Losing Track (14 page)

Had I been convicted in just about any other state, I’d have been sent off with a slap on the wrist. Maybe a suspended license. Fucking Florida.

“So Nurse Bridge tells me you had your first outing.” He looks up from the open file on his desk. Over his circular spectacles. I wait for him to elaborate, for him to actually present a question to be answered, but he just sits there. All judgy.

I shrug. “Yup. I went out into the world for a whole corrupting two hours.”

No smile. “How was it?”

I cross my ankles. Make my face blank. “I went swimming.”

“With Boone.” He says it as a statement, not a question. There’s some kind of underlying criticism there. Maybe only the women of Stoney are Boone Randall fangirls.

“Yup,” I say again, nodding my head slowly. “He has a bike.” I’m five years old, telling my dad about the cool kid next door with the awesome toy. It’s so demeaning.

“Ah,” he says. “Yes, he does. And how was it? Being on a bike again?”

Really? Is this guy serious? “It was good. I had fun. Is there a point—?”

“Since your best friend lost her life on one, I thought maybe there would be some hesitancy for you.” His beady eyes drill through his lenses at me. “A moment of panic, maybe.”

My whole body locks up.
Well, there wasn’t until you said something, asshat
. Shitty counselors and their shitty tactics. I glimpse an image of me ripping his little gray eyes out before I say, “Nope. It’s just like riding a bike. You don’t forget how.” I smile. It’s so forced I can almost hear my teeth cracking under the pressure.

But at least he didn’t say her name. No one gets to say her name. They don’t know a damn thing about her. Most people didn’t give a shit about my girl. They don’t get to use her death as a way to get something from me.

“And she didn’t die because of a bike,” I add. “A truck crashed into her and the road smashed her head in. It wasn’t her or the bike’s or Jessie’s fault.” My hands clench into fists. “It was the drunk asshole driving the truck that hit them’s fault.”

His brows pinch together, a curious look forms on his face. “You don’t—” He breaks off, looks down at the file, and I have a fleeting second of satisfaction that I tripped him up. He finds what he’s searching for and meets my gaze again. “You don’t think Jesse’s drug use had anything to do with the accident?”

A sharp razor is slicing my brain. Bottled-up judgments are leaking out of the cuts. Anger rises in my chest, fiery hot, but I get ahold of it before it’s unleashed. I know what he’s trying to do. I know the game, and I won’t play.

I press my back into the chair and push my fisted hands to my sides. “His blood alcohol level was below the legal limit. I know Jesse. He can operate a hell of a lot more fucked up than he was that night.”

“I didn’t say anything about his alcohol level.” He doesn’t miss a beat. “I said his drug use. Shouldn’t you consider Jesse’s actions, or lack of reflexes, his choices that night, as part of the outcome, Melody?”

“What the hell?” I lean forward. “You’re my shrink, right? Shouldn’t you be preaching to me about acceptance and forgiveness and all that shit? Coming to terms with things in order to move on? Why are you fixated on me blaming one friend for another’s death? That’s really messed up. We all partied. We all got high, had drinks, had a good time. We all took off knowing…” I grit my teeth, glare at his smug face. “Dar was my responsibility. If anyone’s to blame for what happened to her, it’s me.”

The words fly out of my mouth so quickly I don’t hear them until they’re out there, floating in the gap between me and Doc Sid. Drifting back to my ears. Pounding against my head.

Dar has always been under my wing. Since that moment in the Jr. High bathroom when I stepped in to protect her, she’s been
my
obligation. I let her ride with Jesse. I should’ve just put her drunk ass in the car. I shouldn’t have fucked Jesse and got all weirded out and wanted to bolt out of there. Just a minute later…just a second…and that truck never would have hit them.

“Melody?” His voice bleeds into my thoughts, and I blink. “I know this is going to come off as nonsense. You’ve heard it a million times on after school specials.” He smiles, like he’s relating to me. Like he’s getting down on my level. Douchebag.

“But,” he continues. “We are the company we keep. You’ve heard that before?”

I nod absently, no longer paying attention to his words. They’re drivel leaking into my ears.

“You’re a committed friend. You’d do anything to protect the ones you care about. I get that, I do.” He takes a breath, getting ready for the but… “But, are they protecting you back? You’re not here for long, so if you get nothing else out of this treatment, I want you to leave with this: take a good, hard look at your friends, and ask yourself if they’re going to help you get to where you need to be, or hold you back.”

He sighs when I say nothing. “Your choices are your own. You’re responsible for your actions. But it’s just as important to acknowledge the actions of those around you, Melody. You want me to assuage your guilt, tell you that it was nobody’s fault, when the truth is: every action has a reaction. There were a chain of events that dominoed and led to your friend’s death.” He flips the file closed. “All right. I think that’s enough for today.”

Yeah, he doesn’t have to tell me twice. Without any parting words, I stand and head for the door. A rock in my stomach. A hot lump lodged in my throat. Choking back the words I want to rail at him.

As I exit the counselors’ wing, and make my way toward the rooms, a sudden nausea consumes me. All I can see is Dar’s face: the smeared makeup; the knots tangling her hair; her drunk, happy smile; blowing a kiss; her vacant, lifeless eyes.

Then Jesse’s body moving on top of mine. Saying “no” and him driving into me…

I wobble on my feet. My hand reaches out to anchor me against the wall, gain balance. I have to get this shit out of my head. I don’t want to think about that night, or Jesse, or Dar, or any of it. It was just a horrible, fucked up night.

