The Problem with Forever (20 page)

“Mouse?” He tugged on a strand of my hair. “Who’s Dr. Taft?”

I looked away, focusing on the printed speech. What did it matter anyway? I knew Rider wasn’t going to disown me as a friend. I drew in a shallow breath. “Dr. Taft was my...therapist. I saw him for about three years. I stopped a little bit ago, because I...I felt like I was ready.”

“Oh. Cool.”

Cool? Okay. How often did he hear seventeen-year-old chicks admit to seeing a therapist, that his only response was
cool
? I peeked at him, and he was just looking at me, expression open. “Really?”

Rider raised a shoulder. “Makes sense. You saw some—yeah, some rough shit. Dealt with some crazy stuff. I’m actually kind of relieved you saw someone.”

I studied him for a moment. “You...really believe that?”

He nodded.

“What about you?” I asked, and when he blinked, he looked confused. “You grew up...with me. You’ve seen some bad shit.”

“I’m fine,” he replied, shifting his gaze to the books.

I stared at his profile. “I was there, Rider. I remember some—”

“And I’m fine,” he interrupted, lifting his gaze to mine. “I promise. I swear.”

Pressing my lips together, I slowly shook my head. “You said you thought...about that night.”

Rider stiffened and then exhaled slowly. “Sometimes,” he repeated quietly and then louder, “When I do, I’m thinking about what happened to you.”

My stomach churned, and I was for once grateful that I hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. “Rider—”

“I should’ve been there,” he stated, his eyes darkening. “I should’ve found a way to get back into that house. I knew that son of a bitch would do something with that doll eventually.”

I opened my mouth, but dammit, I had loved Velvet. Besides the fact that Rider had gotten her for me the day Miss Becky had taken him to the mall, she was the only thing for
years
that had been simply mine. The doll was not a hand-me-down. She belonged to no one before me and I hadn’t had to share her. The doll was all mine and she was beautiful.

Had been.

At twelve years old, I didn’t carry Velvet with me everywhere. I was too old for that, but Mr. Henry and Miss Becky knew how much I treasured that doll. Mr. Henry had gotten ahold of her and... Yeah, that hadn’t ended well.

Rider thrust his hand through his hair, clasping the back of his neck. “If I hadn’t talked back to him that night, that wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn’t have been left alone in there. You wouldn’t have seen what you did.” Dropping his hand, he tipped his head back. “It’s one of the biggest things I regret.”

“That?” I croaked. “It wasn’t...your fault.”

What happened
wasn’t
Rider’s fault.

“He threw the doll in the damn fireplace,” he said gruffly.

And in an ultimate act of desperation and stupidity, I’d tried to save the doll. If I hadn’t already seen what I’d seen that night, I might not have done what I had. The act with Velvet broke me. I panicked as I saw the only thing I’d ever owned, a gift from Rider, on the brink of being destroyed. I rushed past Mr. Henry and reached into the fire. I vaguely remembered Mr. Henry laughing and then there was this horrific screaming and this terrible smell.

The screams had been mine.

Rider didn’t say anything as he reached between us and picked up my left arm. His fingers were cool against mine as he pushed the sleeve of my shirt up to my elbow. He turned my arm over, like he had done the first day, in the parking lot.

“I still can’t believe there’s hardly any scar.” He smoothed his thumb just below my wrist, causing me to suck in a soft breath. The caress zinged all the way to my spine. “Just a little more pink than the rest of the arm. Amazing.”

My mouth dried. His thumb kept moving, traveling over my skin, making its way to my elbow.

“I wish this had never happened.” He swallowed. “I wouldn’t have lost...” Trailing off, he peered up through his lashes and grinned. “It worked out, though. Weird how something good can come out of such a big screw-up.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I insisted, meaning it. “You couldn’t watch over me twenty-four hours a day. I wasn’t your responsibility.”

His gaze held mine and a moment passed where he seemed to be considering what he wanted to say. “Anyway,” he drew the word out. “None of that really matters, right? You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. The way you talk isn’t a big deal. And if people are asses, they’re not important. Only you can let yourself make them important.”

“And what if none of that works?” I asked.

Rider’s lips tipped up at one corner. “I’ll just start beating people up.”

My brows flew up.

“Seriously.”

