Run (17 page)

       “Why didn’t you tell us the truth?” Kerry leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table, the first glimmer of emotion shining in her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell us you were leaving? Sneaking out like that, making us worry, then only getting the occasional email…you treated us like shit, Ken.”

       I flinched. I had done all that. I’d stepped on my loved ones with impudence. “Would you have tried to talk me out of leaving?”

       Beth screwed up her mouth. “Maybe. Probably.”

       “And I was malleable enough I might have been talked into staying. I had to go. I needed figure out how to live outside my own head again, and I couldn’t do that here.” I idly rubbed my hand over my side. The wound was itching like crazy, which was apparently normal. “Adam threatened me,” I admitted. “I’d been thinking of leaving town for a while, hadn’t actually made any plans, and Adam cornered me that night, a few hours before I left. He said I deserved to die the way Deirdra had.”

       Beth slapped her hands on the table. “He did
what
? You can’t just drop that on us, McKenna! Did he hurt you? What if he’d tried to follow you?”

       I sighed. “He didn’t follow me. He grabbed my arm and left some bruises, but it was the intent that scared me more.”

       “You fucked up,” Kerry said, blunt as usual. “Big time. And not telling us about what happened with Adam? Take that fuck up and multiply it by ten. You should have trusted us to help you.”

       “I didn’t know how to be helped!” I thought of Trevor, his need to fix my problems, his frustration and helplessness at not knowing what to do. How it hurt him. How it hurt me. The distance between us was this sticky, heavy thing, made worse by the fact I’d broken down and texted him that morning. I missed him something fierce, and so far, he hadn’t responded. I scrubbed my hands over my face.

       Our server wandered by. “You ladies doing okay? Any refills?”

       Grateful for the distraction, I pointed to my empty glass. “I’ll take one. The IPA.”

       “Got it.” He grinned and walked over to the bar.

       The brewery was about half-full, and I took advantage of the forced lull in the conversation to look around. It hadn’t changed in the year I’d been gone. Same mix of tourists and locals. Same dark wood tables and chairs, bright sunlight streaming through the windows onto the gleaming wood floors. The place had been a favorite of mine when I’d lived here. Strange, now that I was back, to realize I hadn’t missed it all that much. I’d missed the people, and I’d missed the beer, but the place was just that—a place. Easily replaceable if the right people were there.

       “I don’t know how you could have helped me. I don’t know that you could have helped at all. You’re angry. I get that. But if you want me to say I’m sorry, I can’t, because that means I regret the last year of my life, and I don’t. I had to leave to figure out how to get better, and all I could understand while I was here was that I couldn’t move forward.”

       Beth narrowed her eyes. “
Are
you better?”

       That was an excellent question. “Sort of.”

       Kerry snorted. “Great answer.” The server came back with my beer, and I swallowed a quarter of it as Kerry asked for a glass of water. “Seriously, if you snuck out of town in the middle of the night in the name of ‘getting better’, did it work?”

       I set my glass down. “The guilt and anger aren’t as bad as they were. I’ve still got problems sleeping, still got a lot of anxiety. I don’t know when, or if, those will ever go away.”

       You don’t look like you’ve been sleeping well.” Beth’s mouth softened a bit, a line forming between her brows.

       I’d barely slept the night before, and my anger at Trevor wouldn’t allow me to share his bed the last few nights I’d stayed with him. He’d taken the couch, and I’d averaged five hours of solid sleep per night, wishing he were there to hold me. “I’m not. I was doing okay for a while.” I scraped my teeth over my lip. “I met a guy in Austin.”

       Beth and Kerry exchanged sidelong glances, then Kerry sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “You met someone.”

       I nodded. “His name’s Trevor. We fought before I left, and it’s been bugging me.”

       “Why don’t you call him?”

       I stifled a sigh. From the way she was glaring at me, I didn’t think Kerry was going to forgive me any time soon. “He doesn’t think I’m in Austin to stay, and he doesn’t want to influence my decision on where I should go.”

       “Sounds reasonable to me.” Kerry arched a brow.

