Six Months Later

by Natalie D. Richards

  I finally meet Mrs. Nesbit’s gaze. She’s smiling down at me over a stack of hardback books in her arms.

  “Hello,” I say.

  “It’s been almost a month since you’ve been in!” she says, sounding genuinely surprised by this. As far as I know, I haven’t stepped foot in this library since elementary school.

  So apparently I get to add mystery library visits to my list of things I can’t remember.

  “Where is that handsome friend of yours?” she asks.

  Blake? Blake came here with me? This is just…I can’t even. I open and close my mouth a few times before giving up on speech and offering a shrug.

  “Well, I can’t believe he’d leave you to your studying alone,” she says, getting that wistful look that old women sometimes do when waxing on about young love.

  “Oh, Blake and I are actually just friends now,” I say, trying to let her down easy. She looks startled, shaking her head.

  “Blake? The Tanner boy? Why, I haven’t seen him in a couple of years at least. I was talking about Adam.”

  Now she’s looking at me with something akin to reproach, like I’m a brazen little hussy with two boys in my pocket. She’s got no idea how close she is, but I don’t have time for that. I need to find out what in the heck I was doing here with Adam.

  I minimize my search window and laugh nervously. “Right, I’m sorry. I’m so distracted with all of my college application essays.”

  I have no idea where I pulled that from, but she hums with a mournful look, like she knows just what I mean.

  “You know, I’m sure Adam could help you with that. Of course, you were in that study group of Daniel Tanner’s, so—”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  It’s rude to interrupt. I know that. But I also know my pulse just jumped to warp speed.

  “The study group,” she repeats, looking a little put off. “You were in that group, weren’t you?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry, I just didn’t realize Mr. Tanner was behind it.”

  “Oh, yes. He was the major corporate sponsor. From what he tells me, things will be expanding next year. They may even need use of our facilities here.”

  She’s practically beaming, and I’m about to throw up all over her Mac. This can’t be happening. It just can’t. Because this means the phone call was real. My breath seems to freeze into something solid in my lungs.

  I stand up abruptly, feeling like I don’t have an ounce of blood left in my face. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Nesbit. I completely forgot I’m meeting my mother today.”

  “Oh, well. You know I still have that book on reserve for you,” she says with a frown. “Fundamentals of Hypnosis. You’re actually a week or two past our standard hold time, Ms. Spinnaker.”

  “I’ll have to come back for it. My mom’s probably in a dead panic.”

  I eye the door hungrily, but follow her to the circulation desk, where I hand over my library card and wait what feels like three hours for her to check out the book.

  Finally, I stumble toward the door, feeling shaky as a leaf. Hypnosis? I mean...

  Chapter Sixteen

  I stumble into the library parking lot, skidding to a cartoonlike halt when a familiar Mustang pulls in. Déjà vu washes over me as I watch the car track through the parking lot, headed straight for me.

  Just like it did that first night at the school. The night I woke up.

  I blink as he parks the car, my feet turning to lead weights at the ends of my legs. How? How did he know I was here? Because it has to be me. No way did Blake just happen to decide to visit the library for the first time in years today.

  I think of the text on his phone, the books in my room, and most of all, the way he looked at me at Trixie’s Diner. None of that would mean much of anything if his dad didn’t have his hands in all of this. The engine turns off, and I feel adrenaline pumping through me as the truth hits with bone-rattling force. Blake is following me.

  The car door opens, and I clench my hands into tight fists. I can’t run. If I run, he’ll know I figured him out. And I don’t want him to know that yet.

  Blake is just stepping out when another car pulls into the parking lot. It’s a really old black Camaro, engine grumbling in a menacing way. The paint is beyond dull, almost gray instead of black, and that almost makes it more intimidating.

  It grinds to a halt in the spot next to the Mustang. I see Blake’s face turn dark just seconds before Adam opens the door.

  Oh my God, they both knew. They both somehow knew I’d be here, and they’re here and I’m trapped.