Tipping back my head, I laughed—laughed long and hard—and when I looked at him, he was staring at me in his intense way. “What?” I asked, my smile starting to fade slowly.

He gave a little shake of his head. “Nothing.” He paused. “It’s just that I haven’t heard you laugh like that in...yeah, a long time. It’s nice.”

I was smiling again.

“Really nice,” he repeated, and our gazes locked again. He was still holding my arm and his thumb was still moving in slow, smooth circles. “I hope you do it more often.”

Chapter 18

I knew this wasn’t happening.

In the furthest corners of my mind, I knew what I was seeing, what I was hearing, wasn’t occurring right now. I knew that, but I couldn’t pull myself out of it. Not when it started with the voices. Loud. Sharp. Explosive. Detonating a bomb loaded with terror.

Clapping my hands over my ears, I inched backward, pressing against the wall. I wanted to close my eyes, but I couldn’t. They felt like they were peeled wide open, held by tiny pins. The pain radiating from the center of my face was forgotten.

Cheeks flushed a bright red and eyes bloodshot, Mr. Henry dragged Rider across the dirtied, ripped linoleum floor by the arm. Rider was almost as tall as Mr. Henry now, but the man had a good hundred pounds on Rider. He was yelling so loudly I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but Rider wasn’t struggling. He covered his nose with one hand. Blood ran between his fingers. My tummy twisted.

Mr. Henry threw open the back door. Cold air rushed in as tiny snowflakes fell across the yellowish-white floor. The storm door, broken, swayed unsteadily in the wind. “I’m done with your shit, boy. You think you have it bad? Maybe you’ll realize just how lucky you have it after a couple of hours out there.”

In a stuttered heartbeat, Mr. Henry shoved Rider outside, onto the snow-covered porch. I cried out, peeling myself off the wall. Rider couldn’t be outside. He was just in a shirt and jeans. It was too cold.

The door slammed shut. It was too late.

Mr. Henry whirled on me, and trepidation seized my heart.

Fists pounded on the door, from the outside, and I started to back up. Nothing was between Mr. Henry’s unfocused gaze and me.

“Get out of my face, girl,” he shouted, spraying spittle into the air. “Or you’re gonna regret it real quick!”

Spinning around, I ran out of the kitchen and into the den. I pressed myself against the wall as I lifted my arm, dragging my fingers against my nose. Pain spiked, but there wasn’t a lot of blood on my hand when I lowered it.

Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up.

Heart pounding fast, I listened to Mr. Henry stomp into the living room. A second later, sound blared out of the TV. He was seriously going to leave Rider outside. Oh my God, he wouldn’t last out there in the cold and the snow. I had to do something.

Waiting a few minutes, I turned and slipped around the wall. I crept up the stairs, careful to not be heard, and I walked down the hallway.

Don’t go inside the room. Don’t go in that room.

I pushed open the door. Soft yellow light flickered. Miss Becky was on the bed. Calling out her name, I walked up to the bed and I touched her. Her skin felt wrong, and I knew. I knew deep down, something was very wrong. A scream bubbled up in my throat.

Don’t make a sound.

Screams—there were screams, and I couldn’t keep quiet, because they were mine. I backed out of the room. Mr. Henry shouted from downstairs as I ran down the steps. I had to get to Rider and we had to get out of here. My heart was pumping so fast, and I knew what was coming, and I didn’t want to see it, but I’d already seen it.

Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up.

I reached the kitchen door and then Mr. Henry was there, yelling and spitting. I couldn’t get any words out. He grabbed my arm, hauling me toward the living room. Flames crackled from the fireplace as he stopped in front of his recliner. Still holding on to my arm, he bent over, reaching behind it.

This is just a dream. Just a dream. Wake up.

Straightening, he clutched Velvet in his fist. I’d known that the doll was there. He’d taken her from my room three months ago because I hadn’t put the cap back on the milk tight, like he wanted. I’d known exactly where the stuffed doll was, but I also knew not to touch her.

He shoved Velvet in my face as he let go of my arm. I stumbled, the back of my legs digging into the edge of the coffee table.

Wake up. Wake up.

Mr. Henry cursed. “Fucking sick of this shit. Got a little smart aleck and a damn retard I got to take care of.” Squeezing the doll in his fist, he stormed toward the fireplace.

