Chapter 13
EXTRA CREDIT
Maverick
The TV is on when I get home, which means there are probably people hanging out. I cross my fingers that it’s BJ passed out on the lounger, but instead, I find my sister and Kody. It’s not a surprise, but the position they’re in is irritating.
Kody is stretched out on the couch, feet hanging over the end. Lavender is straddling his hips, and his hands are on her ass.
“Whoa! This is supposed to be a safe space!” I bellow, causing them both to jump. “Why can’t you do that in your damn bedroom?”
“Oh shit.” Kody basically tosses Lavender to the floor, then sits up in a rush and grabs the closest pillow, putting it over his lap. “Hey. Sorry, man. We didn’t hear you come in.”
I ignore Kody and glare at my sister, who’s sitting on the ground, her face beet red. “You have a TV in your room. Why are you down here dry humping my best friend when you can do that behind a closed door? Like this whole thing isn’t already awkward enough!” I motion between the two of them.
“The TV in my room is tiny, and this one has better sound. And we lost track of time. At least we have all our clothes on,” Lavender says.
“Lav, baby, not helping,” Kody mutters.
I can’t even with the fucking pet names. “No making out in the living room,” I tell them sternly. “And no sex in the hot tub either.”
Kody makes a face and a gagging sound. “Hot tubs are filthy. I would never have sex in one.”
“Just like your mind,” I fire back. “Those are the new house rules. If anyone is in violation, they have a week of dish duty. I’m going to bed.”
“Sorry, Mav,” Kody calls after me.
I don’t bother responding. It’s bad enough that they’re always in each other’s pockets these days. I don’t need to witness their make-out sessions.
I lock my door as soon as I’m in my room and head for my bathroom. I need a shower to wash away all the bad memories. Now that I’m no longer freaking out, I realize it was pretty shitty of me to walk out of the café and leave Clover on her own.
I want to make sure she got home okay, but running by her house at this time of night would be a high level of creepy.
Emailing could raise flags. She gave us a cell number in case of emergency situations, but I’d put messaging her at the same level of creeper as emailing and running by her house. So I let it be.
But that means I have shitty dreams. The kind where bad things happen to the people I care about. And apparently one of those people is Clover now.
I skip creative writing class the following evening, trying to find a little perspective. It doesn’t do much good, though. I feel a lot like I’m going through withdrawal. I’ve grown accustomed to the three-hour lectures and the uncomfortable hard-on that accompanies listening to Clover.
On Wednesday morning, I wake up to find that the remaining leaves have blown off the trees, thanks to the storm we had last night. The remnants of it color the sky gray and make the day feel dank and dreary.
Despite the crappy weather, I pull on my running shoes, throw a hoodie over my T-shirt, and head toward the park for a run.
I might also be planning to run by Clover’s place.
Not that I expect her to be standing in her driveway, but I still feel like crap for the way I left things on Monday.
If there’s even a remote chance I could run into her and apologize, I’ll take it.
Luck seems to be on my side today, because as I jog past her house, I notice a ladder propped up against the siding and a familiar figure, wearing a black cardigan, standing precariously on the second step from the top, feeling around in the gutter.
The house is a story and a half, dormers at the front, presumably so all the ceilings aren’t slanted on the second floor. The roofline isn’t particularly high at the front of the house, but still, it’s a good twelve feet up at the lowest point.
I slow to a stroll as she reaches in again and tosses a handful of muck-covered leaves to the driveway below.
She’s wearing yellow rubber kitchen gloves, and her face is a mask of disgust. She looks down and blows out a breath, grabbing the ladder with both hands, as if she suddenly realizes how high she is.
“Hey, Clover, what are you doing up there?” I call out.
She startles and flails, and I rush to hold the ladder steady so she doesn’t set it off balance.
“Whoa! Careful. Can you come down before you break your neck, please?”
“You scared the crap out of me!”
“I seem to be really good at that. You shouldn’t be on a ladder without a spotter, though.”
“I didn’t realize how high I was. Am.” Her voice is pitchy as she clutches the ladder with both hands and lowers one foot, tapping the air until her toes find the next step. She repeats the process until she’s low enough that I can reach her foot.
“I’m gonna guide you down, all right?”
“Okay. Yes. That would be great.”
