Sometimes Never (15 page)

             
“I puked because I got scared again. I’m not scared of you. I don’t think you’re going to hurt me.” She shakes her head and growls out a frustrated noise. “No. I’m petrified you’ll hurt me. Not physically.” Her voice drops to a whisper. I’ve noticed she does this when something is serious. Something she doesn’t really want to say or admit. I lift my head, straining to hear her. I don’t want to miss anything she says.

“I’m afraid that if I let myself feel the way I do about you, ugh, I’m so afraid you’ll realize what I am, and you’ll walk away. And it’ll hurt me.”

              “What are you?” I hold my breath, waiting.

             
“Broken,” she murmurs.

I do not have
a hero complex. I have always been attracted to strong, independent women. I like a girl who has her shit together. No strings. Simple. Confident. But the way she nearly sighed the word “
broken”
—as if it was her sole identifier, as if it’s branded on her somehow, as if admitting this has cost her dearly, shamed her—just killed me a little bit. I want to save her. I want to be
her
hero. I want to make her see she is so much more than her damaged past.

“I can’t walk away from you. I tried. I can
’t do it. Even as I was trying, I knew it was stupid. I already knew I wasn’t really going anywhere. God, Hope. I
care
about you. I don’t
want
to walk away.” I coil my fingers in between her braids and twists, holding her head to my chest. “I’m broken, too. I think...” I lick my lips and press them into her hair. “I think we can fix each other.”

“How are you broken?” she asks
, her voice small.

“My dad.” I swallow my words, nearly gagging on them and try again. “My dad died almost six years ago. Mom’s never been the same. She can’t stay in
one place for too long, so we move at least once a year. Sometimes more. It’s like she’s always running and dragging me and Kellin with her.” I start pulling clips from Hope’s hair as I talk. I need to keep my hands busy or I’m afraid I might actually cry.

“I don’t get close to people. I make friends, school friends, Mom’s work friends. Nobody that means anything. After the first few times I had to leave them behind
, I figured there wasn’t much point. But I know how to smile, make conversation. I learned pretty quickly. When you switch schools as much as I do, always being the new kid, you pick it up. Girls are easy. I flirt with them. Hook up. We move and I never see them again. I’m...kind of a male whore. When I’m with a girl, it helps me not feel anything real.” I laugh, but I know it’s not funny. It’s messed up. And I hate confessing this to Hope, but I want her to see. I want her to know I’m damaged, just like her. She doesn’t comment on it, though, and I don’t know what that means.  

“How did
he die?” Her fingers move higher, drawing across my heart and it’s getting harder to breathe. The clips are gone from her hair, so I start loosening her braids.

“He got jumped by some guys. He and his friend were having dinner at this diner down the street from where we lived, back in Illinois.
Right down the road. So close to home. It should’ve been safe. He went there all the time. These drunk guys at another table were giving the busboy a hard time. Talking shit to him, calling him a fag. The kid tried to ignore them. One of the guys walked up to the kid and got in his face, calling him stupid, retarded, a list of shit because he wouldn’t acknowledge their simplemindedness. He pushed the kid and my dad had enough. He stepped in; told the guy to back off while his friend got the manager. The guys were told to leave and they left. That should have been the end of it. My dad paid his bill and left not long after.” I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with enough air to finish. It’s been so long since I’ve talked about this.

“They were waiting
on him. Followed him as he started walking home. Two guys grabbed him. One of the guys had a crowbar. He hit my dad in the head, Dad went down, unconscious, but that didn’t stop them. That guy hit him
twelve times
before my dad’s friend realized what was happening.”

Hope’s hand flattens against my heart and I force another breath. “He was dead before t
he ambulance made it there. We were all home. I remember hearing the sirens, but I didn’t know.
I had no idea
. I feel like I should have
felt
it somehow. It’s been a long time, but I miss him every day. He was a good dad. A good person in general.”

I don’t get the usual generic sympathy statement from Hope. I guess because she’s been through it. She’s lost a parent. I
n a way, two. She sweeps a kiss over my chin. “What was his favorite band?”

I smile into the darkness. “He loved all music,” I say.

“Did he play an instrument?”

“Yep. Taught me how to play the guitar. He was so good. He met my mom playing at the bar she worked at. She brought him drinks and he played her whatever she asked him to. She got pregnant with me and they got married. My dad would always tell me I wasn’t a mistake. I was a miracle because my mom wouldn’t have married a bum musician if she hadn’t gotten knocked up.” I laugh a genuine laugh. “She would have married him anyway. They were in love.
I get it now. It was real love.

“
They fought like crazy, but they were happy. And I remember they always touched. Always hugged and kissed. Snuggled on the couch, in bed. Held hands whenever we went anywhere. I hated it at the time. Thought it was embarrassing. She’s never been the same since that night. It’s almost like part of her died with him. I guess he took a piece of each of us and we’ll never get it back. I’d do pretty much anything to see Mom and Dad holding on to each other again.”

“Does it scare you? That you might love someone that much someday
, just to lose them too?”

“Yes
,” I confess, “I’ve been scared since the first time I saw you.”

18

Hope

Before I have a chance to even try to comprehend what Mason could possibly mean by that statement, Guy thrusts the door open. “Park’s back. Just thought…” He shrugs as one side of his mouth lifts in an uncomfortable smile. “I thought you might want a heads up.”

