Lost in You (26 page)

Dylan is a statue in her car. The usually peppiness is missing. I open the door, she looks at me and we both gasp. Her fac
e is tear-streaked black from her make-up. I can’t imagine what I look like. I get in and barely have the door shut before she’s speeding down the road. We don’t talk. The radio doesn’t play. The tension between us is thick. I can feel it radiating off her. She’s been so vocal about Hadley hurting me that she knew this day was going to come. I just didn’t listen. And I’m not ready to accept that we’re done. I know Hadley did what she had to, to get us out of trouble. I only wish she asked me first.

I pull o
ut my iPhone and text Hadley, watching the screen while I wait for the message to say it has been delivered or read. But it doesn’t change. I try again and again. The same result each time. I hate doing this in front of Dylan, but I have no choice. I press Hadley’s name. I need to talk to her. I don’t care what that ridiculous piece of paper said. I’d gladly spend the night in jail if it gives me the answers that I need.

Nothing happens with the call. I try again, nothing. I tap the phone to my head, think
ing. Why isn’t my phone working? I shake it and try calling her, nothing. I hit it against my hand, nothing.

Dylan pulls over, but doesn’t shut off the engine. She stares out the window at the open space. Wheat fields are all you can see. If you look long
enough, stare hard enough, the sky touches the never-ending fields. It’s a cool illusion when you’re a kid and you’re out here looking. But looking at it now makes me want to run until I can reach the edge where the two connect and hope there’s something better for me out there.

“My dad knows his officer hit you. So does my mom. He’s pissed. You know he doesn’t condone violence at the station. She’s upset, angry. They fought and when your mom called she threw the phone at my dad. I don’t know anything else
except that Hadley’s gone.”

“Yeah,” I say, for lack of anything better to add. I’m not sure how to respond or if there’s even a right thing to say.

“You’re coming back to my house. My dad will apologize and take care of things at the station. I know you made the first move or whatever, but that doesn’t give Daniels the right to hurt you like that. He knows better and for him to hit you…” she trails off, wiping more tears from her cheeks. “Anyway, Mom says you're staying with us.”

Dylan puts her car in driv
e and turns back onto the road, heading toward her house. I never expected I’d be staying with her, or that her mom would react the way she did, but to say I’m thankful would be an understatement. Maybe I can leave when I’m eighteen as planned. Take what money I have saved and buy a bus ticket out of here. That was my plan until I met Hadley and now everything has changed.

Mrs. Ross is standing at the door when we walk in. She takes me in her arms, enveloping me the way a mom should. Dylan joins us and they
cry. I don’t understand why they’re both crying. I’m not, but I should be. Maybe this hasn’t sunk in yet, or I need to be away from people. I can feel the ache in my heart getting stronger and know it’s just a matter of time before everything explodes. When she releases us, she pats down my hair, avoiding eye contact. I know she’s staring at my lip. She looks up and smiles as she cups my cheeks.

“Come you two, I made brownies.”

Dylan pushes my shoulder to get my feet moving. The smell of freshly baked brownies makes my stomach growl. I realize I haven’t eaten since the night before, not that I know what time it is now, but I’m starving. We sit across from each other, each with our own plate and a glass of milk. I devour mine, while she picks at hers. I snatch one off her plate before she can slap my hand and stuff it in my mouth. This is the only time I get sweets like this; my mom would never dream of baking anything.

Mr. Ross comes in and sits down across from me. Dylan rolls her eyes at him. She gets up
and moves to the sink, taking her coveted brownies with her. Mrs. Ross joins us, choosing to sit down next to me. Mr. Ross clears his throat and lays his hands on the table.

“Officer Daniels was a bit out of line when he punched you. I’ve always treated y
ou as if you were my own and I expect my department to do the same. Today they treated you like every other teenager we deal with when it probably wasn’t necessary. We should’ve re-evaluated and listened to what you were telling us. I’m sorry, Ryan.”

