Author: Teresa Mummert

“When I first saw you, you looked so sad.”

“That’s not your problem,” I snapped, and his hand fell from my arm.

“I know.” His hands ran over his hair as I turned back to face him. “Look, you remind me of someone I miss very much. She always looked so sad, and if someone had taken the time to see what was wrong…” His voice trailed off.

“Oh, I get it. I’m some wounded animal you think needs to be taken care of.” I didn’t mean to lose my temper, but it hurt to know I was developing a crush on this guy, and he saw me as a poor little victim.

“No, Bird.” He sighed and swallowed hard as he realized his nickname for me helped prove my point. “No, Lie. I don’t see you as someone who needs to be taken care of. I’m just trying to be your friend.”

As much as I could use a friend, I wanted Brock to be something more, and I knew now how stupid that was. God, I must have looked like such a pathetic little girl to him. “Helping me isn’t going to fix whoever it was that you didn’t help from your past. So stop wasting our time. I don’t need or want your help.” I turned back toward my room and walked under shaky legs. I had to force myself not to run and make a complete fool out of myself.

As I entered my room, I threw myself onto my bed, knocking my notebook to the floor. I buried my face in my sterile white blanket and let all my frustration pour from my eyes. For the first time, I wanted to be home, in my own room.

There was a knock on the open door, and I sniffled, wiping my eyes. “It’s open, you jackass.” I rolled over and looked at Brock through teary eyes. His hands were shoved into his jeans pockets, and he looked like he was contemplating coming farther into the room or just leaving me alone. Unfortunately my stupid teenage hormones were begging for him to come closer.

“I’m not using you to right some wrong, Lie.” He stepped closer and looked at me to see if I was going to object. I put my chin on my hands and stared at the wall in front of me. “Laurie, my big sister, was two years into college. She was always a bubbly, over‐the‐top chick.” He laughed at the memory and stepped closer. “My father—he hated me. I was never fast enough, never got the right position on the football team. He loved to hunt. Didn’t matter what it was—he liked to kill. He was so proud of that gun collection of his. He used to beg me to go on trips with him, but my mom was always scared we’d end up killing each other because of how much we fought. But Laurie was perfect. She was a cheerleader and on the debate team. Man, she could argue.” He laughed again, and I rolled onto my side and looked up at him. He was next to my bed now, and his eyes looked glazed over.

“Well, it must be a family trait. You’re not so bad at arguing yourself,” I teased, and was thankful when he gave me a half smile. I patted the bed, and he nodded as he sat down and turned to face me.

“When she left for college, it was like she sucked all the happiness out of the house.”

I sat up and pulled my knees to my chest, resting my back against the wall. “So what happened? You’re talking about her like she—”

“She died. Yeah…” He cleared his throat, and a single tear rolled down his cheek. I wanted to reach out and wipe it away, but I didn’t move. “She loved college. She was popular, just like in high school. She was always calling me from parties and telling me how much I was going to love it when I went there.”

“You planned to go to college?”

“I did. That was before.” Brock shook his head and looked down at his hands. “I worked my ass off to get good grades. You wouldn’t have believed it if you saw me.”

“What happened?”

“One night Laurie called me. She was at some frat house but was sober; she was the designated driver. I blew her off. I was pissed about a fight Dad and I had gotten into. She was the person I always talked to about Dad. No one else really knew what kind of guy he was, but I didn’t want to ruin her night. She said she’d call me in the morning to make sure I was OK.” His eyes met mine, and I wasn’t sure he was going to finish. I slid to the edge of the bed next to him, letting my legs dangle over the edge. “So the next day she didn’t call, and I tried her cell a million times, but she wasn’t answering.”

“You can tell me.” I placed my hand on his arm as he took a deep breath.

“She was in a car accident after she left the party. They said they tried to revive her, but she didn’t respond.”

“I’m so sorry, Brock.”

“They found drugs in her system. My sister barely ever had a wine cooler, let alone touched drugs. She wouldn’t have. Someone had to have slipped her something.”

“Did they try to find out who it might have been?”

He shook his head and looked off at the open door. “They didn’t believe us.”

“I’m sorry about earlier. I had no idea.”

“I know you didn’t.” He put his hand over mine and smiled sadly. “I don’t want to be your friend because I think it’ll somehow change my past. After Laurie died I stopped caring about anything, including myself. When I saw you sitting there looking so sad and alone, I realized you’d given up too. I saw it in those big brown eyes of yours.” He lifted his hand and ghosted the pad of his thumb under my eye and slipped it into my messy long hair. “For the first time in a long while, I cared about something. I wanted to make you smile.”

I grinned at his confession as his fingers tangled into my hair.

“I don’t want to fix you, Bird. I want you to fix me.”

I sucked in a ragged breath as his face slowly moved closer. His forehead pressed against mine as his strong arms wrapped around me, and he hugged me as if I were the last breath of air and he were struggling to keep his head above water. My arms slipped around his sides, and my eyes fell closed as his body shook and he cried silently into my neck. His hot tears slid over my collarbone as I ran my hands over the muscles of his back, trying to soothe him.

