Chapter 22
EMMA
I stop breathing.
I’m more confused than ever.
Myles Green liked me? Before the hate that grew, I knew him only one way.
He was special and clever. But most of all he was kind.
He was the type of boy who purposely wore too many layers in case I got cold because I never wore a jacket.
He wouldn’t ask, he’d just hand me his coat if I had goosebumps, and I wouldn’t argue.
I’d put it on every time because I liked having someone take care of me.
I liked having him around. He was like a security blanket I took everywhere. I knew I could count on him, but I took him for granted. He was better off without me.
“Say something,” he whispers, voice faltering.
I turn slightly. Just enough to see the nervous curve of his eyebrows and the tremble in his hand.
It transports me back in time to the scared boy I knew, and I wonder if it’s possible for me to be wrong about him and what he’s capable of.
He seems so sincere. How could he hurt Mallory?
How could he hurt me? It’s feeling more and more unbelievable by the second.
I think back to the day in the grass when he leaned in and almost kissed me. I wanted it to happen so badly. When he pulled away, I spiraled because I couldn’t handle the idea of him liking me. I convinced myself it was in my head.
But it wasn’t.
I stir in my seat, trying to find a comfortable position.
What do I say? Does it matter how I feel now or how I felt in the past? Hasn’t too much damage already been done? Besides, I don’t belong here. Myles in my time is behind bars. He’s a killer.
I want to believe the Myles in front of me is different from the one I’m used to, but there’s a gnawing sensation in the back of my head I can’t ignore. I just need to make it through tomorrow, and maybe I’ll be able to forget the version of events I know. Until then I have to be cautious.
He clears his throat. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. It was a long time ago and things are different now.”
Of course things are different now. It’s been three years, and a lot has happened to both of us.
Even if he liked me at one point, there’s no way he’d still like me now.
But I can’t help but wonder what would've happened if he’d told me sooner.
Would it have changed how things are now? Or would I have still pushed him away?
“Yeah.” That’s all I can manage.
He breathes in, tapping the steering wheel. “Let’s do something. We can’t spend the whole day sitting here.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “You’re the one who always knew what to do.”
“Well, I’m not like that anymore,” I say. Less than a second later, my stomach growls embarrassingly loud. I cover it with my arms, but that only draws more attention.
“See, I knew you were hungry.” He picks up the ice cream bar and dangles it in front of my face. “Eat this.”
I take it from him and undo the wrapper.
He starts the car.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“To feed you,” he says.
There’s a funny feeling that runs down my spine because he’s taking care of me without me asking. But he doesn’t act like it’s a burden, and maybe that’s why I don’t stop him.
I take a bite of my ice cream, letting the sweet chocolate melt on my tongue, and I stare out the window as a little smile forms on my lips. Maybe today won’t be that bad.
Myles sits across from me with a menu in front of his face. We found a little diner and by the number of cars parked outside of it, we figured it must be good. The parking lot was so packed we had to park on the street.
“What are you going to get?” he asks me.
I have my menu laid out on the table as I scan the options. There’s everything from omelets and crepes to biscuits and gravy. To be honest, it all looks good, but I don’t have my wallet with me. I didn’t think that far ahead when I snuck out of the house last night.
“I’m really not that hungry anymore,” I say, folding the menu back up. “That ice cream filled me up.”
His brow dips when he looks at me, but he doesn’t argue. He goes back to looking at the menu like nothing happened.
A few minutes later the server comes up to our table. She’s a young lady with auburn hair pinned back. In her hand is an order pad and pencil. “Have you guys decided what you’d like to have?”
I tap the water glass. “I’m just having water.”
“Anything for breakfast?”
“I’m okay for now. I’m not really hungry.”
She nods, turning to Myles. “And you?”
Myles points to a picture on the menu. “I’ll have the pancake breakfast.”
She scribbles his order down. “Will that be all?”
“I think I’d like to get a side of hash browns and a side of sunny-side-up eggs,” he says.
I find his order odd, but maybe his tastes have changed. He used to avoid eggs like the plague.
My stomach growls again at the thought of perfect golden hash browns and the silky texture of the eggs, but I already dragged him out here. I’m not about to make him pay for me.
“The pancake breakfast already comes with hash browns. Did you still want another side of them?”