“Okay
.” I say, not sure how to respond. I’ve never had an adult apologize to me before, but I’ve also never had an adult hit me either. Today was a whole slew of firsts for me. “Thank you,” I add for good measure.

“What happened to your neck?” he asks. My hand
instantly goes to my neck and rubs it. My skin is raw and hurts to touch. I pull my hand away and shake my head. “What about your chin?” I look down at my empty brownie plate to avoid answering.

His chair scrapes the floor and before I know it, he’s on the
side of me. He bends and kisses Mrs. Ross on the cheek and sets his hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me, I can figure it out by the look on your face. You’ll stay in the guest bedroom until you’re ready to go home.” He pats my shoulder one more time before walking away. I jump slightly when the front door slams shut.

“You know where everything is,” Mrs. Ross says as she gets up, but not before placing a kiss on my cheek. The way she treats me makes me realize how inept my mother is with her fe
elings, but then again, she did call Dylan and ask her to come pick me up, so maybe there is some hope.

The bed is a welcome comfort, much softer than the one I have at home. I helped paint this room last summer. Dylan calls it bleached green; her mom calls it sage.

I lean back, rolling over on my side to look out the window. The dark sky is settling in even though it’s not yet dinnertime. It’s only going to continue to get dark this early. I hate winter. The cold, dark nights leave so much to be desired.
Thoughts of the last few days replay in my mind as I focus on the swaying tree outside the window. The pictures of Hadley, the way she told me she loved me, the car. It all seems like a blur, like a dream really. I close my eyes and wish that when I open them I’d be holding her, her skin pressed against me, my lips finding hers in the dark. I want to be back in the car, holding her and not saying no, not holding back from what we both wanted so desperately.

I
pull out my phone and try Hadley again. My text sits there, not delivering, staring back at me. Her picture mocks me; she’s smiling, but I’m not. I don’t want to believe that I can’t reach her, that we can’t at least text. I don’t want to believe that she’s made it impossible for us to talk. Why would she do that? I close my eyes and fight the tears. I will not cry. I won’t. I’m not an emotional person and I’m definitely not starting now. I guess that’s a trait I’ve learned from my parents. No emotion so people don’t think any less of you.

I roll over and scream into the pillow, my fist pounding into the bed. I’m trying to be quiet, but know they can hear me. Why did she leave me? Tears stream down my face. I wipe them away angrily, unable to stop their flow
. I’m not supposed to cry. Guys don’t cry. Yet here I am, crying like a damn baby because my girlfriend just dumped me.

She dumped me.

I say the words over and over in my head and don’t want to believe them. My body hurts. My hand rests on my chest, my fingers tugging at my shirt trying to ease the pain. She’s gone and there’s no saving our relationship. She left me. She left me behind after promising me so much.

I shouldn’t stay here. I should go as planned. Leave when I turn eighteen. I have enough saved
for a bus ticket. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll go to New York and look for her. Age won’t matter then. We can be together.  

The bedroom door squeaks open. I don’t have to turn around to know that it’s Dylan. She sets something on the table beside my
bed and sits down. She’s so tiny the bed doesn’t even dip.

I startle when she reaches out and touches me. Her arm wraps around my waist and she rests her body along mine. She gets as close as humanly possible. We’ve never been like this and I’m not sure h
ow I feel about it. 

“Ryan,” she whispers my name so softly it reminds me of Hadley saying my name earlier. I try to block that imagine out of my mind, but I can’t. From the sound of her name to her leaving me at the police station, I can’t shake it.

“I know you’re hurting. I know it’s not the same, but I’ve been there. I’ve been in love and it hurts like hell when you’re not ready to quit and someone else is. Things get better, I promise you. And I also promise you that whatever happened this weekend and what’s going on now, no one will ever know about it from me. I’ll keep your secrets, Ryan.”

I roll over and pull Dylan’s hand into mine, not afraid to let her see how much I’m hurting.

