Indisputable (28 page)

Because Jacoby isn’t here.

He isn’t here, and it’s like my entire soul can feel
it. 

I walk past his classroom on my way to French, and
there’s some old lady with black hair, wearing a matching red skirt and blazer,
standing by the door.  She looks so wrong standing by that door.  She
doesn’t belong.  Yet, she smiles kindly as I pass, and I force myself to
do the same. 

However, the smile drops from my face when I look back
down the hall and see Mr. Stephenson waiting outside the French
classroom.  My lungs freeze; I’m sure terror is written all over my face,
because it’d be a strange coincidence that he’s looking for me the day after
Jacoby disappears. 

Please, no. 

His eyes meet mine.

That’s all that happens before I’m summoned, and my
feet carry me to the place where I’ll hear my fate.  Jacoby’s been
fired.  He fled the state.  I’m getting kicked out of the
post-secondary program.  I can picture it all as I walk into his office
and sit in the hard, uncomfortable blue chair.  My hands tremble so I
clutch my books tighter to my chest.

“I’m going to cut right to it, Miss Krause.  I
had a visitor yesterday who shared with me some…news.  Do you know what
I’m talking about?”  His cool gaze pins me to the seat, and I barely mange
to shake my head no.

“There are allegations about you having a romantic
relationship with Mr. Ryan.”

His sentence steals my breath, and I can’t take it
anymore.  I’m going to break.  “It’s not true!  Who told you
that?”  I wish he’d reach out and hold my hand, because I’m having
difficulty being strong.  This can’t be happening.

“Do you know Wyatt Chasely?”

“It’s not t-true, Mr. Stephenson.  I swear. 
Wyatt is, he’s messed up!” I cry.  Tears slip from my eyes and track down
my cheeks as I stare into Mr. Stephenson’s open, concerned face.

“He said you left him to start a relationship with Mr.
Ryan.  He said he came here to confront you at school back in September,
and he caught the two of you.”

“No!” I scream, the sound harsh to my own ears. 
“Wyatt c-came here with m-me when I m-missed all that school.  H-he
sexually a-assaulted me
here
and Mr. Ryan s-s-saved me.  Oh, God.”

I break.  I break so completely that I’m pretty
sure my heart is lying on the floor.  I cry until my eyes burn, and my
throat hurts.  Mr. Stephenson wraps an arm around my shoulders, and then I
sob into his shirt.  I break down and tell him my own version of the
truth.  I tell him about how I was handling things before school
started.  I tell him about my relationship with Wyatt, and how I tried to
break it off.  I tell him about missing those days of school, Wyatt
messing with my car, the assault, and Mr. Ryan saving me. 

What I don’t tell him is that I fell in love with my
teacher.  And that I’d give anything in this moment to have him back here
with me.

Instead, I tell him we developed a bond, but I lie and
say it isn’t romantic.  That it’s based solely on trust.  Somehow,
Mr. Stephenson seems to believe me.  And then he says the words that free
me from my personal hell.

“I’m glad you were honest with me, Tatum.  I
suppose it was lucky Mr. Ryan had an out of town emergency, and I was able to
talk to you first.  I have a feeling he wouldn’t have been so quick to
betray your trust.  Things might have been a bit trickier then.  I
know how much you’ve struggled over the past year, and I’m glad you finally
found someone to confide in.”

I dry my tears on my sleeve and breathe deeper. 
The worst seems to be over. 

“He talked me into seeing a counselor.  I
actually had my first appointment last Monday,” I tell him, breathing my first
true breath in twenty four hours.  I’m overcome with relief.

“Did he now?  Well, fill me in.  We have
some catching up to do, and I’d rather not send you to class until you’ve
calmed down.”

***

“Trey!  Are you here?”   I call out
into Jacoby’s empty living room while kicking off my shoes.  I need to
tell him everything that’s happened.  He has to know that everything is
going to be okay. 

Rounding the couch, I head towards the kitchen for a
bottle of water.  If Trey didn’t answer, he must not be here.  He’d
have no reason to be upstairs.  When I reach the entrance to the kitchen,
I stop dead in my tracks.

