Chapter 14 #2
I was fighting to avoid being swallowed alive by my own mind, and it was an exhausting task to face.
I wished they taught us about depression in school.
I wished we were given tips and tricks to avoid falling too deep into the dark.
Instead, we learned algebra equations. I couldn’t wait for that to come in handy in my life.
“Are you depressed?” she asked. She said the question as if it wasn’t a loaded gun pointing straight at my face.
“No,” I lied. I’d always lie about that.
People looked at you differently if they thought you were depressed, especially when your life looked a certain way, when it seemed you didn’t have anything to be sad about at all.
I knew after I found out about Lance’s depression, I looked at him differently.
It wasn’t even on purpose, but when a person you love was broken, you saw the cracks every time they were around you, and you wished you had the tools to fix those breaks.
“You always lie about that?” she questioned.
“Never had to lie about it because no one ever asked.”
“You’re going to get sick of being around me. I ask a lot of straightforward questions. I don’t sugarcoat things.”
“I don’t sugarcoat anything either. I don’t have the energy to do so.”
She stared at me for a while, tilting her head, taking mental notes on me. Then she parted her lips. “I should get back to my cousin’s house before they notice I’m gone.”
“Yeah, of course.”
I wanted her to stay a little bit longer. We wouldn’t even have to talk. We could just sit in silence and it would be good enough for me. But she wasn’t mine to keep.
She was still sad, worrying about her dad, and she had every right to be sad, too. Lance had lied about his problems, and it was the ultimate cause of his death, so I knew how serious it could be.
On the drive, we passed a park, and Shay called out quickly, “Can we stop here real quick?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“I want to see something.”
I pulled the car over and parked, and we both climbed out. Now it was my turn to trust where she led me. We walked through the woods, down the pathway, and it seemed like Shay was on a mission to find a certain thing.
When we came to an opening where two huge willow trees sat, she walked over to them, running her fingers along the bark. The two trees were connected, twisted into each other as if they were meant to be together as one. The closer I grew to the tree, the more I noticed the carvings in its bark.
“It’s called the lovers’ tree,” Shay said, still searching. “The story is that if a couple comes here and carves their names into the trunk of the tree, their love story will last forever. My family has been doing it for decades and decades.”
“That’s corny,” I muttered. But kind of cool, too.
“I love it,” she replied. “Well, loved it.” She stopped when she found a set of initials.
CAM & KJG
Before I could ask about the pairing, Shay reached into her pocket, pulled out a set of keys, and started scratching at the letters.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down!” I shouted, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her back, but even though she was small, she was strong. She ripped out of my hold and went back to slashing at the bark.
I grabbed her again, this time tighter, and spun her around to face away from the tree. “What the hell are you doing, Chick? You can’t be out here destroying people’s happily ever afters.”
“No, I have to. The legend says the initials mean their love will last forever, not that they will be happy, and my parents aren’t happy. They’re trapped in this messed-up loop, and I have to stop it.”
My cold heart broke for her. She was shaking repeatedly as she tried to get back to the tree, but I wouldn’t let her go. I couldn’t. She was falling apart in my grip, tears washing down her cheeks as she lost herself in me.
“This tree isn’t a gift, it’s a curse, and my mom will never be able to let go of my dad if she’s still attached to this thing. Just like my grandmother was attached to my grandfather, just like my great-grandparents. This tree is cursed. I need to get their names off it,” she cried.
“Shay,” I whispered, my voice cracking as I watched her fall apart. “Shay, listen to me. Crossing out letters on some tree isn’t going to change who your parents are.”
“But maybe it will. Maybe, maybe . . . maybe . . . maybe . . .” She dropped her keys and began sobbing into my arms. I couldn’t think of anything to say. I couldn’t think of how to make her feel better, so I stood there and held her.
For so long, I’d hated her because I thought she was Little Miss Perfect.
I’d hated her happiness. I’d hated her because I had scars and she had none, and now I felt like a damn idiot for thinking such a thing.
It turned out everyone in the world had scars.
Everyone had cracks and cuts that bled into their soul each night.
Some people were simply better at hiding them.
She pulled on my long-sleeved white T-shirt and cried against it, and I held her like I was planning on never letting her go.
As she stood there in my arms, my heart melted a little for her—for her hurts, for her pain and suffering.
When she was finished falling apart, she pulled away, embarrassed.
She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and sniffled repeatedly, turning away from me.