My eyes widened and—

“Mallory!”

I came awake, jackknifing up as I gulped in air. I wasn’t alone. Hands were on my arms. I screamed again, voice hoarse as I tore myself free.

“It’s okay,” the voice came again, and I was slow to recognize that it was Carl. “It’s okay, Mallory. You were having a nightmare...again.”

“Dark,” I managed, pushing back against the headboard. “It’s—” The bedside light flipped on, flooding the room in soft light, and there was Carl, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. His hair a disheveled mess, sleep clinging to his eyes and his white shirt wrinkled as he placed his hand on my forehead.

My chest hurt.

“It’s okay, Mallory.” Carl smoothed his hand over my damp hair. “It’s just a nightmare. Everything is okay. You are safe now.”

Safe
.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I was safe now, but the past...the past wasn’t. It never would be, and it would be haunting me forever.

Carl left the bed and returned a few moments later with a chilled bottle of water. He handed it over. “I want you to drink it slowly.”

With shaky fingers, I unscrewed the lid and raised the bottle to my lips. I took a small sip and then another, cooling the back of my parched throat.

He waited until I lowered the bottle and said, “We’re worried, Mallory.”

My breath caught. He didn’t mince words. Carl never had.

“You haven’t had nightmares in almost two years, but you’ve been getting them quite regularly since you started school,” he said, eyeing me intently. “We’re worried.”

“About?”

He tilted his head to the side. “About you and school, about Rider being back in your life, and maybe it’s too much, Mallory. You—”

“It’s not too much,” I interrupted. “It was just—”

“You’re having nightmares again,” he continued as if I didn’t know this about myself. “We’re just concerned. We don’t want you overwhelmed.”

Overwhelmed. Like I was this frail creature that would shatter under the stress. Anger sparked deep in my chest, and it was strange to feel that toward Carl. “I’m fine.” I forced the two words out. “I’m not overwhelmed. It was just a...nightmare. No big deal. And it has nothing to do with school or Rider.”

“I’m going to have to disagree on the Rider part.” He held up his hand when I opened my mouth. “Only because it would make sense that his being back in your life would cause...” He drew in a deep breath. “Would cause a resurgence of old feelings, many of them scary.”

What he said
did
make sense, but I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

Carl stared at me a moment and then he nodded with a sigh. “Okay.” He started to rise. “Don’t forget that if you ever need to talk, you come to us.”

Talk about what? I had no idea, but I nodded. He studied me for a few more moments and then he stepped out of the room, quietly closing the door behind him. I’d told him I wasn’t overwhelmed and I was fine, but I knew Carl didn’t believe me.

I wasn’t even sure if I was telling the truth.

* * *

Rider was a no-show Friday.

Paige didn’t show up for class, either, and while I figured the two were together, little knots of unease still formed in my belly. With the exception of the start of the school year, he hadn’t missed school.

When class ended, I gathered up my stuff as I eyed Hector’s back. Asking him about Rider would be the smartest, simplest thing to do. He would obviously know. The edges of my bag’s straps bit into my palm as I forced the words out. “Hector?”

He turned in my direction, lips tipping up. “Yo.”

I stepped around my desk. “Is Rider...okay? I mean, he’s not in class,” I said, stating the obvious. “I figure...he’s with Paige, but I just wanted to make...sure he’s okay.”

The smile dropped a notch as his gaze flickered to the empty seat. “He’s not with Paige. Not today.” Those light green eyes landed on me. “At least, I don’t think he is.”

“Oh.” I bit the inside of my lip.

He looked over his shoulder and then sighed. “They got into it pretty hard-core last night, so I’m not surprised she’s out, too, but...”

Over his shoulder, I saw Mr. Santos turn in our direction. “But what?”

“But he got tore up last night.” Hector slung his bag over his shoulder. “There was no way he was getting up this morning.”

“Tore up?” I repeated dumbly, and then it hit me. Tore up as in drunk.

“I’ve got to get going. Have to head to work,” Hector said. “See you later,
bebé
?”

Dazed, I nodded and didn’t move for a long moment as Hector walked off. Rider had fought with Paige last night and then gotten drunk. Stomach churning, I started toward the front of the class.

“Mallory, can I talk to you for a second?” Mr. Santos called out. I stopped as he met me by the door. “How does Wednesday sound to give your speech?”

