Because I Love You (12 page)

“Where are you going?” Mom called, chasing after me.

“Outside. Is that okay? Or do I need to be older before I can walk around the block, too?” I stared her down, too angry to care about the tear falling from her eye.

I knew I didn’t look like either of my parents. How had I not put the pieces together? God, I was such a fool, always telling Carter and Heather to shut up when they called me the milkman’s kid. They were right all along. I was just an orphan. Abandoned for someone else to deal with. Unwanted.

Without waiting for a response, I yanked the front door open and then slammed it behind me. But as soon as the cool fall air hit my face, I decided I wasn’t just going around the block.

I was getting as far away from this place as I could.

And I walked until my feet ached. When I left, I was too upset to think about shoes, then too sad to turn around and go back. So I kept going, hands clenched and nostrils flaring, hating the parents who’d abandoned me and the parents who’d lied to me.

I found myself in the middle of town, past Donaldson Park, in the more populated area, full of restaurants and shops. I passed the Mini Mart, and my heart panged. Days had passed since I spoke to Neil. Was he worried about me when I didn’t show up at school today?

I yelped as a throbbing wave of pain shot up my leg. Stopping, I lifted my foot. My soles were raw and bloodied.
Just great
. My trek through River Springs was over.

I limped to a bench, screaming through closed lips with every step I took. I pulled my cell phone out of my pajama pocket.

Neil answered on the third ring. Lots of noise carried from his side, like he was at some sort of party. “Hey, can I call you later? I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

Owen shouted in the background.

After walking for an hour without shedding a tear, Neil’s flippant hello was all it took. I unraveled. He’d said I could call him for anything, and after he opened up and showed me a piece of his life he’d shown barely anyone else, I thought, just maybe, he’d be there for me like he said he would.

Guess not.

“Whoa, what’s wrong?” he asked.

“Never mind. I’m sorry I bothered you.”

I was about to end the call when he shouted, “No, no! Don’t hang up. I’m sorry. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

After another sob, I squeaked out, “I ran away.”

“Wait, what? Where are you?”

“By the Mini Mart.” I sniffled.

“Okay, I’m coming to get you. Stay there.”

I nodded, as if he could hear me, then hung up. Ten minutes later, he parked his truck next to the sidewalk. Neil jumped out and ran to me.

He brushed my hair out of my face and held my cheeks in his palms. “Are you all right?”

I shook my head and tried to speak. I wasn’t crying anymore, and I didn’t want to jinx it.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

Nodding, I turned over a foot.

“Why aren’t you wearing shoes? Wait, don’t tell me. An elf asked to borrow them but ran off without giving them back?”

I laughed. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Got you to smile, though, didn’t it?” He grinned, the corners of his eyes creasing.

Without thinking, I leaned forward and kissed him. Fireworks exploded on my lips, and an almost-silent whimper escaped me. Then Neil gently pushed me away, and reality smacked me across the face.
Oh crap. Idiot, idiot, idiot.
I covered my mouth, my chest constricting.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have done that—kissed you, I mean,” I rambled.

Neil smirked. “I think you’re loopy. Come on.” He snuck one arm behind my shoulders, the other under my knees, and lifted me off the bench.

I wrapped an arm around the back of his neck and clung to him as he carried me to the truck.

“I’m going to take you home, okay?” he said when he climbed into the driver’s seat.

I gripped the door handle, prepared to jump out if I needed to. “No, please. Take me to your house, or Owen’s, or anywhere. I don’t want to go home.”

Neil pressed his lips into a thin line, and then he turned in his seat, gripping the steering wheel, and stared through the windshield. His knuckles whitened. Why did he not want me to go somewhere with him?

He started the truck with a sigh. “All right. Owen’s isn’t happening. It’s a madhouse over there. But let me make sure Mom’s asleep before I bring you inside mine.” With a frown, he drove away from the Mini Mart.

chapter twelve

I leaned against the car door, staring through the window at the starry sky. Neil drove through the rest of downtown River Springs and into the forest-covered mountains where his house sat tucked away. Soft music played from the radio, and as we pulled into his hidden drive, I turned to look at him. He was still staring straight ahead, his posture rigid. He’d said his mom had a problem with alcohol the last time we were here. Was that why he’d hesitated?

When we reached the house, he shut down the engine and paused before glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. “I’ll be right back.”

He pushed the truck’s door open and half-jogged inside.

I waited in the dark truck for a good ten minutes. The trees surrounding Neil’s house blocked out almost all the starlight. My feet burned, and I adjusted my position a few times to try to get the throbbing to stop. No luck. My heart raced. What was taking him so long?

The front porch light flicked on, and I sat up straighter in my seat. Neil rushed out of the house, and I relaxed—until he opened my truck door. A flaming red handprint glowed on his cheek.

I touched his face. “Oh my God. Did your—?”

“I’m fine.” He slipped an arm behind my back and the other under my knees, just like he had when he picked me up the first time.

“Neil—”

“
I’m fine
.” He pulled me out of the truck and then kicked the door closed. With my arm around his neck, he carried me into the house, through the foyer, and up the stairs. Like the rest of the rejuvenated rooms, the second story was in good shape, its Victorian design kept intact. Neil took me to a room at the end of the hall and pushed the door open with his back.

A queen-sized bed, made of dark wood, rested under a window on the far side of the room. A navy blue comforter covered the mattress. Straight across from where we’d entered, a keyboard was positioned next to a guitar, and on the wall opposite his bed hung a poster of John Lennon. I knew Neil could sing—I’d heard him in the truck the day he took me to the zoo—but I never would’ve guessed music was his passion.

