Chapter 39 Past
It was Nick.
He took one look at Paul—hair a mess, shirt wrinkled and half tucked into his pajama pants—and didn’t even try to hide the grin spreading across his face.
“You good?” Nick asked, his voice laced with that teasing, knowing tone only an older brother could master.
His eyes scanned the room—landed on the pink tank top barely peeking out from under the bed—and one eyebrow arched.
“Not quite your color,” he added, nodding toward the floor like he was offering casual fashion advice.
Paul didn’t respond—just let out a sigh and shot a quick glance toward the closet.
Nick smirked.
“Ahh, got it…” he said, drawing out the words with a slow nod.
He leaned against the doorframe; arms crossed like he had all the time in the world.
“I wouldn’t take too long getting things… you know, back where they belong.”
His eyes flicked toward the closet, then back to Paul.
“Dad’s heading home—stopped by the sheriff’s office to drop something off. I’d say you’ve gotten ten minutes, max, before he’s got you blocked in.”
He pushed off the frame and turned to leave, but not before tossing one last grin over his shoulder.
“Might wanna fix your shirt. You look like you lost a fight with a tornado.”
And just like that, he disappeared down the hallway.
The moment Nick’s footsteps faded down the hall, I cracked the closet door open just enough to peek out.
Paul stood there, rubbing a hand down his face like he was aging in real time.
“Is he gone?” I whispered.
He nodded without looking at me. “For now. But my dad’s on his way. We’ve got… maybe eight minutes now.”
I stepped out quickly, brushing my hands over the front of his oversized sweatpants and tugging down the hem of his T-shirt.
“So much for a calm morning…huh?”
My eyes landed on the pink tank top half-tucked under the bed.
I dove for it just as Paul snatched up the towels from last night’s shower.
We moved like two people who’d just broken something valuable and were trying to hide the evidence.
We actually made the bed this time and then scanned the room for anything that might be out of place.
“You think he’ll notice?” I asked, shoving the tank top into my pocket.
Paul shot me a look. “He notices everything.”
I let out a heavy sigh and slipped on my shoes—still damp from yesterday’s walk through what might as well have been a monsoon.
Paul stood near the bed, tugging at his shirt in an attempt to make it look less slept-in.
“You have everything?” he asked, his voice gentler now.
I gave a small nod. “I left it all at Molly’s anyway. I just need to get out of here before your dad finds me.”
He took a step toward me, “You don’t have to go just yet.”
I tried to smile, but it felt thinner than I intended.
“Better I leave now than have your dad find me hanging from your window.”
That earned a quiet chuckle from him—tight at the edges, but still genuine.
“I’ll come back tonight,” I added softly. “Once I know everyone’s gone to bed.”
Paul nodded, his jaw tense, but he didn’t argue.
Instead, he pulled me in and pressed his lips against mine.
“I’ll leave the window cracked,” he said.
I smiled for real that time. “You better.”
His laugh deepened, but he still didn’t let go.
We stayed like that—wrapped up in the moment—until the sound of a car door shutting outside snapped us back to reality.
“Oh, crap,” I whispered.
“Here, let me help you.”
Paul guided me carefully out the window.
Just as I was about to take off toward Molly’s, I paused.
“Hey!” I called in a loud whisper.
His head reappeared, just cresting the windowsill. “Yeah?”
“I’m glad Nick acknowledged I won the last match,” I said, grinning. Then added, quick and sure, “I love you.”
He let out a soft laugh. “I love ya too, Honeysuckle.”
I made it to Molly’s without being seen. Luckily, I knew they kept the side kitchen door unlocked.
I slipped in quietly and made my way upstairs. Molly wasn’t home yet, but I knew exactly where she was, so I called her.
Chad answered.
His voice had that same too-cheerful, too-casual tone Paul had used earlier—like he definitely wasn’t hiding his girlfriend in his closet or anything.
Molly and I chatted for a few minutes—she told me I could stay as long as I needed, but warned me that Chad’s mom and stepdad were gone for another night, and they were fully taking advantage of the empty house.
I called my mom so she wouldn’t worry.
Her voice sounded soft—maybe like she’d taken something to take the edge off, but I couldn’t be sure.
I hoped I was wrong.
She agreed to let me stay, just asked that I call before coming home — “So you don’t scare me half to death like you did the other morning.”
I promised I would, then hung up.
Just in time, too—there was a knock at the door downstairs.
I hadn’t seen Molly’s mom—she was probably out shopping or at the club—so I went down like I lived there.
When I opened the door, it was Paul.
My heart fluttered.
“Miss me already?”
He grinned. “You act like I like you or something.”
Before I could answer, he pulled me inside—out of sight.
“You know I miss you,” he murmured, lips brushing my temple. “I can’t help myself.”
Then he added, “I came to bring you these.”
He held up my uniform and a pair of shorts.
I blinked. “I knew I left my uniform in your car, but… where’d you find the shorts?”
“Bathroom floor,” he laughed. “Nick found them—luckily before Dad did.”
My face flushed.
“He won’t let me live it down,” Paul smirked.
He mimicked Nick’s voice with mock authority: “‘Impressive, little brother…’ Then he punched me and said, ‘You better have stayed out of my room.’”