       “Sounds like he’s not willing to fight for us,” I fired back. My heart cracked a little more, wishing he cared enough to do it and knowing that sitting around waiting for him would only cause me more pain.

       “Sounds like you should tell him that. Like you didn’t do with Scott.”

       “Wait, what? Scott and I broke up way before I left. It was mutual.” I frowned, unsure why Kerry was bringing up my ex.

       She blew out a breath and scraped her chair back. “I need some air,” she muttered.

       I stared after her, her blond ponytail swinging across her shoulders as she yanked open the door. “What the hell was that about?”

       “Ken.” Beth’s voice was soft, her shoulders hunched around her ears. “Scott didn’t take you leaving all that well, either.” Her hands fluttered uselessly, and she tucked them in her lap. “I don’t think he had any thoughts of trying to get back together, because he hooked up with Kerry pretty quick—”

       I held up a hand. “Okay, hold on. Kerry and Scott?” She’d broken the rule? Now I
knew
it’d be a while before she’d forgive me. Although honestly, I could care less that she was dating my ex. They’d always gotten along, and if they were happy together, that was all that mattered.

       A flush swept over her face. “Yeah. Um. She wasn’t going to tell you, but yes, they’ve been together almost a year now. Anyway. I guess Scott told her one night shortly after you left that he wished you’d talked to him more about what was going on. He felt like you shut him out.”

       Great. The familiar weight of guilt pushed on my chest, and I picked up my beer and drained it. “I’m just failing all over the place, aren’t I?”

       “Well, yeah.” Beth sounded almost cheerful. “But that’s okay. I’ll forgive you eventually. Kerry will, too. So,” she said, scooting her chair around the table. “Tell me about this Trevor.”

Chapter Eighteen

       The eyes play tricks on you when you’re tired, and they like to play extra special ones when you’re stuck in hotel rooms. The shadows kept moving, shifting around, flowing into the corners and back out again. An occasional bright, reflective spot would dance over the darkness, and I’d blink and it would disappear.

       I hadn’t slept this poorly in over a year. If I’d known returning to Bend would signal the return of my anxiety and insomnia, I would have wimped out and asked my mother to close out the storage unit she’d rented for my stuff and empty my bank account.

       Four days. Four long, dragging days of taking care of all the little details I’d left behind, driving around the city with my mother, sitting in my room at night and trying to do what Trevor said I should—decide once and for all where I was supposed to be.

       I kicked free of the blankets and rolled over to stare at the opposite wall. It wasn’t any more entertaining than the one I’d been looking at.

       Giving up on sleep, I reached for the lamp switch when there was a knock on my door. Mom was out cold; I could hear her snores through the wall. I couldn’t imagine any of my friends showing up, not after the way I’d left, and the front desk would have called, not knocked.

       My hand shook in mid-air, and I lowered it, my breathing shallow. I wanted to scramble for the bathroom and lock myself inside, but the noise I might make stopped me. As long as I held still, whoever it was on the other side of the door couldn’t know I was actually inside.

       Then my phone buzzed with a text, the vibration agonizingly loud against the fake wood of the bedside table. I snatched it up and almost dropped it again when my hand slipped around it. Holding my breath, I willed my racing heart to calm, straining to hear any hint of sound from the other side of the door.

       The phone buzzed again, and I thumbed off the lock.

       
You still awake?

       
C’mon and open the door.

       Trevor. Somehow, he was here, outside the room. I dropped the phone on the bed and slid out, padding over to the door. The peephole distorted his face, but it was definitely him. I undid the locks and pulled open the door. “Hey.”

       His smile was tired and worn. “Hey, darlin’.”

       I stepped aside to let him in, and he shuffled through, a large duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He nodded to the disordered blankets. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

       “No.” My tired brain finished processing his sudden appearance. “Why are you here?”

       He dropped the bag on the floor and sat on the end of the bed, toed off his shoes. “Because this is where you are,” he said simply.

       Rather than join him on the end of the bed, I returned to my original spot, sprawled on my back and rearranging the lumpy pillow under my head. Four days, and I’d missed him more than I’d wanted to. “I thought you were giving me space.” There was no mistaking the bitterness in my voice.

