EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE (6 page)

“Okay. Fine. I’m sure being a single parent is difficult. Maybe it would help to talk to a professional.”

“A shrink?” Rachel dropped her hands to her jeans-clad thighs and gave a brittle laugh. “You were in therapy how many years? Did it help you any?”

Okay, one for Rachel. “At the time, no. But lately I’ve been thinking about some of the things Dr. Baxter said. About facing my past, my fears. And I think maybe she was right.”

“Yes, well, I’m not about to sit across from some man or woman, who thinks they know me better than I know myself, and tell them all my sins.” Her blue eyes turned cold. “It’s none of their damn business.” She jabbed a finger at her own chest. “I answer to me, no one else.”

Hollin released a heavy sigh. She would never convince Rachel to speak to someone, and at the moment was too tired to try. Maybe now that Hollin had decided to stay in Whisper Lake, she and her sister would become close again. Maybe then she could help Rachel face her own fears. In the meantime, she needed her sister.

“Rachel, what would you say if I told you I thought Griffin Wells was innocent?”

Rachel’s eyes grew wide and she zoomed in on Hollin. “What did you say?”

“I said--”

“I heard you,” Rachel said impatiently, getting to her feet. “Why? What happened to make you change your mind? Did you remember something about . . . that night?” She flopped down on the end of the bed, the mattress bouncing with her weight. “Tell me what happened!”

Hollin almost wished she hadn’t brought it up, but it was too late to turn back now. “I saw Griffin today.”

“You what?” She brought a hand to her mouth, then slapped it against her thigh. “Would you please tell me? Did you talk to him? What did he say? Was he angry? Where were you?”

“I was at the old trailer.” A strange wave of guilt washed through her with the confession, but she had no idea why.

“Why would you want to go back there?”

“I don’t know,” Hollin said, averting her gaze. She focused on a loose thread on the comforter, idly picking at it with her finger. “I thought maybe I’d find some closure in what had happened.”

“Closure!” Rachel’s piercing voice ripped through Hollin’s ear drum. “Closure!” Rachel screamed again. “Are you crazy?”

Hollin slowly lifted her gaze and kept it glued on her sister. “I don’t think he’s going to hurt me.”

Rachel threw her head back and laughed, but when she lowered her head Hollin saw the unshed tears in her eyes. “No, he’s not going to hurt you. Unless he decides to get even.”

Her spine stiffened, and her pulse spun wildly. “Rachel, what are you talking about?”

Rachel pinned her with a gaze. “Nothing. Just stay away from Griffin. Don’t talk to him, don’t even look at him, if you happen to see him again.” She slid off the bed and flicked her hair from her shoulders. “I’ll take care of everything.” She headed for the door.

“Rachel, wait!” Hollin threw back the covers and was about to get to her feet when her sister spun around.

“Hollin, I’m your big sister. I didn’t take very good care of you back then, the same way I haven’t been taking care of Chelsea.” She sniffed. “But I promise you I’m going to make it all better. You’ll see.”

Rachel’s sudden and strange surge of affection frightened her. “What are you going to do?”

“Something I should have done a long time ago. I’m going to make sure that monster never hurts you again.”

“No. Rachel, listen to me,” Hollin said, swinging her feet over the bed, her bare feet touching the cool hardwood floor. “I believe him.”

“Who?” Rachel looked at her, clearly confused.

“Griffin. I know it’s crazy, but I don’t think he was the one who raped me. And yet, I’m still terrified of him.” She wrapped her arms around her middle.

Fear, stark and wild, glittered in Rachel’s eyes. “You have more to fear than Griffin Wells, little sister.”

Hollin dropped her arms to her sides and stared at Rachel in shock. “What are you saying?”

She raised her chin. “I need you to promise me something.”

“What?”

“Promise me, that if anything happens to me, you’ll take care of Chelsea.”

Hollin reached out to touch Rachel, but she jerked her arm away. “Stop it, Rachel. You’re scaring me.”

She opened the door, her face twisting into an ugly mask of rage. “Promise me, dammit!”

“I promise,” Hollin said, “but--.” She ran after her sister, following her to the stairs. She grabbed at Rachel’s sweater, but missed. “Rachel, please don’t go. Let’s talk.” But it was too late. Her sister was gone, the sound of her footsteps disappearing down the stairs and out the front door.

