Chapter Sixteen

I stumble into the library parking lot, skidding to a cartoonlike halt when a familiar Mustang pulls in. Déjà vu washes over me as I watch the car track through the parking lot, headed straight for me.

Just like it did that first night at the school. The night I woke up.

I blink as he parks the car, my feet turning to lead weights at the ends of my legs. How? How did he know I was here? Because it has to be me. No way did Blake just happen to decide to visit the library for the first time in years today.

I think of the text on his phone, the books in my room, and most of all, the way he looked at me at Trixie’s Diner. None of that would mean much of anything if his dad didn’t have his hands in all of this. The engine turns off, and I feel adrenaline pumping through me as the truth hits with bone-rattling force. Blake is following me.

The car door opens, and I clench my hands into tight fists. I can’t run. If I run, he’ll know I figured him out. And I don’t want him to know that yet.

Blake is just stepping out when another car pulls into the parking lot. It’s a really old black Camaro, engine grumbling in a menacing way. The paint is beyond dull, almost gray instead of black, and that almost makes it more intimidating.

It grinds to a halt in the spot next to the Mustang. I see Blake’s face turn dark just seconds before Adam opens the door.

Oh my God, they both knew. They both somehow knew I’d be here, and they’re here and I’m trapped.

Adam pulls a book bag and a stack of library books out of the passenger seat, and I manage a breath. Okay. Okay, stop being paranoid. Adam happens to be at the library. And Blake—

Yeah, no, Blake is stalking me.

My thoughts cut off into nothingness as Adam looks up, meeting my eyes with surprise and then noticing Blake moving toward me. I try to convey how uncomfortable—screw uncomfortable, how terrified—I am with my eyes.

And I watch, holding my breath as Adam shoulders his pack…and heads right past me.

“Chloe, we should talk,” Blake says, sparing a final glance at Adam’s form.

I shake my head, swallowing hard. “I don’t want to talk.”

I can still see Adam making his way toward the door. He’s just going to leave me here when it’s clear as day I’m a damsel in some pretty freaking serious distress! Unbelievable.

“I could drive you home,” Blake says, voice sweet but eyes hard. “Just give me ten minutes.”

“I really don’t want to talk,” I say, voice cracking. “I told you I need some time.”

Adam’s almost at the door. Maybe he’s moving slower or maybe I’m just wishing for that. But if he doesn’t stop moving altogether, I’m going to be alone out here in about two seconds.

“Be reasonable, Chloe. It’s not safe to walk all the way home,” Blake says, and he’s closing the distance between us.

“It’s Ridgeview, not Harlem,” I say breezily. Inside, I’m screaming. I know why cornered dogs bite now. I’d be snapping like a maniac if I had sharp teeth.

“Chloe,” Blake says, and it almost sounds condescending. Then he touches my arm, curling fingers over my sleeve. I yank myself free.

I can’t help it any more than I can explain it. It’s like recoiling at a roach or maggots. I don’t know why, but I know I need him away from me.

“How about I call you?” he asks.

“She said she needs time, man.”

Adam.

I feel my whole body relax. I don’t know when he turned around or why I didn’t hear him walking back, but he’s right here now, book bag still slung over one shoulder and eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.

Blake sneers at him. “How about you mind your own business?”

“No, he’s right,” I interject. “I do want some time, Blake.”

“And I’m happy to give it. This isn’t some effort to win you back,” he says, as if the idea is completely ridiculous. “I’m just concerned. As your friend. Skipping classes and leaving school early. I’m worried you’re jeopardizing your future.”

He doesn’t look concerned. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he looks determined. He’s wearing a face that reminds me a whole lot of my mother’s my-way-or-the-highway stance.

Blake takes another step toward me, and I flinch just before Adam slides in between us, facing Blake.

“Let it rest.”

“She could need help,” Blake grits out.

“She said she’s fine.”

“This isn’t your gig, Reed.”

“Not yours either anymore,” Adam says, bringing me back to the present.

This doesn’t feel like it’s about me. I mean, I hear the words, but there’s something way bigger than jealousy in their eyes. Maybe this whole situation just gave them a reason and any second now someone’s going to throw a punch.

Blake juts toward him, but then catches my eye over Adam’s shoulder. His face molds into something that feels plastic. Counterfeit.

He seems to shut out Adam then, speaking only to me. “I’m sorry if this came off wrong. I just wanted you to know I’m here if you need me.”

I manage a nod, and he smiles in a way that doesn’t reach his eyes. I watch him turn to head for his car. The Mustang purrs to life, and I command my heart to stop running a hundred miles an hour.

Adam doesn’t even look at me. He just walks back to the library as if nothing happened at all.

“Is he following me?” I shout after him, the adrenaline still coursing hard enough to make my hands shake and my teeth chatter.

“Sorry?” Adam asks, looking for all the world like a guy who wasn’t about to throw down in the library parking lot twenty seconds ago.