  Adam pulls a book bag and a stack of library books out of the passenger seat, and I manage a breath. Okay. Okay, stop being paranoid. Adam happens to be at the library. And Blake—

  Yeah, no, Blake is stalking me.

  My thoughts cut off into nothingness as Adam looks up, meeting my eyes with surprise and then noticing Blake moving toward me. I try to convey how uncomfortable—screw uncomfortable, how terrified—I am with my eyes.

  And I watch, holding my breath as Adam shoulders his pack…and heads right past me.

  “Chloe, we should talk,” Blake says, sparing a final glance at Adam’s form.

  I shake my head, swallowing hard. “I don’t want to talk.”

  I can still see Adam making his way toward the door. He’s just going to leave me here when it’s clear as day I’m a damsel in some pretty freaking serious distress! Unbelievable.

  “I could drive you home,” Blake says, voice sweet but eyes hard. “Just give me ten minutes.”

  “I really don’t want to talk,” I say, voice cracking. “I told you I need some time.”

  Adam’s almost at the door. Maybe he’s moving slower or maybe I’m just wishing for that. But if he doesn’t stop moving altogether, I’m going to be alone out here in about two seconds.

  “Be reasonable, Chloe. It’s not safe to walk all the way home,” Blake says, and he’s closing the distance between us.

  “It’s Ridgeview, not Harlem,” I say breezily. Inside, I’m screaming. I know why cornered dogs bite now. I’d be snapping like a maniac if I had sharp teeth.

  “Chloe,” Blake says, and it almost sounds condescending. Then he touches my arm, curling fingers over my sleeve. I yank myself free.

  I can’t help it any more than I can explain it. It’s like recoiling at a roach or maggots. I don’t know why, but I know I need him away from me.

  “How about I call you?” he asks.

  “She said she needs time, man.”

  Adam.

  I feel my whole body relax. I don’t know when he turned around or why I didn’t hear him walking back, but he’s right here now, book bag still slung over one shoulder and eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.

  Blake sneers at him. “How about you mind your own business?”

  “No, he’s right,” I interject. “I do want some time, Blake.”

  “And I’m happy to give it. This isn’t some effort to win you back,” he says, as if the idea is completely ridiculous. “I’m just concerned. As your friend. Skipping classes and leaving school early. I’m worried you’re jeopardizing your future.”

  He doesn’t look concerned. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he looks determined. He’s wearing a face that reminds me a whole lot of my mother’s my-way-or-the-highway stance.

  Blake takes another step toward me, and I flinch just before Adam slides in between us, facing Blake.

  “Let it rest.”

  “She could need help,” Blake grits out.

  “She said she’s fine.”

  “This isn’t your gig, Reed.”

  “Not yours either anymore,” Adam says, bringing me back to the present.

  This doesn’t feel like it’s about me. I mean, I hear the words, but there’s something way bigger than jealousy in their eyes. Maybe this whole situation just gave them a reason and any second now someone’s going to throw a punch.

  Blake juts toward him, but then catches my eye over Ada
m’s shoulder. His face molds into something that feels plastic. Counterfeit.

  He seems to shut out Adam then, speaking only to me. “I’m sorry if this came off wrong. I just wanted you to know I’m here if you need me.”

  I manage a nod, and he smiles in a way that doesn’t reach his eyes. I watch him turn to head for his car. The Mustang purrs to life, and I command my heart to stop running a hundred miles an hour.

  Adam doesn’t even look at me. He just walks back to the library as if nothing happened at all.

  “Is he following me?” I shout after him, the adrenaline still coursing hard enough to make my hands shake and my teeth chatter.

  “Sorry?” Adam asks, looking for all the world like a guy who wasn’t about to throw down in the library parking lot twenty seconds ago.

  “How did he know I was here, Adam?”

  He looks away from me, his jaw a hard, beautiful line above his collar. And what did I expect? Why would he know? Still, despite the books and the backpack, something tells me Adam followed Blake to the library.