The past

Hollin idolized her seventeen-year-old sister. Rachel taught her how to dress, how to apply her makeup so she didn’t look like a clown, how to talk sophisticated so the older boys wouldn’t think she was just Rachel’s kid sister, and how to flirt.

The last thing, however, seemed to be giving her some trouble. Hollin was the type of girl who spoke her mind, didn’t like game playing or phonies. She’d never told Rachel this, but sometimes when she’d see her sister flirting with boys, it made her ashamed of her.

Rachel was pretty. She didn’t need to flirt to get a guy to pay attention to her. Whenever she was in a room full of boys, they flocked around her, like flies to honey.

“Sit still, Hollin,” Rachel scolded her. “I can’t paint your toes if you’re going to keep wiggling around like that.”

Hollin was perched on the toilet lid, while Rachel sat on the bathroom floor, working her magic.

“If you’d just let me wear my sneakers, you wouldn’t have to paint my toenails. No one would even see them.”

Rachel looked up impatiently, meeting her sister’s gaze. “You’re missing the whole point. Guys like to see girls in sandals, not sneakers. And red toenails are very sexy.”

A few moments later, Rachel screwed the cap onto the red polish and stood. “There. Now don’t move for ten minutes.”

“Where are we going, anyway?”

Rachel looked in the mirror, checking her teeth. “I’m going to meet Randy, and you’re going to keep Griffin Wells company while we . . . talk.” She picked up a silver tube and applied a fresh coat of red lipstick, then teased her hair and scrunched it.

Hollin watched as her sister dipped her hands into the cups of her bra, lifting her breasts to show more cleavage in the low-cut, ivory-colored blouse.

She didn’t like Rachel’s latest boyfriend, Randy Swartz. He reminded her of a rhinoceros. Big, bulky, thick and mean. She didn’t like the way he talked to Rachel either. Always ordering her around. Telling her what time he was picking her up, instead of asking her what time she could be ready.

And she’d never seen a smile in his eyes. He laughed, yes, but the smile never reached his eyes. He was a phony.

“You really like him, don’t you?”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “What do you think? He’s the most popular boy in the whole school, and he’s captain of the football team.”

Just because he was captain of the football team didn’t mean Hollin had to like him or respect him. Besides, she’d heard from her best friend Cindy Kaufmann that Randy used steroids. Cindy’s older brother Tim had told her so. And Tim should know. He was not just on the football team, he was also one of Randy’s buddies.

“Do you think those rumors are true? That he’s using steroids?”

Rachel shrugged. “Who cares?” She backed away from the mirror. “You can stand up now, but be careful getting dressed.”

Hollin walked out of the bathroom on her heels, careful not to destroy the new paint job. Rachel had already laid her clothes out on the bed for her. Hollin frowned at last year’s jeans, the ones she knew would be skin tight on her butt, and the turquoise, V-neck T-shirt that was cut much lower than the ones she preferred.

Before she could voice her protests, Rachel said, “Trust me on the jeans. And the T-shirt matches your eyes perfectly.”

She wasn’t sure about keeping Griffin Wells company. What would she say to him? She’d never had a conversation with him before. He was nineteen, had dropped out of school when he was a junior. Her girlfriends thought of him as a “bad boy.” Parents considered him “trouble.”

She didn’t know much more than that about him. Although she had seen him in town a few times, riding his motorcycle. And then there was the time he’d waited on her at the hardware store when she’d gone in to buy a combination lock for her school locker.

He’d stared at her with those black eyes, without saying anything except “That’ll be six dollars and thirty-six cents” and “Have a nice day.” But the way he’d looked at her had made her feel all grown up and womanly. And when he’d handed her the sack with the lock and his hand brushed hers, a tiny thrill had shot through her arm and latched onto her heart.

She knew it was silly to even hope the guy would notice her. She and Griffin had nothing in common. He was four years older than her. Probably had a girlfriend, too, for all she knew.

She had no business going with Rachel today, but she’d never been good at arguing with her older sister about anything. Rachel always got her way. Sighing in resignation, Hollin poured herself into the faded jeans, sucked in a huge breath to snap them, then drew the shirt over her head.