“Sorry,” she muttered, wiping at her eyes. “I’m snotty and a complete mess.”
“It’s OK. I owed you for last October.”
She smiled a little. Her eyes were red and puffy, and tears were still falling from them, and she was right—she looked like a complete wreck. Broken, raw, and—
“Beautiful,” I told her. “You look beautiful.” Honestly, I wasn’t sure Shay had ever looked so beautiful and real. Her pain had the kind of beauty that made you want to protect her from the world. I wanted to hold her again, soothe her, and let her know her emotions were what made her real.
“We should get going.” She sniffled some more with her rosy cheeks and her exhausted eyes.
“Yeah, we should.”
I bent down to pick up her keys, and before handing them back over to Shay, I walked over to the tree and scratched out the rest of the initials of her parents.
If said tree was a curse, I wanted to end it for her.
I wanted to break the spell of jaded love that affected her family line.
I wanted to free her so that somewhere down the line, she could have a real love.
She released a weighted sigh and took the keys from my hand. Her fingers brushed against my palm, and a part of my soul I hadn’t known existed lit up. What was that? What was that feeling, and how had she unlocked it?
“Thank you, Landon,” she whispered.
“Always,” I replied.
I think I meant that.
I think I meant always.
We drove back to her cousin’s house, and as I put the car in park, I turned to say good night to her, and that was when I found her lips.
Her lips.
Pressed against . . .
Mine.
Her hands rested against my cheeks as she pulled me in toward her.
She tasted like salty tears and peach ChapStick, and oddly enough, that was my new favorite taste.
At first I didn’t kiss her back. At first I stayed frozen, thinking that if I moved, the moment would disappear and I’d never be able to return to it.
“Landon,” she whispered, her eyes closed as her forehead rested against mine. I loved that. I loved when she said my name. Not Satan. Not jerk. But Landon.
I loved when those two syllables rolled off her tongue. It made me feel seen. I didn’t know the last time someone had been able to see me so clearly.
“Yeah?” I breathed out, my breaths brushing against her lips—her full, plump lips.
“Kiss me back,” she ordered, and so I did.
My lips.
Pressed against . . .
Hers.
I kissed her gently at first, trying to ignore the way my jeans were tightening as my cock registered the fact that I was kissing a girl—and not just any girl, the girl. I was kissing Shay Gable, and every time our lips touched, she stole a piece of me.
I kissed her harder and deeper next, parting her lips slightly to slide my tongue into her mouth as reality settled in. I wanted her.
I wanted her so bad it hurt.
But then, she stopped the kiss.
She pulled back, her skin flushed and her cheeks rosy as ever. She combed her fingers through her hair and gave me a wary smile. “There,” she whispered, slowly rubbing her thumb along her bottom lip before she nervously bit that same lip.
Geez, Chick.
Bite it again.
“There’s your kiss, Romeo,” she said, opening her door and climbing out.
“Thank you, Juliet,” I said breathlessly. At least I thought I spoke. My mind was so fogged, I didn’t know which way was up. I readjusted my crotch region and leaned in her direction. “You think we should keep practicing? For the show. I want to put on the best performance possible.”
She laughed, and that sound made me harder.
Note to self, don’t wear jeans when around Shay. Sweatpants from here on out.
“Good night, Landon.” She shut the car door.
Landon.
Say it again.
She began to walk away, and I was still leaning in her direction like a desperate puppy dog craving its owner’s attention. I hurriedly rolled down the passenger window and called her way, “Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow!”
She looked back my way, and her lips spread wide as her hands landed against her chest. “That I shall say good night till it be morrow.”
We quoted Romeo and Juliet. I began the line, and she finished it.
What the fuck was that?
And who the fuck was I?
I was having a hard time recognizing myself, but there I was, sitting in my car, at half past two in the morning, quoting Shakespeare to the girl I’d once hated.
Hated—past tense. Truth was, I couldn’t have told you the last time I had hated Shay.
Maybe when she sat with me in my bedroom last year after Lance’s funeral, maybe never. All I knew was I loved her taste.
I waited to make sure she made it back inside the house, and then I plopped backward into the driver’s seat. My heart rapidly beat against my rib cage.
She did that to me. She made my heart turn back on.
Maybe it was all part of the game. Maybe she was just getting in my head to make me feel things toward her. Maybe it was all fake, but in that moment, it felt real enough for me to not care. I couldn’t recall the last time something felt real to me.