40. Liam
Chapter 40
Liam
I climb in through Sky’s window with ease.
Years of practicing escaping from my window at the house in Rose Hill, and then even more of sneaking in this way, has made the journey muscle memory. I could probably do it blindfolded.
Lightning flashes behind me, illuminating the room. The empty bed with its covers thrown back.
And Skylar, curled in a ball in the corner.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” I rush to her and drop to my knees. “Sky, look at me.”
She lifts her head just as thunder booms so loud it shakes the house, and her eyes squeeze tight.
I can’t hate her for her fear.
Even if I want to.
She’s clearly not moving. Another flash of lighting confirms it.
With a grimace, I pick her up. She stays rigid, even when I drop her on the bed. I toe off my shoes and shed my wet sweatshirt and jeans. I climb in behind her, then pull the blankets up over us. I wrap myself around her, sighing noisily so she can focus on some other sound besides the relentless rain and rumbling thunder.
I rub her arm briskly, trying to get some warmth back into her chilled skin. Who knows how long she’s been on the floor?
“You don’t have to be here,” she finally says on a shaky exhale.
“I know.”
“I hate this so much.”
We haven’t done this in a long time. Not since her parents warned me to stay away. When I was deemed the problem by her therapist and everyone else in her life.
But we haven’t had a storm this bad, either.
I know that’s not what she’s referring to. It’s her bone-deep fear that freezes her muscles and her brain. She hates it more than I do, and I loathe it.
“What am I going to do when I’m alone in a dorm room next year?” she whispers. “Or when I’m an adult trying to live my life? I can’t?—”
Her chest heaves. She covers her mouth with her palm, smothering the sound of her sob.
I push her hair out of the way and kiss the shell of her ear. She smells like sugar, and I fight not to take another, deeper inhale.
“As soon as you’re out of Stone Ridge, it’ll be better.”
As soon as she can leave these wretched, haunted memories behind, she’ll be better. The trauma sticks with her because she’s still here. Living in the same house. Going to the same school, with the same friends.
Change will be good for her. And I want to know where she’s going, but I can’t.
Won’t.
She doesn’t answer me. She rolls in my arms and buries her face in my chest. The thunder makes her flinch, and I hold onto her as if I can keep her head above water.
This is it.
This is all I can take from her.
And all she can get from me.
Outside of this room, I’m useless. My future will be mundane. If I can get a full-ride scholarship, I have a chance at college. But if not, I’ll be joining my parents in the workforce, doing some stupid job I hate.
And while Skylar moves on, I’ll be stuck in the mud.
So I just lie here and soak up her body heat, making the occasional shushing noise when her trembling gets too bad. She eventually relaxes into me, her lips parting as she falls asleep. The rain beats down on her window. I wish it was a soothing sound for her, not a scary one.
I close my eyes, too. I don’t let myself fall asleep. It’s selfish of me to want to hold onto as much of this as I can. Tonight is an indulgence, pure and simple.
The storm stops before dawn. I slowly extract myself. I brush her hair back and kiss her forehead. The furrows between her brows are gone, her expression free of stress or fear.
Outside of these four walls, we’re strangers.
We were once best friends, and now I’m not supposed to know her at all. It’s her parents’ wish, after all.
I climb out her window and land in the soft, wet grass, where her father waits. He’s got salt-and-pepper hair, a weathered look to his tanned skin, and eyes the same shade of blue as Skylar. His hands are in his pockets, and a familiar scowl twists his face.
“Thought you kicked this habit,” he says. “Didn’t we warn you against it?”
I lift my chin. I will not feel the same guilt they made me feel before. Guilt for being her person . The one she cried out for in the middle of the night when her parents were right there. It probably made them feel like shit, knowing they weren’t the ones she wanted.
“I knew she’d need me last night. It’s about her, not me.” I stare him down, then raise my hands in surrender. “Won’t happen again, Mr. Buckley.”
He nods and exhales. His breath creates a cloud in front of his face. “Well, she’ll be gone soon enough. And you…”
Will still be here .
Right.
Destined to be abso-fucking-lutely nothing.