Sandra leaves and returns a moment later with a scrap of paper; her number is scrawled across it. Smiling, I take it and tuck it into my pocket. I ease out of the pew and stand. Every muscle in my body aches, and all I want to do is sleep.
We walk out of the church, and Sandra follows me to my car. She hesitates a moment, and I wait. Finally, she speaks. “Isabelle, you’re dealing with so much right now. Please, be sure to maintain your walk with God. It’s easy to blame Him when things go wrong. It’s easy to turn away. But these are the times you need Him most.”
I nod, knowing I won’t be able to speak without crying again.
She rests her hand on my arm. “Don’t let what happened with your old church sway you. That is not how Christians are supposed to behave, and I’d hate for you to lose faith. Especially now.”
“I won’t. I promise.” And I realize in that moment just how much I mean that. Sure, my life is a train wreck, but I know it’s not His fault.
Sandra pats my arm. “Thank you. Would it be all right if I had Pastor Rick call you?”
“Sure.” I thank her again for listening to me ramble about my problems. Then I get into my car and go home.
And that’s where I stay for the rest of the day. I ignore my messages—even the ones from Hannah. Knowing my luck, she’ll take Andrea’s side and yell at me. I can’t handle that right now.
On Saturday morning, I force myself to roll out of bed and shower. My homecoming dress hangs on the hook in the bathroom. Wrapped in a towel, hair dripping wet down my back, I stare at the shimmering purple material. I’m supposed to be wearing it tonight. I’m supposed to be having the night of my life with Grayson.
I walk out of the bathroom and slam the door. It’s just another stupid, boring Saturday. I’ll spend it watching TV and reading magazines that my mother keeps forgetting to cancel. If I’m lucky, Dad will come home. I’m not getting my hopes up about that, though.
The doorbell chimes, and my heart stops. Please don’t let it be nosy Ms. Rhoades. I race down the stairs and yank open the door. Nope. Not Ms. Rhoades. It’s someone worse.
Hannah.
“Are you okay?” she asks, her gaze raking over me.
“I’m sick,” I lie. I stand in the doorway, refusing to let her inside.
She tilts her head. “You don’t look sick.”
“Well, I am.” I shift on my feet.
“You haven’t been answering any of my calls or texts.”
“I’ve been sleeping a lot.” I shrug. “Sorry.” Guilt stabs my chest. There’s no reason whatsoever for the way I’m treating her. I’m being unnecessarily mean, but I can’t seem to stop myself.
“So, I take it you’re not going to homecoming tonight then?”
I shake my head and bite the inside of my cheek so I won’t cry.
Hannah nods. “I probably can’t change your mind, can I?”
I shake my head again. My throat burns with the effort of holding back tears.
“It’s our senior year, Isabelle. This is the very last homecoming dance we’ll ever have. Are you sure you want to miss this?”
No, I don’t want to miss it. But I also don’t want to go alone. Or worse, go and have to see Grayson, knowing I’ve lost him. “Yeah, I’m sure.” I force the words out.
She frowns. “Well, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m fine.”
She hesitates for a moment before stepping closer and wrapping her arms around me in a hug. “Whenever you’re ready to talk about what’s going on, I’ll be ready to listen,” she whispers. Then she releases me and walks back to her car.
I stand in the doorway and watch until she’s gone. Then I run upstairs, throw myself onto my bed, and cry myself to sleep. I sleep through church on Sunday, unable to spend a couple hours in the same building with Grayson.
Sunday night, I get a call from Pastor Rick and Sandra. I assure them I’m okay and promise to visit them before youth group on Tuesday.
By the time Monday rolls around, I’m bored out of my mind, and I have to get out of the house. I’m still so mad and upset, but I’m done hiding. I won’t lose everything I’ve been working for just because some boy broke my heart. I didn’t let Cam get the best of me, and I won’t let Grayson, either.
I walk to my locker, head held high. Hannah’s waiting for me, and when she sees me, her face lights up. “Thank God.” She wraps me up in a huge bear hug. “If you didn’t show up today, I was coming to your house with Vick and dragging you back to school.”
