When I learned the news of my infertility, I stopped living for a little while. Couldn’t eat, couldn’t work out, could barely sleep or go to work. It got easier to simply stop looking in the mirror. I eventually regained some functionality, but the appetite never came back to normal.
I let out a breath. What does it matter, at this point? Turning my back to him, I remove my clothes, letting them fall on the chair. My swimsuit is nothing sexy, so at least it doesn’t look like I’m trying.
“Hurry!” Zoe shouts before she starts running toward the water.
“You raised a real angel,” I tease, throwing a glance back at Eli. I’m expecting an eye roll, but he doesn’t even seem to have heard me, his gaze stuck on my naked back. There’s so much heat in there, like the honey of his eyes has caught fire. Finally realizing I’ve turned, his eyes slowly climb my body, and there’s no trace of humor in them. I recognize that look, too. And it makes me feel the same way I did when I was twelve and adapting to a new body, or when I was seventeen and wanted him all around me. It’s as if he doesn’t see all the ways I’ve changed, hasn’t even noticed the loose skin and stretch marks.
I swallow, then turn and run with Zoe toward the frigid water, needing a good dousing of cold.
Chapter 11
Twelve Years Ago
The girl is in trouble.
She didn’t need to tell the boy for him to know. The moment he picked up and heard her breathe out his name, he knew. He’d grabbed his jacket and car keys before she’d even said another word. By the time she told him she was at the police station, he was already in his dad’s pick-up.
He’d never been to the police station before. Even had to look it up on his phone to remember where it was. And when he walks in, he feels out of place, like he, too, is about to be arrested just for stepping inside. He should probably get out of the house more.
What’s the protocol in this kind of situation?Hello, my best friend has been arrested for who knows what, and I’d really like to see her.The small office doesn’t look like how it does in the movies, and no one’s out front to help him.
A door creaks at the back of the room, and as if he conjured her, the girl comes out with two police officers behind her, as if she’s dangerous—which is insane, because she’s this tiny thing, and he doesn’t know a gentler person. She can be rough on the edges, but that’s only because everyone has sharpened her. With him, she can allow herself to be soft.
The taller officer with the bushy brows lightly pushes her, and the boy suddenly knows how people may feel before they commit murder.
The girl shoots the man a glare before stepping away from him. Her hair is in a disarray, slipping out of her ponytail, and there’s a red stain covering the sleeve of her sweatshirt, her right knuckles battered.
He inhales deeply.Don’t pass out. Please, for the love of God, don’t pass out.
For the first time in his life, he works through his fear of blood, because she’s so much more important than a stupid phobia he should already be over by now.
“Is it yours?” he mouths as he points at the cuff.
She shakes her head, and he immediately feels better.
He should probably ask what she’s at the police station for. Know what charges she’s facing—because with the way these men are acting around her, she’s the one who did something. However, looking at her, the only thing he wants to do is get her out of here.
“Can I take her home?” the boy asks the first police officer, trying his hardest not to show this asshole just how much he wants to punch him in the throat.
The officer looks him up and down, his obnoxious brows bunched, then says, “Sure, son.” The tips of his boots brush against the boy’s shoes. “But between you and I? Stay away from that family, will ya?”
Behind them, the other officer mutters, “Like father, like daughter.”
The men are both speaking too loud for the girl not to hear every word they’re saying. Her lips are pressed tight, a warm flush covering her cheeks. He’s never been this heartbroken for her. And then, just like a switch flipping, the light dims in her eyes, as if she’s resigned herself to her fate and stopped fighting. Somehow, that shatters him even more.
Without another word, the two of them exit the police station and walk to the parked truck. Even once they’re both seated, the boy doesn’t turn the engine on.
“Thanks for coming.”
“Always.” He doesn’t question why she called him instead of her mother or sister. He likes being her emergency contact. A month ago, when his dad had a heart attack, she was there for him, too, waiting with him all through the night to see whether his dad would make it. The boy would never imagine not being there for her in the same way.
“Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?”
“You’ll tell me if you want to.” He doesn’t know everything about her, but he knows it’s more than she’s ever told anyone. All the stories he got from her had to be carefully extracted, and he treasures each part of herself she’s gifted him, the beautiful and the horrid equally.
Still, he doesn’t start the car.
“Last night was… rough,” the girl starts after a long moment, which he understands as her father said or did some fucked-up shit. The girl cracks the knuckles of her left hand. “And I didn’t feel like going back home after school today, so I hung around for the football match. Don’t tell me it was a stupid idea. I know.”