Jacoby. 

“Care to tell me why you’re calling out Trey’s name in
my
house?”  His tone is stern and low, but it isn’t mean.  He
looks so tired.  Exhausted would be more appropriate.  Dark purple
rings surround his eyes, and his hair looks like he’s run his hand through it a
hundred times.  His clothing, a black T-shirt that clings to his biceps and
dark blue faded jeans, is wrinkled as if he slept in them.  Even in his
disheveled state, he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.  My eyes
drink him in, and I can’t actually believe he’s here.

“You’re here.”  My voice is whisper soft and
pained.  Tears prick my eyes.  He’s really here.  My mind spins
with all the what-ifs I’ve been trying not to think about for the last
day.  I reach out to steady myself on the wall as a wave of dizziness
crashes over me. 

“I had to leave town, but I’m back.  What’s going
on?  Is it Wyatt?” 

“You’re here!” I cry and rush him.  I slam into
the warmth of his hard body and tightly wrap myself around him.  His scent
envelops me, and I bury my face into his neck.  The tears flow freely down
my cheeks, but I don’t care.  He’s really here.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on?”  His hand strokes
my hair comfortingly, and I cling to him.  I never want to let go.  

“I-I thought you were g-gone!” I cry into his neck.

“Shh.  I’m here now.  I’m sorry I had to
leave, but I’m here.”

The sound of the front door opening makes me pull my
head away from his warmth.

“Tatum!  You here?”  Trey’s voice booms
throughout the main level of the house.

“Seriously, what the fuck is this?”  Now Jacoby
sounds pissed as he pushes me gently away from him.   I want to tell
him everything, but just then, Trey rounds the corner.

“Motherfucker!  You’re back.  Jesus Christ,
don’t fucking leave like that again.”  Trey walks over and pulls Jacoby
into one of those back-slapping man hugs.  Jacoby’s confusion is written
all over his face, and I’d laugh if I wasn’t so relieved.

“What is this?  You two are acting like I just
came back from the dead.  I had to handle some shit back home.  You
want to explain to me why you both come into my house looking for each other?”

“Cool your shit man, it’s not like that.  You
left without telling anybody.  What do you think we’re doing?”  Trey
seems up to doing all the talking, so I let him.  I don’t know if I can
get my words out without breaking into sobs again. 

“I sent you a text, asshole,” Jacoby replies.

“Dude, you told me you had to leave.  Didn’t say
where, didn’t say when you’d be back.  Then you left your fuckin’ phone
here while you took off to who fuckin’ knows.” 

“I just told you, I went back home.”

“We know that now.  Didn’t you think we’d
worry?  You left after that motherfucker threatened to expose the two of
you.  Do you get what I’m saying to you?”  Trey’s anger is rising,
but realization just dawned for Jacoby. 

He turns to me with a grimace on his face. 
“Sweetheart, I am so sorry.  I didn’t think.  I had to get home, so I
left as soon as I could.  I didn’t realize I left my phone until I was
already on the plane.  My mind was a mess.  Are you okay?”  He
reaches for me, and I go willingly into his embrace.  I can’t blame him
for having his own problems to deal with.  I’m too relieved to get upset
with him.  I trust he had his reasons, and I know he’ll explain it to me
later.  Right now, I just want to be back in his arms.  

“I’m okay.  I was just worried.  What
happened back home?”  Trey gives me a look, and I know what he’s
thinking.  When am I going to tell Jacoby about last night?  And how
is he going to react when he hears I fell asleep cradled in his best friend’s
arms?    

“Maybe we should sit in the living room so I can fill
you in.  You want a beer, Trey?”  Jacoby lets me go to lean in the
fridge and fishes me out a bottle of water.

“Yeah, man.  You sure you don’t want me to
go?  I don’t need to intrude on you two.” 

I want to scream at him to stop making eyes at
me.  We can talk about me until my voice box freezes up, but right now, I
want to talk about Jacoby.