“You really do suck at games, Bird. Next time I’m picking.”

I laughed as his arms squeezed me even tighter, making it difficult for me to breathe, but I didn’t care as long as he didn’t let me go.

“How did it feel, hearing about his past?” Marie asked, and my gaze snapped back to her, sadness weighing heavily on my chest.

“It broke my heart. Brock came off as this tough guy. I had no idea.”

“You think because he was tough that he didn’t experience pain?”

I shrugged, not wanting to think about Brock anymore, but I knew Marie wasn’t done.

“You can be rather sarcastic,” she continued. “Do you think you use that to keep people at arm’s length?”

“I guess.”

“Is that because of what you’ve been through?”

“You tell me. You’re the one sitting on that side of the table.” I rolled my eyes, and Marie sat back in her seat.

“Brock was the same way,” she said. “He used intimidation to keep people out. You have a lot in common with him. It makes sense that the two of you would be drawn to each other.”

“Moth to a flame. Somehow we both got burnt.”

“You did great today, Delilah. This is the most you’ve shared with me about your past. You’re making progress.”

“It doesn’t feel that way. It doesn’t feel good to talk about it.”

“It’ll get easier. That’s the point. One day at a time.”

I gave Marie a weak smile as I pushed myself up from my seat and made my way to the door. My hand was on the knob as I looked over my shoulder at her. “You should consider some fake plants.” I nodded to the sad pink flower on the sill that strangely now appeared wilted and dead. Perhaps I’d been here longer than I’d thought.

Maria laughed as her head shook slightly. “I’m not very good with living things. Better a flower than a house cat,” she joked.

“Thank you,” I said. I knew I didn’t make it easy on Marie, but her taking the time to listen to me really did help.

She smiled back at me, and I left, needing to get as far away from this place, the truth, as possible.

Chapter Two

Escape

I managed to make it to my psych class today, but my mind was so focused on the session with Marie that I didn’t absorb anything the professor said. As I sat around waiting for Trish to make it back to our apartment, I grabbed my cell phone and called my uncle, who I’d lived with when I’d first left Mississippi.

“You never call anymore. I thought you forgot my number,” Uncle Greg joked, but his laugh turned into a hacking cough. I pictured his overgrown salt‐and‐pepper hair, his body doubled over as he struggled for breath. He was a good fifty pounds heavier than he’d been when I was a child.

“I’ve been busy.” I sighed audibly as I dug through my closet for a shoebox I kept hidden away with keepsakes from high school.

“You know I worry about you, Delilah.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m really liking college.” My tone was positive as I found the box and pulled it onto my lap. I flipped off the lid, and my fingers ran over a photograph of Brock from the shelter.

“I’m glad. You deserve to be happy. You’ve been through a lot this past year. No one would blame you if you took a year off.”

“Everyone blames me for everything.” My teeth dug into my bottom lip as I looked at Brock and me together. We were so happy.

“That’s not true,” Uncle Greg said.

“I want to go see him,” I said quietly, as I stared down at Brock’s face.

“That’s not a good idea, Delilah. He told you not to come back. You said yourself that Florida was a new start for you.”

I heard the front door to our apartment open and close, and I knew Trish finally had returned. I put the lid back on the box and quickly hid it under a pile of clothes.

“I know. I’m sorry…I have to go. My roommate just got home, and we’re going out tonight.”

“Be safe.”

“Always,” I replied, as I hung up my cell and made my way into the living room. Trish’s eyes met mine, and she smiled as she dropped her bag onto the couch.

“You ready?” she asked, as her eyes looked me over. I had changed into a jean skirt to show off my long legs but kept my tank top on. I wasn’t much for getting all dressed up.

“Yeah, I just need to grab my purse.”

“I’m going to change, and then we can get some food on our way to the party. Don’t want to be seen eating like a pig in front of all the hot guys.” She smirked as she wandered off to her room. I groaned but didn’t make a comment. This was the world I’d chosen to throw myself into, and I’d never be accepted if I fought Trish on everything.

She was ready to go in only ten minutes and looking like she’d just stepped off the cover of a slutty magazine. I hated how effortless it was for Trish to be beautiful. Her long blond curls seemed to move around her like she always had her face in the wind.

“How do I look?” she asked, her perfect white smile spread from ear to ear.

“Like a slut,” I joked, and she smacked my arm. “I’m kidding. You know you’re beautiful.”

Her smile changed, and it looked more genuine, not like the cookie‐cutter Barbie doll I was used to. “Ian loved it when I wore this skirt.”

I glanced down at her short, black, pleather skirt that barely concealed her underwear. I gave her a hard look as I pulled open the front door and let her walk out before me.

“Don’t look at me that way, Lie. As soon as I’m out of college, he and I are getting a place together.”

“He’s your stepfather, and last I checked, paying someone off to keep them a secret isn’t exactly a declaration of love.”