She’s wearing a pair of flats, the soles of which are worn, and the ladder is wet, making it slippery. I wrap my hand around her bare ankle and guide her foot to the next rung, then do the same with the other until she’s low enough that I can grab her by the waist and lift her to the ground.
She spins around. “You shouldn’t yell at people on ladders.”
I cock a brow. “Like I said, you shouldn’t be on a ladder without a spotter. And based on how uncomfortable you seemed up there, you shouldn’t be on a ladder at all.”
“I was fine until you scared me.”
“Really? Because you didn’t look fine with the way you were flailing around. And your face is all red. Are your hands shaking? Are you afraid of heights?”
“No. Yes.” She blows a loose tendril of hair out of her face, and when it falls right back into place, she tries to swipe it away with the back of her gloved hand. “Maybe a little.”
“What were you doing up there?” I motion to the ladder.
“The gutters are clogged, and there’s a leak in my bathroom.
I think it’s coming through the wall, but I can’t be sure.
The landlord is away, so I figured I could climb up there and get whatever was blocking it out, and then the leak or whatever is going on in the wall would stop.
But it’s a lot harder than I thought it would be. ”
“Want me to climb up and look? I can check out your bathroom too.” I have zero experience with plumbing and leaks, but Kody and my cousin BJ recently had their entire kitchen redone because of an electrical issue, so I can probably call the guys who did the work over there if I need to.
“I’m sure you have better things to do with your time—like working on the assignment you missed because you skipped my class last night.” She gives me a pointed look.
“Sorry about that. I needed to work out some personal stuff.”
“Would that personal stuff be related to our conversation on Monday?” She clears her throat. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I shouldn’t have left like I did. I felt like an asshole. Feel like an asshole, still. I’m the one who brought it up in the first place, not you. I didn’t know how to handle the conversation, so I bailed. I apologize for that.” I motion toward the ladder. “Now can I help you with the gutters?”
“Is that you closing this discussion?”
“For now, yeah. You gonna let me take care of this?” I tap the ladder.
“I was fine.”
“If you mean fine in the sense that you’re hot as hell, then yeah. But if you mean you’re a pro on a ladder, I’d be inclined to disagree.” She crosses her arms, and I grin. “Do you happen to have gardening gloves handy?”
She shucks off the yellow rubber kitchen gloves. “Maybe in the shed.”
“Let’s take a look, then.” I motion for her to lead the way.
We walk down the driveway, between Clover’s car and her bestie’s, parked side by side, past a deck with a hot tub, and a set of stairs that lead to the second-floor apartment.
We cross the lawn to the back fence where a small, rusted-out garden shed sits.
The flowers around it have been trimmed back, dormant until spring.
I step in front of her and put my hand over the handle before she can reach it.
“Let me go first.” I try to open the door, but it’s locked.
“There’s a key. Just under here.” She steps in close, her shoulder brushing my arm as she pushes up on her toes to retrieve it.
I hold out my hand, and she sets the small key in my palm. My skin is suddenly clammy, and a shiver runs down my spine as I push the key in the lock.
The smell of gas.
Dad’s bruised hand.
Lavender’s cut palms.
Kody’s accusing glare.
Lavender’s screams in the middle of the night that lasted for months.
The dreams that wouldn’t go away.
“Maverick.” Clover’s palm comes to rest on my forearm.
“Huh?” I look down at her, seeing the concern in her gaze.
“Are you okay?”
I shake my head to clear it. “Oh yeah. Fine. I’m fine. Sometimes raccoons make nests in sheds, and they’re pretty vicious when they feel threatened.” I turn the key and then the handle, pushing the door open.
A small lawn mower is pushed into the back corner, along with a gas can.
To the right are tomato cages, empty planters, a couple of small bags of fertilizer, and an assortment of gardening tools.
I find two pairs of rubber-palmed gardening gloves that are made for hands a lot smaller than mine, but they’ll do.
I get Clover to hold the ladder for me while I climb up and check the gutters. She was right about it being clogged. There’s an old bird’s nest in here damming up the water, making it impossible for anything to get past.
Clover keeps calling up to me about being careful, and I make sure I toss the crap I’m pulling out in the same direction the wind is blowing—away from Clover. Once the gutter is clear, I climb back down the ladder, peel the gloves off, and help her put everything away.
“I can come in and have a look at the bathroom, if you want,” I offer.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I don’t mind—unless it makes you uncomfortable.”
She bites her bottom lip, her gaze darting to the house.