The Line That Binds (15 page)

I needed something else. I didn’t need a drink; I didn’t want to cloud my thoughts, just get rid of the nerves. The punching bag downstairs was my go to answer for expelling energy when I couldn’t be outside. I’d also used it when I wasn’t permitted to ride during my jaw’s six-week recovery.

The basement had a workout area, washer and dryer, extra refrigerator, and a lot of junk boxes. Most of them contained holiday decorations from when I was a kid. I had to give Pop credit, at least he tried harder than my parents had to be kid friendly. We stopped celebrating most holidays a few years back, though. The transition wasn’t traumatizing, it was silently accepted by both of us. The burden and time consumed by decorating had gradually outweighed the joy of looking at brightly colored Easter egg cutouts or turkeys made of popsicle sticks.

Only half of the basement was clutter free. I’d cleared it out freshman year for a workout spot. An old short-framed bed was pushed against the side wall with a workout bench beside it, and my heavy bag hung in the center from the low ceiling’s support beams. A mat was underneath it to cushion the cemented floor. The only other sectioned part of the basement was behind an antique door with iron-studded hinges. It opened with a skeleton key that Pop told me once unlocked most of the house’s doors before everything was renovated. Unlike the main floor of the basement, the other section was mostly packed dirt. It was an in-between area for stuff that was too nice for the barn, yet too unwanted for the main part of the basement, like broken, bulky pieces of furniture.

The room had one other door behind a narrow concaved wall. It opened into a passageway that I could only guess led to Janine’s house. I’d braved the darkness of the underground walkway once after moving to the property. When I discovered that the door on the other side was locked, I never tried again. It was a part of the estate’s history that was no longer used so it was forgotten. I wished the curse was as easily forgotten.

My nerves were still on edge. So, after I took off my riding gear, I put on the gloves and unloaded on the heavy bag until I could no longer lift my arms.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Ugh.
My head throbbed with the beat of someone pounding on my bedroom door.

“Go away,” I mumbled from under a pillow and a comforter. I’d buried myself beneath the fluffy layers hours ago after the evil Saturday morning sun invaded my room. My head had been aching nonstop since last night. Tylenol couldn’t even disrupt the pain. Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep.

Thump. Thump.

“LJ,” Gavin said as he cracked open my door.

Why was he calling me that? He hadn’t called me LJ in years. The last time he had, we’d fought. I believe my threat to leak his secret love of role-playing games to his first-person-shooter-favoring friends was what ended his habit of using my childhood nickname. But why would he start calling me that again?

“LJ?”

“What?” I mumbled into the pillow. I didn’t want to open my eyes. I was afraid the sun would scorch them and split my head open. “Why are you calling me that?”

“Um … Because Ben called you LJ so I figured you were going by that again.”

Ben.
Oh, Ben.
“What time is it?”

“It’s noon. Hang on,” he replied then I heard him speak into the hall. “Yeah, she wasn’t up yet.”

“Gav? Is Ben here?” I whispered, moving the pillow and cracking an eye open to test the light intensity under the comforter. It was safe. No sharp or stabbing pains emerged, only the dull throbbing remained.

“Yeah, he’s coming upstairs. He seems pretty cool. Did you know he rides a dirt bike?”

“What?” I pulled the comforter down enough to peek out. “He’s coming up? What the hell, Gav?”

Gavin stood wedged in the cracked door with his hand on the knob. He was already dressed. His khaki shorts hung lower than they needed to and the brown T-shirt that he’d gotten free at some game’s release party last year was almost too small. With no plans on weekends, aside from gaming, it was his usual lazy attire.

“He’s already here,” he whispered with a grimace tinged lightly with humor. He opened the door an audible creak wider, showing me that Ben was standing behind him. He moved back and Ben leaned into the door’s opening.

“Hi,” he said, wearing a smile that should be illegal.

I cringed back under the comforter, keeping one eye exposed to the room. “Hi,” I responded. I was frozen once again with him in my room. This time I wasn’t naked in a tub, but I felt nearly as vulnerable after a restless night. Besides a legitimate fear of what I looked like, there was no way I’d get out of bed wearing a tank top and underwear with him standing there.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His words were soft through his lips. “I thought you’d be awake by now. I wanted to see how your hand was.”

His concern made me relax. He was practically in my room already, why should I hide? It only made me look childish. “It’s not bad,” I said, holding my bandaged hand up for him to see as I sat upright. The comforter folded over on my lap and I fluffed its black and tan square patterns around the sides of my ribbed tank top. I looked around the room, taking in the afternoon’s brightness. I didn’t hear movement outside on the grounds even though it was already midday.

My eyes returned to Ben. His smile had vanished. He was staring at me like he was studying me, but it wasn’t perverse or creepy. The darkness of his eyes was captivating. I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to.

“Hurry up and get dressed, LJ.” Gavin’s voice broke our unspoken connection. Once again, heat ravaged my face.

“I’m glad your hand is okay,” Ben said with a grin.

He ducked out the door and closed it behind him. I shot out of bed and dashed to the bathroom. He’d been serious about hanging out today? I thought maybe he’d asked to be nice, like the courteous brush-offs I used to give random people at my old school. I didn’t expect him to come over and get me, let alone come
into
my house and get me.

I could hear Gavin rambling about his newest game as I traveled down the stairs. When I entered the living room, he was attempting, unsuccessfully, to get comfortable on the brown leather couch. His body slid off the surface each time he resituated his position.

Ben was looking at the only bookcase in the living room. His fingers ran up and down the spines of the textured bindings, pulling them out from the shelf for a better look then returning them to their place.

