My lips pull down at the corners. Mrs. Wallaby turned the corner and saw me staring with tears flooding my cheeks. She didn’t try to apologize, just stood frozen and guilty when she realized I must have heard.
Kaiden shifts next to me, visibly uncomfortable by my story. “I don’t usually come here to talk.”
What does he do then?
Thinking of the possibilities, my cheeks tint at the probable answers. “Oh.”
He chuckles. “I come here to think.”
Double oh.
I can see why he’d come here for that. It’s quiet, isolated. The perfect spot for someone to sort through their thoughts if they needed to.
The conversation isn’t the best one to have with him anyway. I’m not angry at him. I’m angry at Dad. Plus, Kaiden didn’t ask for me to invade his space. I bulldozed my way into their home—the home they’ve been building for years just the three of them.
“What really happened to your eye?” I ask in a soft voice.
His tongue clicks. “Got into a fight with someone over some shit talking. No big deal.”
Knowing it’s all I’ll get from him for now, I nod. “Who’s Riley?”
His entire body freezes. “Where did you hear that name?”
His voice is rough, like it’s a subject I shouldn’t have changed to. Cursing myself, I nibble my bottom lip. “Some girls were talking about him at lunch. It just seemed like something had happened, because I’ve heard his name a lot lately.”
In the halls on the way to class.
In the cafeteria.
Riley is a hot topic.
“Riley is a girl,” he murmurs after a stretch of time that I figured he’d use to talk his way out of answering. “She doesn’t go here anymore. Left after some rumors spread.”
I frown. “What rumors?”
His jaw ticks. “People kept giving her shit about her body type. Had an eating disorder or something and got caught throwing up in the bathrooms. Rumors got pretty bad. She … it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t go here anymore.”
“So she transferred out?”
He hums.
I think about all the times people glance at me before saying her name, like we’re connected somehow. But I don’t ask Kaiden about it anymore because he’s clearly shutting down. I’m shocked I got as much as I did as is.
Kaiden draws one leg up, so it’s bent at the knee. He drapes his arm over it and looks at me with distant eyes. “I am curious about something.”
I hold my breath.
He grins. “Which paper plates did you buy?”
A relieved laugh bubbles from my lips.
“I didn’t buy either.”
We fall back into silence.
At some point I fall asleep. I only know this because I’m pressed against a warm wall of hard muscle that smells faintly like cedar and cinnamon. Christmas trees and cookies. Kaiden grumbles as we near his car, but I can’t make out the words. I’m tired—too tired to tell him to put me down. I close my eyes and nuzzle into the warmth, feeling him tense.
The next time I come to, we’re passing street lights. The yellow color casts shadows on Kaiden’s tight expression, which I get a perfect view of from where he put me in the back seat. His jaw is hard, but the way it moves is like he’s grinding his teeth.
My head feels too weak to pick up, so I lay there and watch him. The radio is playing a rap song I’m unfamiliar with, but I listen to the lyrics and try to stop staring at Kaiden like a weirdo.
He glances back when the car slows for a stop sign, seeing my tired eyes on his. “Would have been nice if you’d woken up before I had to carry you.”
How did he get over the fence at the cemetery? I ask him as much and he grumbles and starts driving again.
“Had to walk the long way around.”
“Oh.” My voice is tiny.
He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. We just sit there until the song ends and a new one begins. “We’re almost home.”
I force myself to sit up, yearning to cry over how my body reacts to the movement. Dizziness sweeps over my vision and everything around me blurs until I almost fall down.
Kaiden, unfortunately, notices. “Have you eaten anything today?”
Thinking back, I realize the last thing I ate was a sandwich late this morning. It’s going on nine o’clock now. “Not since you saw me making something earlier.”
He curses and pulls into the driveway. I frown when he turns to me with an irritated expression on his face. “You have to eat, Mouse. You’re too skinny as it is.”
My jaw ticks at the comment. “What has my father told you about me?”
Silence.
I scoff. “Let’s just go inside.”
He sighs and gets out, surprising me by opening the back door. “What? Do you have an eating disorder or some shit? You could be prettier if you just gained some fucking weight.”
Not wanting him to see me cry, I slide out of the car and storm to the front door. Maybe the Riley conversation triggered something beyond my knowledge, but it’s no reason for him to treat me like trash.
There aren’t any lights on, but the front door is unlocked. As soon as we’re inside, Kaiden stops me from going anywhere.
Biting my lip to contain the yelp of his grip on my wrist, I glare at him. “Let go of me, Kaiden.”
He does. “Go to the kitchen.”
“Don’t tell me—”
“Christ, Emery. I’ll make you dinner.”
I’m speechless at his words. This is only the second time he’s used my name. And the sound of it rolling off his tongue…
I swallow. “I’m sure they brought back the food they ordered. I’ll eat that.”
He crosses his arms on his chest, causing his shirt sleeves to hug the biceps I shouldn’t be staring at. “You don’t even like Mexican food.”
“I ordered a salad.”
“You need protein.”
“I’m sure there are beans on it.”
He scoffs. “Just get your ass into the kitchen. I’ll make you eggs or something.”
My brows rise.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” he informs me coolly. “I want an omelet, so I’ll make you something too. I won’t be your bitch boy again.”
For some reason, I follow him into the kitchen and sit at the island. The stools are cushioned, so I’m not uncomfortable as I watch him pull things out of the fridge.
“What do you want?”
“Scrambled is fine.”
He gapes. “You need more than scrambled eggs. Will you eat bacon if I make it? Toast? Cheese, for the little Mouse?”
“Stop calling me that.”
He waits for an answer.
“Fine. Yes, I’ll eat those too.”
He smiles victoriously.
While he gets to work, I peer around the empty kitchen. The fridge is littered with pictures and random magnets, there’s a calendar with dates circled and bill payments in sharpie on it, and the dishtowels are all the same shade of blue that match the placemats on the table.
There’s no noise, but I know Dad and Cam are here. Their cars are in the driveway indicating as much.
“Where are our parents?”
“They know to leave me alone when I leave for a while,” is his terse reply.