31. Reese
31
REESE
If I have to choose between analyzing spatial data for my engineering project or watching Dane tinker with a new vehicle he got this morning, I’m going with the latter.
There’s a matte black pony car where the Nova used to be. It’s a little jarring not to see the convertible in that spot. He dropped it off at an auto body shop a few days ago, but I’m not used to it being gone. I keep catching myself looking for it every time I glance over my shoulder to see what Dane’s up to.
Currently, he’s… I have no idea what he’s doing. He mentioned something about a stressed component in the engine earlier, but I only understood each word separately when he first explained it to me. Still, I find it riveting. I like seeing people get super invested in their hobbies. Also, his back muscles ripple every time he leans forward, props one hand on the metal frame, and uses his wrench.
With utmost reluctance, I return my focus to the workbench. Half-eaten Chinese takeout and Mexican Coca-Cola bottles are strewn across the counter behind my laptop. I steal another piece of broccoli from his carton, and just as I swipe a piece of orange chicken, my phone lights up. As I read the first word from Lilian’s message, Dane stalks over and eats it from my chopsticks.
“Hey,” I gasp, and a peal of laughter tears loose when he presses a sticky kiss to my hairline. “ Hey .”
He snickers as he returns to his car.
Lilian: event ended early so I’m coming over with leftover cupcakes and face masks
Reese: Raincheck? I’m studying at a friend’s place
Guilt settles heavily in my heart. I’m not technically lying to her, but I feel terrible, nevertheless. We haven’t seen each other in a while, save for the few times we bump into one another on our way to class.
She’s been busy with her internship and sorority fundraisers, and I’ve been hanging out with Dane whenever I’m not working. Our schedules haven’t aligned to the point where I can’t remember the last time we had breakfast together or even did our campus picnic by the duck pond.
Lilian: you don’t have time for me anymore :(
Reese: We’ll hang out this weekend :)
Lilian: we better! I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever
Reese: I saw you earlier at the library!
Lilian: not the same
Reese: I’ll stop by the house with some awesome pancakes tomorrow to make up for the long lost time :)
Lilian: I can hear the sarcasm
Reese: Good :)
A sharp bang rends the air and startles me, and my phone clatters onto the workbench. My heart rockets into my throat; my fingers scrabble for my mace.
Gulping a lungful of air, I hop off the barstool. “Did you hurt yourself—” My words catch in my throat.
Dane’s no longer bent over the hood of his project car. He’s standing at full height with narrowed eyes and lips pulled into a grim line.
I follow his gaze and stare at the garage door. My pepper spray has been released from its keychain and is held tightly in my hand. “Is it someone you know?”
A deep wrinkle forms between his eyebrows as he wipes his fingers with a rag and shoves it into the front pocket of his jeans. “No. Only Marco and Sergei know where my garage is. And you.”
“Should I call the cops?” I wheeze. My heart won’t stop skittering. My pulse is racing at an all-time high. My nerves are beyond shot. I can’t stop trembling. The sound of shattering glass keeps ringing in my ears.
“Nah. Fuck them. They won’t do shit.” His words break through my daze. My foggy thoughts give way to sheer panic when it occurs to me he’s walking toward imminent danger.
A whimper of protest breaks from me, and he halts.
“What if they’re dangerous?” I croak, my voice too soft, too muted.
He cracks his knuckles and clenches his jaw. “Only one way to find out?—”
“ Dane ,” I rasp, and I am near tears when he swivels toward me and sears me with the harsh intensity in his gaze. He blinks, and his features soften immediately. The tension in his every taut muscle fizzles out.
He keeps his focus on me and puts on a reassuring smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “You know what? It’s probably nothing.”
“It doesn’t sound like nothing .”
“Might just be the wind.” He takes one step toward me when an eerie silence fills the garage, and my attention swings to the door. The banging has stopped . “Or maybe it’s just some dumbass punk trying to break into here. It happens all the time.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” comes out hoarsely as I drop my mace onto the counter and press the heel of my palm to my cheek. I go still as a statue when he closes the distance between us. “It doesn’t.”
Tears burn my throat while I sniffle. I hate how small and pathetic I feel right now, and I want to disappear when he grabs a napkin from the takeout bag and carefully holds my shoulder with it.
“Don’t wanna ruin your sweater,” he grumbles, and I let out a shaky laugh. With a gentle squeeze, he crouches slightly until his face is level with mine. “They can try all they want, but no one can get it.”
“I know,” I wheeze. The rational part of my brain is well aware of the fact that the garage is deadbolted from the inside. I literally watched him secure the place when we got here. But my anxiety won’t let up.
