Under My Skin (20 page)

“Yeah, I am, but this seems so sudden.”

Mum fusses with my hair. “It’ll be good to have you home. Things can go back to normal.”

Normal. Mum’s fantasy turns into reality.

The only thing I can say for certain is Darby has made me feel more alive than anything—or anyone—else. Forget Shaw’s stupid therapy, Ricky’s grueling PT sessions, or drafting a Live Life List. None of it is real, like really real.

Except for Darby.

Without her, I’m not sure which way to go. It figures that I’d finally have a glimpse of what my life could become and it gets mowed down before it can grow. The seedling of optimism I dared to cultivate starts to shrivel.

I slide to the bed’s edge, leaving Mum’s embrace.

Nope. I shake my head. I will
not
give up so quickly. If I’m going to take full advantage of this second chance, I need to take a cue from Darby and
act
.

“Adam?” Mum tentatively puts a hand on my arm. Her wide eyes search Dad’s face for support.

“Son, what’s going on?” Dad comes closer.

Flanked by them, I fidget even more, like a thoroughbred at a starting gate. I need to find Darby now. Launching myself off the bed, I rush out of the room before Mum and Dad can stop me.

Mum follows. “Adam! Where are you going? Your mask and pillow!”

I pick up my pace. “I’ll be back in a minute. I need to talk to Darby.”

Mum’s heels
click-click-click-click
. “You have to talk to her now?”

At the lift, I press the down button several times. “Yes.”

Mum catches up to me, huffing a bit. She leans against the wall. “I’m not used to you running.”

“You didn’t have to chase me.”

Dad rounds the corner. He’s carrying my pillow and mask. “Thought you might need these.”

I put the mask on and clutch the pillow to my chest. “Thanks.”

He turns to Mum. “Where’s he rushing off to?”

Mum shifts from leaning on the wall to leaning on him. “He’s going to visit Darby.”

His brows crawl up his forehead. “Now?”

Mum stares up at me, her eyes filled with confusion and maybe a hint of excitement. “I’m not sure what’s going on with you right now, but … I’m going to trust you.”

My chest swells with hope. “Really?”

She nods.

“Can someone explain what’s going on?” Dad asks.

Mum pats his belly. “I told you, Adam’s going to see Darby.”

He raises his eyebrows like he’s caught on, but he hasn’t. I can tell by the frown tugging at his mouth. True to form, he doesn’t argue or keep questioning. That’s Mum’s job and for once she’s letting me do what I need to do.

The lift’s doors open.

Filled with a lightness I haven’t felt in months, I rush inside and press the button for the Pediatric floor. “Thank you.”

Mum smiles up at me. And she’s proud.

Dad’s expression remains confused. He circles an arm around Mum’s shoulders and plants a kiss on her head.

The doors close, leaving my past behind me.

When I step off the lift, I’m on my way to Darby and a new life.

* * *

I round the corner and almost smack directly into Darby.

Her eyes widen. “Adam.”

“Darby.” I breathe out her name, tugging the facemask off.

“What’re you doing here?” She grabs my wrist and drags me to a dimly lit alcove.

“I love it when you do that.” I blurt out the words, then hold my breath.

“Do what?”

“Take charge.”

She giggles. “Seriously?”

I laugh. “The truth is, I came to see you.”

Her smile widens. “You did?”

I toss my pillow to the floor and lace my fingers with hers, suddenly sobered. “I’m being discharged tomorrow.”

Her smile fades. She shifts deeper into a shadow. “I’m being discharged tonight. Now.”

“
Now
?”

She presses her lips together. “Mom is packing my things, but I left her to find you. I couldn’t go without seeing you again.”

“So you came to see me too?” More lightness infuses my body. I’d levitate if I could. Instead, I plant my feet firmly on the ground, swallowing down the hope building from my feet, up my legs … No. I shouldn’t get carried away. She might simply want to say goodbye and good luck and all that.

“Of course.” She peers up at me through her eyelashes and rests her palms against my chest. Heat radiates from her, igniting a fire deep in my belly. “This is happening too fast. I thought I—I thought we’d be here a lot longer.”

“Me too.” I want to hook my finger under her chin like she did mine when we were in the park, but I’m not sure how with the neck brace and all, so I tuck a blue lock of hair behind her ear and let my fingers linger on her skin. She doesn’t shy away. “We agree to be honest, right?”