  Maybe he’s studying now, but somehow, I’m sure he came for Blake. Or maybe even for me.

  “You should get out of here,” he finally says. “You’ll be safer at home.”

  ***

  Home my ass. I’m staying in this parking lot until he comes out and explains what the heck is going on. Which sounds a lot more committed than it really is since the library closes at four o’clock on Fridays.

  Still. It’s cold, and there’s a distinct look of rain in the clouds gathering overhead. Rain in November in northern Ohio is every bit as unpleasant as it sounds.

  The library lights go dim, and a few moments after, Adam emerges. He’s got a couple of books under one arm and his jacket slung over a shoulder with his backpack. As if he’s impervious to the cold that has me shivering to my bones beside his car.

  He wrangles his keys free of his pocket, and I clear my throat.

  His eyes go wide as he takes me in. “Are you serious with this?”

  “As a freaking heart attack,” I say, lifting my chin.

  “I don’t know why Blake knew you were here. Maybe he followed you.”

  “Maybe you followed him.”

  He waggles the books at me. “No, I come here to study. Why the hell would I follow Blake?”

  “You tell me.”

  I step back from his door, which I probably shouldn’t. But I’m not going to physically force him to stay here. He wrenches his car door open and throws his books inside. I half expect him to just get in and drive away, but then he slams it again and glares at me.

  “What is this even about? Now you’re pissed that I interrupted you with Blake?”

  I roll my eyes. “Yes, that’s exactly it, Adam. I was obviously chomping at the bit for some alone time there.”

  “Then what?” He’s loud now, not quite shouting but close enough that I flinch when he moves closer to me. “What the hell is this, Chlo? One minute you and I are—”

  “What? What are we, Adam? Because I already told you I can’t remember anything, and you refuse to fill me in.”

  “There’s nothing to be filled in,” he says, convincing no one.

  “I don’t believe you.” I’m so cold, my teeth are starting to rattle, my breath steaming around me like a cloud. “I can still feel it, Adam. Whatever I forgot? It’s still in there. Every time you look at me, every time you walk past me in the stupid hall I feel…”

  “You feel what?”

  I can see the impatience in his eyes. And something else too.

  “This,” I say, reaching forward to take his hands. “Us, Adam.”

  His fingers, blissfully warm, curl around mine, and his face tenses with worry. “You’re freezing, Chlo. You shouldn’t be out here in this cold. I’ll take you home.”

  “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare put me in this car and turn on the radio and pretend nothing’s going on here.”

  “Why are you so sure something is going on?” he asks, and he sounds tense and miserable and just a little bit desperate.

  I don’t have an answer I can put into words. So I curl my hands in his and breathe in his scent, soapy and clean with that soft tang of cinnamon. I let my eyes close.

  “I remember things when I touch you,” I say. “I remember studying with you. Raking leaves with you.”

  “Yeah, Chlo, it happened. But it obviously didn’t mean anything.”

  I open my eyes and swallow my fear. “No, Adam. I think it might have meant everything.”

  He jerks his hands free of mine, and I flinch. He plows his hands into his hair, breathing hard and stepping back from me. I feel colder than cold, as if something crucial has been torn from my grasp.

  He shakes his head, letting out a bitter laugh. “You don’t get it. We can’t do this,” he says. “We can’t go here, Chloe. Not now. Not ever.”

  He’s looking left and right, and then he’s going for his car. God, he’s going to go. He’s just going to leave me standing here after I said that.

  He doesn’t leave, but he goes still and tense. I hear him let out a shuddery breath, his feet shifting on the pavement.

  “Damn it,” he says, shaking his head once.

  He turns back to me, and I don’t even have time to blink or breathe or anything before his hands are on my face, in my hair—and then, he’s kissing me.

  His lips are soft and hard together, sending electric shocks through every inch of me. I’m heavy and trembling under his kiss, my half-frozen hands fisting in the front of his shirt, soaking in his warmth.

