by Tijan
“You want to take this somewhere else?”
Yes! But I groaned. “I promised my mom I wouldn’t skip.”
“And that’s important.”
It was. Wait, he was agreeing with me?
I opened my eyes, and he was right there. If I tilted my head a fraction, he’d be kissing me.
What had I been saying before? It felt important, too important to go a day without saying.
I was a mess. Yes. That was it.
I began again, clearing my throat first. “Things are just getting to be a little normal at my house. I don’t know if it’s going to last or what’s going to happen, but I’ve been a mess.” I still was. The hole was still there. She was still gone. I kept going before a different ache had me sobbing in his arms. “I’m trying to tell you that—” I flattened myself back, giving me an inch, and I looked up to his eyes. “When I return your text, I don’t want it to be because you said it. I want to feel it, and I want to mean it, and I want . . .”
Some of the smoldering dampened. “You don’t feel it?”
I pressed my hand against his stomach. “It isn’t that I don’t feel it; it’s that I have too much other stuff going on inside me. My parents are home today. Robbie is back today. Willow . . .”
My stomach knotted, but it was too important that he understood what I was saying for me to stop. “I’ve been trying to ignore that she was gone.” I’ve been trying to ignore a lot of things. “I used you to do that. I skipped school to run away. I tried tequila.” Deep breath, Mackenzie. My heart beat in a rapid staccato. My hand wrapped around his shirt and tugged. “There are layers of pain inside me. Pain that I can’t put into words, and underneath it all is hell. It’s raw and bloody. Agony. Suffering. Torture.”
And denial. That lined the bottom of me. It was a dark, black hole.
His hand curved around my waist, but the touch took on a different feeling. It was more soothing than sensual.
“I can’t text you that back because it isn’t fair to you, or me. I want to say it when I’m feeling that and only that. Willow’s gone, and I’ll always feel as if half of me has been ripped away, but I know someday those wounds might heal over. I’m not saying I’ll completely be right one day, but I’m saying that until most of those layers of pain have gone away, I can’t say it back. There isn’t enough room inside to say it back. Not yet.”
I pulled him against me, feeling his surprise before he caught himself so he wasn’t crushing me against the building. He put an inch of space between us, but that was too far in my mind. I wanted all of him against me, his whole body plastered against mine.
That soothed me, but I wanted more than soothing.
Ryan’s hand cradled the back of my head. His thumb brushed over my cheek. “I know what you’re saying, and I’m not mad.”
“You aren’t?”
He shook his head, his eyes firmly attached to my lips. “When I texted you that, I knew you couldn’t say it back. That isn’t why I sent it. I pressed send because it felt right to tell you. I wanted you to know, but I get it. I really do.” He groaned again and dipped down. His lips finding mine for a brief second before he pulled away.
I went with him, arching on my toes, not wanting to break the kiss.
He rested his forehead to mine, his gaze boring into my eyes. “You say it when you can, and I’ll still be here.”
An eighth piece fit with the other seven.
Five hundred ninety two to go, but it was good. So much good.
I tugged him back to me.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Two months later
Counseling Session Five
I sat on Naomi’s couch, and she took the seat across from me.
To say I’d been a participant—willing or otherwise—in the first four would’ve been an outright lie. I’d walked out of the first one. I’d refused to talk the second one. The third session lasted a few minutes longer as I recited obvious facts, like that Willow had died. And I’d dropped the bombshell about Ryan and me in the fourth one.
Naomi smiled at me. I saw the caution there and felt a little remorse.
She was in her mid-thirties with a medium complexion. Her black ringlets framed her face today as she’d let it hang loose. Some days they were slicked down with product, but today they were a little frizzy and free.
I liked how they looked. They seemed to match all the freckles on her face—almost like they didn’t want to be tamed. They wanted to be themselves.
I could relate. Somewhat. Okay, not at all. The counseling sessions had been the only limitation put on me by my parents since WWD, except lately. They had given me too much freedom in the beginning, but after everything blew up, it was starting to be the other way around.
“How are things going at home?”
I’d been waiting for Naomi to speak, and I looked up. I was somewhat surprised. She usually came at me friendly, but with a determination to get me to talk. That wasn’t what I heard today.
She sounded curious.
Some of the tension left me, and I found myself answering. “Better.”
Her mouth dropped open, but she coughed and smoothed out her shirt, sitting more upright in her seat. “What do you mean by better?”
I told her.
I didn’t see why I shouldn’t start being honest, at least a little. I still didn’t want to talk about Willow, but a conversation about my family was something else.
When I was done, I glanced at the clock. That had taken me twenty minutes. She’d sat in silence the entire time.
“In my work, I’ve learned that families either come together in times of severe grief, or they fall apart. The fact that your father was leaving doesn’t strike me as uncommon. The fact that you stepped forward, you said something, and everyone listened to you is not common.” She stared at me. “You changed the narrative. Do you realize what you did?”
I frowned. I didn’t know what she was talking about, and I was starting to wish I hadn’t said anything.
“You helped your family, Mackenzie.”
“What?”
