Escape In You (16 page)

“Does it happen a lot?”

I’m relieved that she doesn’t look scared. But then, she doesn’t know the whole story yet. “You remember that game we played? At Fred’s house?”

“I’m about to find out about the arrest, aren’t I?” Her eyes are sparkling, like she thinks this is amusing.

“I beat the hell out of a guy in a bar.” My voice is soft, and I can’t meet her eyes. I don’t want to see fear or disgust there. “He…he was saying shit about my brother. Stupid shit, not even a big deal. He just wanted to get to me. Well, he did. By the time they got me off of him I’d broken his nose and three ribs and fractured his skull.”

I hear her intake of breath, but still I don’t look up. Cracking a guy’s skull is not the kind of thing normal people—even the kind of rough crowd she’s used to—have done.

“Was he okay?”

I search for disgust in her voice, but it’s not there. I let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, thank God. I dream about it all the time, what would have happened if he didn't recover. How that would feel…” I trail off, the nightmare taking over my imagination again. It takes a minute for me to realize she’s rubbing my knuckles again. “The prosecutors agreed with my lawyer that I was a messed up kid and hadn’t meant to hurt him so bad. They let me plead out. I’ve been on probation for the past two years.”

“That must have been scary, not knowing what was gonna happen.”

I blow out a harsh breath. She doesn’t need to know that, at the time, I almost hoped they’d charge me, that they’d send me away. It would have been something of a relief to prove everyone right about me, to know my parents could just write me off once and for all. And, even worse, there was a part of me that wanted to be punished for something. I’d gotten away with ruining my brother’s chance at recovery, the least I deserved was to spend some time in jail.

“Yeah, well, my dad wasn’t about to let me ruin his reputation like that. In came the fancy lawyers, and, before I knew it, the whole thing was over.”

She’s quiet for a minute. “You know, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you mention your dad.”

I roll over onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. “He’s not around much.”

“Are they…did they split up?” I can tell she’s treading lightly, not wanting to push too far.

“No. I mean, for all intents and purposes they aren’t really together. He took a transfer out of state. It’s supposed to be temporary but…I don’t know. He used to come home every weekend. Then every other. Now we don’t see him more than once every other month or so.”

“That kind of sucks,” she says, her tone heated. “That he just left you here with…her.”

There’s pure venom in her voice, and I figure she’s remembering that first night, what she’d heard my mom say. I clear my throat. “Yeah, well, I can’t really blame him. She’s usually too drunk to even know he’s back in town. I wouldn't want to come home to that either.”

“I’d want to come home to
you
,” she says, and reaches out to place her hands on the sides of my face, turning me back toward her. I can’t look at her, not right now, so I just grab her, needing to feel her arms around me. She obliges, holding my face close to her chest, just under her chin. I breathe in the scent of her, the softness of her skin, and try to calm myself. I hate thinking about my dad, hate talking about him even more. I idolized him as a kid. He was so big and strong, powerful in his designer suits, going into the city to run his empire. But on weekends that would all disappear. He’d dress in jeans and flannels and grill out back, throwing a baseball around with me and Jim until dark.

I moan a little, the memory hitting me so hard, and she squeezes me tighter.

“He must agree with her, you know? Or else he wouldn't go. He blames me, too.”

“Has he told you that?”

“He doesn’t have to.”

She makes a quiet sound of disapproval in the back of her throat and brushes hair off my forehead. It’s the kind of thing my mother would have done, once, and the tenderness of it hits me right in the gut. “Stay here tonight, okay, Zoe? I’ll drive you home early enough to check on your mom before class in the morning.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she says. “I’m right here.”

She holds me like that for a long time, running her fingers through my hair, placing soft kisses on my forehead. It’s the closest I’ve come to someone loving me in five years.

“You should tell me,” she eventually whispers. “When you get angry like that. Maybe I can help.”

I smile. “Yeah? How would you help?”

She thinks for a moment. “We could try different things. Like, I don’t know, taking a break. You could let me know when you need a time-out, and I can make sure you have a quiet, safe place to be.”

