Two Blue Lines (Crossing The Line #1) (22 page)

The day of Noah’s funeral dawned sunny and bright—a complete oxymoron to the deceased.

I milled around the sea of sad faces by myself since Melissa refused to come with me. My parents and Izzie had disappeared to offer their condolences to Mr. and Mrs. King before the service.

Jonah sat alone in the front pew, his head bent over in what probably appeared to be silent grief to everyone else, but I knew was just his attempt to be alone. So I let him be and slid into the back, my eyes pinned to the open casket. Humbling to think that our lives end up in a box. A gleaming, satin-lined box, but a box nonetheless.

His mother’s cries drew my attention, her shoulders shaking violently with her sobs, as if her anguish was going to cause her to crumble at any moment. And perhaps it was. Who was I to say?

Mr. King held her up and settled her into the pew a few feet over from Jonah as their other children filtered in obediently and lined up in order of birth, the youngest next to her. She turned red-rimmed eyes to her baby, Esther, and pulled her into a fierce hug. The woman’s pain was obviously real. Guess a mother’s love transcends a child’s sins. And Noah had more than his share.

My gaze drifted back to Jonah, knowing deep in my heart how he truly felt, and the guilt he felt for it.

I shifted as my parents and sister slid into the pew next to me and my mom offered me a sad smile. She had no idea what an evil dick Noah truly was and how he tortured me and Jonah. I’m sure the mom in her was trying to empathize with Mrs. King.

As the music started up and the first strains of “Amazing Grace” began, my eyes swiveled to the back of Mr. King’s head. Was my dad feeling anything for him? Should I?

I swallowed and looked down at my lap.

I was going to be a father soon. Shouldn’t I feel something . . . I dunno . . . fatherly?

God. Should I be wondering what it would feel like to love a child then lose him? I hadn’t even figured out how to love my kid yet.

But I wanted to. That meant something, right?

I was a better person than Noah ever dreamed of being. In the grand scheme of things, surely that counted for something. I was destined for more than just another shiny box and crying mom, right? If not, then what the hell?

As if sensing my thoughts, my dad reached across my mom’s back and clamped my shoulder. I glanced over as the preacher’s voice intoned about the Lord giving and taking away, and a small, half-smile tugged my dad’s lips.

Warmth curled through me.

The service continued on, a bunch of fake crap, if you asked me, about what a wonderful guy Noah was. How he’d be missed. More churchy music. Finally it was over. Everyone filed out of the pews and we lined up and slowly passed by the casket for a last look, last respects.

The family went first.

Mrs. King sobbed and folded into her husband’s arms again.

The kids rushed by, barely looking.

But Jonah stopped and stared at his brother, seeming to take in every feature of his face as if to commit it to memory. Then he stepped away and the guests began to walk by.

When it was our turn, my mom grabbed Izzie’s hand and they passed without looking and my dad gave a cursory glance. But I couldn’t help myself. Noah had been a huge chunk of my childhood. He’d helped form who I was in some ways, I suppose. I’d learned to swing a right hook because of him. I’d figured out what a cherry bomb was—the firework, car part, and the drink—thanks to his shenanigans. I’d seen my first dirty movie because Jonah and I had snuck it outta his room.

But as I looked into his pale, lifeless face, I saw . . . nothing. Felt nothing.

I guess it was over for me.

I just wished I could say the same for Jonah.

October 20
th
Continued

Noah King is dead.

I’m not sorry. He was an evil asshole who spent entirely too much time torturing people for his own enjoyment. He did it to Reed, certainly Jonah . . . everyone in his orbit.

I know I probably freaked Reed out with my reaction, I couldn’t help it. I’ve got years of ugly feelings smoldering where he is concerned. And I hate it. I wish I could bury all these painful emotions, all my confusion, all my shame, along with him. Maybe then I’d get some relief.

Reed asked me to go with him to the funeral. For Jonah.

No.

There is nothing in this world that would’ve made me go.

Zombie Confusion

J
onah didn’t show up to school the next couple of days and hadn’t returned any of my calls. Guess the shit must’ve been hitting the fan at his house. Poor dude. But I knew he’d call when he was ready. As it was, I was practically a walking zombie from working ‘til midnight, school, and trying to see Mel whenever I could. Which wasn’t nearly as often as I would’ve liked ever since her weird blowup about Noah. She’d started having her mom bring her to school, claiming she was running late or some other lame excuse, when I’d try to pick her up. Then she’d find reasons to not be around at lunch. My girl was avoiding me. But, why?

Chicks.

I slammed my locker shut and made my way toward Chem class when I spotted her by the girl’s restroom, looking kinda pale and strange.

I rushed over. “Hey. You okay?”

She pressed a hand to her forehead and leaned against the wall. “Um, yeah.”

Liar. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

I dropped my books and propped her up under my arm. “Baby,” I cajoled. “Tell me. Are you sick?”

She shot me a weak glance. “No. I’m fine.” But that didn’t stop her from leaning into me a bit more. “I just got a little dizzy there, is all.”

