Chapter 4
Saint
best of you - foo fighters
Age Sixteen
Shit.
Double shit.
This car cost my dad forty grand. The concrete wall and electric gate? Probably double.
I grunt as I step out from behind the wheel, my head pounding as I wipe the back of my hand against my forehead.
When I look down, my skin is streaked in red, and I touch my palm against the stinging flesh across my forehead. Yep, that’s blood.
My unfocused gaze travels to where the smoke rises from the engine, a hiss sizzling through the rain as the front looks like it’s thought twice but got caught too late backing out of a hydraulic press.
Triple shit.
If Malcolm comes home early and sees this, I’m so spectacularly fucked.
I mean, I could take the old man on head-to-head—probably. But I definitely deserve to get my ass kicked for this one. I haven’t even had a fucking lesson yet.
He asked me to wait until he got home, but I wait for no one.
Technically I could get a permit right now, but I don’t have one, so I had no business fucking around in his automatic. Hardly think semantics is going to save me from the colossal fuck-up I’ve done here.
My head drops to my hands; the groan I release could be heard rattling through the ages.
Deciding instead to make a run for it rather than fess up, my unsteady feet run along the side of the house, through the backyard and into the forest.
I don’t stop until the familiar, grey-panelled house comes into view.
She’ll be home.
Indie’s always home when Regina and Jenna are on vacation. My inner voice scoffs to itself. As if I need a reason to try and see her.
Rex’s house is way closer to mine, but instead, I’ve run through the forest for twenty minutes with a possible concussion to hers. Those baby-blue eyes seem to make everything better, calmer.
Fuck, Saint.
No.
I should go back, call Rex and ask him to get me out of this shitshow I’ve performed. He’s the most logical answer, the only one who could actually help me.
Yet I don’t.
My sneakers thud against her porch, leading me to the door, and before I can allow another sensible thought to try and reach me, my hand’s already forming a fist, pounding on the front door.
One hand reaches for the white wooden frame, leaning against it whilst the other pinches the bridge of my nose.
Fuck, this headache’s going to take me out.
A few seconds later, the door swings open, my fuzzy gaze battling for focus, but the moment it trails up towards her angelic face, everything feels clearer.
“Saint? Oh my God. You’re bleeding? What the hell happened?” Indie all but shrieks once she notices the blood that’s now dripping down onto my grey hoodie.
I go to open my mouth, but my phone vibrates in my pocket, the ringtone making me shudder at the sound piercing through my skull. When I tug it out, the pain intensifies.
It’s Dad.
Seven missed calls alone as I ran over here, the signal being blocked as I made my getaway. Now he’s calling again, and I can feel his rage burning through the screen just staring at his name.
The call ends, and a text message dominates my screen, forcing a sigh from me.
Dad: Call me, right now.
Dad: I saw the live feed.
Dad: I’m ten minutes out. Your arse better make a U-turn.
I pocket it, glancing back up at Indie, who’s watching me like a deer caught in the headlights. “I need to hide out here,” I say, my eyes twitching at the volume of my own voice.
I miss her response, because a notification dings on my cell, showing me the motion sensor in the CCTV at home has gone off, indicating Dad’s broken the fucking world record in speeding back. “Fuck,” I mutter, backing out from her porch and running around the side of her house.
Her voice calls on me, but if Dad follows my trail, he’ll fucking manhandle me in front of her. I’ve faced men worse than him, but that doesn’t mean the old man doesn’t instil that fatherly fear into me.
And I’m not about to be shown up in front of her.
My ankle almost gives out, and I clutch the metal frame of the swing set, standing there to let the dizziness subside.
When it does, I make my way to the willow tree. We used to treat this thing like a jungle gym when we were younger, and it was the first place I retreated to when my dad forced me to make friends with all the new kids.
The friendship alliance I made with Rex bloomed within these weeping branches, along with Indie, Regina and Jenna. Other than that, it’s the perfect hiding spot.
My hands wrap around the watery bark, clambering up to get into the centre crook and ride this out until he simmers.
“Saint, what the hell are you doing?”
Before I can answer her, the motion of me turning my head causes a wave of nausea, and my grip slips as I drop ten feet, landing flat on my back.