  My mouth slides open with a sigh, and the kiss goes on and on until I no longer think about the cold or the danger or any of the million questions I want to ask. I can’t think about a single thing outside of the feel of his arms and the taste of his mouth against mine.

  We separate in a steaming rush of breath, our foreheads pressed together and my hands threaded into his hair.

  “Tell me we haven’t done that yet,” I breathe.

  He pulls back, mouth swollen and eyes flashing in a way that makes me want to kiss him again.

  I bite my lip. “Please tell me I didn’t forget that too.”

  “No,” he says, grinning. He strokes warm lines down my face with his thumbs. And then his mouth dips into a frown. “You really don’t remember, do you?”

  I shake my head. He pulls me into his arms, still breathing fast into my hair. “We can’t talk here, and we need to get you warmed up. Can I take you somewhere?”

  I close my eyes and burrow into his chest with a smile. “Lead the way.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  We drive to his house first, and he drops his backpack inside. I call my parents while he’s gone, claiming a study session with some of my SAT friends. He slides back into the car around the time I hang the phone up, and then he’s watching me. Holy crap, I’m not sure I’ll ever look at this guy without thinking of kissing him.

  “Are they cool with it?” he asks.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Good. Turn off your phone.”

  I open my mouth to argue, and he frowns at his hands on the steering wheel. “What do you think the chances are that Blake won’t call or text you in the next couple of hours?”

  “Hours?” I ask, feeling my brows arch.

  He looks sideways at me with a smile that makes me blush. “You in a rush?”

  “No,” I say, powering down my phone with trembling fingers. “So where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “I love surprises,” I say, grinning.

  He grins right back, reaching over to take my hand. “Yeah, I thought you might.”

  We drive twenty miles south of Ridgeview, and I don’t feel desperate to fill the silence. Instead, I revel in the peace of it, watching the stark beauty of the winter landscape roll past my window.

  Before I know it, we’re in the heart of Corbin, a town about the same size as ours without the benefits that come wit
h being on the lake. I have no idea why he’s brought me here, especially after five, when the few shops and businesses are closed.

  Adam pulls into a gravel lot near the center of town, a construction zone if the fencing and rubble is any indicator. I crane my head, spotting a large building, or the bones of what will someday be a building. The first few floors seem roughed in, but the ones above that are all steel beams and sky.

  Adam parks the car, and we both get out, staring up at it. “I come here once a week. Things are slow now that it’s winter, but it’s still coming along.”

  I nod, moving next to him, sliding my hand into his palm. He squeezes my fingers and kisses the top of my head.

  “So can we get in?” I ask.

  He cocks a brow at me, that bad boy smirk curling his lips. “Legally?”

  I return his smirk and look back at the building. “C’mon. I’ll race you.”

  I have no hope of outrunning Adam, but lucky for me, he has no interest in winning. He follows me through the bare floors, around support beams, and up a flight of cement steps. The second level is just like the first, floors and beams, but there’s open air above us. I tip back my head, gazing at the crisscross of the beams in the waning sunlight.

  There’s something about this place or maybe just about Adam that makes me buzz with energy. I feel like anything is possible. I pace around while Adam checks something on the other side of the floor. I can almost hear his mind working, gears and chains clicking as he runs his thumb along a concrete ledge.

  I watch him from a distance, touching poles and scuffing my sneakers on the floor. And then, on a whim, I decide I want to go higher.

  It’s easier than I thought it would be. I find footholds and corners, and before I know it, I’m another floor up. And then another.

  The wind whips through my hair, making my eyes water as I stare out over the roll of unfamiliar neighborhoods and houses. The beam in front of me is ice-cold, but I hold it anyway, terrified and exhilarated.

  I laugh, despite myself, and then I hear Adam approaching behind me. I squeeze the steel in front of me even tighter as his arms wrap around my waist from behind.