“I just need to see her, to tell her I’m okay and that I love her,” I told him.
“Max is doing her best,” said Parker.
Getting shot wasn’t the worst part. That was easy. This was hell.
Footsteps sounded into the hall, and Parker and I faced the door, where Travis was sneaking in.
He gave an awkward wave to Parker, who shook his head, still upset over it all. “I probably got a few minutes before they kick me out.”
Parker began to leave. “I’ll make sure you’re cleared.” He faced me as he headed for the door, raising his finger. “You’re still grounded.”
For some reason the gesture made me smile. “I’ll be here.”
Travis came to my side and sat down. He examined me and seemed spirited that was I okay. “Two in the chest, and you lived. Just don’t go actin’ like you ’Pac or some shit,” he joked.
“I never wanna get shot again,” I told him.
“I’ll bet.” He leaned over. “You okay? Parker seemed a little tense.”
“I’m going to tell him the whole story,” I confessed. “It could come in handy. For now, I need the story you told the cops. What were you doing there? You could’ve gotten killed.”
Travis almost seemed to shrug. “Every Batman needs his Robin.” He stared down at his hands. “I didn’t feel right about you not taking my car. I thought it was all fishy that you had another idea. So I followed you to your friend’s house, and then to the garage. I waited outside, and when I heard the shots, I panicked and dialed the cops before rushing in to see what happened.
“That other guy was passed out, and you were lying in a pool of blood. The scariest thing I’ve ever seen.” He faced me, appearing serious. “I just kept thinking we should’ve gone together, that we should’ve had a plan. Maybe you wouldn’t have gotten shot if I’d asked more questions. Maybe we would’ve figured out the setup sooner.”
“You saved my life,” I said.
He nodded as he scratched his jaw. “Don’t go thinking I did it out of love or something. I did it for the street cred, you know? Imagine all the girls come time for school.”
He was joking, but I was serious. “Thank you, Travis. I mean it. It’s a crazy way to find out who your real friends are, but for what it’s worth, it means a lot.”
He reached out and pressed his fist to my good hand. “Just don’t make this shit a habit, okay?”
I lay back. “I’m done dragging you and me into messes. I’m sure your parents are freaking out.”
“Oh yeah. I’m in Lindenwood dodging bullets, trust me, my mom’s a little on edge.”
The clock on the wall read early afternoon. “How long have you been here?”
“I never left.”
I sat back up. “Huh?”
“I told my dad I wasn’t leaving Lindenwood until I was sure you were okay, which definitely pissed him off. But being that I detect that they like you more than me, I’m willing to bet that’s why they even agreed to put me up here.”
He’d stayed in Lindenwood for me?
It was sobering to find out that I had more support in the Hills than Nandy and the Smiths. I had Travis.
“I appreciate the gesture,” I said. “How were the police?”
“I think they bought my story. I said you were stopping by a friend’s and I followed behind in my car because you mentioned a mechanic you used to know who customized cars. I told the cops we were at the garage to see if I could drop off my car to get my rims done, and by the time we got there, it was too late, but you saw a light on and went to see if the mechanic was there. From there, it escalated to gunshots, and I called the cops.”
Giving money to Khalil was the perfect alibi for going to see Mexico so randomly from Pacific Hills.
Maybe it would all work out.
“I just wish I knew where things are with Nandy.” I sighed as I lay back and stared at the ceiling. How poorly could she be taking it that she didn’t want to see me?
Travis frowned. “I only saw her that first night. It wasn’t pretty. Smith’s a tough girl, but this was a lot for her, man. You better be done with this place, because I don’t think she can take any more.”
“He is done.” A third voice filled the room.
Prophet was standing in the doorway. His expression mirrored Parker’s, tired and concerned, but also pissed off.
“Travis, this is Prophet. Prophet, this is—”
“We’ve met,” Prophet said as he came over.
Travis gestured toward Prophet. “When they found out I saved you, they sorta demanded to put me up. My dad found a hotel, but Alma’s pretty scary.”
I faced Prophet. “That was nice of you.”
“He saved one of our own,” said Prophet. “It was nothing. You and I need to talk.” He glanced at Travis. “Alone if you don’t mind.”
Travis agreed, standing and pounding his fist against mine once more before exiting the room.
Prophet took his seat and fixed me with a look that let me know I had a lecture coming. Between him and Parker, they both needed lessons on sympathy. Didn’t a couple of bullet wounds warrant some ease?
“I told you to stay away,” he said.
“I heard you, Prophet.” I sighed.
“Yes, you heard me, but you didn’t listen. Hearing and listening are two different things, my friend.” He examined my sling. “I’m making this place a no-fly zone for you. If anyone catches you in town, they’ll send you straight back to the Hills. There is nothing for you here but tragedy, Trice.”
“Money set me up. He told me Mexico was blackmailing us.”
“Khalil and I figured something was up. He called me as soon as you left, and it wasn’t too hard to gather that something was going on.”
“Do you think he’ll talk?”