“I promise you, it’s nothing. No big deal,” he continues. I’m sure he’s trying to reassure me, but downplaying it is only spiking my panic, if anything. “They can’t get it. They just know there are cars in here that can net them an easy thirty k?—”
“They cost thirty thousand dollars?” I choke out.
“Well, that one over there costs ninety,” he comments, and I squeak and stagger backward.
Holy crap, I think every vehicle under this roof can pay for my entire out-of-state tuition. It never once occurred to me how expensive his hobby is.
“Wanna take it for a spin?” he offers, straightening his posture. “Might take your mind off of things.”
Shaking my head, I hug my arms to my chest. “I think I’ll sit there.” I shoot a sideways glance at the workbench. “And not touch anything in here.”
“Not even me?”
“You know what I mean,” I stammer, finding his gaze. “Are you still going to check what that was?”
He shrugs. “Nah. If my girl doesn’t want me to kick some dumbass in the ass for trying to rob me, I’ll stay right here.” His features soften as he offers me a crooked grin. “But there’s nothing to worry about, Reese. I’ll be your getaway car if anything happens. Not that it will, but…” He taps his chest. “Your getaway car.”
My mouth twitches as a raspy laugh escapes me. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I won’t let anything happen to you. If anyone tries to pull something? Well, they’ll be on my list after I get you someplace safe. I mean it.”
I give him a wobbly smile and dry away the tear tracking down my cheek with a knuckle. “Yeah, I know.”
The next morning, I stroll up the driveway to the sorority house with a takeout box filled with coconut pancakes and chocolate crepes. It’s still early enough that Lilian shouldn’t have class yet. The sun has barely burned through the fog, and while it’s warm, it’s also startlingly windy.
I regret my scarf when it tangles up once again with the breeze. It pairs well with my periwinkle coat, but wanting to look cute should not be this frustrating.
After shooting my sister a text, I lean against the porch railing and wait. Before long, Lilian emerges and frowns at me.
“You know the door’s unlocked.”
“Yes, but…” I shrug. The girls don’t lock the place during the day, so everyone can come and go as they please. But I don’t want to come in unless someone invites me in.
Following her into the foyer, I freeze at the chorus of Little Vann . I shyly wave my fingers at all the familiar faces, then join my sister in a secluded corner of the living room.
“What’s going on here?”
“Cram-fest for finals.” She snatches the box before I can set it down on the coffee table and tears into it. “Oh my God, this looks good.”
“Wait until you try the syrup. It’s to die for.” I take my seat and cross my legs beside her. “Actually, no. The pancakes are so good, it’s like eating a cloud. They’re not too sweet, either.”
“Ooh.” Piling her blonde hair into a topknot, she grabs a plastic fork and hands me the other. “Oh my God, this is good.”
“It’s better freshly made.” I grab the container of maple syrup and pass it to her. “One of these days, we should take the bus to Las Marinas again and go there. They have all these artisanal jams and jelly, too.”
Lilian frowns. “Las Marinas? What were you doing out there?”
“I… wanted to take a picture of the sunrise,” I hedge. I do, in fact, have one from today.
A vastly perceptible shift occurs to her features when she hits me with a hard stare. “You went there by yourself?” It’s both an accusation and a question.
“Oh, um…” I trail off as my mouth curves into something nervous. I’m not sure what to respond with. I was hoping she’d drop it, or be too distracted by the food to give me the third degree. Before I can think of anything, her attention darts away from me, and her face lights up.
“Travis,” she calls out. “You have to try this.”
I tense up immediately as a lean blond guy approaches us. He’s not part of Caleb’s fraternity, but I’ve seen him around before. And the moment my eyes land on his face, I want to close the takeout box in protest. He doesn’t deserve magical pancakes.
“Reese, this is Travis,” my sister introduces, and the way her voice knocks up a pitch twists my stomach into a knot.
“Is it true you got your arm broken?” I blurt, and my hands ball into fists when he has the audacity to take a bite of the crepe off of her fork.
He coughs and swallows it down. “Yeah. During my sophomore year.”
“ Reese ,” Lilian interjects, but I ignore her as I forge on.
“And how did it happen?”
“Forgive her,” Lilian cuts in with a strained laugh. “I told her to ask you about your arm if she was curious—I didn’t think she’d actually do it.” She punctuates her statement with a thunderous glare aimed directly at me.
“It’s all right.” Travis shrugs, unbothered. “Some lunatic tried to jump me.”
My nails dig deeply into the flesh of my palms. My molars grind. It takes every last bit of my self-restraint to stave off the scowl threatening to appear. “Why?”
