One Day Soon (17 page)

So I wouldn’t add my baggage to his overburdened shoulders. I couldn’t do that to him.

“I’m fine. Just wanted some alone time. It was getting a little loud over there,” I said with as sincere a smile as I could muster.

Yoss glanced over my shoulder towards where his friends were hanging out and nodded. “I get that.”

We both stared up into the sky—red, orange, purple, vibrant, violent colors.

“Did you ever read fairytales as a kid?” I asked him suddenly.

Yoss frowned and gave me an amused smile. His too red lips stretching uncomfortably. “Yeah, I guess so. Why?”

I shrugged. “I always liked the idea of a happily ever after. That no matter what horrible things happened to people, everything ended up exactly how it should. With the perfect kiss. The fancy wedding. The evil stepsisters being forced to work as maids in the castle.” I laughed self-consciously. “I think maybe now more than any other time in my life, I could use a fairytale ending.”

I startled at the feel of Yoss’s hand on mine. He carefully, so gently, laced our fingers together.

Palm to palm.

“Tell me a story then, Imi. I want to hear a happy ending.”

A happy ending.

What did one of those even look like?

I continued to stare into the sky and I felt something inside of me shift.

With Yoss’s hand in mine I knew something with a certainty that came with being young and crazy about a boy who was crazy about me.

My happy ending was Yoss.

Yoss’s happy ending was me.

So I gave him the story I wished we had. The one that was full of fantasy. Improbable. Unrealistic. But there was truth in it as well.

The best kind.

“Once upon a time there was a girl from a happy family. She was loved and adored and never wanted for anything. She spent her days surrounded by friends and family. She smiled all the time, never having a reason to cry.” Yoss squeezed my hand and I took a deep breath.

“One day she met a boy who was just as happy. And together they realized how wonderful life could be. He wanted to take care of her. She wanted to stay by his side.” Yoss rested his chin on top of my head, and I leaned into him.

So close.

The closest yet.

“The girl had never been to the beach.”

“Neither had the boy,” Yoss added in a whisper, his lips moving against my hair.

“They decided to run away to the shore. Where they could dip their toes in the water and walk on the sand. Because everything was always better when they were together.”

“Did they live happily ever after? On the beach? Always together?” Yoss asked, his voice breaking.

I couldn’t look up at him because I knew what I’d see.

And I wasn’t prepared to see his doubt.

“Of course they did. Always together,” I murmured, shivering as the sun disappeared.

Yoss ran his thumb along the inside of my wrist. Slowly. Carefully. “We’ll walk on the beach, Imi, and we’ll dance on the sand. Because one day soon, I promise you that all this ugly will become something beautiful.” Did he believe that? How could he given where he spent his day? Where he sometimes spent his nights? How could he afford to dream the impossible?

But I wanted to dream with him.

I had to.

“I know, Yoss. One day soon,” I agreed.

We stayed like that for a long time, neither of us moving. I wasn’t sure if it was out of fear. Or out of contentment.

Whatever it was, it kept us still.

Lost in dreams neither of us really believed would ever come true.

Present Day

“G
ood morning, you’re looking a little better this morning,” I said brightly, walking into Yoss’s room with my laptop bag and a smile on my face.

“And you’re full of shit,” he chuckled, struggling to sit up.

“Let me help you,” I said quickly, hurrying to his side.

“I’m fine. You don’t need to do anything,” Yoss snapped, freezing me with his cold, cold voice. My hands, which had been poised ready to readjust his pillows, dropped back to my sides and I took a step back.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

“Why are you here?” he asked gruffly and I wanted to scowl at him.

Just last night he had asked me to stay.

I held his hand until he had fallen asleep.

It was the happiest I could remember being in a long time.

Last night he had let down his walls long enough for me to see him. The Yoss Frazier I remembered. And I had missed him—missed
us—
so much.

Apparently a good night’s sleep resurrected his need to keep me at arm’s length.

He was about to become reacquainted with my stubborn side.

“I’m your caseworker, remember?” I reminded him, sitting down, hands on top of my bag.

“And what does my caseworker need to grill me about today? I would have thought I gave you enough of my depressing story yesterday,” he remarked shortly, scratching at the healing stitches on his arm.

“I spoke with Dr. Howell, he said the results of your liver function test should be ready by this afternoon. Then you will know your options for treatment,” I told him.

“Yeah. Treatment,” he responded dully.

“I’ve also made some calls and there are a couple of beds open at the Salvation Army—”

“I’m not staying in a shelter, Imogen,” he interrupted.

“You have nowhere to go,” I argued.

“I’ll find somewhere. I always do. But I won’t go to the Salvation Army,” he said emphatically.

“I think you’re being unreasonable, Yoss. You can be safe there—”

“I was stabbed in the leg and the back of the hand at the Salvation Army a few years ago. All because some meth head wanted my bag of Doritos. I think you overestimate the safety there,” he remarked harshly.

That explained the scar on his hand that I had noticed yesterday.

“Oh. I had no idea—”

“It’s okay, Imi. You didn’t know,” Yoss said, his face smoothing out. Green eyes less frigid.