“You spoke up, and your parents listened to you. I’ve had other children in here because of grief. In some cases, they didn’t speak up, or if they did, no one listened. I can only speculate as to the reasons your parents were going to separate, but you said your father moved back home?”
I nodded. “He’s been home since the day I talked to him. My mom too.”
“Is your little brother at his school again?”
“He’s there during the week, but he comes home on the weekends.”
We had movie dates every Saturday afternoon.
Her hands rested on her knee, one on top of the other, and she leaned even closer. “I don’t know your sister. I never met her, but I can tell you this one thing: she would be proud of what you did.”
The session turned awkward after that, at least for me.
Naomi said a bunch of nice things about me, and I tried to change the topic every time. A joke. A debate. I asked her ridiculous questions about why she didn’t have more plants in her office. I even tried to piss her off. I told her if she didn’t stop praising me, I’d feel like I was being propositioned and could report her. She only grinned and went right back to telling me all the good things I’d done since Willow died.
She was wrong.
Everyone was wrong. I knew my parents looked at me a little differently since the whole Mallory-stalking/yelling-at-my-dad event. It was like they were seeing someone new.
I didn’t understand it, and I didn’t like it.
And there was one other topic I didn’t want to talk about, and so far, Naomi hadn’t brought it up.
She did when I was leaving this time.
“Mackenzie.”
I was at the door and I paused, looking back. “What?”
“We have to talk about your sister’s suicide note before I’ll sign off on these sessions.”
Yeah. That.
Chap
ter Thirty-Three
“How was your session yesterday?”
I jumped, and my hand hit my locker as I whirled around, but I shouldn’t have been surprised.
Ryan and I had talked a little last night on the phone, and I knew he would seek me out today. This was the new normal. Things were returning to a more regular schedule at home, which meant my mom stayed home twice a week. She reserved the right to drive me to school those mornings, and this was one of them.
Cursing, I waved my hand around.
“Shit.” Ryan touched my arm and leaned forward to inspect my fingers. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I tried for a smile, but it felt like a twisted clown grimace. My fingers really hurt. “Oh. No problem. It was my bad. I was zoning out.”
He ran his thumb over my knuckles. “You jammed two of your fingers. I can reset them, if you want. This happens all the time with basketball.”
Oh God.
My knees wanted to crumble because it hurt so bad. I jerked my head in a nod, bracing my other hand against his shoulder. “Okay. Do it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yea—”
He pulled, and I screamed.
“AH!” I did crumple this time. Grabbing his arm, I caught myself.
People were watching us, and I was being a bit overdramatic, but I was happy. I could be dramatic about this. This pain would go away.
“You okay?” He ran his finger over mine and murmured, “All better now?”
I tensed, waiting for the pain, but none came. I moved my fingers around, bending and wiggling them. “No. It’s fixed. Thank you.”
A cocky smirk came over him. “I found my calling. I’m going to be a doctor. I like fixing girls and having them swoon over me.”
I hit his shoulder with my other hand. “So hilarious.”
He chuckled, his eyes darkening.
I straightened, responding to him. That throbbing need began to build, and I leaned toward him.
“Yo.”
Kirk, Nick, and Tom sauntered over to us.
Kirk held his fist up, and Ryan met it with his, turning to rest against the locker behind me. His hand moved to my waist as he nodded to the others. “What’s up?”
“We’re having a party after your first game, right?” Kirk was the spokesman. He glanced to Tom and Nick, who both nodded.
Ryan’s hand flexed on my hip, but his tone remained casual. “Yeah, sure. Your place?”
“I can throw it. That’s no problem.” Kirk looked at me. “You coming, Mackenzie?”
I looked at Ryan before speaking. “I think so.”
“I gotta ask because you’ve gone all goody-student lately. No skipping. No drinking. You haven’t partaken in our parties, and we haven’t had to interrupt you and Romeo here during any PDA. What happened?”
I’d started healing. “Things got better at home.”
Things weren’t a hundred percent. That wouldn’t happen. But they were definitely over the fifty percent mark. One day, I figured I’d have to claw my way higher. It would suck. There were layers in me even I didn’t want to share, but I’d have to deal if I wanted to get up there.
I was okay where I was for the moment.
I settled back, moving to lean fully against Ryan as he talked over my shoulder with his friends. His hand on my waist moved behind me, and I felt it slide under my shirt, rubbing up and down.
It felt good, calming.
We stayed like that until the warning bell rang and everyone dispersed. It was nice to have just the guys at my locker. That wasn’t a normal thing anymore—there were almost always girls around too. If it was Kirk standing with us, sometimes Cora would come over. Kirk would throw an arm around her shoulder and talk to Ryan while flirting with her. Sometimes, Erin approached, and if she came, her friends followed behind. Things were still tense between us, but she’d been giving me a stiff smile or hello lately, and sometimes I gave it back. She didn’t deserve my friendliness, in my opinion, and it’d be a long day in hell before she and I became anything other than civil to each other.
After seventh period ended, Ryan caught up to me at my locker. “Are you sticking around during practice?”
I switched out my books, putting the ones I needed for homework into my bag. “Yeah. My mom and dad are going to a counseling session tonight.”