His forehead suddenly creases. “What do you mean why ? He’s psychotic.”
Lilian’s head whips in my direction. “Happy?”
No . Not at all. My sister believes my boyfriend is psychotic. Of course, I’m not happy. Frustration sets in as I stare at them.
Dane is not psychotic. He’s not a lunatic, either. He’s kind. Loyal. Fiercely protective. Despite everything I’ve heard about him, he’s proven to be the sweetest guy I’ve ever met.
He cuddles me and gives me nose kisses after sex. He picks me up after work so I don’t have to wait for the bus when it’s super dark. He tries so hard to boost my confidence about my scar. He respects the time I carve out to study.
How can I tell my sister this when I know she won’t believe a word I say? I know she’ll call me na?ve or say that I’m far too trusting of people after everything I’ve been through. She’ll definitely flip out on me, and that conspiracy theorist brain of hers won’t let her back down until she’s made her point clear regarding Dane.
If I want to get through to my sister, I’ll have to choose my words carefully. Let her come to her own conclusion and see the guy that I see.
“How did he end up breaking your arm?”
“What?” Travis turns toward me, clearly taken aback.
“Did he just walk up to you and decide, I’m going to break this guy’s arm ?” I forge on, keeping my tone measured and carefully light. “Or was it out of nowhere?”
“ Reese ,” my sister snaps.
“No,” Travis growls. His lips curl into a sneer. “The psycho came straight at me with a glass bottle and smashed me with it. When I tried to stop him, he broke my arm.”
“Oh.” My palm rests against my chest. “I didn’t realize… I’m so sorry.”
“Travis got hurt pretty badly,” Lilian hisses to me with a withering glare.
I don’t let her deter me. My eyes remain trained on Travis. “And what happened to him?”
“Don’t know.” He shrugs a shoulder, his expression impassive. Indignation pulses through me, and I blink back my tears of frustration. “He walked away that night with barely a scratch on him.”
I nearly seethe. That scar is not a scratch , I want to scream. Not when I can easily picture it; not when I can vividly recall every little detail. He could have died.
Anger blazes through my every vein. I still my fists as I rein in my emotions. I cannot lose my cool. I cannot grab the takeout box and dump it on his head.
“We both went through something similar,” I say, voice sotto voce. “It’s always nice to meet a fellow survivor.” Acid crawls down my throat, and my chest coils tight. My fingers tremble as they brush against my scarf. “I can’t even look in the mirror without thinking about how I almost died. I’m still coming to terms with it.”
With that, I lift my head and stare him down. It takes all of my efforts to refrain from averting my eyes and cling to my false bravado for as long as possible.
His gaze bores into mine as he wears a haughty expression.
“But it lets me know I survived, as much as I hate it,” I continue, and I’m clutching the thin fabric like it’s a lifeline. I’m so close to breaking. Lilian grabs my forearm, but I barrel on. “Was yours as bad as mine?”
“ What ?”
“You know.” Adrenaline kicks in. I’m all but shaking as I pause for breath. Anything to steady my erratic pulse. “Was yours as bad as mine?”
My scarf slips off my neck and balls into my hand.
And he winces.
There’s a squeamish quality to his features as his gaze drops to my collarbones. A cloying sting fills my heart at the face I’ve seen countless times.
Not from Dane. Never from Dane .
“You didn’t walk away without a scratch,” I say flatly. “Neither did I.”
The shift in the air is palpable. It’s so painfully fraught with tension that the breath leaves my lungs.
“What’s it to you?” Travis asks, a sharp edge to his tone, and Lilian tugs at my wrist.
“I want to know I’m not alone. It’s always nice to meet someone else who’s gone through something similar,” I state. “As a fellow survivor, it would mean so much to me to see it. It would make me feel better, you know? Seeing a testimony of your strength and perseverance will… let me know what’s in store for me when it comes to healing and moving on.”
“I don’t have any.” He shrugs. “Look, I just want to forget that night ever happened,” he tacks on.
“And you know what that’s like,” my sister hisses at me.
I do know what that’s like. Believe me, I do. But this guy is clearly lying. It’s so glaringly obvious that it’s painful to see my sister fall for it. She’s letting her bias cloud her judgment, and it’s so damn frustrating that I have to chew on the inside of my cheek to hold back my scream.
How do I get it through to her that Dane is not the bad guy she makes him out to be? I know he’s flawed, but so is everyone else. Nobody is perfect. He’s far from it, but that doesn’t make him a monster.
The real monster is the asshole standing in front of us. Travis Walker. He is a fucking liar who hurts people and gets away with it.
And Dane deserves better than everything he’s endured because of him.