Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
HAILEY
14 years old
“ Y ou’re back early.”
I cup my left hand in a visor over my eyes. The sprawling pine tree in our front yard does little to block the August sun, even at nine in the morning. The Longest Ride by Nicholas Sparks folds closed in my lap as I leave my spot on the porch steps and approach his truck. It sputters as vehicles with two hundred thousand miles do when he slows on the gravel and shifts into park.
“I came to unload my gear,” Jack says through the rolled-down window. He pops open the door and rounds the side of the vehicle, stopping at the tailgate.
Jittery nerves ping-pong inside my abdomen as I shuffle from ankle to ankle. “So, how was it?”
With a big scoop, he transfers a heap of equipment to the dirt runway we call a driveway. I’m expecting answers like “Great” or “Fun.” “Relaxing,” maybe. Not a confession.
“We had a fire. ”
I drop my book to the dirt. It sends a puff of dust billowing around my flip flops.
“At your campsite?” I gasp.
“I’m fine, Hayes. See?” He splays his arms out wide as if I haven’t already done a thorough sweep from the tips of his hair to the steel toes of his boots. Same analysis I do every time he comes home. No cuts, scrapes, or broken bones that I can see. But… is that soot under his fingernails? How did I miss it until now?
“What happened?”
“It was a common mistake. The pyro kid I went with just wanted to have a little fun.”
A kid? I thought he said he was going with friends.
A stinging feeling spreads across my chest at the quirk of his lips. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him look that happy. Years, even… and the fact that it was a result of him spending time with someone else’s kid rather than his own has envy curling itself throughout my body until I’m having to clench and release my fists in tight balls.
“I brought you something.” He breaks the silence between us. Even his voice has a melodic dance to it.
A smooth slab of wood rests in his open arms when I build up the nerve to look at him.
When he transfers the flat lumber to my hands, my fingertips brush the underside. The outer layer feels sandpapered to soft perfection.
“A piece of driftwood?”
I don’t mean for it to come out sounding ungrateful, but what am I’m supposed to do with it?
He clears his throat. “I thought maybe… we could make a swing out of it?”
I tug on my ear, still unsure of what to say .
“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head and turns away. “It was a stupid idea.”
“Wait.” I stop him. Grip the gift tighter as he tries to take it from my hands. “It’s not stupid, it’s just… I’m fourteen, not five anymore.”
It’s his turn to catalog my appearance. The peaks of his eyebrows squish together. He threads a hand through his hair and ash flakes onto his cheekbones. I don’t think he’s even noticed how much I’ve grown until this very moment.
“Right. No, yeah, I know,” he stutters. “Forget I said anything.” His tailgate lurches shut with a sudden shove, but I grab his arm, stopping him from jumping into the driver’s seat.
“Dad, wait.”
The name slips from my lips in a desperate ploy to get him to stay.
“I want to,” I say. “Let’s build a swing.”
This time he smiles for me . And I don’t really care if a swing is a little juvenile or maybe five years too late. I’m no longer thinking about what I was hoping would happen from this conversation. All I can focus on is that he thought of me.
Present Day
My mouth stretches wide in a yawn. How many times has it done that now? I’ve lost track.
There’s a steady ticking like the beat of my pulse inside my head but it’s coming from the wall. 4:03, the standard clock reads. I should just give up sleep at this point. It hasn’t mattered how deep I slump into this fold-out metal chair; it’s the opposite of comfortable. Now I’ll live with a pounding headache, a ramshackle back, and an attention span in desperate need of a polar plunge. We are no longer eighteen , my body reminds me.
I push up with my heels to straighten in the chair. It squeaks with the transfer of my weight and I jolt my head to the side. Reed only stirs. His lips are a warm pink now, his cheeks too. I run a hand across his forehead. Cool and dry. A far cry from the clammy, pale sheet of yesterday’s dehydrated skin. I check his IV next. The electrolytes have emptied into his veins in a steady drip.
I sigh in relief. He’s made it through the worst part. Which is a good thing because I’m in desperate need of a shower.
As if on cue, a clump of matted hair drops in front of my eyes. I wedge the cluster into my braid to get it to stay back. The full moon casts a blue hue against everything it touches. The gurney, the floor, my walking path all lit in a soft glow that guides me out of the medic wing.
The windowless hallway is another story. A black hole of silence.
Clip clop, clip clop . The percussion instruments I call shower shoes slap against the wood floor. I slow to a scoot and paw at the wall to guide me, trying to remember which door leads to the women’s showers.
My fingertips brush over the letters R-E-S and my brain fills in the rest of the word.
Made it . With a towel slung over my shoulder and a fresh uniform draped over my arm, I push open the door.
A motion light flicks on. It’s dim but brighter than the hallway. I set my belongings next to a porcelain sink and twist the cap off a tube of Crest. Seconds later, spicy mint explodes on my tongue and I close my eyes, pretending it’s an Andes chocolate to curb the rumbling in my stomach. Skipping dinner is catching up with me.
The hunger fuels my pace as I strip off yesterday’s clothes. I leave them in a dirty heap outside the closest tile stall, then dive into the first of four empty showers and yank the curtain shut. Warm steam envelops me in the cramped space within seconds. I spend very little time lathering and rinsing my hair and body before shutting off the water.
I whip open the microfiber drape and goose bumps pebble on the surface of my skin. I claw through yesterday’s work clothes looking for… I dropped my towel by the sink .
“It’s cold, it’s cold, it’s cold,” I chant to myself in a naked prance to retrieve it. Must make it back to the warm box. Scooping up my uniform from where I left it too, I swivel for the shower.
Slap .
