Chapter Fifteen
–Fletcher–
I wake up from my Benadryl-induced coma, sprawled out on the couch, the TV a faint glow. My head is hammering, and I feel like I’ve been thrown in the middle of a hurricane. Cole is seated in the recliner, an EpiPen clutched in his hand. I toss the blanket aside and sit up slowly.
“Everyone out in the fields?” I ask.
“Uh-huh.” Cole glances at me for a second then back at the TV. “They went out with headlamps and lanterns a while ago. Doubt they’ll be back anytime soon.”
“Hence the need for the fifteen-year-old babysitter.” I stretch my arms and look around for my glasses—they’re on the coffee table.
Cole shrugs. “I don’t mind.”
With my glasses on, the TV picture appears clear right in front of me. Cole is watching audition rounds for So You Think You Can Dance. I’d tease him about this if it weren’t for the fact that (1) he’s probably been stuck here for hours making sure that I don’t die in my sleep, and (2) I’d be a big fat hypocrite. Not that I watch the show.
“Did my mom blow up my phone?” I ask.
Cole is focused on the show. A guy way too old to audition is attempting to tap while dressed as Nigel. “I talked to her. She’s making you an appointment with the allergist or something. Call her tomorrow.”
I nod and rub my eyes. “Thanks, man.”
The show finally goes to commercial, and Cole spins to face me. “Did Haley Stevenson really drive you to the ER? Braden said—”
“What? No.” My response is more knee-jerk than fact-based. But seconds later, the events of the day are rolling over me in one giant tidal wave. “Wait…maybe.”
“So, you guys were like…” Cole twirls the EpiPen some more, not looking right at me. “…hanging out?”
“I don’t know.” My forehead wrinkles. I scrub my hands over my face. “I was at O’Connor’s waiting for my car…” I jump to my feet. “Shit. My car is still at the shop.”
“It’s here,” Cole says. “Your dad and Braden took care of it.”
I sit back down, relaxing. “Tanley was talking to me at O’Connor’s. Haley was there with her friends—”
“Leslie and Kayla,” Cole fills in a little too quickly.
“Dude, no.” I roll my eyes. “Please tell me you haven’t moved up to stalking?”
He doesn’t say anything about the fact that Tate Tanley and I had a conversation outside of school or hockey—and I don’t even think we’ve had a conversation inside school or during hockey before—but maybe he’s too focused on Haley information to make note of this big event.
Cole looks down at his lap and then sighs.
“What?” I say, my pulse quickening. He’s keeping something from me. I bet Tanley and Claire saw me blowing up like a balloon and told everyone. Cole shakes his head, so I press him harder. “What, Cole? Seriously?”
“Nothing.” He sighs again and then rests his head against the back of the chair, finally making eye contact with me. “She likes you.”
“Who?”
“Haley,” he says finally.
This answer is so unexpected, I burst out laughing. “Are you kidding me? No way.”
He shrugs and goes back to watching the TV.
It takes a couple of minutes for me to process that thought of Cole’s and come down from my laughing high. “What makes you think she likes me?”
“I don’t know,” he mumbles. “Just stuff.”
“Stuff that’s probably all in your head.” I pull myself up to my feet again and tap his shoulder with the remote control. “Watch your show and yell for me if there’s a really hot girl auditioning. I’m gonna get some food. You want anything?”
“Nope, I’m good.”
After stuffing myself full of smoked ribs and rice, I head for the shower to scrub the hospital and medicine smell off of me. Cole’s theory about Haley liking me is still stuck in my head the second I step under the hot water. Something about it is bugging me, like there’s a reason I know it can’t be true, but it’s lost in a hazy memory of the day’s drama.
I’m turning the knobs, shutting the water off, when I’m hit with a recap of my exit from the hospital. Braden had hugged her, I think. And he called her some weird nickname…Rhinestone. What the hell? Maybe that was a Benadryl-induced dream. God, I hope I’m not having dreams about Haley. Or Haley and my twenty-six-year-old brother.
Haley’s sunny expression comes back to me—a look she had while we sat in that booth together at O’Connor’s. Then I get a flash of that smile fading, of her looking completely crushed. By my words. What had I said to her?
“She’s pretty good at killing people with her bare hands.”
Shit.
Her intensely focused face—the one she wore while speeding through town toward the hospital—comes back to me, too.
Man, that girl can drive a stick shift like a pro.
Guilt twists in my stomach along with the big meal I just consumed. Jamie Isaacs is probably going to kill me after he finds out what I said to Haley. And he’ll probably end our extra practice sessions.