“Nah, I owe you an explanation, too.  It’ll be
easier to just say it once.”

We all walk to the sofa.  Trey sits on one end
and Jacoby on the other.  I climb onto Jacoby’s lap, his arms
automatically cage me in, and he buries his face in my hair.  God, I
missed him.  I’m so glad this nightmare is over.

“So what happened?” I ask.  I want to talk, and
then I want him to take me to bed.  Even if all we do is sleep. 

Jacoby runs his fingers through my hair.  “Right
after we had our run in with Wyatt, I got a phone call from Brent.  He’s
Harper’s brother,” he says to me before continuing.  “Their mom, Carol,
has been sick.  He called me a month ago to tell me she wasn’t expected to
make it until Christmas.”  Jacoby stops and clears his throat.  We’ve
only touched on the topic of Harper’s family, but I can tell whatever happened
is hard for him. 

“He called to tell me she was out of time.  She
was being given last rites.  I-I just had to go.  We had so much left
unsaid between us; she blamed me for what happened to Harper, and I was so
angry.  Angry enough to ignore her all this time.  But when it came
down to it, I couldn’t let her go without my forgiveness.  I needed to see
her one last time.  So I left.  I spoke to Mr. Stephenson, came home
to call a taxi, and I was gone.  I must have dropped my phone when I
changed from my work clothes.  I couldn’t think straight.  All I
could think about was getting there in time.” 

My hands feather along his jaw; I’m hoping to soothe
him.  My heart hurts for this man who gives so selflessly and hurts so
deeply.  He’s carried around the guilt from Harper’s crash for years, and
now he’s losing another member of that family.  Even if Carol was angry
with him, that loss must cut deep. 

“I’m here for you,” I tell him, because what else is
there?  ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t enough, and I don’t want to speak words that are
spoken so automatically.  At least when I tell him I’m here, I can show
him with my actions, too. 

“Thank you.”  He kisses my jaw.  “I’m sorry
I worried you.  At the time I didn’t think, but now I can see how stupid I
was to leave like that.  I don’t know if there could have been worse
circumstances.”

“It’s okay,” I reply, resting my cheek on his
chest.  “Just don’t do it again.” 

I can feel his smile against the top of my head. 
“I won’t.” 

I’m overcome with a wave of exhaustion, a tiredness
all the way to my bones.  These past two days have knocked me out. 
Lying here on Jacoby’s warm chest, with his strong fingers sifting through my
hair, I can finally relax.  The pounding of his heart is a steady rhythm
of comfort beneath my ear.  He’s home.  He’s safe.  We’re
together.  I’m awash with contentment, and I let my eyelids drift closed.

“What do you mean there was an incident?”

“Keep your voice down.  She’s
asleep.”

“Tell me what happened, then.”

“I don’t think you get the state she was
in when you left.  She thought you abandoned her.  Got word that
fucker ratted you out and took off without her.  She was hurting, man.”

“So what does that mean?  What are
you trying to tell me?”

The voices drift up around me, but I can’t make sense
of who’s talking.  The words paint pictures within my mind, and I can’t
tell if I’m dreaming or remembering.

There’s a sigh.  “I’m telling you she
had a moment.  She got a knife, and I wasn’t quick enough.  Just one
cut, but that shit was scary as fuck.”

“Which one?”

“Which what?”

“Which wrist?” 

“Left.”

The pillow I’m lying on is hard, and I shift slightly
to get more comfortable.  Trey and Jacoby keep talking around me, but I’m
too tired to open my eyes.  I just want to sleep.

“Fuck.”  That was Jacoby, his voice a
low hiss. 

“I’m sorry, man.  Is she getting any
help?”

There’s a silence, and I drift further away into a
dreamless sleep.

The sensation of movement pulls me from my
slumber.  I’m jostled slightly, but Jacoby’s strong arms and chest cradle
me as he carries me through the house. 

“What’s going on?” I ask, groggily. 

“Shh.  I’m just carrying you to bed.” 

“Okay,” I mumble, snuggling deeper into his
warmth.