I groaned, snatching the clothes from his hand.
“Tell Nick to mind his business.”
“He’ll be too busy blackmailing me to hear that,” Paul muttered with a grin.
Then, more serious, “I’ve gotta help Dad with a few things… Nick’s party’s coming up fast. Can’t believe he leaves in two days.”
His voice cracked just slightly.
“I’ll see you tonight?” he asked.
I tried to lighten the mood. “As long as you keep that window cracked.”
He kissed me through a grin, then turned and jogged off.
I closed the door and headed upstairs.
Showered. Changed into Paul’s t-shirt. Found a pair of Molly’s pants that weren’t ridiculously big.
I raided the fridge, then holed up in the room with snacks and magazines—killing time until I could sneak back over to Paul’s.
On my way out, I caught a glimpse of Mrs. Stoll—slumped on the couch in a way that was all too familiar.
My chest tightened. It was just like my mom.
I shook it off and slipped out the side door.
When I got to Paul’s house, the window was cracked—just like he promised.
“Paul?” I whispered.
The mattress creaked as he got up. “Hey.”
But then, through the thin wood of his bedroom door, I heard raised voices. Arguing.
Phil and Nick.
Paul sighed, one hand on the sill, the other raking through his curls.
“It’s probably not the best idea you stay tonight.”
The voices behind him grew louder.
I understood, though I was disappointed, and nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
We stood there in silence, the tension in the hallway growing louder by the second.
“You should go,” he said, more urgent now.
I leaned in and kissed him—quick, warm, wishing it could be longer.
But just as I turned to go, the sound of someone slamming their fist into a door echoed through the house.
Paul’s door.
The sound sent ice through my veins.
I took off running—like whoever was on the other side was chasing me.
But they weren’t.
They were after him.
I thought about running back, but I knew that would only make things worse.
So I didn’t.
Instead, I stayed up all night, staring at the ceiling, my stomach in knots—worrying about Paul.
Wondering what I would’ve walked into if I hadn’t left.
By the time the sky started to lighten, Molly slipped in through the bedroom door.
She looked just as exhausted as I felt—makeup smudged, hair a mess from a few fun days with Chad—eyes heavy but still alert.
She didn’t ask questions.
Just nodded when I said I needed to go home and grabbed her keys without hesitation.
We crept downstairs together.
Her mom was still on the couch, passed out in the exact same position.
Molly didn’t say a word, but the way her jaw tensed said enough.
We glanced at each other—
My expression was apologetic.
Hers was tired, irritated... but not surprised.
Maybe it was the weight of both our days—or maybe something else entirely—but we didn’t talk much.
We just let the music fill the silence, windows down, the wind swirling around us both.
It was simple.
And somehow, it was exactly what we both needed.
By the time we pulled into my driveway, the sun was just starting to clear the rooftops, casting long, sleepy shadows across the yard.
I climbed out of the car, my uniform balled up in one hand, and gave Molly an easy, casual, “See ya later.”
Clearly fading, she offered me a lazy nod and blew a kiss through the open window—
such a Molly Stoll kind of goodbye.
I watched as she pulled away, windows down, her music still drifting faintly behind her.
I made it up the steps and slipped quietly inside.
Mom was in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in one hand and the Lakeview Ledger’s daily crossword puzzle in the other.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, my voice low and laced with guilt—I’d forgotten to call and let her know I was coming home early.
She jumped a little at the sound of my voice, startled. But before she could say anything, I cut in, “Sorry. I didn’t call.”
I didn’t bother trying to explain why I was home so early. Or why I looked like I hadn’t slept. Or why I felt like I might unravel if she asked me even one question.
“I’m just gonna head to my room. Try to get some sleep.”
I left before she could respond.
She didn’t stop me. Didn’t press. Maybe she could see how worn down I was. Maybe she just didn’t have the energy. Either way, she let me go without another word.
I was exhausted.
My uniform needed to be washed, but that could wait.
What I really needed was to shut my eyes—and stop replaying all the awful scenarios running through my head about Paul and what might’ve happened after I left.
I woke to the color of the sun fading behind the trees, shadows stretching long across my bedroom wall.
I’d slept the entire day away.
For a split second, I didn’t know what day it was. Then it hit me—work.
I sat straight up, heart thudding.
Crap. My uniform isn’t clean.
I’ve never even been late—I’m not about to miss an entire shift.
I jumped out of bed and rushed toward the closet, already planning what I would say to Taylor.
But then I stopped.
There, hanging neatly on the closet door, was my uniform—pressed and perfect, the smell of lemon and fabric softener still clinging to the fabric.
A small note was pinned to the hanger, written in my mother’s tidy handwriting:
“Taylor called the house—said it’s slow tonight. He told me to let you rest.”
I stood there, holding the hem of the dress in my hand, my breath catching in my throat.
Somehow, they both knew.
I carried the uniform back to my bed and sat down, overwhelmed.
Lying to my mom.
Crossing that line with Paul.
My dad’s lies.
Molly’s mom.
Paul’s dad.
Nick leaving.
It was just… a lot.
I laid back on my mattress, still clutching the yellow dress.
The fabric felt heavier in my hands—like it was holding every single thing I hadn’t figured out how to carry yet.