My groan mixes in with my pathetic laugh. I think that collision in the car knocked every bit of fucking sense out of me.
“Jesus Christ!” Indie shrieks, dropping to her knees to look over me.
She’s so pretty. Like, really too fucking pretty.
She looks like she was carved by angels, so innocent and pure. Too good for a piece of shit like me, especially the way my life’s panned out.
She’d probably run for the fucking hills if she knew the things I’ve been training for, and I’m only sixteen. Imagine what I’ll be like in ten years’ time.
“I’m fine,” I mumble, forcing myself to sit, and I tilt forward a bit too much. Small, fragile hands press against my chest to stop me.
I glance up at her; that angelic face is etched in concern. “I’ll call an ambulance.”
My hand whips out, wrapping around her wrist, which engulfs it due to the size difference. “No fucking way,” I say, shaking my head, and the motion makes me feel sick.
“Saint, your head’s bleeding…you’ve also just fallen out of the God damn tree.” Her big doe-like eyes search my face, and I catch her shoulders rising as she drags in a breath. “Did you commit a crime?”
I want to laugh; technically I have, but it’s minuscule to the shit I’ve truly got buried deep within me. “Crashed my dad’s new car, and he’s about to kick my ass,” I admit, watching her eyes widen.
Just when I think she’ll lose her shit, go all Miss High and Mighty on me.
She laughs.
And it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.
“Not his new one? You’ll need to leave the country.” She brushes a strand of loose hair behind her ear, and a weird tinge of jealousy courses through me. “He was over here telling my dad just how much he’s in love with it.”
For the first time in my life, I’m fucking speechless.
There’s always been something about Indie, something I can’t put my finger on, and it keeps me fascinated with her from a distance. Right now, it’s like I truly see her.
An ache blooms in my chest, and a powerful urge courses through me to go crash my dad’s car again, just to see if it makes her laugh for me.
“I shouldn’t have come here,” I say, rising to my feet, but the moment I do I lose my balance, tripping into her. She stares up at me, clutching both my biceps, her gaze going from the red speckles, to my lips, and then my eyes.
She forces down a swallow, steeling her shoulders. “Uhm. I-I think you should come inside. You need your head looked at.”
I scoff. In more ways than one it seems.
She unclutches her fingers slowly from my arms, backing away as she turns. I follow behind her into her house, leaning my hands against the kitchen counter whilst she rummages through the cupboard.
Boxes clatter, some even falling past her as she acts like a racoon for whatever she’s looking for.
Minutes later, she’s walking over to me, watching me like she’s just let a wild animal into her house for shelter, and she isn’t really sure how it’s going to react to her kindness.
A first aid box slips from her shaky hands, and she pulls her phone out to rest on the countertop. She glances up at me through her lashes. “Sit down.”
The word is wrapped in her usual delicate voice, but I don’t know why it sounds different, a firm demand with a deceiving tremble.
I smirk, dragging a bar stool over and dropping into it. “Bossy,” I murmur, watching the corner of her lips battle to contain a smile, her eyes focused on her cell in front of her.
My heart rate picks up as I go into a trance, matching the same tempo I’d get if I started a cardio session, or if we go darker, the same way it feels when I’ve been tasked with killing a piece of shit. Exhilaration.
An American voice breaks the silence, Indie’s eyes glued to the phone as she listens attentively, subtly nodding along before rummaging through the plastic box.
When she pulls out what she needs, she looks up at me, clearing her throat. “I’m assuming you won’t go to the hospital if you’re not gonna let me call an ambulance.”
I shake my head gently. “No, you look like you’ve got all the right tools there, Nurse Kent.”
This time, my heart all but falls out my ass as she bites her lip, rolling her eyes as the softest giggle leaves her.
My chest constricts again.
“Well then, I need to clean your cut first.”
She walks over to me, wetting a cotton pad as the antiseptic liquid spills out with the tremble in her hand. I reach both mine out, steadying her hold.
Electricity sparks like a live wire up from my palms to my neck as I hold her, and it feels like neither of us is breathing, or maybe it’s just me.
I could swear the fucking world has stopped spinning.
My gaze fixates on her throat, watching her swallow as she lifts her hand. “This might sting a little.”