“I feel like a sausage,” she complained, barely able to move, let alone breathe.

“You look older. Eighteen maybe. Or you will once I do your makeup and hair.”

“Really?” Hollin’s wall of protests began to crumble.

A half hour later they were ready to roll. Rachel bounced down the steps, her blond hair swinging from shoulder to shoulder. Hollin followed stiffly behind her.

“Hold it!” Josephine came around the corner, hands on her ample hips. “Where are you off to, young lady? You’re grounded, remember?”

Rachel threw her bottom lip out. “I promised Hollin I’d take her for an ice cream in my new car.”

Josephine’s gaze shot to Hollin, gave her a disapproving once over and then turned back to Rachel. Her gray eyes softened. “Well, I suppose you can’t get into too much trouble with your little sister along. But don’t spoil your dinner. I’m making chicken pot pies.”

“Brad’s favorite,” Hollin said, feeling guilty that Rachel had lied. “He’ll be disappointed he missed it.” Her stepbrother had just left for school a few days ago to start his freshman year at Pitt.

“Well, we won’t tell him, Josephine,” Rachel said.

The housekeeper laughed and swatted Rachel on the behind. “Yes, you will. You’ve always been a little troublemaker. Go on now, go get your ice cream. And wear your seatbelts.”

Hollin had begged Rachel to put the top down. But after several complaints that her hair would be a mess by the time they got to the trailer, she’d finally complied.

The sun felt good against Hollin’s face and breathing in the fresh air calmed her nerves a little. She was anxious about seeing Griffin. Worried about what she would talk to him about. She could hear it now.

The weather? “It’s certainly hot out.” “Yes, it is.”

Sports? “Did you hear the Steelers won last week?” “Yes, I saw the game on TV.”

No, she had to think of something more interesting than sports or the weather. School? No, it might sound as if she was putting him down because he’d dropped out. Then again, maybe he didn’t give a hoot about being educated or about what people thought of him.

Before she had a chance to think of more subjects, Rachel had cut the engine and was getting out of the car. She shook her hair, styling it with her fingers, and Hollin did the same, assuming her sister knew best.

She took in her surroundings quickly, noticing the trailer that sat on the unmowed lot, the overgrown shrubs and bushes in front of it, and the tire swing hanging from the old oak tree. She ran after Rachel. “Wait for me.”

Rachel opened the trailer door and it swung inward. Staying closely behind her, Hollin followed her up the rickety, old steps and walked inside.

Randy and Griffin sat at the kitchen table, each with a can of beer in front of them. Griffin was smoking, but took one last puff of his half-smoked cigarette and tamped it out in the overflowing ashtray.

In the near distance a television blared. Some cop show from the sound of the sirens. The place smelled of smoke and stench. Josephine would be appalled.

“Wanna beer?” Randy said by way of greeting Rachel. He scratched his crew cut, lifted his can, took a swig, then passed it to her.

“How about you, Gumby?” he asked, running his gaze along Hollin’s body.

Warning spasms of alarm twitched within her. “No, thanks.”

Randy stood then, draped an arm over Rachel’s shoulder and kissed her. Right in front of her and Griffin. Embarrassed, Hollin turned her head to look at the small living room. There was a blanket-covered sofa, a floral recliner, and a floor lamp. In the corner was the cause of all the commotion. A noisy console TV.

When she heard Rachel giggle at something Randy had whispered, she turned her attention back to them.

“Why don’t you get lost for an hour,” Randy said to Hollin.

His caustic tone made her flush in shame, and rather than ask Rachel to take her home, when she knew her sister wouldn’t, she flew out the door and stood in the middle of the yard. She was fuming. She couldn’t believer her sister could be so attracted to that pig.

She heard, rather than saw, Griffin Wells come up behind her. He was standing much too close. Close enough for her to smell the beer and smoke on his breath.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice thick and husky.

She swallowed back the hurt. She didn’t want him to stand by her, which is why she moved away a few feet. He followed. She hated Randy Swartz, and she suddenly hated Griffin Wells. Randy was a jerk, and Griffin was nothing but a high school drop-out who lived in squalor.

