Chapter 24
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
NASH
My head pounds as I roll into the sunlight streaming through my window, my face throbbing with pain. I slightly remember getting here last night, but not really.
The faint smell of Corinne still lingers on my sheets, reminding me that she was here and that part wasn’t just a dream.
Not only was she here, but God only knows what I said to her.
I think about leaving my room to check if she is still here, but I don’t want her to see me like this, even if I do find her.
Hungover and dirty.
I choose to stay put here in my room, resisting the urge to find her and hold her hostage. Maybe it’s better if she just leaves. I stand up, the sudden change of elevation sending me straight to the toilet.
After dry heaving for a few minutes, there is nothing left to throw up. I turn the shower on, allowing the water to get as hot as possible, not that skin melting will erase what happened. And it definitely won’t stop my dad from coming home and bringing his new family with him.
I let the water run over my scalp, and surprisingly the memories of last night are vivid.
Too vivid. I don’t want to remember, but I do.
I fucking remember too much. Cutting the shower off, I slip out and into a towel, stopping at the sink.
The bruising on my face makes me grimace.
There’s absolutely no way I’m going to school like this.
It’s Friday anyway, I remind myself, and it’s not like I won’t pass. I have too much dirt on all my teachers for them to fail me.
I brush my teeth and slip some clothes on, but I stop midstride when I hear voices coming from behind the door. I try to hold my breath, inching closer to listen to what is going on. I swallow the lump in my throat when I hear Corinne’s soft voice.
“If you care about him at all, you’ll go to rehab.” I hear her say, the demand in her voice tenacious. “The last thing he needs is to be in this house alone.”
What the hell is she doing?
My mother’s sobs follow, “There is nothing wrong with me. Everyone thinks I have a problem, but I don’t because I can stop!”
I open the bedroom door, looking between the both of them. My mom cannot look me in the eye as she stalks angrily past Corinne with a duffle bag in her hand, slamming the front door behind her with a thud. She didn’t want to leave me. My dad is forcing her somehow.
I clench my teeth, staring straight at Corinne, dressed in my t-shirt. Her bare legs and my Nike socks somehow make me even angrier. The fact that she spoke with my mom infuriates me. She had no right. None whatsoever. She doesn’t know anything about us.
“Nash—” she starts to speak, but I cut her off.
“Get the fuck out.”
She steps closer, “Are you kidding me right now?”
“Does it look like I’m joking?” I snap. “Get out. Now.”
She grabs my hand, and I jerk it away, “Don’t touch me.”
“Nash,” she starts, but I back away. “What about last night?”
“What about it?” I blow her off, stepping back into my room, but she’s close behind me.
She wraps a fist full of my t-shirt in her hand, “Don’t do that! Don’t act like last night didn’t happen!”
I sneer, pushing her hand off of me, “Nothing happened!”
She loses it, busting through the glass doors to my balcony, pushing all the dishes and candles off of the table I set. “You’re right! It was nothing! We are nothing!”
I stand unfazed as she continues her fit of rage, one that she’s been holding back since the day she got here.
“Fuck you, Nash! I should’ve let you get arrested last night or drown in your own vomit, whichever came first!”
She slips my shirt off, pulling the clothes she had on last night back on, and my eyes are unable to tear away from her.
She pulls her shoes on and a hoodie from her bag before turning to me, “I lied for you! I’m already on a short leash with my family, and when I didn’t come home last night, that could’ve been bad enough, but stupid me thought you were worth it. ”
I smirk, “Well, surprise.”
She pushes me, “Stop acting like this! You can ignore it all you want, but you feel it too. You can’t push me away forever.”
“I promise you that I can, Princess.”
She turns her eyes to mine, the perfect mixture of blue and yellow. The gold flakes around the center nearly steal my breath. She’s tearing every layer of protection down that I’ve put up around my heart when she left the first time two years ago, and my world fell to pieces.
“Please let me in,” she begs. “Let someone in!”
I tilt my forehead into hers, my hair the only thing separating our skin, “You won’t like what’s inside.”
“Let me make that choice,” she whispers, and I can’t do anything at this point but agree. She moves her cold hand around the back of my neck and draws my lips to hers. So gentle that our lips barely touch, but the softness of hers set my soul on fire.
“Just trust me,” she whispers into my mouth. “I’ve got you.”
No one has ever said that to me before and been so adamant about it. I can feel that she means it, but I’m not sure what it is that it makes me feel…
Loved?
Protected?
Scared?
It makes me feel everything, and it is fucking scary.
The second I trust her, it means opening myself up to becoming the perfect victim.
I’ll become unaware of things that matter, and my focus on her will distract me, making it one hundred times easier for her to destroy me, and if anyone was going to do the destroying, it would be me.
I’ve been addicted to the control I’ve had over her for years, and if I soften up, she’ll be the one holding all the power. That is unacceptable.
That makes me weak.
I jerk my eyes up at her, “I don’t need you.”
Her hand falls from my arm, her entire body withdrawing from mine. It’s like the longer she waits to speak, the more aware of my surroundings I become.
She’s in my room.
I tried with her, actually tried.
I kiss her when I don’t kiss anyone.
I lost the first round, but I am not going to lose the fight.
“Just go home,” I grit, rubbing my face with my hands.
How could I be so dumb?
She stands and violently yanks her bag from my floor. Tears begin to well up in her eyes, but she doesn’t let them fall.
She turns to leave, rushing quickly out the door. The back of a red Legacy hoodie is the last thing I see before she slams it shut.
I feel my chest tighten when I realize it’s Carson’s number on the back.
Not mine.