“Do you need to go to the doctor?”

She waved away the idea. “No. They’ll just tell me I’m being stupid and overreacting. It’s just normal pregnancy stuff.” She sucked in a breath and straightened a little. “I feel better.”

I rubbed her arm. “You sure?”

She studied my face. “Yeah.” She bent to try and pick up my books, but I beat her to it. She met my gaze as we both leaned over.

“Mel . . .”

“Reed.”

“What?” I said as I stood.

She suddenly looked nervous as her gaze darted everywhere but at me and she started wringing her fingers.

“Mel? What’s wrong? Why are you avoiding me all of a sudden? Did I do something wrong?”

The bell rang but I ignored it. Screw the tardy. I wanted to hear what she had to say.

Her eyes reluctantly met mine. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then what is it?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” I insisted. “You’ve not been yourself since Noah. Please—”

“It’s
nothing
,” she reiterated with force, but I saw the lie in her eyes. She leaned up and brushed a kiss to my cheek. “I’m sorry.” My lips. “I love you.”

I tried to hold myself from kissing her back. But when she pressed her lips to mine a second time and whispered ‘I love you’ again, I caved. Mel was my slippery slope. My Achilles heel. I could no more refuse her than refuse to breathe.

And just like that, Mel was back.

Again, chicks.

October 26
th

I feel like absolute crap today. Big, bloated, nauseated (again?) crap. I’ve had headaches a lot of mornings, too. And sometimes I get super dizzy and see floaters. I’m kinda freaked and scared about what’s happening to my body. If it’s like this now, what will giving birth be like? Bringing home a baby? I’m barely making it through school and babysitting anymore seems to be out the window. Ugh.

I’m going with Reed to a Halloween party tonight. Even though it’s at Chloe Seymour’s house, I’m gonna try to get over myself and suck it up. Physically and emotionally. Reed is mine and she has no power over us. Plus, I can tell he really wants to go, and I have a sneaking suspicion it’s because Jonah’s been skipping school since the funeral and Reed’s hoping he’ll show up. I’m not sure what I want.

God, I hope I feel better by then . . .

Martyrs and Warrior Princesses

S
o Mel and I were back to our same ol’ selves (well, plus one bun in the oven) when we decided to go to a party at Chloe’s the Friday night before Halloween. I still wasn’t 100% comfortable around Chloe, but I figured I could avoid her. I was really hoping Jonah would be getting back on the normal train and show up.

I donned my traditional zombie mask and rang Mel’s doorbell, wondering what costume she’d concocted this year with her belly.

Her brother answered, his face troubled and serious, but he quickly pasted on a smile of greeting. “Hey, Reed. What’s up?”

“Hey, Chris.” I laughed at how quickly he recognized me, his gaze raking up and down my costume with amusement. “Melissa!” he called over his shoulder.

She came up behind him and he sauntered away. She grinned and faked a little squeal of fright. “Ooh, scary!” She giggled. “No blood this year?”

“No.” I pulled off the mask and smiled down at her. She was in pigtails, little shorts, and a T-shirt with tiny handprints on her belly that said ‘Help! Get me outta here!’ “Nice costume.”

She shrugged and grabbed her purse. “Best I could do in the maternity department.”

I followed her to the car. “It’s cute.” I kissed her nose before she slid in, eyeing the way the tight shirt molded to her ever-growing chest.

I shut the door and swallowed my lust. God, it was getting out of control, and she would barely touch me. I could hardly wait until this kid was born . . .

Wait. What was I thinking?

That’s what had gotten us into this mess in the first place. But man, were we supposed to hold out until we were married? Well . . .

I rounded the car and hopped in, torn between my hormones and my conscience.

Mel glanced at me. “What’s up? You look funny.”

I forced a smile. “Is it because I’m dressed as one of the undead?”

“No.” She studied me as I started the car and took off. She gripped my thigh and I couldn’t help but flinch. “What is it?”

I darted a glance her way, wondering what I should say. Could I be honest? Would it make me sound like a perv?

“What?” she demanded.

I pinned my eyes to the road. Swallowed against my suddenly dry throat. “You just look really good tonight . . .”

“Oh. Thanks.” I heard the confusion in her voice.

I flicked another quick look her way. “I mean
really
good.”

She nodded, understanding dawning on her face. I was white-knuckling the steering wheel.

“Reed . . . ?”

“Yeah?”

“What are you saying?”

My heart was racing like the first time I asked her out, the first time I kissed her, the first time I touched her. “Well . . . just . . . it’s been a long time. For us, you know? And I . . .” I gulped, unable to finish. I felt like a fool.

She was silent and it was like a slap. Suddenly I couldn’t shut up. “And, Mel, we made a baby together. It’s not like we have to worry about that anymore. And even if that was a stupid mistake, it’s done, so I don’t understand why you won’t touch me anymore. Like that, I mean.” I sucked in a breath. “I understand pregnancy changes things, but I love you and I need—”