“You can never have too many hash browns.” He folds the menu and hands it back. “And I’ll take a black coffee too, please.”
“Okay, great.” She writes it down. “I’ll have that all out shortly.”
“Someone was hungry,” I say as soon as she walks away.
He shrugs. “I’ve been up all night.”
I knew that, but hearing him say it makes me grimace. I feel okay because I slept most of the way here, but he’s probably exhausted. I can’t believe he’s still functioning. If I don’t get enough sleep, I fall apart with mood swings like a roller coaster.
“Sorry,” I say.
“It’s fine. I can sleep later. That’s what the coffee is for.”
Our small talk continues in an awkward sequence of questions about the weather and family. Nothing as deep as our conversation in the car. I think we’re both trying to act like everything is normal when it isn’t. Questions fill my brain, but I’m too scared to ask them.
“Do you still spend all of your time in the tree house?” he asks.
I shake my head. “It’s pretty beat up. Some of the boards are loose and need to be replaced.”
He tilts his head with confusion draped across his face. “You haven’t fixed it?”
“I stopped going up there after everything that happened.”
“That’s too bad. I liked the tree house.”
So did I. It was our special place, and I couldn’t bear to look at it when he wasn’t there. It felt wrong, like he was a permanent fixture that had been torn out, leaving a gaping hole.
I take a sip of my water, wishing for it to transform into a five-course meal. Unfortunately, it does not.
“So what do you like to do now?” he asks, fidgeting with his hands.
“I don’t really do anything.”
“Come on, there must be something.”
“I’m serious. I don’t do anything.” It sounds silly, but it’s true.
I’ve spent the last few years trying to survive, but that’s it.
I don’t have any goals or hobbies. Even before Mallory died, all I did was drag myself to school and then go home.
I didn’t let myself enjoy anything because I thought I deserved to be sad.
“Do you still want to be an actress?”
That makes me laugh. “That was a phase.”
He smiles. “I don’t know. You were pretty great as the Big Bad Wolf in sixth grade.”
I cover my face to hide my burning cheeks. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
“How could I forget it? You made me practice with you every night.” He laughs. “And your hair.”
Mallory had teased it, making it stand on end. My hair was so wild my fake wolf ears were hardly visible. “Oh, please stop,” I say, laughing too.
“It was amazing. I’d pay to see it again.”
I shake my head. “Never.”
“You can’t tell me you didn’t have fun,” he says with a gentle tone.
I did have fun. I loved being on stage, and playing the Big Bad Wolf was exciting because I was noticed for the right reasons. I said my lines and people listened and laughed at all the right parts. Not to mention how much fun it was to have my face painted and wear a costume.
“It wasn’t bad.”
His eyes narrow. “You loved it.”
“Okay, maybe I did.”
“Maybe you should do something like that after high school. I bet you’d be good at it, and I think you’d like it.”
I haven’t thought of what I’ll do after high school. I’ve been so focused on what my life was missing that it’s been impossible to look that far ahead.
The server comes back carrying a round tray filled with all of the food Myles ordered.
She sets his coffee down first, then the pancake platter, which is enormous.
There’s a tall stack of pancakes on one side of the plate with hash browns and bacon on the other.
She sets the extra plate of eggs and hash browns in the middle of the table.
“Just let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you,” she says.
“Thank you,” Myles replies. He picks up his fork and sighs, staring at the food. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to eat all of this.”
I clutch my side, trying to stop my stomach from going ballistic over the buffet in front of me. “I thought you didn’t like eggs.”
“I figured I’d try them again.” He takes one small bite and cringes, immediately taking a sip of his coffee. “Yeah, I can’t eat that. Do you want it? I don’t want it to go to waste.”
I know what he’s doing. He ordered this to share with me because he knew I was hungry. Maybe he didn’t want to embarrass me by pointing it out, or maybe he thought I’d say no if he offered to pay. Either way, the boy I used to know is still in there somewhere.
“I mean, if you aren’t going to eat it,” I say.
He sets the plate in front of me. “Take some hash browns too,” he says, putting them on my plate. “Do you want bacon?”
He sets a piece of the bacon on my plate before I can answer.
He isn’t a killer. He can’t be. I know what I saw, but it doesn’t add up.
I stare at him. His brushed-back curls. The way his jaw is sharper than before. His eyes that aren’t hidden behind his glasses anymore. He’s different.