I pull back so I can see her better. “Wow. That’s actually a really good idea.” I’d been expecting her to make a joke, maybe something sexual to make me laugh. I’m kind of blown away at her thoughtfulness.

“I meant it when I said I wanted to help.”

“You do help, Zoe,” I whisper, returning my head to her chest, hoping she can feel how much I mean it. “You help more than you could ever know.”

Chapter Fourteen

Zoe

I feel like I’m living in a bubble. Like somehow I’m insulated from the normal bullshit that gets me down. My mom is doing amazingly well, better than I’ve seen her in months. I can almost convince myself she might actually be okay, that somehow the meds have started working or the chemicals in her brain have evened themselves out. I come home from school and she’s up. I make her an early dinner and she actually eats it. It’s wonderful.

And then there’s Taylor. Part of me is terrified by what’s happening between us, but I do my best to talk that voice down. Because, really, I do not care. I don’t care how dangerous it is to get attached to him, how much potential there is to get hurt. I don’t care because he’s so amazing, and he makes me
feel
amazing. I can’t bring myself to question that or even worry about it. I just want to be with him.

As is quickly becoming the norm, he meets me on campus Friday for lunch. We share a plate of fries in the noisy food court, and I can’t help but notice the way pretty much every woman in the room is staring at him. That might piss me off, but, to be honest, I can’t blame them. Dressed in faded jeans and a blue button-up work shirt he looks every bit as good as he does in his street clothes. The grease on his forearms only adds to the effect. His hair, as ever, is a tousled mess, and there’s plenty of sexy stubble on his chin.

I almost feel bad for the staring girls. As good as I’m sure the view is from their vantage point, they have no idea what they’re missing. His eyes are where the real magic happens, the way they gleam with amusement and wicked humor, the way they deepen and intensify when he watches me eat. Sexy doesn’t even come close to describing this man.

And he’s all mine.

“Okay, what is that smile about?” Taylor asks. He leans forward so his face is inches from mine. “Please tell me what put that look on your face because it was hot.”

“Yeah?”

He leans even closer. “Oh, yeah. So hot I’m starting to think we’re misusing these lunch breaks by eating.”

I grin. “If you must know, I was thinking how lucky I am to be the only girl in here that knows what you look like naked.”

“God, Zoe,” he moans. “You cannot say stuff like that to me in public. I’m liable to ravish you on this table.”

“Eww,” I say, leaning back to break the spell. I don’t want to, but I also don’t know how much more sexual tension I can take without being able to touch him. “Food court tables are so not hot.”

“You have a point there.”

He leans back in his chair, too, watching me over the table. “So, what are we doing tonight?”

I know it’s silly to feel a little rush at the fact that he assumes we’ll be together tonight, but that doesn’t stop me from smiling. “I don’t know. Hunter was talking about going to a party, but I don’t know where.”

He eyes me somewhat warily. “I think Preston is throwing a big bash tonight.”

I scowl. I’m really not in the mood to hang out on that side of town—which I guess is kind of dumb, considering I’ve been sleeping on that side of town pretty much every night this week. But I never feel out of place in Taylor’s little apartment.

“We don’t have to go,” he says quickly. “I’m just saying that’s probably what Hunter was talking about.”

“Do you want to go?”

He makes a non-committal noise. “If Hunter and those are guys are there, it might be cool. I think Fred is planning on showing up. It might be nice to revisit the place where we first met.” He winks at me.

“God, you’re a cornball.” He only laughs, and I realize that I’m grinning at him like an idiot. I try to rearrange my face so I look less crazy. “If you want to go, I’m fine trying it.” The truth is, I’d rather not. Ellie has a date and won’t be there to protect me from bitchy girls. But we’ve only been hanging with my crew, with the addition of Fred, since we started dating. It won’t kill me to go to one of his friends’ parties.

“Cool,” he says. “I’ll come and get you at nine.”

I nod, knowing that will give me enough time to get my mom to bed.

It’s almost time for my next class, so I reluctantly say goodbye, kissing him hard on the lips before he goes.

Like I said, I sympathize with those girls who’ve been staring at him, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want them to know he’s off limits.

