Chapter 5
5
S helby
Like Axel said, the guys left the house early. Their heavy footsteps and barely concealed whispers echoing down the stairs didn’t wake me. I’d already been up for hours.
It started like it always did, caught in the thick of a dream where I was running– no –I was being chased through the dark cold night. The street was unfamiliar, but the feeling of gasping for breath, of running, wasn’t. That happened every time. In front of me was a set of steps. I threw myself up them, glancing over my shoulder, looking for the person coming for me. I tripped, stumbling forward, falling into something hard. Someone warm.
That’s when I woke, scared and confused, my cotton pajamas drenched in a cold sweat. Under the tight, suffocating feeling in my chest, my heart pounded, thrumming like it was on the verge of escape.
I lie there until daybreak, waiting for the panic to subside. By the time the boys are moving, and the front door snaps shut, I’m able to breathe again. When I’m sure I’m alone, I get out of bed and peel off the clothes I sweated through the night before. I didn’t pack much, needing to make a quick getaway. Grabbing a fresh set of clothes, I carry them, and my toiletry bag, to the bathroom. The bathroom is small, but cleaner than it was the night before, making me think that Axel must have told Reid to tidy up. Reese has his own bathroom attached to his room and as far as I know, the fourth roommate, Jefferson, never came home. There’s the distinct scent of something male in the room and a collection of products lining the window sill. I make the water scalding, hot enough to burn off the grime of travel and the sweat from my nightmare, and wonder if I’ve ruined my life.
Like Axel said, I’m a twenty-year-old who ran away from her parents, her home, and her fiance.
But it actually may be worse. I think I may be a coward.
Case in point; I haven’t turned on my phone since I left home. I wanted to make sure no one could find me on the family tracking app, or cave if I got a text or phone call. And now in the light of day, it seems like too much to manage. Reality. Reality seems like too much to manage.
With my hair still wet, I head downstairs. It looks like a bomb has gone off. The pizza, cans and beer bottles are still on the coffee table from last night. The kitchen wasn’t clean when I got here, but has accumulated another layer of mess from the guys eating breakfast. I take in the cereal bowls, the empty jug of milk, the dirty dishes in the sink, and the left-out food and a shudder runs up my spine.
I’d always heard the rumor, but I know now that it’s a fact: boys are pigs.
I do a quick tour of the downstairs. The main floor has an open kitchen, dining area, and living room. Near the flatscreen and gaming system, are a set of double French doors. The windows are painted over. I try the knob and it opens, leading to a small enclosed porch. It’s cool out here, obviously not as insulated from the winter air. There’s a ratty but comfortable-looking couch and two mountain bikes hanging on the wall. I step back into the living room and close the door.
My life may be complete chaos right now, but one thing has always made me feel better; getting organized. And clearly, there’s no better place to start than this house. If anything, I see it as a gift–something to keep me distracted from the fact I’m avoiding my phone, my fiance, and my family.
“Where do I even start?” I mutter, assessing the room. I spot the laundry room off the kitchen and head in. Sure enough, there are actual cleaning supplies on the shelves over the washer and dryer. I grab them and notice the speaker over the sink, I press play on the current song list, and a loud, upbeat, pop song fills the room. It’s unfamiliar, but with David’s father being the music minister and our shared upbringing, we don’t listen to a lot of secular music.
Whatever this girl is singing about, she’s got a lot of energy and that’s exactly what I need right now. Pushing up my sleeves, I fill the sink with hot, soapy water, and get to work.
“ You can take my boots, my car, and my heart, but you can’t take my words and you sure as fuck won’t get my cat…”
The words come out full-throttle as I peer into the oven at the cheese bubbling on top of the casserole. I’ve had the song on repeat for at least an hour, the lyrics unfurling something tight and hard in my chest.
“Because you–”
“Shelby?”
I jump and spin around, seeing my brother and his three amused roommates behind him.
“Jeez,” I take a deep breath, “you scared me.”
“We could hear you two houses away.” He tosses his bag on the floor, then squints at me. “Wait. Are you crying?”