I open my locker and rummage around inside. “How was homecoming?’
“Would have been better if you were there.”
“In case you didn’t hear”—I slam my locker closed—“I no longer have a boyfriend. No boyfriend. No date to homecoming. I didn’t see the point in going.” Seriously, why is she nagging about homecoming?
“Grayson didn’t go, either,” she says softly.
I freeze, fighting back the urge to cry. Although, I’m not sure I have any tears left. “Yeah, well, it’s not my business what Grayson does or doesn’t do.”
“Don’t be like that.”
I roll my eyes. Last time she said that to me, we didn’t speak for days. “I have to get to class. There’s a lot of work I need to make up.” When I walk into Spanish, Grayson is already there.
He looks up, and a flash of shock crosses his face. I acknowledge him with a small smile and then go to Señorita Guzmán’s desk. Once she gives me the missing assignments, I take my seat. Grayson’s scent bombards me, and I close my eyes while I blow out a breath. I can get through this class. Maybe.
We take a quiz, and then Señorita Guzmán lectures for the remainder of the class. Proud of myself for not losing it, I walk out of the room and head straight to study hall. At least I’ll have work to do that will distract me from Grayson. He’s sitting in what’s always been our spot, but I don’t join him. I find an empty seat near the far wall, plug my earbuds into my phone, and turn up the volume. Then, I lose myself in homework.
I don’t even realize class is over until I glance up and see the room is half empty. Collecting my stuff, I leave and rush to my next class. The morning progresses much the same—going to class, collecting more homework, and moving on to the next. Finally, it’s lunch, and my stomach is in knots. The thought of sitting at a table with Cam and Grayson is enough to send me into a panic attack. But they won’t get the best of me; I won’t let them.
Straightening my shoulders, I walk to the table and sit next to Hannah, just like I’ve always done.
“Hey,” I say, attempting some level of normalcy.
“Hi.” She smiles. “How’re you feeling?”
I groan. “Please stop asking me that. I’m fine. Really.”
“You sure?” She subtly inclines her head.
Vick and Grayson are walking toward our table, laughing. I take a deep breath and fortify my emotions so I can get through the next hour. I can be civil. Vick sits on Hannah’s other side and kisses her cheek. I’m glad to see they’re still together and happy.
Grayson sits next to Vick, and a moment later, Cam arrives with Nolan and Kyle.
“Isabelle,” Cam says, surprised.
“Cam.” My tone is curt. For someone who claims to want another chance, he never once called or texted me while I was out of school.
Grayson’s gaze darts between me and Cam. Suddenly, I know what I have to do to make things right. It might not make Grayson forgive me or take me back, but it might make him finally believe what I’ve been telling him. And it will certainly let Cam know I don’t buy into everything he said to me last week.
I turn toward Cam. “So, how’s Andrea?”
He tilts his head, looking at me with confusion. “Um, we broke up.”
“Oh, I know.” I nod. “I also know you told her I couldn’t wait to get you back and that I kissed you.” I fold my arms on the table. “But you know that’s not true, don’t you?”
“Isabel
le,” Hannah warns under her breath. I ignore her.
Cam clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably. He glances around as if he’s trying to find a way out. “Well…” He rubs the back of his neck.
“Admit it, Cam. The second Andrea broke up with you, you came to me. You told me you wanted me back. And you kissed me.” I pin him with an unflinching stare.
“You never told me to stop,” Cam says.
I open my mouth to respond, but I’m too stunned by his blatant lie to come up with the words.
Grayson stands abruptly, his chair scraping loudly across the floor. Then he walks out of the cafeteria. Any hope I have about proving my innocence disappears, and I slouch in the chair. What can I say or do to make him forgive me?
“Isabelle?” Hannah gently places her hand on my arm, her gaze filled with concern. “Just give him some time, okay?”
“Yeah,” Vick says. “He won’t admit it, but he’s been miserable without you.”
I force a smile, wishing their words gave me comfort.
