“What’s your plan, then? Since you’ve been stewing on this for a while.”
I open the video of Noah and show him. The audible crack when his fist hits my face—it’s a wonder nothing is broken.
“I guess that explains the bruise,” he comments. “So?”
“He needs that job.” I turn and face the middle of the roof. “And he’ll do a lot to avoid jail.”
“Okay…”
He’s not getting it.
“I need you to keep an eye on my dad.” It’s repetition from earlier, but it needs to be said. I hold up my hand. “Noah. Riley’s dad. Her mom. Then her.”
He exhales. “You blame them all?”
“Fuck yeah, I do,” I growl. “Any of them could’ve stopped her from handing over that stupid—”
The roof door bangs open, and two women walk out. They stop short when they see us, but Caleb just rolls his eyes.
“Come on,” he says to me.
We slip past them, back downstairs. I check my watch and groan. “I’ve got to go apply for a job now.”
He snorts. “Where?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere that’ll piss off Dad.”
He snickers, opening his apartment door. “I’m sure you’ll find something devious.”
I grin. “I thought about the tattoo shop Noah works at, but I don’t think I want to get punched every fucking day.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t have a problem with Noah. Why don’t you just focus on Riley? You can go in circles all day, but none of them made the decision she did.”
I go still and contemplate that.
And when it hits me, I laugh. “You know why?”
His eyebrow rises.
“Because it’s fucking easier to be pissed at Noah and her parents than it is to be mad at her.” Because I loved her. Thought I did, anyway. Our journey was bumpy, but we had finally figured it out—until it blew up in my face.
She ended our relationship, then put a knife through my heart.
Caleb watches me, his eyes cold.
He knows. He made it through the other side.
Is that what I want? To make it through the flames with Riley?
No. I’m pretty sure I just want to chuck her into the fire and watch her burn.
So… that’s what we’ll do.
7
Riley
Dad waits for me at the bottom of the stairs. It’s been a few days since the incident in the woods, and I’ve been taking it easy. Rest days, if anyone asked.
No one did.
I tilt my head, eyeing the gift bag dangling from his fingers. He doesn’t smile, though. His expression is carefully neutral.
Maybe it’s a box of tampons—even though I’m quite capable of buying feminine products on my own—or a bomb.
“Thanks?” I take it and go to the kitchen island. I make quick work of the tissue paper and pull out a can of Mace. It even has a fabric loop handle to help me hold it, if I wanted to run with it in my hand. That feels like overkill, so I clip it to the band of my shorts. And strangely, some of the anxiety in my chest eases.
“It gives off ten one-second bursts,” he says. He shows me how I would use it, flipping the top up with my thumb then pretending to press down. “I hope you’re upwind if you have to use it.”
I nod.
He kisses my forehead. “You’ll be okay, but this will make me feel better.”
“Okay.”
I take a water bottle from the fridge and glance at him. He’s not yet ready for work—I suspect he’ll watch me go off down the road—and he seems tired.
Bone-tired.
I can’t make myself ask if he’s okay. The clock is ticking, and school is waiting.
Maybe it’s easier to run today because I know I won’t be going down the same trail. Today’s loop is strictly on residential roads, just over two miles. I time my easy runs to the harder practices, and this afternoon will be brutal.
In reality, I could skip it altogether.
But as I set out, I know I couldn’t. This is time for myself, to think and…
Someone stands at the end of the street.
I slow to a stop ten feet away, and he turns to me.
I knew Eli was back, but I almost refused to believe it. He’s supposed to be far, far away from here. Maine. Hours and hours away.
Yet here he stands, staring at me like…
I don’t know what.
My chest hurts.
He’s dressed for running, too. White and lime-green sneakers, shorts. He’s still wearing a t-shirt, but I suspect that would come off rather quickly. Boys like him always tear off their shirts mid-run. A scrap of fabric on their skin is just too much for them.
We watch each other silently.
Move, Riley, a voice in my head shrieks. Danger, danger.
His expression hardens. He was waiting here for me?
I shake my head and go the other direction, breaking into a faster pace—more on par with what I’d run for a mile, not two. I pass my house—Dad isn’t there, thankfully—and keep going in the new direction.
Coward.
Around the corner, onto a new street. I force my speed faster. My muscles already sting, my lungs straining to pull in enough cold air. At this point, I’m making up the route. I don’t know if this will end up being a mile or six, but I do know that I’ll keep running until this feeling in my stomach fades.
It isn’t butterflies.
It’s bees swarming through my veins.
I pass another street and catch a glimpse of someone barreling toward me.
Eli.
He doesn’t stop, but his angle adjusts. And suddenly he’s running beside me, so close that our arms keep brushing. We run stride for stride.
I ignore him and push myself faster.
He gives me the lead for a moment, and then he’s right back at my side.
What is this? A sick mind game? I don’t want to look at him, let alone share the same space. I slam on my brakes and watch him keep going. He circles back almost lazily, slowing to a jog and circling me in a wide arc.
My fingers touch the Mace.
Was it him in the woods the other day?
The way he runs, the way he’s smiling at me—it’s all familiar. My bones ache with the weight of his presence.
He stops. I’ve unclipped the Mace and have it balanced in my hand.
“You gonna hit me with that?” he asks in a low voice.
I pause. Would I?
He takes a step forward, eyes narrowing, and I lift it.
“You want to test me?” I ask.
That stops him.
“I don’t know why you’re back, but just stay away from me.” I show him my back. His attempts to scare me haven’t fooled me—but that doesn’t mean I’m an idiot.
I get out of there fast, rushing all the way home.
It isn’t until I’m in the front hall, kicking off my shoes, that I realize I have a death grip on the Mace. Slowly, I set it down beside Noah’s keys and release it, one finger at a time. Eli’s done the one thing I wouldn’t have thought he would: he rattled me.
He took away my sanctuary.
But then again, so did my accident a few days ago. The illusion of being safe in Rose Hill has fractured.