“Yes.” She answers without hesitating.

“Good because I want to say something.” My heart pounds. Practicing a New Life can take its toll. This heart should be able to handle it where my old one couldn’t.

“Say it.”

I creep my toes to the proverbial ledge, stare out at the horizon, and leap off, spreading my arms wide to fly. “I’m not ready to leave you.”

She shivers. I pull her closer to me. She clasps her arms around my waist and presses her face against my chest. “Me neither.”

I ignore the pressure it puts on my sternum. She wants to be with me.
Me
. The sick, delicate, awkward guy who doesn’t know how to live. I catch an air current and float. “We can exchange numbers and emails and … ”

She hugs me tighter. “Uh-hmmm.”

“I was thinking … ” I pause, hoping an upwind will catch me so I don’t crash.

She giggles. “You think too much.”

I hold my breath. Can’t falter now. I unwrap Darby’s arms from my waist and bend my knees so we’re almost eye level, holding onto her hands. “You’re probably right.”

A troubling darkness deepens her crystal eyes. I can’t tell if it’s sadness, regret, or both. “Sometimes thinking is good. I don’t do enough of it.”

“Too much thinking is just as bad.”

She blinks away the shadow in her gaze. “So stop it.”

I toggle my lip ring. My gaze falls to her mouth. “Okay.”

I lean in, hovering close to her lips. Her breath warms my face. My heart goes crazy.

It’s now or never.

I press my mouth against hers. She’s soft and smooth and perfect. I settle on her bottom lip until the kiss turns urgent and bold, and oh god, she slips her tongue in my mouth and kisses me back.

We’re here, together, two opposites, a thinker and a doer, a rule-follower and a rule-breaker, meeting in the middle, living in the contrast.

Darby

I think about Adam’s kiss for the entire ride home. He whispered, “Ace” when we finally broke apart. I didn’t think he had it in him, Mr. Thinks-A-Lot.

He’s so different from anyone I’ve ever met. He’s smart and innocent all at once. Bet he reads a lot, with all those big words he uses. Bet he likes Shakespeare and Hemmingway and boring things like that.

His kiss wasn’t boring. At all.

I suck in my bottom lip to keep from smiling. I’m usually the one who starts the lipfest.

Okay, so it was obvious it was his first kiss. He wasn’t sure which way to angle his face so our noses didn’t bump, but whoa, he picked it up quick. He wasn’t a dead fish and he wasn’t a slobbery dog either. And hands didn’t wander too much.

Plus his lip ring?
Awesome
.

Mom parks in front of the garage. She cuts the engine and cups the keys in her palm, but doesn’t make any move to leave the car. She must be cooking up something good to ream on me about. I’m surprised she isn’t waiting until we get inside.

The engine pings and pops. I can’t even think about the empty spot where Daniel’s Mustang should be.

Mom sniffs. The car gets cooler with every passing second. Like a damp grave.

Well, I’m not going to sit in here all night. I unfasten my safety belt, letting it slide across my body. It’s gonna be weird inside the house, without Daniel there.

I curl my fingers around the door handle. Why’d I have to go and think that? Now I don’t want to leave
and
I don’t want to stay.

Mom jiggles her keys. “I thought it’d be important for you to continue counseling, so I scheduled an appointment for you with Doctor Shaw tomorrow afternoon.”

How thoughtful of her to make that decision on her own.

“Gee, thanks for the head’s up.” I open the door with a yank of the handle. The quick movement sends jolts down my arm. Yep, I was ready to leave the hospital. Sure.

She pulls the lever that opens the trunk. “This
is
a head’s up, Darby. You should take this opportunity to work through whatever it is you’re going through.”

I stiffen. “
Whatever it is I’m going though?
Because it’s such a puzzle.”

“You can’t keep blaming yourself for Daniel’s death.”

Heat flares in my cheeks as tears prick my eyes. “And you can’t tell me how to feel.”

“I’m not. That’s why I’m sending you to doctor Shaw.”

“Stop trying to fix me.” I slide out of the passenger’s seat and head for the porch.

“Darby!” Mom calls.

Dad opens the door before I get to it. He leans to the side to let me in. “Welcome home.” His tone is light. Fake.