I had always done my job well. I knew how to be supportive, understanding. But I was having a hard time calling up those qualities that had served me so well in the past.

I wanted to help Yoss, but it was hard when our history smacked me in the face every time I saw him.

“Maybe we should talk about making a plan—”

Yoss snorted and I raised an eyebrow. “I seem to remember being the one to tell you the same thing a long time ago,” he mused and I couldn’t help but smile.

“You told me to figure out a plan. You made me promise.”

“I’m glad you kept it,” he said.

“I like to keep my promises,” I replied sharply. I hadn’t meant to sound so accusatory, but it seemed old bitterness found its way into our conversation, no matter how I tried to keep it out.

Yoss’s eyes went frosty again and I berated myself for ruining our moment of ease.

“So your plan,” I began, pulling out the blank service agreement. Yet more paperwork I needed to fill out. More paperwork that I was thankful I could fall back on when things became completely awkward. “We can talk about steps to get you your own place maybe since you’re so adverse to a shelter.”

“I had an apartment,” he stated, changing the subject.

I glanced up from the paper in my lap. “You did? When?” I didn’t mean to sound so surprised.

Yoss’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “About five years ago I moved into a little place above the bakery and coffee shop on Vine. Do you remember it?” He was challenging me.

I held my chin up a little higher. “Yes, of course I do.” I was very familiar with the dumpsters behind it specifically.

“I even had a job. It wasn’t much. I was a handyman for the apartment complex on the south side of town. I lived there for almost three years.”

“That sounds great.” I was happy to hear that at least, for a time, Yoss had been doing okay.

“Yeah, it was for a while. But then I was laid off. The apartment complex hired a new manager and he didn’t need two full-time maintenance men, so I got the ax. I was going to try to find something else but then my grandma died…” he drifted off into silence and I knew he was battling with some heavy emotions.

“I’m so sorry, Yoss. She was a great lady,” I said, meaning every word. I knew how much he loved his grandmother. How much that would have destroyed him.

“It got shitty again after that. I was evicted from my apartment. I didn’t have anywhere to stay,” he said on a sigh.

“Where did you go after that?”

“Here and there. I stayed back in The Pit for a while. Though it’s hardly habitable anymore. Not after the fire.” He glanced at me and I had to look back down at my paperwork.

Memories…lots of them made it hard to breathe.

“There were many nights I spent sleeping in the woods. Shelters, when things were really rough, but after the stabbing thing, I wouldn’t go back there. Then I met Perry and Gail. Perry had just gotten out of jail for drug possession. He’s a Gulf War Vet with some serious PTSD. Lost his job and like the rest of us, had nowhere to go. No one that gave a shit. Except for Gail. She’s an addict though. One of the worst I’ve seen. She would hang out by the river to make money and that’s where I met her. They’re good people. Fucked up people, but decent folk. They offered to let me stay with them at the house by The Pavilion. At least it was dry and somewhat warm.”

“What were you doing during the years before you moved to your apartment? Where did you go? Where did you sleep?” Yoss seemed to be in a talkative mood and I wanted to find out as much as I could.

“Around,” Yoss answered dismissively, which irked me.

“Around? What does that mean? Were you still in Lupton?” I demanded.

“I left town for a little while. Not long. Just a month or so.”

“Where did you go?”

“Nowhere important. I stayed for a while after you—” He cut off quickly. “I left but then realized I needed to come back. That life was way worse away from here. I stayed at The Pit some of the time. I met some people and slept on couches, that sort of thing.”

“Why did you need to come back?” I pestered.

“Just did,” he evaded.

Then I went for it. I plunged right into the topic that we were both dancing around.

“Why didn’t you come looking for me?” I asked and instantly wished I could take it back. This wasn’t about me after all. This wasn’t about
my
pain.
My
betrayal.

But our feelings had always become tangled up in each other. It was hard to separate one from the other.

Yoss’s eyes found mine again and I felt it.

The connection.

The slow, steady thumping of his heartbeat. And mine.

“Why?” I asked again, a little more insistent this time.

Yoss opened his mouth. Then closed it again.

He appeared conflicted.

“Mr. Frazier, it’s nice to see you a bit more animated,” Dr. Howell said, breaking the spell, ruining the moment. I sagged back in my seat, unfairly annoyed with the doctor for intruding.

Dr. Howell glanced at me, realizing I was there. “Imogen, hello. I’m sorry to interrupt, but I have the results of the liver function test. It’s good you’re here, so we won’t have to debrief later.” Smiles. Lots of them. They were all fake.

I had worked with Dr. Howell long enough to know how to read him. And I knew his news wasn’t good.

My guts twisted up as I waited for the anvil to drop.

Yoss scratched nervously at his stitches again. He seemed to pick up on the doctor’s vibe as well. He looked at me. Then away. Then at me again. I tried to send silent encouragement his way, but I wasn’t sure he received it.

For the first time since I had found him in this hospital room he looked scared.

Dr. Howell opened Yoss’s chart, his brow furrowed.

“Your hepatitis B is chronic, meaning given your high virus levels, you contracted the illness some time ago. It could have been years. Which unfortunately means that it has affected your liver.”