“It’s okay,” I answer, keeping my eyes on her as she reaches forward, touch as gentle as the brush of a butterfly’s wings, mirroring the same ones that seem to have erupted in my chest.
She glides the material down my face, eyes glancing over at mine every so often. She seems nervous, and come to think about it, she’s been acting like that for the past year.
We’ve been friends since I was thirteen, but the older we got, the more she became interesting to me. I put it down to teenage hormones, but in the last thirty minutes, I swear they’ve fucking intensified, to the point my heart feels like it won’t beat a normal rhythm again.
“I think you have a concussion.”
“Huh?” I mumble, not realising she’d moved away, discarding the blood-soaked material as she waits for my answer.
“Well, you crashed and hit your head. You ran across the lawn like someone drunk off their ass, then bumped your head from falling.” She drags in oxygen as she speeds through the sentence. “Google says you might have a concussion.”
I drag a hand through my hair. “I just banged my head. I’ll be good.”
She laughs, again.
Fuck, this girl’s doing weird shit to me with a mere laugh, and I’ve heard it a thousand times.
“You have a bruise forming on the side of your face, Saint. Answer these questions for me,” she says, walking back towards her phone, and the distance of her leaves me feeling cold.
“Do you have slurred speech?”
“No.”
She frowns. “Maybe you’d like to say a longer sentence so I can judge that?”
I wipe away the smile as I drag my hand down my mouth. “No, nurse Kent. I don’t have slurred speech.”
A subtle, but undeniable blush creeps up her cheeks, and she immediately glances back down at her phone. “Do you have a headache? If so, has it gotten worse?”
“Yes, but it’s not that bad.”
She rolls her eyes, shaking her head in exasperation.
I’d quite like to piss her off; it seems to entertain me.
“Any numbness or tingling anywhere?”
Just you causing my entire body to feel electric.
“No.”
“Feel confused?”
About whether or not I like you more than I should? Yes.
“No.”
“Says here a struggle to balance, which is a definite yes.” She glares up at me, then back to the screen. “Can you remember what happened?”
I sigh. “I crashed the car into the gate.”
That fucking smile of hers threatens to make an appearance again. “Okay, this one made me laugh. A blank expression, but you always have that.”
When she smiles up at me, it drops like a dead weight, and this time the heat in her cheeks intensifies. Burning so fucking hot I can feel it from here.
“Are you saying I’m moody looking, Indie?” I joke, but my voice drops deeper as I fight to contain my own grin looking at her.
“N-No. I didn’t mean it like—”
“I’m kidding, I know I look like an unapproachable prick. It’s my staple look.” I add a wink for good measure, and something flashes behind her eyes.
Her breath hitches, her eyes dropping from locking with mine to the phone.
“I think you should at least see a doctor. But if you’re hiding from your dad, my parents won’t be home until tomorrow, so you can…
hang out here if you like?” Her eyes widen, flashing with regret as she backtracks, “I mean, you don’t have to.
I just thought it’d be a good idea since, y’know, your dad will be mad—”
I decide to save her from drawing in her own word vomit. “Thanks, I’ll stay here for an hour before meeting my fate. If that’s good with you?”
Her voice hitches up a few decibels. “Great! I mean sure. I was watching TV if you want to join? Or not, you can do whatever you want.”
I’m mesmerised as I watch her jaw clamp shut, sealing in what was no doubt more of the ramblings that seem to happen every time she speaks to me. It’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.
I’ve never used that word in my fucking life.
Just another reason a girl like her is too good for me. She’s so fucking innocent, attractive, smart.
I’d ruin her the minute I got my dirty paws on her. She’s better as a friend rather than anything else.
I internally wince at the thought.
“What were you watching?” I ask, deciding to ignore the civil war erupting in my head.
Her voice is so soft when she speaks, so tiny and delicate, it feels like it soothes my headache. “Uhm…How the universe works?”
I’ve heard her blabbering about this before to Jenna, and it brings a smirk to my face. “Then put it back on. As long as it doesn’t bore me to fucking tears, or else you’ll lose points on your nursing card.”
The one hour I was supposed to spend here turns into three, and each one that passes delves me deeper into territory I have no fucking business being in. I don’t even have time for girls, but it seems I have every minute in the world for Indie.