“About the operation?” Prophet sat back in his seat and picked at the loose threading on the arm. “You don’t worry about Money. I’ve got that taken care of. He killed Mexico, and that’s that, he’s done. He can’t put that on us.”
“He can still take us down.”
Prophet rolled his eyes as he sat up. “Here we go with the not listening thing again. I said leave it alone. I’ve got family where Money’s going. He won’t talk, or he won’t live, it’s that simple. Eye for an eye, Trice. He tried to kill you, and for what? Because he didn’t take advantage of the same opportunities that you did? He didn’t get shot and his family’s not much, either. He could’ve easily bettered himself on his own.
“But he didn’t. Instead he got mad and took it out on you. You have more to lose than him, and he wanted you to lose.” Prophet shook his head. “I wish you had come to me.”
“What if he would’ve come after you?”
“Better me than you. Besides, I have a gun, you don’t. This is your third shot, do you really wanna mess it up?”
“I just want to stand up and walk to her.” It was all that I could think about. Seeing Nandy, holding her, and telling her how I felt. Our last moment together wasn’t enough. I needed more time and more memories.
I wanted to go to Cross High and let Lydia read the rest of my story, to see if I really had a shot at this writing thing. To see where the future lay for me. I couldn’t do that in Lindenwood, and I’d known it before Money pulled the trigger.
“But she’s not here,” I said softly.
Prophet touched my hand. “Feisty’s got strength, Trice. Don’t count her out just yet.”
It was hard to count on someone who wasn’t there.
And then, she was.
Movement in the doorway caught my attention.
She looked as if she hadn’t slept in days, but that wasn’t what got me; it was her choice of attire: black. From the jacket she was wearing, to her dress, to her shoes, she was dressed in all black, as if she were att
ending a funeral.
Prophet noticed her as well and stood. “I have your number and we will talk weekly. Someone’s gotta keep you in line.” He patted my hand before meeting Nandy at the door. “He’s not dead yet, Feisty.”
Nandy took her bottom lip into her mouth, her eyes beginning to water as she looked at Prophet.
I should’ve been happy that we were alone once Prophet stepped out of the room, but I wasn’t.
Why the hell was she wearing black?
Slowly and tentatively, Nandy approached the chair. She shrugged out of her jacket and revealed the dress she was wearing. A low-cut number that gave a nice look at her cleavage. It definitely wasn’t funeral-appropriate. I wasn’t sure if she were testing me or tempting me.
She sat in the chair, fiddling with her hands.
As happy as I was to finally see her, my temper flared at the signs before me.
Time ticked by, and I wasn’t sure who would speak first. She sure as hell wasn’t looking at me.
“Hey, Nandy.” It came out fake and cheery, but at least I spoke.
Her eyes flickered to me. She definitely hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in days. “Are...are you going to grow your hair out again?”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I almost laughed. This was how it was. No other girl could get my blood boiling like Nandy Smith. She walked a fine line of turning me on, humoring me, consoling me, and making me want to strangle her so easily.
Were we really going to beat around the bush about my fucking hair?
Finally, I came out and said it. “Are we done?”
Her gaze fell to her lap. “I’ve prepared for that.”
“Is this what you want? Is that why you’re dressed for a funeral?”
She sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “I... I think it’d be easier to pretend, than to face what happens next with you and your retaliation.”
I lifted a brow. “Retaliation?”
“You wrote a story about a boy who gives up his hardness and ties to his past for the girl he loves, but you couldn’t even do that for me. I never asked you to choose, but you chose this town over me. You let them drag you back in, and you almost died, Tyson. So I would rather sit here and pretend that it’s the end, than to go on and let you put me through this. This town will not stop until it kills you, but you’re too loyal to see it. This person shot you, and what, now you’re going to band up with your friends and hunt him down? I won’t watch you do that. I can’t.”
She had to be fucking kidding me.
Despite it all, I managed to laugh. “You know why I got a lot of love for you and your father, Nandy? Instead of making me choose between being grounded and staying away from this city, Parker just grounds me. And you decide to see me as dead as long as I’m attached to this place. Your timing and belief in tough love are just funny to me. Meanwhile I’m lying here all shot and shit, which is not a fucking cakewalk, and these are the things I’m dealing with. By the way, I’m fine, thanks for asking.”
“Fuck you, Tyson!” she snapped at me. “You have no idea what it was like to wait for you. What it was like for my family to get that phone call, and come here and see you lying in a bed with machines hooked to your body. I wanted you to stay with me. You chose your friends! You wound up in the hospital, and they didn’t know if you were going to make it!”
“So instead of sticking by me, you bounce and write me off as dead?”
Nandy shook her head. “I can’t watch you do this.”
Parker was one thing, Prophet as well, but Nandy? I couldn’t hack it.
“I woke up, and all I wanted to see was you, but you weren’t here, and you haven’t been here. I don’t want your tough love right now, I just want you,” I told her.
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I can’t be your ride or die. I don’t know how, and I don’t want to support this lifestyle.”
