Chapter Twenty-Four. Clara #2
He shoves his hands in his pockets and shifts uncomfortably again. “I guess because if it were me … I’d want to know.”
Josh’s first experience with empathy is a strange sight to behold.
A few of the lights shut off as they finish cleaning the stage and amphitheater for the night. Stunned, I walk off and approach the blanket, my head and heart stirring.
Thankfully, Nicole’s gone. Mitchell and Kenji are deep in conversation, Reid beside them, looking half asleep. But he sits up when he sees me.
“That go okay?” he asks.
I nod, and he looks relieved. I can’t say more yet. Not in front of the other guys. Not with my heart beating out of my chest.
Just as we’re heading out, Delaney rushes over to us from backstage, an excited look on her face. Maybe she found out more than I did about the posts.
“Okay, I just caught Nicole and Amaya talking in the bathroom. I didn’t hear much except Amaya being mad about some sort of hookup and Nicole sounding all panicked saying, ‘What if she posts that? He can’t find out.’”
Reid and I exchange a glance.
Delaney catches it immediately, a wild glint in her eye. “What was that? What do you know?”
“We kinda walked in on Nicole and Logan making out in the guest room last night at Kenji’s,” I say.
I cast an apologetic look to Mitchell, who’s gone completely still. That face is the exact reason I didn’t say anything.
“Ewww.” Kenji shudders. “I have to burn all my sheets.”
“But what was Nicole worried about posting?”
“I was filming. She had a fight with her boyfriend, so she probably doesn’t want him to find out about it.”
Nicole must really think I’m Legacy Lore if she’s that worried I’d post the footage. Anxiety pools in the pit of my stomach. Unless I can prove otherwise, it’s going to be all over town soon that I’m the one behind this.
I have to figure out who’s doing this before more damage is done.
“Is Amaya still here?” I ask, hoping to get my interview with her now.
Delaney shakes her head. “She seemed pretty freaked out about what Nicole said and took off.”
Damn it. If she’s behind the account, it would make sense she’d tried to act like she was nervous about it.
As we all walk to the parking lot, I fill Delaney in on what Josh said about Amaya and Nicole.
What doesn’t make sense is why Nicole would be making out with Logan one night and flirting with Reid the next, all while worried about her boyfriend finding out. Sure, she’d been drinking, but she never struck me as the cheating type with how outraged she was by Josh’s behavior last year.
I huff an annoyed sigh that we’re no closer to finding out what happened last year or what’s going on now.
Delaney nods. “It’s been a long day. Let’s see what we can find out at the Legacy Brunch tomorrow. You’ll be there, right?”
I nod. Since Amaya’s gone and Reid is clearly not up for it now, the brunch will be my last chance to interview them both before tomorrow night’s banquet.
Mitchell and Kenji wrestle Reid into the back seat. Less than a minute on the road, we go over a bump, and he slides into me again, his breathing rhythmic. I watch him a moment. His face is slack, and it’s a stark contrast to the stress that’s been tightening his features since he got home.
I want to draw my fingertips across the purple hollows under his eyes. As if he can hear my thoughts, a slight frown appears between his eyebrows and he shifts, agitated.
On instinct, I apply light, soothing strokes to the tresses of his hair. It’s softer than I remember. Messier now that it’s grown out a little.
A tidal wave of regret hits me square in the chest as I watch his expression smooth with my touch.
The longer we drive in silence, the deeper Reid seems to sink into sleep. We pull up to the lone stoplight in town, and I clear my throat and say, “Reid’s out again.”
“Damn, I forgot what a lightweight he is,” Kenji says, laughing.
Mitchell sighs. “Do you mind if I drop him home first?”
I shake my head. “Of course not.”
It’s a good thing, too, since once we get to their house, it takes the three of us to get him inside while Reid grumbles and stumbles. He’s entirely uncooperative. Thankfully, his parents are already asleep. I know his dad doesn’t like me. None of the adults who were at the assembly last year do.
Slowly the guys guide him to his room while I head to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and a few painkillers, only to quickly realize I have no idea where they are.