“No.” I brush a fat, hot tear off my cheek. “Yes. It’s just… this music. It speaks to me.”
“Ah.” A guy I’ve never met but recognize from some of Axel’s ChattySnap photos grins as he shuts the door. He’s huge. Taller than the other guys, with broad shoulders and shaggy blond hair that feathers away from his defined, chiseled features. “You got flocked.”
“What?” I ask, alarmed, cheeks burning. Is this some kind of college euphemism I don’t understand? To be fair, I feel like anything this guy says would make me feel like it’s sexual.
“Flocked,” the guy says. “That’s what people call fans of Ingrid Flockton.”
Reid rolls his eyes and mutters, “Here we go.”
“I'm Jefferson by the way.” He smiles again, and the cutest dimple punctures his cheek, and wow. It’s like being hit with a thousand watt lightbulb.
“She’s just so raw. Her songs say exactly what I feel.” Heartbreak. Anger. Desperation. But most of all empowerment.
“Shel,” Axel says, his bright eyes pinging around the house, “tell me you didn’t clean this whole place.”
I shrug. “I needed something to do. And it’s a thank you for letting me stay.”
Reid sniffs the air and I can’t help but look at his bruised lip. “Is something cooking?”
“Oh!” I rush back over to the oven, grabbing the mitts on the way. Stuffing my hands into them I open the door, letting out a gust of heat. “I found enough ingredients to make a casserole. I thought you guys may be hungry after being gone all day.”
“Hell yeah, we’re hungry,” Jefferson says, following me into the kitchen. Reese isn’t far behind, opening the cabinet where they keep the dishes.
After I pull the first casserole out of the oven and set it on the counter, I turn for the second, Axel’s hand wraps around my wrist. “No one eat a thing. Not one bite.” He glares at the guys. Reid has a serving spoon already in the dish on the counter, steam rising from the surface, but pauses. “We’ll be right back.”
I set down the second one and stumble after him as he pulls me into the laundry room. “I know you’re used to doing things like this, but you’re not our maid or cook, you got that?”
“I know. But it was good to do something.” I was raised to serve. I’ve been doing it my whole life. It’s not a bad thing, but I see the dark glint in my brother’s eyes. He doesn’t agree. He views it as me giving too much of myself. But what else do I have to give?
“Just know that it’s not expected, okay? These animals can clean up after themselves, even if it doesn’t always seem like it.”
“Got it.” I push him toward the kitchen door. “I think you’ve tortured them long enough.”
He grins, and throws his arm around my shoulder as we walk back in the room. “Shelby gets to go first,” he says, grabbing the plate out of Jefferson’s hand and giving it to me. Reese offers me his fork, and Reid digs into the dish and scoops out a spoonful of chicken and rice.
I take a seat at the table and the guys follow with plates piled high with the casserole.
“Damn this is good,” Jefferson says, through a mouthful.
“So, Shelby,” Reese starts, his voice pure innocence, “you have anything we need to know about Axel? Embarrassing childhood stories? Awkward family photos?”
“Nice try,” Ax says, holding up a forkful of cheesy rice. “I’m an open book. No secrets here.”
“Come on, you have to have something on him,” Jefferson says, his steel gray eyes imploring. “Something better than his inevitable regret over all those tattoos.”
“He’s right about being an open book,” I comment, taking a sip of water, “probably too much so for the rest of the family.”
“Bed wetter?” Jefferson continues. “Got his ass beat for being a smart ass in high school?”
I shake my head, laughing at how desperate they are for dirt on my brother. I think on it and finally concede, “There is the legend about how Axel insisted on playing the camel in the Christmas pageant seven years straight, even when he outgrew the costume and my mother had to have it altered to fit.”
“Camels are cool,” Axel refutes, looking completely unfazed. “Fight me.”
“It has nothing to do with his ‘love’ of camels,” I say, using finger quotes. “The animals in the nativity didn’t have to sing, and Axel would do anything not to sing.”
“Damn straight,” he says. “I was the only highschooler in the stable.”
“That’s not the brag you think it is,” Jefferson says, pointing his fork at him.