“So we can hang out afterward?” He moved in as I closed my locker, tugging me close so I was almost resting against him. I felt him through my jeans. He was already hard, and I knew what else he was asking.
Feeling my body warm, I grinned at him. “Oh yes.”
“Yeah?” His eyes were teasing, a twinkle in them. He tugged me closer, closer, closer until every inch of my body was plastered against every inch of his.
I could feel his breath against me, and I murmured back, “Hell yes.”
I felt him smiling before he kissed me.
A loud slam sounded right next to us, and Ryan’s head jerked up. His hands tightened on my waist as he growled, “What the fuck, man?”
The guy grinned at us as he bounced a basketball. He threw it at the locker on our other side, moving down the hallway. “Want to make sure you’re coming to practice,” he called over his shoulder.
“Now I might not.”
The guy caught his basketball and stopped in his tracks. “You serious, man?” His fingers tapped on the ball.
I didn’t know who the guy was, but it wasn’t a stretch to guess he was a senior. No junior would’ve talked to Ryan like that.
“I’ll come when I come.” Ryan pushed away from my locker, standing in front of me. His shoulders were rigid, and he kept a tight grip on my hand.
Kirk and Nick materialized from behind us, moving in to flank Ryan.
Kirk’s hands shoved into his pockets. “What’s the deal, Wachowitz?”
“My deal is Jensen. He’s more interested in getting laid than getting to practice.”
A low growl came from Ryan, and he started forward.
Nick held his hand up, halting Ryan, but he was speaking to Wachowitz. “You might want to watch your words. Ryan hasn’t missed one practice this week, and he’s already captain. You know he has a say in who gets nominated.”
“Team nominates the co-captain.”
Nick’s grin went wide, and his head cocked to the side. “But Ryan gets final say. If he doesn’t like you, he isn’t going to pick you.”
Wachowitz’s stance grew less intimidating. His head lowered, and he stuffed one of his hands into his pocket. “You serious?”
Ryan released my hand. He passed both his friends, moving purposefully. He went up to Wachowitz and shoved him against the locker. “I don’t give a rat’s ass if I’m captain or not. You come at me like that again, and I’ll get your ass kicked off the team.”
Kirk and Nick pushed forward, standing close behind Ryan.
Wachowitz swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and he moved his head in the same motion.
“Yeah, man. I apologize.” He held his fist up, but Ryan ignored him.
Meeting my eyes, Ryan spoke to Wachowitz, “Do it again, and we’ll have more than fucking words. Got it?”
Wachowitz’s gaze jumped to mine, and he swallowed again. He didn’t say anything else, only turned and disappeared down the hallway. He didn’t bounce the basketball against any more lockers.
“Well, that was fun,” Kirk said as Ryan came back.
Ryan was still holding my gaze. I had darkness in me, but so did he. There’d been a few glimpses over the last couple months, but this was the first time I’d really experienced it. It was a window into how he’d been before I showed up.
A shiver went down my spine as Ryan bent to kiss me.
“I’ll see you later?” he said softly.
I nodded, feeling all sorts of flutters in my chest.
He stepped back and clapped Nick on the shoulder. “Let’s go. Wachowitz is going to have a hard practice today.”
Nick’s g
rin was almost evil. “Hell yes, he is.”
They took off, but Kirk lingered behind.
“Basketball isn’t your thing?” I asked him.
He laughed, shaking his head. “Sports in general are not my thing. I love to watch, bet on the game, hit on chicks in the bleachers, but that’s it. You?”
Me?
Come on, Soccer Superstar.
I heard Willow calling me that again and found myself saying, “Soccer, actually.”
“Really? It’s a spring sport here for us. You going to play?”
I heard myself saying, “Yeah. I think I am.”
I wasn’t sure who was shocked more, him or me. Then again, I hadn’t thought about sports since June twenty-eighth.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Bouncing basketballs sounded like a thunderstorm—with whistles shrieking, tennis shoes squeaking against the gym floor, and a whole ton of yelling. The smell of sweat filled the room, but someone had propped open the double doors so fresh air circulated through, along with the sound of dance music being played somewhere down the hall.
I’d gone to the bathroom and saw some of the dance team practicing a routine near my locker.
There were a lot of students out and about in the school, but I was one of the only audience members for basketball practice. The coach came in, saw me, and started to protest. I saw how his shoulders tensed, and he scowled, but Ryan ran over, with Nick and another guy hot on his heels. They talked to their coach and after a bit, his shoulders relaxed and the scowl flattened to a firm line of disapproval. He said something to Ryan, who nodded and ran back to his place for drills.
I went back to my homework, not making a peep, and finally practice ended.
The guys stayed around for a scrimmage game, and I sat and marveled at how damn good Ryan was. He’d been the first to finish the drills. He’d given the calls.
I mean, I could be biased, but he seemed to be the best at shooting, and he worked the hardest.
Wachowitz, on the other hand, was dragging. He’d been lagging behind half the team since the middle of practice. He missed a pass, and after he missed another, one of his teammates yelled for him to tag out.