“You’ll be okay,” she whispers. She rests her head on my chest and holds me while my heart shatters into a million pieces.

Hadley

Waking up in my childhood bedroom isn’t anything like what you see on television. My room isn’t bubblegum pink with posters of boy bands adorning the walls. My prom queen tiara isn’t hanging from my vanity with my singing trophies. Nothing like that exists in this room. Now, this is where guests sleep. They crawl into a queen-sized bed with decorative pillows. They can watch TV on the flat screen mounted to the wall. They never know that this used to be a girl’s room.

The walls are yellow, it’s calming and inviting according to my mom. I have no problem sleeping here. In fact, I like it. It brings back memories. Sometimes I miss the safety of my parents' house. I bury myself deepe
r into the pillows. I don’t want to start the day. I don’t want to think about yesterday and what it means. I don’t want to constantly check my phone hoping he’ll call, knowing that he can’t. Maybe I shouldn’t have turned off his phone, but I had to. I’d be too tempted to contact him. The desire to hear his voice is already pounding in my head.

My parents took today off work to help me deal with Ian. I told them it wasn’t necessary, but they insisted. My dad said I’m still his baby girl and if he wants a d
ay off to watch over me, no one is going to stop him. I didn’t want to show him how much his words had affected me, so I curled up on the couch and rested my head on his leg. My mom sat at the other end holding my legs, much like they do when I’m sick.

I f
inally drag myself out of bed and into the kitchen. Dad's cooking and Mom's sitting at the bar sipping her requisite cup of coffee and reading the paper. I sit on the stool next to her and steal a piece of her toast.

“What do you want for breakfast?” Dad
smiles at me as I sit down.

I shrug. “Whatever you’re making is fine.”

He winks before turning back to the stove. Mom pushes the rest of her toast over to me as she closes the newspaper. “How’d you sleep?”

“Fine, actually. But anything is better than a ho
tel bed.”

“I don’t know why you insist on staying in a hotel when you’re in L.A. Why not just buy a place?”

“Because I don’t want to live there, Mom,” I say as I pick at the toast. My dad sets down a plate with eggs over easy, bacon and hash browns.

“What
time will Ian be here?” she asks. I look at the clock and sigh. He and Cole took the red-eye, which arrives in New York at six and that means any minute.

“They're probably on their way now unless they checked into the hotel first.”

“Well, it will be good to see Cole.”

I give my mom the stink eye. I know she loves him, but come on. She puts her hand on my wrist and gives it a squeeze.

“I’m just saying it will be nice, not that I want you guys back together.”

“Uh huh.”

I give her a kiss on her cheek and head back to my room. I dig through my old dresser for some sweats and a t-shirt. I wasn’t planning on staying the night, but as soon as Mom came home last night I realized that I needed my parents.

I quickly hop in the shower. I know Ian will be here soon.
He never misses an opportunity to rub it into my parents that he controls my everyday life. But after getting me out of that mess in Brookfield, I owe him. I have no idea how he plans to collect, but I’ll be ready. I have to be the good little girl from here on out. No more messing up.

No more falling in love.

Ian and Cole are here when I’m finally presentable. Well, as presentable as I’m going to get while lounging at my parents’. My hair is up in a messy bun, no make-up on and I’m wearing a tank top and sweatpants with flip-flops. Everyone stops talking when I walk into the kitchen. Ian looks at me and says nothing and shakes his head, but it’s Cole and the way that he looks at me that makes me smile despite how I feel about him. He’s frozen mid-bite, his mouth hanging open and spoon dripping milk back into his bowl of cereal.

Some things never change.

“Close your mouth, dear; no one likes to see what you’re eating,” Mom says to Cole, making me laugh. He closes his mouth and clears his throat. I sit down next to him, his eyes watching my every move. Creeper. Ian is across from me, a pile of papers in front of him. He picks them up, shuffling them around. Dad pulls out a chair and takes a seat, my mom following suit. I guess this is it. Time to detail how messed up I am and what I have to do to fix it.