Tomorrow's Lies (Promises #1) (30 page)

“I thought you were beautiful the day I met you,” I confess. “But you’re so much more than that.” I tap his chest. “Your most beautiful places are in here.” I choke back a sob. “You’ve helped me so much. Flynn. I was such a mess.”

Tucking another strand of unruly hair behind my ear, he smiles sadly. “Quit thinking about the past. No more looking back, okay?”

“What if I don’t make it, Flynn? I mean the fall, the water.”

Tears form in his eyes. “You will,” he whispers, like saying the words will make them come true.

I nod, because what else can I do? We don’t think the fall will kill me, but you never know. In case we’re wrong, I drink him in. His cheekbones are too sharp from not getting enough to eat—
never enough food, never enough of anything
—and the fine sprinkling of freckles across his nose are barely visible now that he’s practically a man.

“What are you doing, Jaynie?” he asks, smiling.

I lift my hand and trace his lips with tentative fingers. “I’m trying to memorize everything about you. I don’t want to forget a single thing.”

Flynn snorts, “Fuck that.”

His lips crash into mine, and I realize this is what I’ve wanted all along, to get lost, to forget everything. Losing myself with Flynn is always easy, especially when his lips are on mine. Hell, he sure doesn’t kiss like an eighteen-year-old guy. He kisses like a fully grown man, lips and tongue moving with a skill far beyond his years.

When he finally drops back, I grab hold of his shirt. “Promise me you’ll be all right. Swear to me this will all turn out okay.”

Tears flow down my cheeks unchecked, hot and burning. Not he, nor I, can stop them. Not tonight.

“I promise,” he says.

“Swear to me we’ll meet where we said we would, as soon as you can get away.”

“I swear.”

“Don’t you dare go and forget about me, Flynn O’Neill.”

“Like that would ever be possible,” he says, chuckling. But then he, too, is choking back tears. “I promise you, Jaynie Cumberland, I will
never
forget about you. You are burned in my soul.”

“Mine, too,” I say.

“We’ll meet, like we planned, as soon as things settle down. I promise you, a thousand times, okay?”

“Today’s promises are nothing but tomorrow’s lies. Isn’t that what you once told me?”

He looks stunned. “I didn’t mean for it to ever apply to us, Jaynie.”

“But it could. We can’t predict the future.”

“Stop it.”

His voice is a plea, and I back off.

“You’ll find me, then?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Say it again.”

“Jaynie, enough.”

Scrubbing his hands down his face, he tilts back his head and stares up at the starless night. His eyes are wet and glistening. Flynn is breaking right along with me. One last time, he tangles his hand in my hair, pulling and grasping, yanking me to him. This letting go is killing him, too.

“Nothing will
ever
keep me from you,” he hisses, forehead pressed to mine.

“But what about what I’ve done?”

He steps back, eyes flashing. “Don’t say it like that. It’s what
we’ve
done, not just you.”

“No, Flynn. I did it. It was all me.”

Sighing, he says, “It doesn’t matter. It was justice for what we lost.”

Something squeezes my heart, making me choke out, “Oh, Flynn—”

“Don’t think about it, Jaynie. Just go.”

He turns me to the water. There is no going back, not this time.

I close my eyes.

Then I jump.

…And I am falling…

…falling…

…falling…

…falling…

Flynn

I
watch Jaynie fall. I watch her swim away, this girl who loves me, and who I love more than anything in the world. Gone, possibly forever, just like the baby I’ll never meet.

My breath catches at the gravity of all that has happened, and at the same time, Jaynie gets caught up in the current. While she tries to swim away, every fiber of my being tells me to jump in after her.

And I almost do. But then she begins to swim with the current, strong strokes I wouldn’t have expected from such a tiny, injured girl.

Jaynie’s tenacity strengthens my resolve. I must remain strong, as well.

When she rounds a bend in the river and I can no longer see her, I turn away and run back to the house. Leaves, which died an early-autumn death, crunch beneath my sneakers, reminding me of how short life really is. That’s why Jaynie deserves a good one, even if it’s at my expense. I’m okay with what I’m about to do. From here on out my sole intent is to protect Jaynie.

I don’t want the girl I love pulled into some court case. I told her differently, but I plan not to mention her to the authorities. I am taking the full blame. I’ll act as if Jaynie had nothing to do with what went down. I’ll say I got into a fight with Allison. I wrestled the scissors from her, and she ended up stabbed. The authorities will assume Jaynie took off—out of fear, or opportunity, it doesn’t matter. She’s close enough to eighteen they won’t bother searching for her.

I
am
eighteen now, and I’ll be tried as an adult. Probably end up in the same prison as my dad. Fuck, that’s the last person I care to spend my days with. But there’s no other choice before me, is there?

The house is dark as I approach, which is weird. I could’ve sworn we left lights on in the hall and definitely in the kitchen. Maybe Jaynie turned them off. Things were happening so quickly, it’s hard to remember all the little details.