***

I knew it was too good to be true.

I sigh and back out of my mom’s darkened room. Even though I’d been half holding my breath, waiting for this to happen, it still struck me like a blow to find her in bed when I got home from school.

She’s been doing a lot,
I remind myself as I head back to my room to study for a while.
It’s normal for her to need more rest. It doesn’t have to mean she’s backtracking
.

Of course it’s all fine and good to say that, but it doesn’t mean I believe it.

I try to keep my mind on studying. I have a midterm next week, and I’m behind. Turns out Taylor isn’t just a distraction from the bad stuff in my life—he also makes it pretty hard to concentrate on my courses. But even here in my room, Taylor nowhere in sight, it’s hard, today, to keep my mind on economics. I can’t help but wonder what happened to send my mom back to bed. Was she tired? Overwhelmed? Did something happen when I wasn’t here to help her?

And there’s the guilt again, back in force. I should be helping her more, should be home more, should be doing more.

But I’m
tired
of it.

I’m tired of feeling like a bad person because I want to go to college. I already quit my job because it was taking me away from her too often. I put off school for three years. I plan all my Taylor time based on her sleep schedule. But none of it feels like enough, not ever.

And then, as so often happens, my fucked up mind responds to the guilt with anger. I want to get out of here, run as far as I can. I want to swill vodka until my throat burns and the worried voice in my head shuts the hell up.

I’m
so
tired of it.

So when Taylor finally shows up to get me, I check up on Mom one more time, then I get in the car determined I’m going to forget her tonight. For the most part, I’ve been drinking less since I’ve been spending so much time with Taylor. Like he said, our relationship takes the edge off. But not tonight. Tonight I’m going to do whatever it takes to make my brain turn off.

If Taylor senses something is wrong, he doesn’t mention it. As soon as we get in the house I set off in search of something harder than beer, finding it in a nearly-full fifth of vodka. I grab the bottle and head for the stairs, stopping to make sure Taylor sees where I’m going.

When my eyes find his across the kitchen, he looks a little pissed. Great. Now I’m being a shitty girlfriend too. I exhale loudly, and head down the stairs. Girlfriend. We’d never broached the subject of what we are to each other. Am I his girlfriend? Or am I still just fun for him?

I find a quiet spot on the same couch where I first met Taylor. The rec room is nearly empty, which is just fine with me. I don’t need anyone to witness me gulping vodka straight from the bottle.

The first sip hurts, like it always does, but then the fire becomes welcome. It spreads across my chest, warming me, and I smile. Just what I needed. I take another swig, feeling better already. I should talk to Taylor when he gets down here, let him know my pissy mood isn’t his fault.

But he doesn’t show up right away. In fact, I get several more long pulls into me before I see him across the room. By now the room is pretty full, and Mary has joined me on the couch. She had some big blowout with her boyfriend Kris earlier. She doesn’t seem to be in the mood to talk about it, which suits me just fine. Instead, we sit in morose silence, passing my bottle back and forth between us, getting slowly drunker. I watch Taylor enter the room and scan the faces before spotting me. Do I detect a hint of disappointment there? I wave, but he doesn’t join us.
Fine
, I think.
What the fuck ever, Jet Taylor.

Kris shows up a few minutes later, and begs Mary to come talk to him. She refuses, then jumps up from the couch to run from the room, Kris hot on her heels. “That’s what relationships get you,” I mutter.

“Zoe?”

I look up, and my heart sinks. Grace stands in front of me. “Hey,” I say.

Her gaze firmly on my face, she takes Mary’s seat. “How are you?”

I look away, wishing Taylor would come over. I don’t want to deal with this right now.

“I’ve called you, you know. Several times.” She sounds annoyed, so I close my eyes. Maybe she’ll take the hint and leave me alone.

She doesn’t though, of course. That was never Grace’s style. Instead she reaches out and takes my wrist, her fingers tightening until it hurts.

“What the hell?” I ask, trying to jerk my hand back. Her face is close to mine, and I can tell she’s pissed, even as my vision blurs enough to make her head look like it’s swaying on her neck.