I don’t see Grayson again, and when I walk out to the student parking lot at the end of the day, his bike is already gone. He’s certainly good at avoiding me. I drive home, wondering how I’m going to get through the rest of the semester like this. Or how I’m going to do well on this Spanish project when my partner can’t stand me and won’t talk to me. Slowly, my sadness morphs to anger. What right does he have to mess up my classes and potentially my grades, too? I have a lot hinging on this class.
Fuming, I pull into my driveway, kill the engine, and stomp into the house. I drop my bag.
“Mom?” She’s lying on the floor, face down in a pile of vomit. “Mom!”
I fall to my knees and roll her onto her back. “Mom, wake up.” I shake her. “Mom… please. Mom!”
But she doesn’t open her eyes.
God, no, please don’t let her be dead.
28
GRAYSON
I SIT ON THE COUCH, staring at the TV but not really watching it. My mind keeps replaying what happened at lunch. Belle put Cam on the spot, and the jerk squirmed. Is it possible she’s been telling me the truth? Is she really an innocent victim of Cam’s manipulation? If so, would she have told me the truth? Or would she have kept silent, allowing me to believe nothing ever happened? No matter what the truth is, it doesn’t change the facts. She had her lips on Cam’s while she was my girlfriend. That’s unacceptable. For all I know, they kissed more after I ran out of the school.
“Ready?” Dad asks. He’s freshly showered, his dark hair curling around his ears.
“Yup.” I stand and shut off the television.
“Good, because I can’t wait to get these stitches out of my hand. They itch like you wouldn’t believe.” He laughs and shoves his wallet into his back pocket.
According to the doctor, Dad’s not supposed to drive until the stitches are out, but that hasn’t stopped him. I know he’s been running errands while I’m in school. Can’t really blame him—there’s no way I could spend all day stuck in the house with nothing to do. Which is really the only reason I’m going back to the ER with him tonight, so I don’t have to sit here alone. Lately, my thoughts are not my friend.
Dad hands me the truck keys, and we head to the hospital.
“Any luck finding a regular doctor?” I ask.
“Bryan set me up with his family doctor, but she can’t see us until next month.”
I nod. Thankfully, the doctor who treated Dad is also a general practitioner, so he’s been seeing Dad for follow up appointments at the hospital because we’re new in town and not yet completely settled. It’s nice of him—the Christian thing to do, as the doctor said—but the waits at the hospital are unreasonable.
“How was school today?” he asks.
I pull into the parking lot and find an empty spot. “Fine.”
“And Isabelle?”
“Still broken up.” I take the keys from the ignition and hand them to Dad. Then I’m out of the truck before he can ask any more questions.
Today, it takes only two hours to get seen, and Dad gets a full medical release so he can return to normal activities. And work. I know that makes him happy.
“Hungry?” he asks as we walk down the hallway toward the exit.
“Yeah, I could—” I stop suddenly. To my right is a room reserved for family members who’re waiting for loved ones in surgery. “Belle?”
She’s curled up in one of the chairs, knees hugged to her chest. She looks up, and her face is distraught. My heart stops.
“Go on.” Dad nods for me to go to her. “Call me when you’re ready to come home.” He leaves without another word.
“Are you okay?” I ask, approaching Belle.
She shakes her head, her face wet with tears. Her entire body trembles. I sit beside her, and she flings her arms around my neck and sobs. I hold her, unsure what to say, and let her cry as I stroke her hair. I have no idea what’s wrong, but seeing her like this tears me apart. Burying my face in her hair, I inhale deeply. I’ve missed the feel of her in my arms.
“My mom.” She hiccups. “She… she…”
“Hey, it’s okay.” I hold her out at arm’s length, cradling her face, and peer into her eyes. “You don’t have to explain.”
Nodding, she lowers her head. I want nothing more than to make her pain go away. Standing, I guide her to the two-person chair near the window, and we sit, unencumbered by the hard, wooden armrests. I wrap my arm around her shoulders, and she rests her head on my chest, exactly like she always does when we watch movies together.