“What about you?” Reid asks. “What role were you in the program?”
Axel snorts.
I shoot him a glare. “What?”
He rolls his eyes. “Shelby was the only role fit for her–an angel.”
“Always the good girl, huh?” Reid says, looking me up and down. “Seems right.”
My cheeks burn at the way he says ‘good girl,’ because it doesn't sound sweet at all. My brother must agree because there’s a hard jerk under the table and Reid flinches, cursing under his breath. Axel, fingers wrapped tight around his fork, stares across the table at his friend.
Jefferson and Reese laugh while continuing to shovel food in their mouths. I have no idea what is going on but my brother can’t seem to get his attitude in check, but I’m thankful when the conversation shifts to their upcoming schedule.
“We’ve got an away game tomorrow night,” Axel turns to me, “and we won’t be home ‘til late. Will you be okay here by yourself?”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” I tell him. “I’ll be fine.”
“If not, I’m sure Twyler and Nadia would be happy for you to sleep on their couch.”
“Or they could come over here?” Reese offers. “Girls like sleepovers, right?”
“Children like sleepovers.” Reid points out, then leans toward me and adds, “Reese has no siblings so he’s clueless sometimes.”
“Just because you have four sisters, doesn’t mean you know everything.”
“It means I know a lot,” Reid shoots back, digging his fork in the pile of rice. “More than you.”
I turn to my brother. “As hard as it is for you to accept it, I’m an adult. I can stay by myself for one night.”
He grunts and goes back to his food, just as Jefferson rises, pushing his chair back. With a casual rake of his fingers through his hair, he says, “Nice to meet you, Shelby, and thanks for the awesome dinner.” He picks up his plate and carries it to the sink. “I’ve got a study date over at the Kappa house.”
Reese rolls his eyes and says, “You know one day you’re going to show up over there and they’re going to have changed the locks.”
He shrugs. “Then I’ll just go in through a window.”
“The dishes in the washer are clean,” I call out. “Just leave your plate and I’ll–”
“You’ll do nothing,” Axel says. “Leave your plate and we’ll take care of it.” He looks at Reese and Reid. “That goes for you too.”
“I’m on it,” Reese agrees, but adds, “when I get back. I’m heading over to Twy’s, remember?”
“Right,” Ax says.
“You still coming?”
“Yeah, for a little bit.” The way he says it, gives me the impression he’d normally stay longer. When he stands he says, “Don’t even think about washing these dishes. We’ll get them later, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Thanks for dinner,” he says, dropping his hand on top of my head and ruffling my hair. I jerk away and notice that Jefferson has grabbed his backpack and is already out the door. Axel and Reese head out right after, shrugging on coats and slipping away. Suddenly it’s just me and Reid.
“I’m surprised he left me alone with you,” I admit.
“I would be too, except he’s got something on his mind.”
“What?”
“Se–” he swallows. “Nadia. He’s in it deep with her.”
I nod. “I noticed.”
I have noticed and it surprises me. Axel never got close to any girls back home. He had a bit of a reputation, but nothing that would make my parents mad. He was quiet about his relationships, but nothing about how he feels about Nadia seems quiet, which may be why he chose her over my father.
Reid finishes off his meal and stands, taking not only his plate but mine too. “Oh, I can get that.”
He isn’t swayed, and carries both plates over to the sink. He opens the dishwasher and steam rushes out. Pulling out the top rack, he starts to unload.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I don’t mind.” He dips his fingers in two different glasses, pulling out both in one hand. “When I was growing up, everyone chipped in with clean up.”
I move over to help unload, although I’m not sure where everything goes.
“So you have a big family?” I ask.
“Four sisters. Two brothers.” He bends, grabbing a stack of plates. He gestures to a cabinet door and I open it, so he can put them inside. “Thanks.”
“Your parents have seven kids?” Even the most evangelical in our church tend to stop at five.
“Yep, and they brought it on themselves, too.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“We’re all adopted.”
“Oh wow.” I grab two glasses off the rack. They’re still warm to the touch. “Your parents must be saints.”