       The bed shifted and squeaked as he crawled up to stretch out beside me, braced on one elbow. “I tried. Thought I was doing a damn good job of it, too, considering it’s just about killing me to think you’ll leave Austin for good.”

       I’d always laughed at those people who claimed “when you knew, you knew.” That it didn’t matter it had been mere months since they’d met, this was it. This was a lifetime discovered in an instant. I knew since the night out with Celia and Trevor’s friends that my heart wanted Trevor, and it didn’t care how fast we were going.

       Somehow,
knowing
and
believing
had remained separate until now.

       He lifted a hand, tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Do you want me to stay?” I asked.

       “What I want isn’t—”

       “If you complete that sentence the way I think you’re going to, you can turn around and find yourself somewhere else to sleep.” I scooted away and sat up, swinging my legs off the bed.

       I fell back with a short yelp, Trevor pulling me back onto the bed. “Wait.” He slid his arms around me, and I melted into his embrace, head on his shoulder. The sheer
rightness
of it, the sweet, contented feeling of being in his arms almost blew away the last of my anger. “Just…wait, McKenna.”

       The shadows closed in, cloaking us as we sat there, Trevor’s warm breath drifting over my temple. “I want you. Wherever you are, that’s where I’m supposed to be, too.”

       “That’s probably the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard.” And it stole my heart.

       “I think there’s a rule. I get so many cheesy lines per month.”

       I eased away, then gave him a gentle push onto his back, curling myself into his side as he settled. “If it’s per month, we might have a problem.” I trailed my hand down his chest, over his stomach, working my fingers under the hem of his shirt. “Seriously, though. I haven’t come anywhere close to figuring out where I’m supposed to be. All I know is it’s not here.” Too many ghosts. I lifted my head. “What if I decide it’s Boston? Or Savannah? I doubt I could get a job as a teacher, and I have no idea what else I could do with my life. What if I spend it stuck in dead-end jobs?”

       “What if the moon crashes to earth, or Korea finally decides to invade another country instead of shooting missiles at it?” he countered. “It doesn’t matter, McKenna. You’ll figure it out at some point.”

       “But—”

       He laid a finger on my lips, silencing me. “You’ll figure it out,” he repeated. “Maybe it’s Boston or Savannah. Maybe it’ll be Bellingham, or Austin.” There was a faint crack as he yawned, and I winced. “Ouch,” he muttered. “I’m done, McKenna. Let’s get some sleep.”

       “I don’t know if I can. I haven’t been sleeping much since I got here.” I shifted to climb under the covers while he stripped to his boxers. “I’m leaving in the morning anyway. I can sleep in the car.”

       “Where we going?” he asked, tucking me against this chest.

       Trevor was a magician. The second he curved around me, his fingers laced with mine, fatigue seeped in, and my eyelids slid shut.

       “Not sure yet,” I mumbled. “But I’ll figure it out.”

* * *

       Mom studied me over the rim of her coffee mug. “Are you sure?”

       “No,” I admitted. “But I am about him.”

       She set the mug down and nudged it out of the way, stretching a hand across the table. Dawn peeked through the kitchen window, that strange, faint light that painted mist over everything it touched. It was something I hadn’t seen in Bend. I’d never see it in Texas. It belonged to this corner of the world, and nowhere else.

       She closed her hand around mine. “You know you’re welcome to stay as long as you need.”

       “I know.” The safety net was what allowed me to take the leap. I squeezed her hand and stood, chair scraping quietly over the linoleum. “We’ll take off in a few hours. He needs to get back to work, and I don’t think Gwen will be able to hold my job much longer.”

       The house hadn’t changed much in the intervening years. There was a comfort in that, knowing I always had something familiar to return to. I made my way down the darkened hallway to my old bedroom. Trevor was splayed out on his stomach, one foot poking out over the side, arms folded under his pillow. We’d only arrived two days ago, and I was about to ask him to take another long, tiring road trip. I should have felt guilty about using him.

       Instead, I felt…happy. Gut-happy, my mind finally at peace. It’d embraced the idea of starting over from scratch, in a place where no one knew me or the terrible tragedy that marked my past.