Gavin sat up in his seat, giving up the battle with the slick couch. “Hey,” he said, acknowledging me. “Okay, so she’s here. Can we go check out your bikes now?” he asked Ben. It was nice to see Gavin interested in something other than his room again after having a bad week. It was also nice to see him talking to someone, even if it wasn’t me.

Ben turned and glanced at me before speaking. “Neither of you have heard any history of Stockton Estate, right?”

Gavin let out a deflated breath. “History? Dude, are you serious? It’s Saturday.”

I smirked at Ben, who smirked back before turning his eyes to Gavin. I stared at him when he looked away. He hadn’t cut his hair in the full week we’d been here, and it grew fast. The tips curled with the added length, creating short, tousled waves. The hair around his jawline was unshaved, though it was sparse enough to look clean─with a rugged twist. My eyes traveled over his whole body and got stuck on the faded Stone Sour T-shirt covering his chest. I couldn’t help but to imagine all the cut lines and smooth ripples I’d seen yesterday.

“It’s not a boring history lesson. It’s kind of cool, actually,” Ben responded.

“Then we can see the bikes?”

“Gavin, really?” I asked incredulously. I was only partly embarrassed by his enthusiasm. Mostly, I was jealous of his energy. His blue eyes were wide and excited, and mine were heavy and unfocused. I was tempted to crawl back upstairs, shove some cotton in my ears, and hibernate under the covers until dinner. But I couldn’t because I wanted this time with Ben, even if I couldn’t think straight.

“It’s okay,” Ben replied. “I definitely understand the bike attraction.” He turned toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go over to the event house before all of the chaos kicks up for tonight’s wedding reception.”

I stayed back a few feet as Gavin pushed up to walk alongside Ben. It was odd, really. Gavin was enthralled with him, like Ben was the older brother he’d secretly always wanted. It didn’t hurt my feelings; I just wanted him to be happy. He deserved to be after being ripped from our old life. Actually, it’d be nice if all of us found some happiness. It’s something that had been missing since long before my mom left. Dad’s guilt money, the placating clothes, and the perfectly popular friends were never able to fill that void. It’d been so long that I’d started believing that I’d never see joy again. Maybe one day I would.

The healthy grass rebounded effortlessly after our careless steps down the hill. People were already zipping around the grounds like motivated sales clerks working on commission. Ben led us through the main stone archway, which I hadn’t walked under since my first day of work. Beside the entrance, a white flowering vine blanketed an iron lattice and climbed over the roof. Ben informed me last week that it was Wisteria. The sweet smell from their cascading petal clusters were a gentle welcome for any event, though not pleasant for today’s achy head. I plugged my nose and walked quickly past.

Ben held the door open for me as Gavin moved around to his other side, waiting as patiently as possible. “Are you okay?” Ben’s voice was tranquil. It didn’t irritate the pain thudding inside my head.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just a headache.” I downplayed the rising pressure contained inside my skull. What he saw yesterday was humiliating enough. He probably already thought I was a typical spoiled rich girl. I didn’t want him thinking I played on sympathy, too.

“You sure?” he asked, releasing the door to a slim man dressed in a waiter tux who smiled at Ben when he entered then scampered toward the back of the mansion.

I nodded at him. I didn’t want to speak. My head started to spin from all of the activity within the building. I pulled my uninjured hand up to my face, squeezing my temples with my thumb and middle finger.

“Is this place always like this?” Gavin asked Ben, turning around to watch a few people carry centerpieces though the ballroom’s entryway. They slid between chairs wrapped in blue silk and placed the items on the round tables covered in white linen with blue accented settings.

I closed my eyes tight for a moment and when I opened them again I met Ben’s gaze.

His brow scrunched. “You look pale. Come on,” he said, placing a hand against the curve of my back and pushing me toward the back of the mansion.

I didn’t object. The room was moving and I barely felt my feet. I needed to sit down.

Ben’s hand remained on my lower back until we arrived in the kitchen. He slid a short swivel stool out from under a wall table for me to sit in before he walked away. I covered my face with one hand again. My temples pushed the hard beat of my pulse back against my fingertips.

Gavin leaned against the countertop beside me. He looked around at the stacked trays and plates with little interest. His eyes tracked Ben’s movements across the room to an industrial refrigerator along the opposite wall of the kitchen. “Are you okay, LJ, or is this some weird attempt at landing a boyfriend?”

“Seriously, Gav?” I shook my head in my hand. “I am about ready to pass out here and you’re trying to call me out for being some dumb Betty? Do you really think of me that way?” It hurt, almost as bad as my head.

“No, I guess not. I was just thinking about how much cooler Ben is than that dick you used to date.”

“I can’t argue with you about that,” I agreed with a sigh. His description only brought back the images of yesterday’s texts from Veronica.

“Really? It’s about time. I always thought he was a bit of a douche.”

“I’m not even sure how you were able to assess that. Whenever he came to the house you were playing games or you had Nick over. Never mind. It’s not important. Let’s just agree he’s a douche,” I said, breathing calmly and closing my eyes. My head hurt too much to think. I let my elbows sink to my knees and rested my face into my palms.

Gavin’s voice dropped some. “I knew he was a dick because he wasn’t there often enough. Ditching you for the latest party wasn’t cool.”

“I guess you were more observant than I thought. I’m glad
you
picked up on it.”

“I told you before, but you didn’t really want to listen.”

I nodded because he was right. I’d known it all along. There were only rare moments when I’d found happiness within my old friendships. Aside from time with Gavin, they were the only experiences that counted. And even though they were rare, I feared I’d lose all happiness if I lost the relationships from where they came. So I turned my eyes away from the hurt and focused everything on those brief moments.

I wish I’d had the courage to change then, before this all happened. It wouldn’t have changed much, yet maybe it would have changed everything, better friends, fonder memories.