Chapter 26
My mom frowns when I walk into the kitchen on Monday morning. I’m not even having to fake the uncomfortable look on my face. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t feel well,” I tell her.
It’s not a lie. I barely slept last night, stressed about today. Ever since Phoenix walked away on Saturday night, I’ve tried to come up with some way to get out of this. Mostly because I resent the hell out of him and Cruz for using me like some sort of lackey because of something that had nothing to do with them. I showed up for Cormac. Punched Hathaway for Elle.
“You too sick for school?” my mom asks.
“Yeah.” I fake a cough. “Already texted Tuck and told him not to pick me up.”
“Do you need me to stay home?”
“No.” I say it too quickly, and she frowns again. “I mean, no thanks. I’ll be fine.”
I grab a glass out of the cabinet and fill it with water.
“I’m going back to bed.”
“Okay,” she calls after me. “Text me if you need me to come home.”
“I will. Thanks, Mom.”
I exhale a long breath once I’m back in my room, then check my phone for texts. I have two new messages.
TUCKER: That sucks, man. Feel better.
PHOENIX: Ten a.m.
I down the water and then flop on my bed.
Nothing from Elle, which piles on to the stress I’m already experiencing. Everything her dad and Archer and Cruz said about us yesterday has wiggled its way into my brain. Stuff I already knew, yet sounds different spoken aloud.
We haven’t even discussed if we’re actually dating. In some ways, our relationship feels so much maturer than it did freshman year. In others, it’s just as juvenile. We fool around and we flirt.
I love her. There’s no doubt in my mind about that.
But my mom loved my dad, and that didn’t get her anywhere.
Elle’s going to college. She toured Dartmouth yesterday, a school I have no chance of going to. It’s about two hours from here, which isn’t terrible if I ever get my car running. But will Elle want me visiting when she’s off living a new life? If I asked her now, I know she’d say yes. But that’s different from the reality of her going places and me going nowhere. If I leave Fernwood after graduation for a fresh start somewhere else, I’d be abandoning one of the few things we have in common.
“You’re a fucking game to her, you know.”
Hathaway’s toxic words circle my head.
He’s wrong.
But I’m not as certain I’m not a phase Elle will outgrow. Change is inevitable and unpredictable.
I doze off eventually, my sleepless night catching up with me. I’m woken by the buzz of my phone.
ELLE: Where are you?
RYDER: Sick day. Woke up not feeling well.
I feel shitty about lying to her. But I don’t want her close to any of this. I told Elle I’d keep Phoenix away from her. I told Elle I didn’t owe any favors.
And I promised her I wouldn’t touch Archer.
I should be there today, not just to offer explanations. To make sure Hathaway stays the hell away from her.
I miss her. I haven’t seen her since Friday night, and I spent most of that time attempting to exhale my anger.
ELLE: I’ll bring you some soup after cheer.
I smile.
RYDER: Best girlfriend ever.
It feels good to use the title, even if it’s just over text. I’ve never used it before. Never wanted to. With Elle, my hesitation has never been uncertainty. More fear.
You can’t lose what you never really had.
Three dots appear and disappear twice before Elle sends a reply.
ELLE: Girlfriend?
It’s impossible to read her tone over text.
RYDER: We can pretend that was a typo.
ELLE: For what? Garland? Grandchild?
I snort and shake my head, mildly impressed she managed to come up with two similar words so quickly. Then drag a palm down my face. I’m totally fumbling this exchange.
RYDER: I just meant I’m not making assumptions.
RYDER: About us.
I glance at the clock. Two minutes until the start of first period. She’s probably already in Mr. Anderson’s classroom.
RYDER: I hope this isn’t too smooth for you.
ELLE: Just awkward enough.
ELLE: You should make more assumptions.
ELLE: Boyfriend.
The tightness in my cheeks tells me I’m grinning wide.
RYDER: I love you.
ELLE: You’re growing on me too.
ELLE: See you tonight.
I toss my phone onto the mattress, stand, and stretch. Tug a clean T-shirt on and take a seat at the small desk that barely fits in my room.
I’m too anxious to focus on much, but I manage to get some homework done while nervously watching the minutes tick by. Vacuum and do some dishes to help my mom out.
Finally, ten a.m. arrives.
I head outside to sit on the steps, my knee bouncing as I scan the street.
“Shouldn’t you be in school?”
I glance over at Mrs. Nelson, our next-door neighbor. She’s dressed in one of her typical flashy outfits. The yellow shade of her top is making my retinas burn.
“Sick day,” I reply.
“You look fine to me,” she comments, continuing to water the stalks that used to have flowers attached to them.
I’m not sure why she’s bothering. They won’t bloom again until next spring. But it hasn’t rained in a couple of weeks, so maybe she feels like it’s necessary to keep the plants alive.
“I’m feeling better.”
Mrs. Nelson harrumphs in a way that makes it clear she doesn’t believe I was under the weather at all, then heads into her trailer right as I spot a white sedan approaching.
I stand, my palms sweaty, as it stops right in front of me. Two guys climb out. The first one is huge, his biceps the same circumference of my thigh, and the second one is covered in tattoos.
“You Ryder?” the tattooed one asks gruffly.
I swallow as I walk toward them, trying to act like I have some control of this situation. I’ve seen more of Cruz’s operation than I ever wanted to, but never this part. “Yeah.”
The buff guy nods to his right. “Trunk.”
I walk around to the back of the car and open it. Two black duffel bags sit in the trunk. I hoist one in each hand.
“Aren’t you going to check it’s all there?”
“No,” I reply.
Tattooed guy shrugs. “Fine. Tell Cruz that Corey wants this moved fast. He’s behind this month.”
Delivering that message to Cruz is one of the last things I want to do. But I do want these guys gone, so I just nod, hoping it’ll speed along their departure.
“Let’s go.” The muscular guy slams the trunk of the sedan shut. “Gage?”
I glance at the tattooed guy—Gage. He’s staring down the street, the look on his face chilling my blood.
“I told you we had a fucking tail,” he spits.
Everything around me slows. Muffled, like I’m underwater. My gaze follows Gage’s.
Two black SUVs are racing up the road, a huge cloud of dust trailing them.
A loud swear, followed by an even louder slam. The white sedan takes off, leaving a spray of dirt behind.
I’m expecting the SUVs to chase the sedan. They stop in front of me instead, brakes squealing and sirens blaring.
I’m stunned still, my brain numb with shock.
And then … I remember what’s inside the two bags I’m holding.