My pulse quickened as I glimpsed another piece of the real Neil. The guy who would run out into the night for a pregnant girl he once dated. The guy who took care of his mother, even though she hit him. The guy who put on a façade so people wouldn’t see the pain he went through every day. I leaned into him, my chest fluttering. Unwillingly, I was falling for him all over again.
Crap
.

Neil sat me on the bed, and I winced when my raw heels touched the fabric. “Sorry,” he said. “Make yourself at home. But, you know, don’t claim a drawer or anything.”

I rolled my eyes, then he left the room, and a light switched on farther down the hall.

A dark dresser that matched his bed was pressed against the right wall of the room. There wasn’t much on the dresser except for a trophy and a picture—a young boy with dark hair, on a boat, a fishing rod in his hand. An older man sat next to him, almost identical to the boy. My throat cramped. Neil couldn’t have been older than six or seven in the picture. Was this the last one taken of his dad before he died?

Neil returned seconds later with arms full of medical supplies and dropped them on the bed.

“I’m guessing you know what you’re doing?” I asked.

“Unfortunately. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to patch up Mom. I’d make one hell of a plastic surgeon by now.” He sat on the other end of the bed, near my feet, and crossed one leg under the other.

I frowned. He’d been taking care of people his whole life. And I was adding myself to the list. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? Plastic surgeons make really good money.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

A corner of his mouth rose as he pushed up my pant legs. He lifted my more-injured foot onto his knee, and his fingertips lingered on my ankle. My skin tingled under his touch. He swallowed, not meeting my gaze, then bent back my big toe. I yelped.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m going to have to clean your foot. You going to be okay?”

When I nodded, he drenched a cotton ball with rubbing alcohol. “You might want to grab a pillow.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“It sometimes helps if you have something to squeeze.” He shrugged, holding the cotton ball in his right hand, and grabbed a towel with his left. “Okay, this is going to hurt. I’m gonna count down from three. Ready?” When I nodded, he started his count. “Three, two—”

I clutched the pillow to my face to muffle my shriek as Neil not so gently scrubbed the bottom of my foot. I bit down hard, stifling another shout as burning pain rolled down my leg with each stroke, then finally soft fabric pressed against my sole as Neil delicately held the towel to my foot. Warmth radiated from his palm through the cloth, easing the burn the rubbing alcohol had left behind. I took the moment to breathe.

After wrapping my foot in gauze, Neil rested his fingertips on my other ankle. His light touch sent a chill up my spine, even though the foot he’d cleaned still felt like it had stepped on hot coals.

Beneath the pillow—thank God—my cheeks warmed as he lifted my other foot to wipe down any spots I’d rubbed raw from my barefoot, miles-long trek. Again, intense heat spread from the sole of my foot into my hip, and I ground my teeth to keep from shouting in pain. He repeated the action with the towel then the gauze, and then stood and gathered the medical supplies.

“Next time, remember shoes,” Neil commented before the sound of his footsteps left the room.

Uncovering my face, I leaned against the headboard and clutched the pillow to my torso as my stomach churned. This was so humiliating. I never should’ve called him.

Neil returned minutes later, carrying a glass of water and a medicine bottle in his hands. “You can take Tylenol, right?”

I nodded, and he plopped a couple pills onto my hand. Taking the cup, I swallowed the painkillers and finished off the liquid. Man, I was thirsty.

“You want more water?” he asked.

I shook my head. Neil set the cup and the medicine on his nightstand before sitting on the floor, his back against the table. With hands clasped in his lap and legs straight out in front of him, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

I wasted no time apologizing. “I’m sorry. Again. You shouldn’t keep having to come save me.”

“Just call me Sir Donaghue. Knight of the round table, slayer of dragons, saver of damsels in distress.”

“Neil.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome.”

I played with the hem of my shirt. Now was as good a time as any to bring up what happened—what I’d done—when he showed up to rescue me. “About the kiss—”

“Right. Well, on a scale of one to ten, I’d give it a seven.”

“Neil!”

He smirked. “What about it?”

I bit my lip. “It was a mistake.”

He opened his eyes and looked right into mine. “Was it?”

My breath quickened. His gaze was intense. No, I hadn’t meant to kiss him. He said I was loopy, and I was. Right?

I turned away from him. “You play guitar?”

He didn’t answer right away, and I silently begged him to respond.

“Yeah. My dad taught me.”

Looking at him, I expected to see pain on his face. But he’d closed his eyes and leaned his head against the nightstand again. I mimicked his position on the bed. Except I kept my eyes open, glancing around the room at all the pieces of Neil. The music falling off the stand behind the keyboard. A towel haphazardly tossed into a corner of the room. A dent in the wall that I guessed had been made with his fist. Was I one of the few people who’d been in here, who’d seen this side of him?

Not ready to let the conversation close up, I spoke in a quiet voice, “I always wanted to learn to play an instrument. Just never got around to it, you know?”

“I can teach you, if you want.”

A soft smile crept onto my face. I would like that. A lot. But maybe later. I had too much on my mind. I wanted to forget that I was adopted, that I was pregnant, and relax.

“I’m pretty good, you know,” he added. “You’d be learning from the best.”

A corner of my mouth twitched. “Naturally, you’d think so.”

Neil opened his eyes and smirked at me. “Hey, one day I’m going to get a business degree from Harvard and open my own studio. Just you watch.”

Wow. Talk about ambition. “Fine then,” I played along. “Prove how good you are. Play for me.”

“Right now?”

“No, I asked because I wanted to hear myself talk. Yes, right now.”

Sitting up straight, he laughed. “Wow. A witty comeback from you. That’s a first. Guess I’m gonna have to.”

After pushing himself off the floor, he grabbed his guitar and pulled the chair out from under his keyboard. He sat then stuck a pick in his mouth and thumbed one string after another while twisting the nobby-things at the top.