“How did he know I was here, Adam?”

He looks away from me, his jaw a hard, beautiful line above his collar. And what did I expect? Why would he know? Still, despite the books and the backpack, something tells me Adam followed Blake to the library.

Maybe he’s studying now, but somehow, I’m sure he came for Blake. Or maybe even for me.

“You should get out of here,” he finally says. “You’ll be safer at home.”

***

Home my ass. I’m staying in this parking lot until he comes out and explains what the heck is going on. Which sounds a lot more committed than it really is since the library closes at four o’clock on Fridays.

Still. It’s cold, and there’s a distinct look of rain in the clouds gathering overhead. Rain in November in northern Ohio is every bit as unpleasant as it sounds.

The library lights go dim, and a few moments after, Adam emerges. He’s got a couple of books under one arm and his jacket slung over a shoulder with his backpack. As if he’s impervious to the cold that has me shivering to my bones beside his car.

He wrangles his keys free of his pocket, and I clear my throat.

His eyes go wide as he takes me in. “Are you serious with this?”

“As a freaking heart attack,” I say, lifting my chin.

“I don’t know why Blake knew you were here. Maybe he followed you.”

“Maybe you followed him.”

He waggles the books at me. “No, I come here to study. Why the hell would I follow Blake?”

“You tell me.”

I step back from his door, which I probably shouldn’t. But I’m not going to physically force him to stay here. He wrenches his car door open and throws his books inside. I half expect him to just get in and drive away, but then he slams it again and glares at me.

“What is this even about? Now you’re pissed that I interrupted you with Blake?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, that’s exactly it, Adam. I was obviously chomping at the bit for some alone time there.”

“Then what?” He’s loud now, not quite shouting but close enough that I flinch when he moves closer to me. “What the hell is this, Chlo? One minute you and I are—”

“What? What are we, Adam? Because I already told you I can’t remember anything, and you refuse to fill me in.”

“There’s nothing to be filled in,” he says, convincing no one.

“I don’t believe you.” I’m so cold, my teeth are starting to rattle, my breath steaming around me like a cloud. “I can still feel it, Adam. Whatever I forgot? It’s still in there. Every time you look at me, every time you walk past me in the stupid hall I feel…”

“You feel what?”

I can see the impatience in his eyes. And something else too.

“This,” I say, reaching forward to take his hands. “Us, Adam.”

His fingers, blissfully warm, curl around mine, and his face tenses with worry. “You’re freezing, Chlo. You shouldn’t be out here in this cold. I’ll take you home.”

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare put me in this car and turn on the radio and pretend nothing’s going on here.”

“Why are you so sure something is going on?” he asks, and he sounds tense and miserable and just a little bit desperate.

I don’t have an answer I can put into words. So I curl my hands in his and breathe in his scent, soapy and clean with that soft tang of cinnamon. I let my eyes close.

“I remember things when I touch you,” I say. “I remember studying with you. Raking leaves with you.”

“Yeah, Chlo, it happened. But it obviously didn’t mean anything.”

I open my eyes and swallow my fear. “No, Adam. I think it might have meant everything.”

He jerks his hands free of mine, and I flinch. He plows his hands into his hair, breathing hard and stepping back from me. I feel colder than cold, as if something crucial has been torn from my grasp.

He shakes his head, letting out a bitter laugh. “You don’t get it. We can’t do this,” he says. “We can’t go here, Chloe. Not now. Not ever.”

He’s looking left and right, and then he’s going for his car. God, he’s going to go. He’s just going to leave me standing here after I said that.

He doesn’t leave, but he goes still and tense. I hear him let out a shuddery breath, his feet shifting on the pavement.

“Damn it,” he says, shaking his head once.

He turns back to me, and I don’t even have time to blink or breathe or anything before his hands are on my face, in my hair—and then, he’s kissing me.

His lips are soft and hard together, sending electric shocks through every inch of me. I’m heavy and trembling under his kiss, my half-frozen hands fisting in the front of his shirt, soaking in his warmth.

My mouth slides open with a sigh, and the kiss goes on and on until I no longer think about the cold or the danger or any of the million questions I want to ask. I can’t think about a single thing outside of the feel of his arms and the taste of his mouth against mine.

We separate in a steaming rush of breath, our foreheads pressed together and my hands threaded into his hair.

“Tell me we haven’t done that yet,” I breathe.

He pulls back, mouth swollen and eyes flashing in a way that makes me want to kiss him again.

I bite my lip. “Please tell me I didn’t forget that too.”

“No,” he says, grinning. He strokes warm lines down my face with his thumbs. And then his mouth dips into a frown. “You really don’t remember, do you?”

I shake my head. He pulls me into his arms, still breathing fast into my hair. “We can’t talk here, and we need to get you warmed up. Can I take you somewhere?”

I close my eyes and burrow into his chest with a smile. “Lead the way.”