I stare down in shock at where she’s sliced my forearm, exposed by my rolled-up sleeves.
What the fuck?!
My eyes cut to hers. Without even a trace of emotion on her face, her fingers release the glass, and she turns and staggers out of sight. Dazed, I grab some paper towels to blot my arm, then pick up and toss the larger pieces of glass in the trash. I’ll need to sweep the floor to get up the small pieces. Dad doesn’t need to deal with this when he gets home.
He’s been pulling extra hours lately. A part of me wonders if he’s avoiding Mom. He keeps shoving a little bit of money at me when she’s not around, quietly saying, “Put it aside for the work you’re plannin’ on doin’ for your truck.”
I manage to toss most of the glass in the trash quickly enough before it’s time to blot at my arm again. Dammit. I take a closer look after applying pressure to it. The cut doesn’t look deep enough to need stitches, but I definitely need to clean and bandage it.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket, and I pray it’s not Kelsey. I dropped her off at her house, barely escaping with my pants still fastened. Talk about being a little too free with her body. That girl’s like a freaking succubus.
Carefully letting go of the wad of paper towels I’m holding against my arm, I slide my phone from my pocket and look at the screen.
Shit.
Magnolia: Can I meet you in the treehouse?
I hesitate, wincing, and press the button. Lowering my voice to a hushed whisper, I leave a voice text.
“I can’t. Had a little accident in the kitchen and have to do some first aid on my arm.” I lift my thumb from the record button and press Send.
I feel like asking why she’s texting me when she should be with Dallas. Most everyone else is probably still making out tonight—if not more.
I was doing exactly that earlier before I realized I was just going through the motions. Kelsey might be a sure thing, and all the guys will assume I scored with her, but they don’t know that I’m still a virgin.
Maybe it’s stupid and cheesy as hell, but I don’t want my first time to be hurried on the girl’s couch with someone who treats sex like a fast-food drive-through operation. I want it to be at least a little special.
Hell, maybe hanging around Magnolia’s made me some sort of pansy cheeseball.
Magnolia: I’m coming over. Is your front door unlocked?
I press the record button again as I quietly walk toward the door. “It is now. I’ll be in the bathroom.” Normally, when my mom gets like this, she hides away in her room afterward, but I’ll stay alert, just in case. The last thing I want is for Magnolia to get caught in the cross fire.
Magnolia: On my way.
I swear my best friend moves at the speed of light because I’m setting the peroxide, antibiotic ointment, and bandages on the small vanity when the faint sound of her footsteps trails down the hall. The blood has clotted, but I know the peroxide will upset things again. I’m not looking forward to that or the sting.
Magnolia comes into view, concern written all over her face. She steps inside the postage stamp-sized bathroom and closes the door behind her, locking it. Her eyes shift to my forearm before flicking up to meet my gaze.
“Let me help,” she says softly.
I merely nod and take a seat on the closed toilet lid with my arm draped over the small lip of the sink so the peroxide will run off my arm and down the drain. I bite back a hiss when the liquid hits my open wound, maintaining my stare on the scuffed baseboard a few inches from my feet.
“Are you gonna tell your dad?” Her eyes dart to mine, and I shake my head.
“He’s got enough to worry about with the extra shifts.”
Her lips press together in a firm line, and I know she’s disappointed with my answer, but this is something I won’t budge on. Mom’s always been like this. Sure, she crossed a line tonight, but I’m sixteen. I can handle it. No, I didn’t handle things well tonight, but she caught me off guard. At least now I know what she’s capable of.
Quickly enough, Magnolia has me bandaged and replaces the supplies beneath the sink. She turns to face me, and the weight of her gaze is so heavy, it nearly suffocates me. I avoid her eyes. What guy wants to share a story like this with a girl, let alone a girl who happens to be his best friend? The girl he’s been reminded time and again he’s not good enough for?
“Are you okay, aside from this?” Out of my periphery, I see her wave, gesturing to my bandaged arm.
I nod slowly.
“Do you need to…clean anythin’ else?”
I blow out a long breath before I rise, still avoiding meeting her eyes like it’s my job. “I need to sweep the kitchen floor. I didn’t get a chance to before…”
She presses a palm against my chest when I move forward, intent on escaping the bathroom. “I’ll do it, Hollis.”
I give a terse shake of my head. “No. It’s my mess. I’ll clean it up.”
Her sigh is loud. Then she catches me by surprise by reaching up to frame my face with her hands, forcing me to meet her eyes. The blue color seems darker, stormy almost, with both worry and a fierceness that’s all Magnolia.
“Hollis, let me help you.” She softens her voice. “Please.”
I press my lips thin before I finally answer with, “Okay.” My voice sounds small, like a child’s, and I hate it.
Seeming relieved by my answer, she carefully raises my bandaged arm to press a featherlight kiss to it. A wistful smile tugs at the edges of her mouth. “Just kissin’ it to make it better.”
I’m speechless. My throat has an enormous boulder wedged in it. How does this girl know just what I need even when I’m not sure?
What’s worse is, I can’t recall a time when my own mother ever kissed my scrapes or cuts. When I needed stitches in my eyebrow, Dad was the one who stayed by my side, distracting me with laughter and the most random stories.
It hits me that someday, Magnolia will be someone’s mom. And she’ll be a great one. She won’t hesitate to kiss hurts and make them better with love.
It’s crazy, but right now, the cut on my arm stings a little less because of her kiss.
She releases me and turns to the door. When her palm rests on the doorknob, I stop her with a hand at the base of her spine. With a quick flick of the light switch, we’re cloaked in darkness.
“Thanks, Shortcake.” I hope she knows just how much I appreciate her right now. How I’d be lost right now without her here to anchor me.
She doesn’t turn around, but I hear the affection in her voice when she unlocks the door and tugs it open.
“Anytime.”
Once Magnolia helps me clean the kitchen free of any traces of what happened earlier, we grab the small space heater from Dad’s shed and bring it with us in the treehouse and plug it in. She pulls out the rolled-up thermal sleeping bags from the corner shelf and lays them out atop the cushions on the floor.
Wordlessly, we remove our shoes and slide inside the sleeping bags. She turns on her side to face me. With my bandaged arm at my side opposite of her, I slide my other hand beneath my head to stare up at the wooden ceiling.
She slides closer, settling her head on my chest, draping an arm over my middle. “You can always talk to me.” Her whispered words seem to echo around us.