Mind a million miles away, I nodded.

“Great.” He patted my arm. “Looking forward to it.”

Dismissed, I left the class and made a stop by my locker so I could grab books needed for the weekend. I wasn’t really focused on the walk to my car. That burn in my stomach felt a lot like guilt.

Friday night I spent an indecent amount of time staring at my cell phone, my fingers hesitating over the screen. I’d chatted with Ainsley earlier and she’d told me to just text Rider before she made me promise that I’d see her tomorrow.

Just text Rider.

As if it were simple.

It was simple. Who was I kidding?

But it also seemed like a big step, because I’d never initiated contact with him or any guy before. And I was overthinking it as usual, because Rider was my friend and checking in on him was normal.

Frustration washed over my skin, making me hot and uncomfortable. My eyes narrowed on the phone and I tapped on Rider’s name, opening up the texts.

Are you okay?

I paused and then deleted that. Then I typed out
:

Is everything okay?

That sounded less dramatic, so I clicked Send. Then I threw my phone to the foot of the bed.

It was close to ten when Rider responded.

Yes. I’ll see you Monday.

Relief hit me hard, but my head was in a thousand places and it had been tough to fall asleep. At least I didn’t have another nightmare, because the last thing I needed was Carl and Rosa freaking out and yanking me from school.

If they thought it was the right thing to do, they would do it.

* * *

Homecoming banners appeared over the weekend in the halls of Lands High. They were everywhere. Posters on the walls. Covering the lockers. As I walked to second period, I eyed the dates. Homecoming would be held during the last weekend of October, two weeks from now.

I couldn’t believe that I’d been at school for almost two months. Time moved fast even when it felt like it was taking forever.

Rider returned to school on Monday, as did Paige. He’d met me outside class and had walked with me to speech. I hadn’t asked about what happened between him and Paige or about what Hector had told me. He hadn’t brought it up. I did notice that Paige came to class seconds shy from the tardy bell ringing. She’d looked in Rider’s direction, but he didn’t look in hers. I didn’t know what was going on there.

It was then, in speech class, my thoughts switched to something far more important. It was when the first speech was given that it hit me that this was really happening. Everyone in class was going to give their speech and come Wednesday, I’d give mine during lunch.

Panic grew like a noxious weed, surging in my veins. Everyone was going to know that I...I couldn’t do it like them. Listening to the other students stand up and give their speeches, I focused on what I could control and remembered what Rider had said in the library.

People were going to be jerks and that wasn’t on me.

All I could do was make sure I gave my speech to Mr. Santos, so I threw myself into practicing the speech every chance I got, using Carl and Rosa when I wasn’t going over it by myself. I realized that Rider still hadn’t written his speech. He didn’t seem at all fazed by his lack of progress, and whenever I brought it up, he flipped the conversation and said, “Once you ace the speech, I’ll take you to the garage.”

I’d eyed him wryly, but I was curious about the garage thing. I wanted to see some of his work. Despite how wrong it was, I wanted to see
him
. But I wasn’t a gerbil that needed a reward.

Unless the reward was homemade queso dip. Then yes, reward me.

Homecoming was the topic of conversation at lunch on Tuesday. Seemed like half of the school was interested in attending. The other half couldn’t care less. The table I sat with fell into the first group. To be honest, I hadn’t even thought of Homecoming until I saw the banners and stuff this morning. It hadn’t even come on my radar. Not because I was too cool or that high school dances weren’t my thing. It just wasn’t something I had the chance to consider, and now that I did, there was a part of me that thought it would be fun. It would be an
experience
.

But I didn’t have a dress.

Or a date.

“When do you have to do your speech?” Keira asked at lunch. She was scheduled to go on Wednesday, during class, like a normal person.

It was the first time I was asked that question. I didn’t want to answer, but that would be weird and I was weird enough without adding to it. “Tomorrow,” I said, staring at my plate. “Tomorrow...during lunch.”

Keira didn’t immediately respond, and I dared a quick peek at her. Her dark brows knitted. “So you just have to give your speech to Mr. Santos, then?”

I nodded, hoping she wouldn’t think what Paige had.

“Cool,” she said, picking up her napkin as Jo and Anna sat across from us. “I get super nervous when I have to do the public speaking thing.”