Finding Me (18 page)

I don’t respond to her or push her away like I’m tempted to. I do what I always do. I leave. Disappearing through the throngs of arms and gyrating bodies makes it easy for me to separate myself from her and everyone else, almost too easy.

The night air brings a welcomed chill to my skin that that is too hot from the heat and the anger pulsing through me. I’m consumed with resentment as I make my way down the sidewalk, in need of some sort of distance, some sort of barrier between the thoughts she’s invoked that threaten to overcome me.

“Ace!”

My heart rate and steps quicken at the voice that’s too familiar to not penetrate my cloud of thoughts, increasing my need to get out of here.

A large hand wraps around my own, tugging me to a stop. A deep breath escapes me as I turn my face to catch Nathan Hudson looking at me with excitement that quickly dims when he sees my expression.

His eyebrows furrow and his grip loosens slightly on my hand. “What happened?”

“I’m fine,” I growl, pulling my hand from his grip and turning on a red leather heel.

“Where are you going?”His words follow me as I stalk a few paces with Kendall’s borrowed heels echoing on the sidewalk.

My ears ring from being in loud clubs all night, and voices in my head are screaming at a disturbing level, but I still hear the jeers that are directed toward me as I pass by a bar littered with men that are smoking, leaning against the brick exterior.

As a particularly vulgar comment is slung my way, an arm wraps around my shoulders and pulls me against a hard frame. It’s Nate, of course. The last thing I want to do right now is walk down the street arm in arm with Nate, but I know that with the combination of the alcohol I’ve consumed and the rampant thoughts that have most of my senses and mind distracted, I’m an easy target. I swallow my fury and continue to walk, pressed up against his side.

“What are you doing out here by yourself? Where are you going?” he rasps as we step onto the curb of the next sidewalk.

I shrug him off and take a step to the left to create more space as we continue up another block as a response.

“I didn’t know you were back?”

I know he’s looking for me to confirm one way or the other, but I don’t. I can’t seem to focus enough energy or attention to have a conversation that won’t uncover one or several of the things I’m working to suppress.

“Come on, my truck’s this way.”

“I’m not getting in a car with you.”

“Ace, what are you going to do? Walk? Where are you even going?”

“I’ll be fine.”

Nate grabs my arm and I slap it away as I forcefully shout for him not to touch me. His hands fly up in surrender, looking shocked at my outburst. “You’ll never touch me again!”

“Ace…” He grabs my arm again, using just enough force to stop me, but not enough to be painful. “I never,
never
touched you.” He shakes his head several times. “I don’t know what you or Rodriguez think happened that night, but it wasn’t whatever in the hell you think it was.”

His words repeat in my head as I try to focus on them and clear enough space to decipher what he’s saying. Shaking my head, I tell him, “That makes no sense.”

“You think I tried to hurt you? That I was helping those fucking goons? I thought Jessica Finley saw enough to know what happened.”

“She did, and then she went and got Pedro!”

“You think Rodriguez could have taken on all four guys by himself? He was wasted and just started swinging the second he walked in. He fucking hit the
wall
at one point because he had no balance! I wasn’t trying to hurt you!
I was trying to protect you
!”

Every muscle in me goes slack as I see the sincerity and intensity pouring from his brown eyes.

“I would never force a girl!
Never
!” His voice rises with an anger that I can somehow understand and even validate. “How in the hell you guys all thought that, and never said a fucking word to me, blows my fucking mind. I kept waiting for you to ask me about what happened, sure that you would press charges on those sick sons of bitches, but you never came. The first time I approached you about it, you ran away, looking scared as shit, and I thought it was because you were embarrassed or afraid of me because I broke Collin’s arm.”

“I didn’t even know you did that,” I admit in a whisper.

“Why in the hell didn’t you confront me, then?”

“It was easier to just—”

“Ace!”

Nate and I both turn to see Kendall rushing toward us, her heels clipping as her hair fans behind her. Her face is contorted with rage that requires a delayed moment for me to realize is directed toward Nate, rather than me for leaving.

I quickly move in front of him, pressing my back against his front and raising both of my hands to her.

“Move!” she screams, gripping my right wrist in her left hand as she seethes at Nate.

“Kendall, no!” I cry. “Pedro and I were wrong! Ow!” I cry, pulling my hand free from hers and clutching my right bicep where her tightly clenched fist just hit me. “What in the hell are you doing?”

“Move!”

“Kendall, he didn’t do anything! Calm down!” My arm throbs with a surprising amount of pain from the impact that makes me want to look at my arm to see the damage, but her face is still fully masked in anger, as though my words are falling on deaf ears.

“STOP!” I yell, reaching forward and grabbing both of her wrists in my hands. “Stop,” I repeat when her blue eyes reluctantly meet mine. “He never did anything to me.”

“He was trying to!” She struggles against me, and it takes everything in me to hold her back.

“He protected me!” I cry, tightening my grip on her arms. “He helped me.”

Kendall has a similar reaction to my own as her eyes grow wide and her muscles fall lax under my grip.

“He protected you?” she repeats.

I nod, releasing my hold on her.

“I punched him,” she says, looking slightly shocked.