We’re both silent for what feels like hours. Her tears slow, and her body stops shaking. Rubbing my hand up her arm, I press a kiss to the top of her head.
“When I got home from school, I found my mom on the floor.” She straightens, and a sudden chill hits my body where she’d been resting a moment ago.
“I’m sorry.” What a lame thing to say.
“What’re you doing here?” She stands and paces toward the table in the corner that holds a coffee pot.
“Dad got his stitches out.” I watch her closely, worried she might collapse at any moment. She didn't look too good in school today—bloodshot eyes, pale complexion, movements slow, constantly yawning. I guess she’s been sleeping about as well as I have this past week.
She nods absently before turning back toward me. “You don’t have to stay. I’m fine.” She hugs herself, and I know she’s anything but fine.
I stand and approach. “I don’t mind.” She doesn’t look like she really wants to be alone, regardless of what she says.
“Really, Grayson. I’m fine. My dad will be here soon.” She averts her gaze before she even finishes speaking.
“Okay, so I’ll hang out until your dad gets here.” I shove my hands into my pockets.
“Why?”
“What?”
“Why do you want to stay? You’ve been avoiding me for a week.” Her shoulders slump, and she stares at me with a blank expression.
I sigh and drag my hand through my hair. “Because you’re clearly upset, and—”
“I’ve been upset for a week, Grayson.” Her tone is full of defeat. “Why do you suddenly care?”
“I’ve cared all week, Belle, but you hurt me, and I needed some time.” I walk back to the chair and sit with my arms on my knees. If only she knew how much I care, but how can I tell her now? She won’t believe me anyway.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she whispers. I don’t have to look up to know she’s crying again.
“I know.” I nod and stare at my hands as if they’ll have all the answers.
She sits beside me again. “Then why are you punishing me?”
Closing my eyes against the utter pain I hear in her tone, I take a deep breath. “I’m not punishing you.” At least, I’m not trying to. Maybe I am. Part of me wants her to hurt as much as I do, but at the same time, I can’t stand to know she’s hurting—and I'm the one hurting her. “Why didn’t
you stop him?”
“I did.”
“No.” I straighten and look at her. “Why didn’t you stop him before he kissed you? Did you want him to?”
She shakes her head, her eyes wide with disbelief. “I didn’t want him to kiss me. It all happened so fast. I didn’t have time to react, but as soon as the shock wore off, I pushed him away.”
I nod. Her story hasn’t changed at all, which I guess is a good thing.
“I’m sorry,” she says through more tears.
I gently wipe her tears with my thumbs. I have no doubt she’s sorry. “I need to know… if I hadn’t seen it, would you have told me?”
Belle hangs her head, and that’s all the answer I need.
“Look, I know you didn’t ask Cam to kiss you, and maybe you didn’t kiss him back, but…” I shake my head and let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know, Belle. I believe you, and I want to forgive you, but it’s… Trust. I don’t know if I can right now. Believe me, I’ve spent all week thinking about this, praying for guidance. I just don’t know what to do.”
A nurse pops into the room. “Oh, sorry,” she says. “I didn’t realize anyone was still in here. Are you waiting to speak to a doctor?”
Isabelle stands and nods. “Yeah, my mom was brought into the ER. Miranda Carson?”
“Right, of course. I’m sorry. Let me check in and see what’s going on.” She smiles sympathetically. “I’ll be right back.”
Alone once again, Belle turns to me. Her expression is suddenly hard. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I can’t keep doing this, Grayson. I can’t keep apologizing for something I didn’t do. That’s not fair.”
I shove my hands into my pockets again and stare at the floor. She’s absolutely right. I’m holding her accountable for something she didn’t do. So, why can’t I forgive her? What’s holding me back?
“I think you should go.”
I jerk my head up. Hours ago, I would’ve done anything to avoid seeing her, but now I can’t stand the thought of walking away. Not that I have any idea what’s going on with her mom, but after the week she’s had, I can’t just leave her. “You really shouldn’t be alone right now.”
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