I start climbing the stairs, ignoring him.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“My room.” I bark.

Daniel’s bedroom is the first one on the left and mine is the second. His door is shut. It’s for the best. I can’t face its emptiness.

I slam my door and twist the lock in place. Here I am. Home. My head whirls. I shouldn’t be here. I don’t belong. Not when half of me is gone.

With a shaky hand, I flick on the light. Bed tucked into the corner—the comforter is still pulled back from when I got up the morning of the accident. A pile of flannel shirts, silkscreened t-shirts, and paint-stained jeans on my desk instead of textbooks. Finished paintings cram every spare inch of wall. An easel stands in front of my bare window. A blank canvas sits on it, waiting.

The room is the same, but I’m not.

Shaw understood. Maybe I should talk to her about it tomorrow.

A knock comes at the door. “Darbs?”

It’s Mom.

I stand in the middle of my room, feet rooted into the carpet.

“I brought your things. Dad has your art supplies.”

The hallway floor creaks.

“Open the door,” Dad says.

“Leave it there.”

“Don’t shut us out.” Mom’s voice is shaky.

“Leave. It. There.” I fist my hands.

Something thuds to the floor. It’s followed by a cascade of objects thumping against the door—probably my easel and canvases.

“We have to leave by one o’clock tomorrow if you want to keep your therapy appointment,” Mom says.

“Fine.”

The stairs creak and moan from Mom and Dad heading downstairs. I wait a few minutes before dragging my things inside.

Mom and Dad’s voices echo my way, but it’s too soft for me to make out what they’re saying.

Slowly, I creep toward Daniel’s room. My heart plays a game of dodge ball with my ribs. The door falls open with a slight push. I hold my breath and turn on the light.

Daniel’s room is clean and organized. His bed is made, desk clean, and clothes organized in the closet. A bookshelf in the far corner holds trophies, books, and pictures of him and his buddies. His flat screen TV and game station sit neatly on his dresser.

Holding a hand over my mouth, I stuff down a sob and shuffle to the beanbag chair. I pick up a plush basketball and cradle it to my chest like Adam hugs his heart-shaped pillow. Walking backward, I retreat from the room, shut off the light, and close the door.

I don’t bother undressing or straightening out my bed.

Lying on my back, I stare at the ceiling, dig my fingers into the toy, and cry myself to sleep.

* * *

Shaw’s office is much like her—sparse, elegant, and upscale. A wall of windows behind a glass and metal desk. A sleek laptop on a bamboo blotter. A silver cell phone next to it. The only natural thing is a little bonsai tree with a carved wooden box in front of it.

Shaw gestures to two leather chairs. The modern bookshelves behind them hold a bunch of psych books written by people I’ve never heard of and a couple of abstract sculptures. At least they’re interesting.

I dip into the chair closest to the door and fold my hands in my lap. With paint stains on my jeans and wrinkles in my t-shirt, I’m a zit on her perfect room.

Shaw sits and crosses her leg. She belongs here. This is her world, and the hint of Chanel No. 5 hovering around her confirms it. “You seem quiet.”

“Do I?”

“How was it being home?”

“Okay.”

The tan swirls weaving their way across her white area rug spin like my thoughts. I press my fingernails into my palms. Shaw’s here to help me, right? So I should tell her about my
un
happy homecoming.

“The way you’re sulking makes me think differently.”

I shake out my hands. “You calling me a liar?”

The corner of Shaw’s mouth turns up. “Ah, there’s the Darby I know.”

I squint at her. “You tricked me.”

“Had to get you talking somehow.”

I cross my arms, pissed, though I have to give her credit for getting one over on me. “Hope you’re proud of yourself.”

“I was surprised when I heard you were being discharged.”

I huff. “I wasn’t being
compliant
so the doctor kicked me out.”

“That’s what your Mom said when I spoke to her.”

“I’m sure she told you everything, so why do you need to hear it from me?”

“Everyone has their own version of events and I’m working directly with you. That means whatever you say is of utmost importance. I’m all ears.”

Sitting in Shaw’s office reminds me of Principal Shepherd’s. What’s different is Shaw seems to be on my side. At least, so far. “Then why bother mentioning what Mom tells you?”

“We have to build our relationship on trust. I want to be an open book with you.”