I ride in silence back to my car. The cops don’t talk either. They may be worried about going up against Jack Patterson, who’s associated with the most powerful people in the state, but maybe his connections will desert him now that the shit has hit the fan. Maybe he’s sweating alone in his office because nobody will take his calls. Then I think of his wife and children and now I truly am ashamed because they didn’t do anything, but they must be suffering, too.
My phone shows me more awful. A conservative pundit is calling me the Lolita Peach who tempted a good man to his downfall and his chorus is gaining support online. On the site, they’ve posted shots of me in a short skirt, revealing long legs and smooth skin. I don’t even know where this picture came from, but it makes me look like sex on a stick.
What red-blooded man would refuse her? Pyro99 asks.
I’d bone her, TedHead adds.
Way to go, JP! If there’s grass on the field, play ball. From Anonymouse.
Okay, I’m done with the Internet. I switch my phone off. Part of me hoped there would be something from my dad, but his silence is … ominous, like I’m being silently disinherited. Of course, even if that’s true, I have enough in my accounts to pay for college, which is way more than most people have when they’re kicked out.
It will be okay.
When the police car pulls into the school lot, my blue Bug looks lonely. My heart thaws a little when I see Clay propped against the hood. The officers cut me nervous looks as I climb out of the back, once the older one opens the door.
“Do you know him?” Gutierrez asks.
Clay takes two steps forward. “I’m her boyfriend.”
The joy rocket takes flight, dulling my headache. But maybe he’s just saying that because otherwise our relationship is impossible to explain.
“Will you make sure she gets home all right?” Danby, this time.
“Of course.” Clay takes the keys from my nerveless hands and tucks me into the passenger side.
“We’ll be in touch.”
I shut the door, forestalling whatever else they might have said. For now I’ve given all I can to law and order. Clay starts the car and drives, but not toward my house.
“Your place?” I ask.
“When I saw the news and you didn’t answer me, I drove by your house. It’s insane out there. Like, four deputies are on scene trying to keep reporters away from the gate.”
“We’ll probably have to contract some private security,” I say.
But maybe not. There’s always that school in Austria. If I’m gone, I doubt the reporters will bother my dad. They want more shots of the Lolita Peach, not a middle-aged man. Or maybe they want my side of the story, so they can cut and paste the most salacious bits.
“I don’t care what you did,” he says. “Or why you did it. Just know, you don’t deserve any of this.”
Those words feel like balm on a sunburn that was about to cook me alive. I take my first deep breath all day and let them sink in. But I still feel different than I did yesterday, as if strangers are gnawing at pieces of me, leaving … less, somehow. As if sensing I need a distraction, Clay touches my cheek.
I glance over at him. “What you said back there … did you mean it? Or was that just so I could get away?”
He hesitates a fraction too long. “Right now you need me more than Nathan.”
“Screw that,” I growl. “And you. I’m not a bird with a broken wing. Let me be crystal clear—if you’re here because you feel sorry for me, then stop the car and get out.”
He doesn’t. Ignoring me, he drives all the way to his house. But that only makes me madder. I want to fight with him, and that’s probably not fair because I know damn well that I have a day of feeling powerless to work off; Clay is just here.
He’s the only one who is.
That deflates me as he pulls down the alley and parks by the back porch. Then he unfolds the tarp he used to coddle his Corvair with and covers my VW. I realize he’s worried about someone spotting the car. Even after I yelled at him, he’s still trying to protect me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He smiles then. “It would be weird if you were all sunshine today.”
I understand then why he was hesitant to define things between us. Not because of pity or whatever, but … this just isn’t the time. Things are messed up, both because of Nathan and Creepy Jack, and my emotions won’t let me think straight.
“Let’s go inside.” Maybe I’m paranoid, but standing between the two small houses in Renton’s low-rent district is making me feel exposed. My entire body is a raw nerve.
“I’ll make you something to eat.”
“Thanks.”
He fixes scrambled eggs and beans, more than I’ve had all day. I love that my allergies are second nature to him now; he never offers me stuff I can’t eat. The shakes subside as I devour the food. Processing the proteins takes longer but I’ll feel better than if I’d just slammed some candy instead.
“No problem.”
“Shouldn’t you be at work?” I realize aloud.
“I called in. The shop can manage without me for a day.” Clay piles my plate and cup in the sink and then leads me to his room. Due to the shotgun design, there’s only one window and he draws the curtain. “Better?”
“For now. I’m trying not to think of tomorrow or the day after. Or the trial. When I turned over the photos, I said I knew what I was in for … but maybe I didn’t. Maybe you can’t really understand until you’re swinging on the meat hook.”
What I love most about Clay is that his eyes are still steady. He doesn’t veer away from my face, and he reaches out to touch me like he’s sure it’s still okay, and I won’t come apart in his hands like a china doll that broke in shipping. I’m not all glass dust and shards of regret; I’m hurting, but I’m not ruined. Things get ruined, not people.
“Sometimes shit is worse than we expect. Sometimes it’s better. And sometimes when you’re trekking through a muddy field, you find wildflowers.” From the sweetness of his smile, I get that’s a metaphor for his life … and meeting me.
I’ve never been anyone’s sudden, secret beauty before. The barbed wire in my chest relaxes, so I can breathe a little better. When he pulls me into his lap, I know this isn’t a sex moment. This is simple human contact, and I’ve never needed it more. No matter what happens from here on out, I will always, always treasure the fact that Clay loved me even for a minute.
He kisses my temples, my brows, my chin. I don’t offer my mouth, but it’s impossible not to snuggle closer. Our bodies were made for this. I touch him like my license for it is about to expire, tracing the lines of his jaw, cheekbones, feathering across his forehead. Clay closes his eyes, but the peace doesn’t last long enough.
Nathan breaks the silence with a scornful laugh. “Oh look, it’s the Lolita Peach. How much do you think they’d pay for my personal encounter?”
Clay is on his feet in an instant, one arm around me protectively. “Nathan.” The name sounds like shots fired.
I step away because I’m not doing this. Whatever’s eating Nathan, I no longer care, nor do I have the energy to fight with him or plead for mercy, which might be what he wants, especially after the shit I said about our hook-up.
“Do what you want,” I say, turning to Clay. “Thanks for being there for me.”
For me, there’s no escape from Morgan’s life. Randall Frost will not discuss my scandal in a police station; it will happen behind closed doors. Considering what surely awaits, I don’t want to leave, but I can’t put it off forever.
It’s time to go home.