When I enter the house, I flip the light switch on in the hall and the area is bathed in an orangey glow, just like I remember it looking when we left.

Hmm, something seems off.
I can’t put my finger on what is bothering me, though. Maybe I’m uneasy because, after all, there’s a probably-now-dead body in the house.

Heading to the kitchen, I expect to find Allison completely bled out. It’s most likely a horrific mess. When I arrive, I close my eyes, and then flick the switch to the overhead light.

Am I ready for this?

No
.

I open my eyes and am shocked, but not for the reason I expected. There’s no massive amount of blood on the floor, there’s no pair of scissors, and most disturbing of all, there’s no body, dead or otherwise. “What the hell,” I whisper.

You’d think nothing had gone down by the cleanliness of the room, certainly not a bloody attack.

As I scan the room for a body that seems to have disappeared into thin air, I realize what was bugging me out in the hall—Mrs. Lowry’s high heels were lying askew in the corner.

Allison’s mother is home, and has apparently cleaned up the body. “Shit.”

I spin around to take off—it’s not too late to catch up to Jaynie—but instead I run smack dab into Mrs. Lowry.

“Flynn,” she says tightly. No phony smiles today. “I had a feeling you’d come back to the scene of the crime.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammer.

It’s too late by the time I notice the hammer in her hand. She lifts and swings so quickly, I see nothing but a blurry arc of metal coming at me.

There’s no time to react, and a sharp pain shoots through my head.

And then there is nothing.

Jaynie

F
ighting the current is no good. You have to roll with it, succumb to the power of the water and let it guide your body.

I do exactly that and soon reach a state of peace. Or maybe the calm I feel is a side effect of freezing my ass off. The water is freaking cold in October. Not so bad as to bring on hypothermia—I don’t think?—but icy enough that my hands and feet start to grow numb.

Relief engulfs me when I catch a glimpse of a break in the trees just a little farther down the river. “That must be the park.” My lips are quivering, teeth chattering.
Oh, please, let it be the park
.

The break in the trees is indeed the park. Outlines of benches and trash containers dot the open area. I swim to the shore with renewed vigor. Freedom is mere yards away. I forget about the cold and thank the stars above, still hidden by cloud cover. I’ve successfully reached the town of Lawrence.

When I crawl up on the muddy riverbank, all the adrenaline that has kept me going since Flynn and I left the house drains out of me, along with what feels like ten gallons of water pouring from my sopping-wet dress.

After shaking out what I can, I crawl over to a wooden bench and rest my head on the worn seat. When I finally have the energy to stand, I wring out sections of the soaked cotton material sticking to my body. When I’m done with my dress, I move up to my dripping hair.
I wish I had a towel
.

Damp and shivering, I scan the area for the old oak tree so I can retrieve the key and unlock the locker Mandy has hopefully stowed warm clothes in. I spy one giant tree only, and it’s nearby, right in the middle of the park.

There are signs all around the tree to not climb up in it, but I’m going to have to in order to reach the carved-out nook in the overhead branches. Summoning strength I didn’t know I still had in me, I drag a park bench over to the base of the tree and climb from there.

The key is exactly where Mandy promised to stow it.

“Thank you, Mandy,” I whisper as I stare down at the number 23 that is stamped on the plastic orange tab at the top of the key.

In locker number 23, I find a big backpack. Inside are clothes for me and Flynn.

Flynn…

Tears well up as I pull out a pair of guy’s jeans that are Flynn’s size. Re-folding them neatly, in the hopes he’ll be along soon and will need them, I tuck the dark blue denim back in the bag.

What if he never makes it?
My mind taunts.
What if he goes to jail for years and years because of something you did?

I can’t go there, or I’ll fall apart. And I
must
keep it together to get through this. I concentrate on the clothes Mandy has thrown in the bag, the ones meant for me. There’s an off-white long-sleeved tee, an oversized gray sweatshirt with a college name I’ve never heard of, a pair of blue jeans, socks, underwear, a bra, and an old pair of beat-up, navy Chucks.

I shrug out of my dress right there by the lockers. It’s not like anyone is around to see me. It’s a cool fall night and the hour is late. Besides, I have no excess energy to spare to search for a restroom, which would probably be locked this time of year.

After I’ve changed into my new clothes, I look around for a discarded plastic bag, the kind from a grocery store. I want to put my wet dress in something. With only two outfits to my name, it’s kind of imperative I hold on to everything.

I eventually find a blue plastic bag that seems relatively clean. It’s lying next to one of the trash bins. I stuff my dress inside, and then return the backpack with the clothes for Flynn to the locker. Before I leave the park, I place the key back in the nook of the oak tree.

I have to believe Flynn will find a way out of the mess we left behind. He’ll be here soon, and then we can figure out this new life together.

Do you really think things will be so easily resolved?
“Don’t think about the alternative,” I chastise myself.