Actions
.

We all played a part, my mind is whispering to me. Only is anyone more to blame?

When I finally get to my room, all I want to do is crash. Just fall face first into the lumpy mattress and sleep a thousand years.

But a single envelope stops me short at the foot of the bed.

A breath catches in my chest as I read the return name: Jesse.

Boone

A heightened awareness, a pit free of reason

THE LAST PLACE I want to see is the facility in front of me now.

After Hunter’s death, I loathed it. Hated every waking second of being barred behind its walls. Then, slowly, it became my salvation. A hideaway. A sanctuary. The outside world and its temptations couldn’t reach me here.

My last day at Stoney, I made a commitment to The Routine. One evening a week would keep me from slipping. A promise to Hunter wasn’t enough; I had to prove I wouldn’t fuck up again. So I cut off connections. Not only with friends, but with every person I came into contact with.

Why the hell did I let Melody penetrate my refuge? Now, staring at Stoney, all I see is her, wandering the halls, with her pissed off scowl, cute little ass, and pink bandana.

And the way she looked at me yesterday. Like I was some sort of freak.

Over the past year, I’ve been in some tense situations…but not many as painfully pleasurable as yesterday. Just about all my willpower was tested—and I almost gave in. One more second of her stroking me…looking at me with that wanting gaze…fuck.

I’m still torturing myself.

It took a lot to calm the hell down after I dropped her off, and I’m just firing myself back up. Shit, I’m still lying to myself. I’ve been wound tight ever since she first batted her long eyelashes at me.

I decide to stop standing in the middle of the parking lot, looking like a creeped out psycho, and start toward the front double doors. Hands stuffed into pockets, my eyes squinted in the blinding sun. What used to give me a sense of peace, a haven, now stirs a combination of unease and anticipation inside me. My neck and shoulders are tense as I push through the door. I’m not sure if I’m dreading seeing Mel or excited.

I bypass the counselors’ hallway and head straight for Nurse Bridge. To see if there’s any maintenance hours I can pick up for my proactive community service. Nothing can get me to go back to Doctor Carly’s office. Last time was enough. Despite my momentary lapse with Miata Guy, I’ve been doing well with my anger. Or I was, until she started her interrogation into Hunter.

If yesterday wasn’t proof enough that I’m doing fine on my own, then I don’t know how else to prove it. If I was ever going to run off and get stoned, yesterday would have been that day. But I didn’t. Did I think about it? Yeah. I didn’t, though.

Jacquie will just have to accept the community service and forget the therapy meetings. If it’s not good enough, fuck it. I’ll do my time. I’d rather sit in a six-by-six cell and make friends with the local cons than sit with that doctor picking holes at my brain for one more minute.

“Boone, I didn’t know you’d be back today.” Nurse Bridge, right on time. Saving me from my own defeating thoughts.

“Yeah, hey, Nurse Bridge. Denise said I might be able to help out around here some more. If you need me.” Sink my hands down farther in my pockets. Stare past her head, not into her eyes.

It doesn’t work; she’s a sharp one. Her face pinches, the worry line between her eyebrows deepens. “Is there something going on?”

Other than my ass getting put away? “Not really. Just thought it would be a good touch for the judge.” Her eyes widen. “For my probation hearing. I’m getting off soon.” Which is the truth—but I’m so full of shit on the rest. However, I don’t need one more person digging into my life. Too many people around here already know too much as it is.

She smiles and flutters the file she’s holding toward the end of the hall. “Doc Sid has been complaining about his blown overhead light for a week. I suppose you could start there?”

I match her smile and nod once. “I can do that.”

The tension in my neck has started to ease off. My stride’s more relaxed as I round the corner toward the office. I’m a grown ass man acting like a fucking teenager with a stifled, raging libido. I smile to myself, shake my head. Almost laugh out loud until the sight at the end of the hallway jolts me to a stop.

Melody, sitting on the tile floor, her back pressed to the wall, knees pulled to her chest. Her arms wrapped around her legs, her head resting against the wall as she stares at the ceiling.

And my first reaction? My first selfish thought? Run the other way.

We agreed not to get personal. Neither one of us wants anyone else meddling in our private shit. So this is the time when casual friends walk away. Come back when the smiles and flirtation returns. When it’s safe—and you’re not forced to ask questions.

With where I’m at, it’s the smart thing to do. Especially after what happened yesterday. A man can only be tested so hard. I’m not a saint. I damn well try to be, for Hunter. But Mel is a whole other level of temptation.

But I’ve taken too long to consider my options. She looks up and spots me. Her large brown eyes absorb me, beckoning me closer. They pull me in, and before I know I’m even moving, my feet are closing the gap between us.

Maybe she wasn’t seeing me at all, just staring off. Because when she realizes I’m coming toward her, she attempts to wipe away all traces of fear, tears, and sadness from her face.

She sniffs hard and clears her voice. But doesn’t say anything.

I do. “What’s wrong?”

There. Two simple words. Could be any two people meeting in a hallway, asking the same thing, and it’d mean absolutely nothing. But for us, those words break through every barrier we’ve assembled.

Her choice: answer something noncommittal, like “nothing,” and give me the brush off. Securing our casual friendship remains the same. Or, answer honestly…changing everything.

I’m not sure which I’m rooting for. Just as I wasn’t sure yesterday if I wanted her to accept my rejection—or push past all my barriers and tell me to fuck off, she was taking control. I lied when I told myself I was relieved; I wanted this girl to scare the shit out of me, to make me react.