I felt like an asshole for laughing at her, but she sounded so wrong with her slang. “I never asked you to join me in this lifestyle. I don’t need you holding me down in that way. I don’t want you in this place any longer than you have to be. I fucked up, okay? I see that now.”
Her sobs caused a misty sensation to sting my eyes.
Nandy reached up and wiped at her face. “I waited for you. And they called my mom and told her what happened. I didn’t know what to think. If you were mad at me for not saying how I felt, or if you were too caught up in this life that you won’t leave to care. You think I always get what I want? Since I was seven years old, I’ve only wanted you, and you keep leaving me!” She laid her head on the bed, shoulders shaking with her sobs.
As fucked up as it was, I understood. It was easy for her to pretend that I was dead this time than to let me walk away a third time to potentially really die. Prophet had told me to stay away, and I’d gone against his word to save them, risking everything selfishly. For so long, my loyalties had lain with Prophet and the boys, but it was here in my hospital bed that I finally understood that they didn’t need me. That they would fare well on their own.
My mother wanted me to be happy, and I was—with Nandy, with the Smiths, and with my friends in Pacific Hills. It was all that I really needed.
I reached out and stroked Nandy’s hair, getting her attention. “Money shot me. He didn’t like that I was going to do better. He didn’t like that people saw more for me than for him. He was my friend since I was nine years old, and he shot me. I felt myself dying, Nandy. I don’t know about God or anything, but I thought that maybe I was going somewhere, and maybe she’d be there.
“I had a dream that I saw my mom. She was alive and happy and right there.” For the first time since Tyson had tried to kill me, I felt myself cry. “All I wanted since I got to Pacific Hills was to be with my mother, but when I found her, it wasn’t enough. She knew it, and so did I. All I could think about was, if I had another chance, that if God was real and he could just give me another shot, that if he could give me the strength to live and to get up and make it back to you, that I’d do better. I don’t want to die before I can spend my life with you.”
Nandy’s lips trembled. “You mean it?”
“I don’t want Lindenwood. There is nothing for me here.”
“And if something happens and they need you again?”
As much as it hurt to know the fact, I said it out loud. “They can take care of themselves. They don’t need me. You do. And I need you.”
Nandy buried her face into my bed, crying some more. “Please don’t leave me, Tyson. I’ll accept whatever you want, if it’s this place, if it’s Pacific Hills, just don’t go.”
I hated that I was making her cry. “You once told me that maybe while I was in Pacific Hills I’d find something to believe in. Well, I did. I believe in home, I believe in this family, and I believe in us,” I told her. “I love you, Nandy.”
When she didn’t respond, I said it again, and again, until I was sure she heard me.
Nandy sat up and grabbed a tissue from the box on my nightstand, going and wiping up her face.
“Come here,” I said as I patted the bed.
She eyed me skeptically. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Your not being here hurt me more than this did,” I said. “I realize what’s important now. I wanna grow and explore, I wanna see Thailand with your family, and maybe someday, you and I can go and see some of Africa together.”
Nandy got up from the chair and carefully lay with me on the bed. She rested her head into the crook of my neck, and I wrapped my good arm around her. She was still crying as she clung to my good side.
“What do you want?”
“Two things,” she said softly.
“I’m listening.”
“To be here for you.”
I rested my head on hers. “That’s all I want, too.”
She looked up at me. “O
ne more thing.”
“Yeah?”
She took a fistful of my hospital gown into her hand. “I think I want to break your ankles like in Misery, and to tie you to a bed so that you never leave my sight again.”
It was morbid and uncalled for, but it was just enough to make me laugh.
“Let’s just go home, okay?” I said.
Nandy managed to nod. “Okay.”
* * *
A couple of weeks later I sat in my bedroom, struggling to type with my good hand. I was supposed to be going easy on my left arm, but the desire to get the story out, the new and improved version, pushed through the pain. Shayne had gone back home to give the Smiths and me space, but she often came by to help out. She even offered to type for me, but the stubborn part of me wanted to do it all myself.
I winced as a deep burn shot through my left shoulder. “Shit.”
“You better not be in here typing again.” Nandy’s voice preceded her into my room, and in seconds she was by my side, hands on her hips.
When no one else was around, sometimes she’d wear this little nurse’s uniform she’d got at a costume store. It was another incentive to get well soon.
Things were different, in a way. Per my condition, Parker had me back in the main house so that the others could help me, and I was working with a private physical therapist the Smiths had hired to see me through recovery. This time around, I was more optimistic and ambitious about recovering and going forward than the first time, an attitude my doctor thought helped.
The shooting was open and closed, as far as the police were concerned. I’d told them all about seeing Khalil and showing Travis the way to Mexico’s. I’d confessed that Money and I’d had tension since my move to Pacific Hills, and that he’d called me to see how I was doing out of the blue a few times, and how I’d thought we’d made up. I let it slip that I might have mentioned coming back to town to see Khalil and show Travis the shop that night. Everything fell together as Khalil and the others backed up the story of the tension Money and I’d had, and the murder was what sealed Money’s fate.
A Love Hate Thing Page 37