His lips curve in a grin. “They’re good people.”
“Well it was just me and Axel growing up, but when your father is the minister of a mega-church it’s pretty much like you have one, giant, extended family.”
I reach for the silverware caddy, but he shoos me away. “You heard your brother. No cleaning up.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Maybe not, but I owe you one.”
I frown. “For what?”
He’s focused on pulling out all the knives, but tilts his head at me and says, “For stealing your first kiss.”
“Tha–tha–” I’m stammering. My cheeks are on fire. Horror creeps up my spine. “That wasn’t my first kiss.”
“No?” he asks, unphased by my panic. “Because your brother seems to think so.”
“Axel doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” I lift my chin. “I have a boyfriend. More than that. I’m promised to him.”
He frowns, eyes darting down to where my finger twists the ring. “What does that mean anyway?”
“It means that we’re preparing for the next level. We’re committed to one another and soon we’ll get engaged and then married. The ring is a way to make it clear that we belong to one another.”
“So he wears a ring, too?”
“Well, no,” I admit, but add quickly, “but men don’t wear engagement rings either.”
“Huh.”
I lean my hip against the counter. “What does that mean?”
“What does what mean?” he asks innocently.
“That ‘huh.’”
“Nothing really,” he says, those brown eyes slowly dragging from the ring up to my face. “It’s just not how I would do it.” Our eyes hold and an itchy sensation climbs up my skin. His gaze feels hot. Intimate. Like he’s trying to read me like a book. I break contact first, shifting away, and after a beat he goes back to the dishwasher, starting in on the spoons. “So what’s he like?”
“David?” He nods and I think about the man back home. “He’s kind. Funny. He has ambition and a great singing voice, although that’s not his interest. He’s majoring in business administration and will work for my father when he graduates.”
“Ah, taking Axel’s spot in the family business.” He gives me a wink. “He sounds like a nice guy.”
“He really is.”
So nice that suddenly I feel like a huge jerk for avoiding him like this.
“You know…” He cocks an eyebrow. “I didn’t hear ‘a good kisser’ on that list.”
I glare at him and shove his shoulder. “Because that’s none of your business.”
“Fair.” He bobs his head good naturedly.
“Speaking of David,” a wave of guilt crashes over me, “I should probably go call him.”
“Go for it.” He points to the sink piled with the dishes from dinner. “I’ll finish this.”
“Thank you.”
Instead of going upstairs, I duck into the little porch and close the door behind me. I pull back the curtain and watch Reid as he washes the dishes. His shoulders are strong and broad, but he looks completely at ease doing the work.
“Okay, Shel,” I mutter to myself, “it’s time to put on your big girl panties and deal with this.”
I sit on the ratty couch, pull out my phone and turn it on for the first time since I left Texas. Dozens of missed texts and phone messages pop up in a flurry. Not ready to deal with it now, I skip the ones from my mom and dad, and open the ones from David.
David: Finished with classes. Can’t meet up tonight. Call you later.
David: Tried calling. Where are you?
David: Did you turn off your location?
David: Is this about the ring? Or the house? Because your dad is just looking out for us.
David: Heard from your mom. She said she can’t find you either.
David: Call me ASAP
David: Shelby, it’s been hours. If this is some kind of game to get my attention, it’s immature and desperate.
David: Your mom said you ran away to Wittmore. To stay with your brother? That sounds like a great decision. I don’t know what this little rebellion is about but this isn’t the way to handle it.
David: It’s obvious you’re ignoring me, but I want to hear your voice. You owe me that. Call me, please.
There are also voice messages, but I can’t bring myself to listen to them.
All the anxiety and nerves come rushing back. It’s no surprise he thinks I’m just being dramatic. I force myself to open a text box and start typing: David, I’m sorry for leaving without telling anyone. I was feeling overwhelmed by all the engagement and wedding plans. I just need a little time to get my head clear. I’ll talk to you soon.
I turn off the phone again and wait until I hear Reid’s footsteps on the stairs and the sound of his bedroom door closing. Only then do I leave the solitude of the little porch and go to bed.