happened the last time we went swimming. “You don’t have to; I was just wondering.”
I sit up, smiling. “I’ll change and be right out.”
He flashes a heart-stopping smile before he leaves. It takes me a few minutes to detach myself from the bed. With a sigh, I push back the covers to slip on a swimsuit to meet Nathan by the pool. Changed with smooth, combed out hair and fresh, minty teeth, I head downstairs.
I’m feet away from the back door when I hear Nathan’s father sternly say, “She can’t stay here.” I freeze, looking all around but seeing no one.
“She has nowhere to go. We can’t just throw her out,” Nathan’s mother, Monica, objects. I don’t see her anywhere either.
They must be in another room.
“I took her to the police station—”
“What? Did you want them to hold her in a cell until they figured out what to do with her?”
“You want her to stay here until the authorities figure out what to do with her?” he shoots back, obviously opposed to the idea. “We don’t know this girl. For all we know, she could be an on-the-run criminal.”
“I seriously doubt she has a rap-sheet.”
Unable to listen to their bickering any longer, I head out the back door. It slams shut behind me. I pause, taking in a breath. Bickering—just like my parents. They used to argue about me too. Mom’s winning argument was always that I deserved better than a beat down drunk for a father.
“There you are.” The sound of Nathan’s voice pulls me back from my thoughts, but only for a handful of minutes. We swim all day—talking and splashing but my thoughts never drift away from wondering what Nathan’s parents intend to do with me.
Nathan and I skipped dinner, partly because we didn’t want to sit through an awkward meal with his parents, and partly because Nathan didn’t want to talk to his father yet, so we hung out in his room and watched a movie.
I don’t pay a stitch of attention to the movie as I nestle close to him. I can’t get my mind off leaving. I made the decision to run away hours ago, and it is all I can think about now. Nathan and his parents won’t have to worry about me anymore once they wake up and find me gone.
I can’t tell Nathan because he will try to talk me out of going and possibly succeed. One look into his beautiful, clear eyes would be all it would take. He could ask me to do anything, and I’d agree. It would be that easy to get me to stay.
I have to leave without a goodbye.
I have to leave and stay away from him for a while. Otherwise, he’d try to convince me to come back. He wants to help me, but I’m not his responsibility.
I’m on my own.
I can’t have him beating himself up about what happens to me. I have to put some distance between us in order to do that, though. I can’t have him talking me into coming back to stay with him.
I’m not sure where I’m going—I just know that I am. I’ll figure out where to go. I might have to wander the streets for a while, but I would figure it out.
The movie ends. I sit up, stretching my limbs. I get tense—butterflies fluttering in my stomach—every time I think about climbing out my window.
“You don’t have to go yet,” Nathan says, pulling me down against him. I laugh lightly as he pulls me against his chest, hugging me to him as he starts playfully kissing me all over. His lips press against my neck, working his way up to my chin, my cheeks, and my nose before trailing down to my lips. He hovers above my mouth, keeping his lips just far enough away so that they aren’t touching mine, though just close enough that I can feel the tickle of his breath against my lips.
I let out a staggered breath as his hand travels up to push my hair back. His hand glides up my neck, curling in my hair. He leans in to kiss my lips, his skin soft against mine. Sparks fly, sending a wave of intense heat between us. I reach up and flatten my palm against his cheek, and grasp the back of his head to pull him closer with the other.
As he kisses me, it dawns on me that this might be our last kiss. I don’t know if I’ll see him again once I slip out the window in his sister’s bedroom. I want to see him again after I turn eighteen so I don’t have to worry about being turned in, but what if something happens and I never do?
A knock at the door makes Nathan jump and pull away. We scramble away from each other as his bedroom door opens. Nathan’s mother pokes her head in like I’ve seen Nathan do so many times. She flashes a knowing smile. “Just wanted to check in and make sure you too were headed to bed…you know separate beds.”
Nathan covers his face with his hands, groaning, “Moooooom,” into them.
“Naaaattyyy,” she groans back.
I snicker at the sound of his nickname. His hands fall away from his face to shoot a glare in my direction. I flash a dazzling smile to annoy him further.
“All right, c’mon, two separate beds,” Monica motivates. “It’s late; you two can chit-chat in the morning.”
I slide off the edge of the bed to head down to his sister’s room, getting the picture that his mom isn’t going to leave until I do.
“Goodnight, Tay-Tay,” Nathan says from the bed, making me stop at the door. I look back at him, taking him in to commit everything to memory. I’ll see him again. This won’t be the last time I see him.
It can’t be.
“Night,” I reply, before disappearing down the hall.
The bright, red lights on the clock read, 1:03A.M. Now is the time. I push back the sheets, still groggy with sleep. As I begin to move around the room to get dressed, my body begins to feel vibrantly awake with nerves. I grab my messenger bag before making a break for the window.
I slowly—carefully—push the window up, hoping that it doesn’t creak and wake anyone up. I sling one leg through, creeping onto the roof that is just below the window. I shimmy to the edge, peeking over the side to see how far of a drop it is. I was high up, but I wasn’t going to let that intimidate me. I turn around and grip the edge of the roof with all my might, deciding to let myself dangle before letting go.
I fall, landing on my feet, but only for half a second before falling back. I suck in a breath and shut my eyes, waiting to feel the pain of the ground.
I land against something solid, knocking it down with me. “Umph!” it exhales when I land on top of it. My heart is fluttering like a butterfly’s wings. I roll off into the grass, wondering what I possibly could have landed on. Nothing had been in the yard.
I look over to find Nathan wheezing beside me. My heart flutters with relief. “Oh my gosh, N
athan, you scared me!”
“And you knocked the wind out of me,” he says, not without some effort, “so I think we’re even.”
“What are you even doing out here?”
“I could ask you the same thing, but I already know.” He looks me dead in the eyes. I stiffen with guilt when I see the look in them. “You promised me that you wouldn’t do this.”
“There isn’t a reason for me to stay,” I lie, knowing full well that there is. He’s the reason to stay. But I can’t. I don’t want to go into foster care. I don’t want to leave either, but at least I have a better chance of seeing him again if I do.
I stay perfectly still as he stares straight into my eyes, afraid to even breathe as he analyzes me.
I wonder what he sees.
He reaches out, brushing his fingers against my cheek; the touch so light—yet electrifying—that chill bumps rise on my arms. “You can stay because I’m asking you to. You can stay for me.”
My heart clenches with sadness. I want so badly to say yes—to say that I’ll stay. I shouldn’t—I really shouldn’t stay. I should get up and leave, right now.
I sigh, closing my eyes as I try to convince myself to get up and walk away from him. Almost as if he can sense my weakness—sense that I’m torn, he reaches out to stroke my cheek with the back of his hand, causing the walls that I’d fought so hard to keep up to suddenly come tumbling down. He shifts closer, his eyes never wavering from mine as his side presses against mine. “Don’t go. We can figure this out. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
The unnamable feeling buzzes through me.
I can’t do it.
His eyes are drawing me in, trapping me in my own doubt. I should leave, but I don’t think I can. Leaving is the best thing for all of us, so why can’t I convince my heart the same thing that my mind already knows?
“Okay,” I finally give in. “I’ll stay for a few more days. If your dad kicks me out first, anyway.”
Alone in Paris: A Standalone Young Adult Romance Page 16