I aimlessly open cabinet doors, lost in my thoughts.
Overcome with the revelations of the night.
If Reid really tried to give up his scholarship for me, it would be the most selfless, loving, reckless thing anyone has ever done for me.
When Mitchell pops into the kitchen a few minutes later, he has an exasperated look on his face. “He wouldn’t even let me take off his shoes.”
“Does he do nothing but lift now?” Kenji asks, rolling his shoulders like they’re sore as he follows him in. “Remind me how heavy he is the next time I think it’d be fun to drink together.”
“He hasn’t been sleeping,” I say defensively.
Mitchell opens the correct cabinet and hands me a tall glass. “How do you know?”
I avoid his side-eye while I fill it up. “He told me.”
Their silence is indication enough that they’re exchanging a That’s interesting look behind my back. I pick up the water glass and pills. “I’m just going to leave these in his room.”
“Take your time,” Mitchell calls after me.
I can practically hear Kenji’s jab to his ribs as they both chuckle.
My footsteps feel plodding and heavy as I walk down the familiar hall to his room. It’s lined with several photos of their parents’ wedding among the redwoods, their arms lovingly wrapped around Reid and Mitchell. Boys to be cherished.
I arrive at Reid’s closed door and knock softly. When there’s no answer, I gently push it open and find him asleep on his back, sprawled like a starfish. Still fully clothed on top of the gray comforter, though he did kick off his own shoes.
Stepping between piles of clothes, shoes, and a crate full of books, I make my way into the dark room, lit only by the small lamp beside his bed.
I set the water and pills on his nightstand, which has a few charging cords and is piled high with the Glass Swords paperbacks, the spines cracked and covers worn from multiple reads. Drawing my finger across the tattered edges, my heart squeezes.
Reid turns onto his stomach, grumbling something indecipherable against his pillow. His arm hangs over the edge, his jacket bunching at his shoulders and under his rib cage.
As I start to pull his sleeve low past his hand to try to get it off him, he groans, “Fuck off, Mitchell.”
“Calm down, you’ll sleep better if you’re comfortable.”
He lifts his head at the sound of my voice and looks over his shoulder. His brow furrowed and disbelieving. “Clara?”
I have to actively ignore the flip in my stomach at the sight of his hair so disheveled.
“I was trying to help you get your jacket off,” I say, my cheeks on fire.
He looks down himself, obviously confused, but nods slowly.
Together we make short work of it as he eases his arms out of the sleeves. I also hand him the pills, which he takes without protest, and he gulps down the entire glass of water.
“Why are you here?” he asks.
I can’t tell if he means here in his room or here for him. Either way the answer’s the same.
“I just want you to be okay,” I say quietly.
He sighs and lies back. “I haven’t been okay for a really long time.”
It’s the most honest thing he’s said all weekend, but I hate how resigned he sounds.
I’m sure he’s already passed out again by the time I stand and drop his jacket on the chair by his bed. I flip the light off and turn to slip out the door, but his warm hand closes around my wrist.
My pulse thunders as our eyes lock.
“Stay?” He bends his elbow and tugs—gently and just once. “Just for a minute?”
There’s a plea in his voice that strikes me deep.
I don’t know what it means that he asks, but I do know what it means that I want to. We’ve crossed somewhere that’s at once new and as well-worn as the books beside the bed. Keeping my eyes on his, I nod and sink onto the mattress beside him.
He hooks a strong arm around my waist and draws me close. I’m immediately overwhelmed—by the complete and total feel of him and the soft, warm sheets that smell like fresh laundry and his cologne.
He blinks slowly while his eyes roam my face, and it feels like even in the haze of sleep, he still sees me.
Really sees me. A tiny gasp escapes my lips as he grazes a thumb across my jaw.
Him touching me like this ignites every tender memory between us.
I wrap my fingers gently around his wrist in response, hoping he knows I see him, too.
Neither of us says a word. Something settles inside me for the first time in months as our breathing syncs and his eyes flutter closed, my hand in his.
My heart still his.