But it isn’t Jamie’s warnings or even fear of his fists that has me hurrying to get dressed and grabbing my keys. It’s Haley. I hurt her. And as much as I’d like to forget it and move on, I can’t.
I shoot Jamie a quick text.
ME: what’s Haley’s address?
JAMIE: OK, well that’s one way to handle things…
ME: she left something at my house. I’m going to drop it off.
JAMIE: why don’t u ask her?
ME: fine. Don’t tell me.
JAMIE: it’s on Prairie LN, don’t know the number. White house, blue shutters, 3rd from corner
ME: thanks
I slide my shoes on and then toss Cole’s into his lap. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”
He stands, but then glances wistfully at the TV. “Save this for me, okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” I work hard not to laugh. In fact, I take a second to study the ballroom dancers currently auditioning. Mary Murphy is yelping like she’s about to put them on the hot-tamale train—yes, I know the show basics. I point a finger at the dude wearing number 276. “Look at his shoulders—bad technique. And he’s got no chemistry with his partner. He’s looking at the judges way more than her.”
“Yeah,” Cole agrees. “I think he’ll get cut in Vegas. The girl will probably make top twenty.”
The girl is blond, leggy, and perfectly toned. She reminds me a little of—
I shake the thought from my head, not allowing its completion. Jesus Christ, no.
The air outside is both warm and cool, with a nice breeze from the lake. I’m beginning to feel normal again. The hives and swelling are mostly gone. But my stomach twists with nerves. What am I going to do exactly? Apologize? She might get pissed and slam a door in my face, tell all her friends I’m horrible, and join Kayla in calling out “nerd alert” next time we’re in the same place.
I spot the dogs over by the barn and whistle for Vixen. She’s brushing my thigh with her nose seconds later. “Hey, girl. Want to go for a ride?”
Cole stares at me, faking shock. “You’re letting a dog in your precious car? Are you sure you’re fit to drive?”
I open the back door for Vixen and toss a blanket over the leather seat. “I’m training her to save me if I’m dying of an allergic reaction.”
“Seriously?” Cole says.
I shrug. No, not seriously, but she’s my dog, she’s gonna flip her shit if I’m passed out, not breathing, so maybe she’d pull a Lassie and run for help. I could tell Cole the truth, that Vixen is backup for me, a way to keep Haley from slamming doors, but for some reason I don’t want him to know I’m going to her place. Besides, she might not even be home. She’s probably at a party or practicing cheers.
After dropping Cole off, I get even more nervous heading toward Haley’s house. I park across the street, under a tree, and sit there for several minutes giving myself a pep talk. Her front door opens and closes a few times, one of her parents emerging each time to put items on the driveway—suitcases and bags. Maybe they’re going on vacation? But Haley wouldn’t be able to miss summer school and still get full credit, so she must not be leaving.
Her dad squints into the dark, looking in my direction. Now I have no choice but to get out of the car. That or look like a stalker. Vixen and I head up the driveway, and both Stevenson parents greet us.
My face heats up before anyone even utters a word. “Is Haley home?”
Through the front windows, I can clearly see the TV playing the same show that Cole was just watching at my house. Haley’s blond ponytail is moving up and down from the couch.
Her mom looks me over and then glances into the windows. “Um…yeah, she’s here.”
“I’ll get her,” Mr. Stevenson says, eyeing the dog.
He’s allergic. Damn, I forgot. I back up a few steps until we’re on the sidewalk again, and then I glance at Vixen. “Sit, girl.”
She plops down in her spot, keeping her distance. I take another look at the items on the driveway. “Are you guys headed somewhere?”
Haley’s mom is still studying me. Maybe she remembers me from grade school. She was my music teacher. “Mr. Stevenson and I are going on a bird-watching expedition.” She waits for me to respond, and when I don’t, she adds, “It’s our twentieth anniversary in July.”
I don’t really know what to say to her. The girls I talk to—and do other things with—don’t have parents hanging around. Ever. “Haley and I are in Civics together.”
“She mentioned that.”
“We’re partners for the Constitution project.” God, this is unbearable. Maybe I should call it a night?
Finally, Haley steps through the front door. Her hair is wet, and she’s wearing pajama shorts and a tank top. Several feelings—too many to even process—sweep over me, and it takes every bit of focus I have to keep my face cool and calm. What the hell is going on here?
Whatever it is, it needs to go away. Like now.