A warm body smacks into my bare skin, the hit so hard that I lose my grip on everything I’m carrying. A button-down shirt, tactical pants, underwear, and a lacy white bra all fall in a pile at my feet.
Reed’s eyes bug out of his head as I scramble to cover the surface area of Texas with two limbs. I might as well be using dime-sized Band-Aids.
“What are you doing in here?” I swivel from side to side in a desperate ploy to get my stuff off the floor without dropping one of my arms.
“This is the men’s bathroom. What are you doing in here?” he asks. His eyes troll the ceiling.
Men’s bathroom? What is he… the dark hallway, the fumbling hands, the braille readin g… it’s all coming back to me.
“It was closer,” I argue. I’m sure as hell not going to tell him that, for all I knew, I was in the women’s restroom. I would sooner tell him I was worried about being away from him for too long than admit the truth. “I didn’t think anyone would be up yet! Turn around!” I demand.
He’s quick to pivot toward the opposite wall. With his back to me, I gather my stuff, making a break for the bathroom stall. I fumble around for an imaginary lock on a shower curtain as if he’ll barge in here after me .
The shudder of an exhale is the only sound I hear behind the thin fabric separating us.
“Dammit, Red. What am I going to do now? Picture my grandmother all day?”
I dry my body with the damn towel that got me in this situation and cram my foot into one pant leg, hopping to pull them on. If Reed’s awake, it means everyone else probably is too. Now the whole crew is going to know I showered in here.
“I’ll tell you what you’re going to do.” I grunt as I work the pants up and button them at the waist. It takes even less time fastening the four buttons on the front of my top at the pace I’m moving. “You’re going to monitor that door so I can sneak back out of here, and then you’re going to forget this ever happened.”
I’m so focused on shoving all of my things in my arms that I forget Reed is my patient. How on earth did he remove that IV on his own? Just savagely rip it out of his arm?
I yank the curtain back and sweep the floor for my belongings. Somehow it feels like I’m hauling out more than I brought in here when all I did was exchange one set of clothing for another. I tiptoe toward the door as if Reed didn’t hear the woosh of the shower curtain or the buzz of my toothbrush when I accidentally hit the ON button while swiping it from the sink. He’s still doing what I asked, stalling by the door. But I have to face him now.
When we make eye contact for the first time, I can’t help but blush a little. He saw every part of me. Which suddenly feels very unfair. Usually when you get naked with a guy for the first time, it’s because you both chose to. Not because you’re flocking around a men’s bathroom in a naked parade.
Reed’s wide shoulders are taking up most of the exit space. I’ll have to push past him to get outside. But as my pants brush his leg, he snatches me by the hips and presses me against the wall. I yelp and lift my eyes to his face as he lets the door fall shut, closing us in the bathroom alone together.
“I can’t do that.”
Heat soaks through my skin and seeps from the place where he’s touching me to my entire body.
“Is it hot in here? Maybe we should open a window,” I say, searching around the room before I remember: it’s an interior wall.
“Don’t deflect,” he says with that look. The same serious one he used last night when he was out of it. Saying things he doesn’t remember. Things he probably didn’t mean.
I think I like being around you .
“You can’t do what?” I question back.
He maps my eyes in a zigzag pattern. “Forget it ever happened.”
I let out a frustrated puff of air. “Why not? And why do you call me Red all the time?”
He presses in closer, my body flush to his now.
“Because. You’re the only woman who doesn’t hide your blush under my stare.”
He crowds me against the cool cement wall.
YOU.WILL.NOT.BLUSH. I repeat the command inside my head. But I already feel it. The warmth creeping up my neck and radiating across my cheeks. He’s so close, his lips inches from mine, and I actually let my eyes fall prey to them once. He exhales, and I can taste the scent of peppermint from his parted lips.
Did he brush his teeth in the medic wing too? How long has he been up?
“I already have a hard enough time focusing on this job just knowing you’re in the other room,” he whispers. “I didn’t need to know what you look like naked too. ”
My heart is galloping in my chest. Crossing a finish line I didn’t sign up to race.
I swallow and rapidly blink. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, right?” Even as I ask that question, I contemplate how many women he’s seen naked. I have nothing from his past to base my answer from, but I get the vibe that he’s a player.
His eyes flit back and forth between mine. The heat of his hands sear into my sides, and suddenly, I feel like my shirt has caught fire. He leans in an inch closer for a second as we share each other’s air. I can see it in his eyes. He’s warring with himself over something. The way he’s pushing his forearms into the wall behind me like he depends on them for support. But then he pulls away just enough to free his hand and pinch the base of his neck.
“Right.”
Why is he agreeing with me if he looks like he doesn’t want to be? At least a hundred different questions surface as I study that look.
Whatever cataclysmic spell we were both under breaks the moment he takes yet another step back, and I seize the opportunity to slip past him.
“Let’s just push it out of our minds. Not make this a bigger deal than it has to be, okay? I don’t want to forever remember your look of horror when you walked in here.”
He grabs me by the wrist one more time, his thumb dragging across my pulse. “It wasn’t a look of horror. I had to fight to stare at that ceiling,” he says.
I can’t fan my face as it flushes beneath his gaze, so I touch my cheeks instead. But even my palms are hot and do nothing to help. I need to get out of here!
I dodge past the threshold expecting to find an entire crew of onlookers waiting in the hallway. But no one is out here. No one is up yet. I’m back to sneaking around in order not to wake anyone else.
I chance one last glance through the crack as the door falls shut, but he’s already gone.
The spray of the shower sounds seconds later with his words trailing across my mind like they’re attached to a banner on the back of a small plane.
I had to fight to stare at that ceiling .
I told him not to make it a big deal, but that ?
Now we’re so far past a big deal we’re a whole brush fire.