“Actually, you punched me, Rocky.” My voice is too tight to convey the joke that I’m intending, but it doesn’t seem to matter because Kendall’s shaking her head.

“I punched him,” she repeats.

“It’s okay,” Nate supplies from behind me. “If I’d have thought that, I would have punched me too.”

“I still hate you. Don’t try to be a nice guy now,” Kendall bites. “I hate you less for helping my sister, but you’re still a complete asshole.

Nate’s lips purse, and his jaw clenches, but he doesn’t try to object.

“Come on,” Kendall says, linking her arm with mine.

We take a few steps forward before I pull her to a stop and turn to face Nate again. “Thank you for stopping them from…” My words trail off because although I’ve started to face what might have occurred that night had Pedro, and now Nate, not intervened, I’m not yet ready to vocalize it. “I’ll make sure Pedro knows the truth.”

“And Miller. I’m done being on his damn hit list.”

My eyes snap to Kendall beside me, wondering how Max knows anything about this. She gives me a silent nod to confirm she’ll explain later, and I turn back to Nate and nod in agreement. “I’m sorry. I’ll take care of it.”

Nate’s mouth opens like he wants to say something more, but then he closes it and places both hands on his hips as he looks up at the sky. I turn around, not sure how to create any more closure for this moment. Kendall’s right; although I no longer feel such a strong loathing for Nate, he’s still done some really asshole-ish things, and some of those things were to my sister. I’ll never want to be his friend, but I’ll also always feel appreciative for what he helped stop.

Kendall and I trek across the same stretch that I’d covered with Nate, back toward the club in silence. I can tell by the rigidness of her steps that she’s trying to process what just happened.

“I’m sorry I hit you.”

I’m relieved she doesn’t want to discuss what happened that night, though I know she’ll eventually be asking me again. “You seriously know how to hit.”

Kendall turns and the sadness and focus on her face breaks into a small grin. “Max and Landon taught me. You were my first real punch.”

“That’s something for the record books. Remind me to thank Landon later.”

The others are all standing outside of the club, talking and looking at cell phones. I’m sure they’re considering where we went when I hear Mindi’s voice over the raucous noises, calling our names.

“Where did you guys go?” she demands.

“I just needed some air,” Kendall lies seamlessly.

“Let’s go home. I’m ready to stick my Twinkie in some ice cream,” Jameson says, wrapping his arm around Kendall and pressing a kiss to her temple.

“What?” I cry, turning to face him with a laugh.

“I got that ice cream at home…”

“Dude, that sounds wrong on so many levels,” Wes says, shaking his head.

Jameson’s brow furrows for a second, then rises with a laugh. “A Twinkie is only like four inches long, come on. If I was going down
that
road, I’d have said something like; my trombone is going to get tuned tonight.”

“If you can’t cut the mustard, baby, lick the jar!” Landon calls with a whoop.

I giggle even harder as I lean against Kendall. “I don’t know if I actually understand how that means what I know he’s implying.”

“Battering my corn dog,” Jameson calls out, too loudly. “Painting my flagpole.”

I laugh even harder when I hear Jenny shriek with laughter. “Glazing the donut!” she cries.

Adam looks horrified for a split second, his ears and neck turning red. I have to stop walking because I’m laughing so hard I can’t see straight.

“I think you mean putting cream in the donut,” Wes says, and somehow I think I’m laughing harder than I’ve ever laughed before as I hear Jenny walk through her confusion aloud before understanding.

“Want your chimney swept, babe?” Jameson asks, wrapping an arm around Kendall’s stomach and pulling her flush against him.

“You have to stop,” I choke out. “My stomach hurts.”

“We do not remember days, we remember moments.”

–Cesare Pavese

A
s I wait for Kendall to finish making her normally straight hair curl into large waves, I search through the liquor cabinet in need of something to take the edge off the impact of emotions that I’m feeling. I have a zillion tiny nerves running through me with the anticipation of seeing my mom and a haunting sadness that makes me want to curl up in a corner and cry. I’m working mercilessly to push them all away and feel ever thankful when my phone chimes, indicating a new text.

I make my way over to the couch where my phone is and take a double glance at my suitcase. It’s been moved slightly, creating more space so the chair sitting adjacent to the couch is now accessible.

My phone chimes again, reminding me why I came over here.

Danny: It already feels like u’ve been gone a LONG time.

Danny: I hope UR 1/2ing fun.

Me: Sometimes your texts are really cryptic. I had to read that four times to realize it says having.

Danny: Some girl said it’s bc I get hit in the head so much.

Me: She sounds smart.

Danny: She’s brilliant. U’D like her.

Me: I have to get going. Jenny’s shower starts soon and we’re supposed to be helping set up.

Danny: OK. I miss U.

Danny: I miss u a lot.

His words sting. A part of me misses Danny too. I miss the ease I often feel when I’m around him and his quick smile. I miss the excitement and energy that he brings and how he manages to make me laugh, even when my own memories are kicking my ass. Yet, I know in my heart that although I genuinely do miss Danny, the feelings that I experience in Delaware when I miss my family, when I miss
him
, are far more expansive.

Me: I miss you too. Let me know how your fight goes tonight. I know you’ll win—since you don’t know how to lose, but feel free to brag about it afterward.