             
I sit up slowly because I don’t want to hurt Mason’s feelings by jumping out of bed, but I can’t let Park find me snuggled up to him either. That’s not the way he should find out about this. Especially when I don’t know what
this
is.

             
“What do you want me to do?” Mason asks quietly.

             
Guy lingers in the doorway, I think wanting to know the same thing. I look at him. I beg him with my eyes for help. I already know what he thinks I should do. He wants me to give Mason a chance. A real one. But I feel the fear creeping back inside, warring with the anger and sadness that already resides there.

             
“You need to tell him,” Guy says firmly. I don’t know if he means tell Park about Mason, or tell Mason what I want him to do. I just sit on the edge of the bed numbly. The footsteps on the stairs cause them to make the decision for me.

             
Mason stands up. Guy flicks the light on and moves farther into my room. We look like the three of us are hanging out. Like friends do. Innocently.

             
I am a coward.

             
Park walks in and plops down on the bed next to me. His entire side touches mine and he plants a lingering kiss on my cheek. My eyes dart to Mason. He’s looking right at me, his face is blank, expression unreadable, but his posture is stiff. He reminds me of the Buckingham Palace guards that aren’t allowed to move or show emotion. Somehow that’s worse than knowing how he’s thinking.

             
“You smell good,” Park says quietly against my ear. “Let’s go somewhere. Alone.”

             
I’m frozen. Like time stands still. Park’s breath in my ear. Mason’s eyes on mine. Guy hovering. Me, with my heart twisting into a knot, battling my stomach for most severe upset.

             
“Yeah, okay. We need to talk,” I say. I never take my eyes off Mason and I see something flash over his face, too quickly to read. I shift my gaze to Guy. “Can you give us a few minutes?”

             
“We’ll be outside. Partying it up with old people,” Guy drawls with mock excitement.

             
“Have fun with that,” I say. I wait until they’re both out of the room and the door is shut before I turn to face Park. I can tell with one look that he understands “we need to talk” wasn’t a pretense for making out. He knows…something.

             
We sit in silence until he finally clears his throat. “What’s going on?”

             
I just say it. “We need a break.”

             
He looks away, staring at the door for several heartbeats, and then he laughs bitterly. “
We
don’t need a break. You do.” He leans forward resting his elbows on his knees and shakes his head. “Why? Or should I say who?”

             
“We had a deal,” I point out. My voice cracks and I know I am about two seconds away from freaking out.

             
“Mm, yeah. Our noncommittal relationship that isn’t really a relationship. Except it is. For me. It is.” He runs his fingers through his dark hair, letting it fall into his eyes. “So that’s it? We’re done? Do I even get to know why? What I did wrong?”

             
My chest is rising and falling quickly as I fight to control my breathing. This is why. This is why I don’t do relationships. I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to see that look in his eyes. I glance at my bathroom where my razor awaits me. If I had just done it earlier, maybe it wouldn’t be pulling me so strongly right now. I dig my fingers into my hair and yank it. It’s not enough, but it helps.

             
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I whisper. “I just need…” I don’t know what I need. Space? Change? Freedom?

             
Mason. I need Mason.

             
I need him right now.

             
I stand up and rush to the door, flinging it open so hard it slams into the wall. Park shoots off the bed after me. His arms close around me from behind, hugging me back against his chest. “Calm down,” he murmurs, his mouth against my neck. “It’s okay. Just calm down.”

             
I shake my head. I can’t stop shaking my head. “No…it’s…not okay.” I can barely breathe. “Get Guy.”

             
Park releases me and I slide down his body to the floor. “I’ll be right back.”

             
I watch him leave, listen to his descending footsteps as they explode down the steps. I just hurt him and he still cares about me. I can’t even stand that. I can’t.

             
I lay my cheek to my bent knees and concentrate on breathing. And Mason. And breathing. And Mason.

             
Am I doing the right thing? Is it ever right to hurt someone? But is it right to stay with someone when you want to be with someone else? Which one would hurt more? If my mom had just stayed any of those times, I would have felt better, right? But if she stayed when she felt the need to run, would her blow ups have been worse? Was it secretly a blessing when she left?

             
It’s too much.

             
Mason. Breathing. Mason. Breathing.

             
Footsteps.

             
“Honey,” Guy says softly. “It’s bad tonight, huh?”

             
I nod, my head jerking around until I find Mason. Guy follows my gaze and holds out his arm, offering Mason the glorified position of taming the crazy girl. I nod again, needing him to be close. I don’t know why I want him. Need him. It just makes it worse. The panic blooms, rising higher, higher. Mason kneels in front of me. I wrap my arms around his neck and breathe my first good breath. Fill my lungs with his scent. Breathe. Mason.

             
“This is why?” Park says stiffly. I meet his glare over Mason’s shoulder, letting him read it in my eyes. I can’t bring myself to say it aloud. “I knew it.”

             
Park chuckles darkly. He steps into my room and crosses his arms. He looks seriously pissed and I shrink back. It’s not like I think he’d ever hit me, although he looks like he kind of wants to, but I have seen this expression more times than I can count. He’s on the verge of lashing out. He wants to hurt me and he’s going to do it.

             
His brows lift, his mouth turns up in a malicious smirk. “Does he know?”

             
My mind goes blank for half a second, but Park scowls and it hits me. He only has one thing he can use against me. I try to stand up, but my legs won’t cooperate. “Don’t,” I choke.
Please. No. Don’t do this to me
.