“What was up with you and Cora today?”
I knew this question was coming, and I looked over to Ryan in the driver’s seat. He’d asked me where we were heading after school, and he hadn’t flinched one bit when I said, “My dad’s mistress’s house.” He hadn’t questioned how I knew her address.
I rested my head back against the headrest and smiled. I hadn’t needed a PowerPoint presentation to get him to be a stalker with me.
But I did need to answer his question. I gazed at him as we drove down the highway, the wind whipping his hair back.
How could I explain that I’d only said a few words to Cora, but it seemed to have helped? Or how much that meant to me for some stupid reason?
How could I tell him Willow had left me today, and I ached at her absence?
How could I—Dude, stop. Talk to him.
I almost grinned, hearing my sister’s voice again. It settled me.
“I don’t really know,” I said aloud.
Ryan frowned as he rolled up his window. The wind noise faded, and it seemed intimate in his truck. “What’d you say?”
I cleared my throat, sitting straighter in my seat. “I don’t really know. That’s what I said.”
“What does that mean?”
I shook my head a little. “She was telling me that I’m popular, and I told her to go jump off a cliff.” Same sentiment. Different words. I shrugged. “I’m miserable—” Ryan turned to look at me for a second. “Being popular isn’t worth it.”
He was still frowning, but he nodded as he went back to watching the road. Flicking on the turn signal, he merged into the passing lane, and we moved smoothly, seamlessly around a white car.
“Kirk thinks she’s hot,” he said. “Was that your doing?”
I turned to sit almost sideways, as much as my seatbelt allowed. “Cora used to like you until I came along. Is there a part of you that wishes she still did?”
I stared at him hard.
He threw me an annoyed look. “That’s what you got out of that?”
“You’re annoyed with me.”
“Annoyed?” He flashed me a cocky grin. “No, never annoyed. I’ve started to be able to read you and figure out where you’re going, but this thing with Cora threw me. That’s all. I’m not worried about Cora or Kirk. If Cora’s new confidence is attractive to him, I hope she keeps it up, and I hope he doesn’t hurt her. I’m more worried about you.”
“Why? I’m fine.”
I was. Totally sane.
I was fine that my mom wasn’t home again. I was fine that I wasn’t driving to see Robbie today. I was fine that I’d lost another member of my family.
Yes. It was all copacetic with me.
There were no slightly psychotic tendencies at all.
My nails sank into my arm. I didn’t pull them out, even when I felt a trickle of blood. It felt good, refreshing.
Thirty minutes later, we turned off the interstate and Ryan glanced down. “Holy shit! Mac!” He reached for my arm, and I pulled my nails away. Five indented pockets had formed, and blood flowed from all of them.
He cursed under his breath and hit the turn signal, veering into a gas station parking lot. “What the fuck just happened?” Slamming to a stop in front of the building, he threw open his door. “Get out. We’re getting that fixed.”
He held my arm, locking the door with his free hand and pocketing the keys. With a firm hold, he led me inside and asked for the first aid kit. The gas attendant eyed me warily but handed over the kit and said the bathroom was in the back.
We started down an aisle, and he barked at us, “I meant outside.”
Ryan glared at him. “Thanks. Your sensitivity is commendable.”
The attendant shrugged and grabbed some smokes for another customer.
Ryan’s back hit the door hard, and he continued to pull me with him, glaring over my head.
There was a metal picnic table around the corner near the hose. Ryan went there instead, patting the top. “Hop up.”
He placed the kit beside me, and as I sat, that numb feeling came back. It was like a blanket encasing me, shielding me from the real pain going on. The nail cuts weren’t even a blip on my radar.
One of the four pieces loosened. It was going to fall away.
I frowned. “I was getting better.”
Ryan was hunched over, cleaning out my cuts. He paused, straightening to meet my gaze. “What?”
“I was getting better.” My head felt so heavy suddenly.
I was sleepy. I bent forward, my forehead resting on Ryan’s shoulder.
“She went away today, and there were four pieces,” I mumbled against his shirt. “They all fit. I was getting better.”
Ryan went rigid and slowly, agonizingly slowly, reached up to cradle the back of my head. “Who went away?”
“Willow.”
But that wasn’t completely right. She’d spoken to me, hadn’t she? That had been her in the car. Right?
He was like a statue. “Willow’s been with you?” His voice sounded rough.
I nodded, straightening. It hurt to look at him. The sun behind him was so bright that it made me tear up. “She left me earlier, but she talked to me in the car.”
“She talked to you?”
“Once.”
That had been her? The question was still bugging me.
“She’s been talking to you?”
His hand moved to my neck. He traced some of my hair, smoothing it over my shoulder. Bending forward so only a few inches separated us, his eyes found mine..
I looked away. I couldn’t look him in the eyes. I didn’t know why, but I had messed up.
I wasn’t able to think clearly. What did I say wrong?
Willow, what did I do?
I felt a tear slide down my face. “She won’t answer me.”
“Willow won’t?”
Willow . . .
I shook my head. “She’s gone.”
I wanted her back. My heart clenched. I wanted her back. I wanted to talk to her again, feel her again.
More tears slid down my face. “Ryan, where did she go?”
He stared at me, his pupils dilated.
Willow. I wasn’t supposed to talk about her. But she was gone again.
I crumpled inside. I felt myself curling into a ball, and Ryan cradled me to his shoulder once again.
I cried while my arm bled.