I don’t want to be scared like that, but I don’t say it out loud. I feel that if I do, it’ll make it all that more real.
“That’s okay, no rush.”
I lift my brows. “Busy bee Yasmin Hernandez doesn’t have any plans for tomorrow?”
She elbows me in the ribs. “I have plans, thank you very much. But it’s nothing that can’t wait a few hours. Besides, you promised to check out my car. Don’t think I forgot about that.”
Reluctantly, one side of my lips tips up. “Duly noted.” Another yawn breaks out, and she covers her mouth with her free hand to stifle it. “C’mon. Off to bed.”
Letting go of her hand, I walk to the dresser and pull open a drawer. Grabbing the first shirt on the stack, I close the drawer and turn back toward Yasmin, offering it to her. “If you want to change. And if you leave your clothes by the door once you’re done I can get them washed so they’re fresh in the morning.”
Her brows rise. “Now all you have to say is that you’ll wake me up with a cup of coffee, and I might actually start to like you, Cole.”
“I thought you already did,” I say, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. My thumb brushes over her cheekbone, and I can feel her skin pebble under my touch. My words unnerve her. No matter how hard she tries to cover it, it’s written all over her face. A grin spreads over my lips at the thought. Not wanting to give her a chance for a comeback, I take a step back. “Goodnight, Yasmin.”
Chapter Sixteen
YASMIN
Slowly, I come to my senses. It’s as if I’m waking up from a long dream. Only I don’t sleep long enough to actually dream. Or maybe I do, but I just never remember them.
Extending my hands above my head, I stretch my body. My muscles resist the pull, the ache in my back growing to the point of pain, until I force myself to relax once again.
At the back of my mind something feels off, but I push the thought back, wanting to enjoy this moment for as long as possible. One moment of nothingness before all the worries that have been pushed to the back of my mind come rushing back.
It feels so good not to be awoken by the irritating chime of my alarm clock. I don’t remember the last time…
Then it all comes back to me.
My car dying. Nixon picking me up. The phone call. Photo of a girl. Drive all the way to the middle of nowhere. Which actually turned out to be Nixon’s house. His sister. Mother. Cancer.
I snap upright, the covers falling in my lap as I take in the room.
Nixon’s room.
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I look around the dim space. The early morning light is peeking behind the shutters, and when my eyes fall on one of those old-school alarm clocks that’s sitting on the night table, I see that it’s six-thirty in the morning.
Scooting to the edge of the bed, I get up. It’s not even surprising that I’ve slept well. Nixon’s bed is huge and so comfy it was like I was sleeping on a cloud. But then again, compared to the beds in the dorm, everything is better.
A shiver runs through me as my bare feet touch the floor. Nibbling at my lips, I look at the drawer on the other side of the room. The same one Nixon pulled the shirt I’m currently wearing from last night.
It isn’t snooping if I’m trying to preserve my toes from freezing and falling off, right?
Screw it.
Crossing the room, I open the first drawer and find stacks of t-shirts neatly put away. Closing it, I open the second one and score. Socks and underwear each take half of the space. I grab a pair of socks and close the drawer. Going back to bed, I sit down and pull them onto my cold feet. Once I’m set, I look at the door. The house seems quiet on the other side. I should probably stay here until Nixon comes to find me, but now that I’m awake there is no going back to sleep even if I try, and I can’t just sit here and do nothing. Besides, my body craves caffeine.
Do I seriously want to go around a stranger’s house—no, not a stranger’s, Nixon’s house—all on my own?
My stomach grumbles in protest, reminding me that with all that happened I didn’t have dinner.
Guess I do.
As quietly as possible, I get to the door and pull it open. Just as I suspected, the hallway is dark and empty. On the tips of my toes, I go outside, slowly closing the door behind me.
I walk down the hallway, all the time expecting somebody to jump from one of the rooms and demand some kind of explanation, but nothing happens.
I finally get to breathe in relief once I’m on the ground floor, which is equally quiet and empty.
Yesterday was a blur, and I didn’t get a chance to properly look around, so I do it now as I’m looking for the kitchen.
The foyer is big, an open space with a grand staircase leading to the second floor. The marble floors are cool underneath my feet even though I’m wearing socks. Different art pieces hang on the walls. All look big and freaking real, not some lame copy you can buy pre-framed at Walmart. Nope.
Nixon’s home looks like something out of a magazine. It should seem cold and untouchable, but the small details make it more homey. Potted plants in corners. Shoes scattered next to the shoe closet. A family portrait hanging between the art pieces. I stop in front of it and look at Nixon’s family. It must be a recent photo, maybe a couple of years old. Nixon looks younger; there is no scruff on his jaw, but I would recognize that grin anywhere. He favors his father; same strong build, same golden-streaked hair, same smile. His hand is placed on Nixon’s shoulder.
Then there are his mother and sister. Jade is scrawny, with thin, long limbs and masses of dark hair, braces shining on her teeth. She has the same dark brown hair as their mother, and both brother and sister have their mother’s eyes.
“I should take it down, but my mom loves that damn picture so much.” The soft voice makes me jump.
I turn around, my hand clenched over my chest, right over my racing heart, and find Jade standing on the last step, her hand gripping the railing. She’s still in her pajamas, her hair pulled into a messy bun. She looks like crap. Her skin is pale, making the dark circles underneath her eyes stand out. Her cheeks are hollow and from the way her shirt is hanging on her shoulders I know she recently lost weight.
Her mother is dying and she’s the one that has to watch it twenty-four seven, of course she lost weight.
“I didn’t hear you coming,” I say, trying to calm down my racing heartbeat.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Jade takes the final step and comes closer. “I didn’t think anybody would be up.” She rubs at her tired face. One lone chuckle escapes her. “I actually didn’t think yesterday happened at all.”
My heart squeezes painfully at her words because I recognize the girl trying to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. I know her pain, understand it better than she’d ever know because I’ve lived through it. Sometimes I still do.
“I should be the one apologizing. I didn’t mean to snoop, but I’m an early riser, and I needed some coffee.”
Jade slowly takes me in as if assessing me.
We didn’t talk much yesterday. After Nixon ran out of the car like it was about to explode, I waited a little, not knowing what to think. Then I saw Jade coming out and them embracing. I watched them exchange some words, and then Nixon was rushing inside, while Jade stayed outside, her arms wrapped around herself.