Hollin blinked back unshed tears, refusing to turn around and face him. Rachel had said she looked eighteen, but right now she didn’t feel eighteen, nor did she feel like the fifteen-year-old she was. She felt more like a tiny child.

“If you want me to kick them out, I will,” he said, and Hollin pivoted around slowly to stare at him.

“You’d do that?”

“If that’s what you want. Just say the word.”

She looked past him, at the trailer, then shook her head slightly. “Rachel would be mad at me. And Randy would probably be mad at you.”

“I don’t give a shit what Randy thinks. He’s an asshole.”

Hollin tried to suppress her smile, but couldn’t. “You’re right. He is an asshole.” It was the first time she’d sworn, but it was well deserved. “If only I could convince my sister.”

They stood staring at each other for a moment, then Hollin broke the ice. “Why did you drop out of school?” She didn’t know what made her ask him something like that, but he didn’t look offended, or even shocked that she’d asked.

“I need to eat, pay rent. Can’t go to school all day
and
work enough hours to keep a roof over my head.” He shrugged. “Mr. Whitaker had a full time opening at the hardware store, and I took it.”

“But what about college? Did you plan to go?”

“Hadn’t thought about it much.”

She clasped her hands together. “I’m sorry, it’s really none of my business.”

“Don’t apologize for being real. Honest.”

She smiled sadly, and he returned her smile. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. He was tall, lean, muscular, his jeans hanging dangerously low on his hips where his black T-shirt barely met the waistband. His arms were covered with crisp, dark hair all the way to his wrists.

His face was tan, rugged, and he had one tooth that was slightly crooked, giving him a boyish look when he smiled. A cowlick poked at weird angles from his dark hair, the wind ruffling it when it blew.

While she was checking him out, he seemed to be assessing her at the same time. Feeling uneasy with his scrutiny, she walked over to the tire swing and tried to climb in. It was a challenge with her jeans so tight, but she finally managed to stick her legs through the hole. She pushed off with her sandals, losing one in the process. But she kept going, picking up a little momentum.

Griffin continued to keep his gaze on her, resting his booted foot on a huge rock near where he’d parked his motorcycle. “Mr. Whitaker hooked up that contraption when I was about eight years old.”

“Your boss?”

“He’s also my landlord. He used to look out for me when I was a kid. When my mom would go on a drinking binge and take off for days at a time, he and Mrs. Whitaker would bring food over, make sure I had lunch money for school. Stuff like that.”

Hollin let the swing slow, and then stop. “Why didn’t they report your mom to the authorities?”

“The Whitakers knew I’d run away if they sent me to a foster home, and then I would have ended up in some juvenile detention center. They didn’t want that, and neither did I.”

He came toward her, bent, picked her sandal off the ground, and placed it on her foot. Little tingles ran up her leg with his touch.

“Nice toenails,” he said, and Hollin couldn’t help but grin. She’d have to remember to thank Rachel later.

She tried to get free from the swing, and instead, landed on her butt in the dirt. Her breath quickened and her cheeks grew warm with embarrassment. Not to mention her behind hurt like heck.

He shook his head, smiling. “Here, let me help.” He scooped her up and carried her across the yard.

She had no choice but to wrap her arms around his neck. The hair at his nape brushed her bare arm, tickled it. His skin was warm, his scent all male.

He set her on the trunk of Rachel’s car. Then he simply stared at her as if he was mesmerized with her face.

Hollin swallowed nervously. “Rachel says when a guy stares at you like that it means he wants to kiss you.”

He raised a brow. “That’s not always true.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to kiss me?”

Griffin didn’t answer. He simply stepped between her legs and pressed his lips to hers, then gently covered her mouth. She’d never been kissed before, had no idea what to do, what to expect. And when he used his tongue to part her lips, she first moaned in protest, then decided she liked it a little. She could taste the beer and cigarettes, although she didn’t find either offensive. But just as she was getting used to his tongue inside her mouth, he pulled away.

“Christ, you have no idea how to kiss a man,” he said, sounding almost out of breath. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” she fibbed. He raised a brow again, this time in disbelief. “Okay, fifteen, but I’ll be sixteen in seven more months.”

He let out a loud harrumph sound, ran a hand through his hair and stepped back. As if she had some contagious disease. “You’re just a kid.”