I’m halfway up the stairs when the girl holding the laundry basket calls out to Lincoln, referring to him as The President. “I brought this for you,” she says, lifting the basket a bit higher.
Did she wash his laundry?
Why?
Was it left at her place?
Does she stay here?
Is that what he expects?
Allows?
My thoughts overflow, slipping out in the form of tears. This isn’t what I want. I don’t want to buy my approval through chores and favors, by wearing short shirts and heavy makeup.
“Rae?” Caleb calls from his seat on the couch.
My blurry gaze goes to his, and through the thin veil of tears I see the concern and surprise in his expression as he gets to his feet and moves toward the stairs where my feet feel cemented in place.
Lincoln steps into the room, his small entourage at his heels. He looks across the room with one sweeping gaze, stopping on me for a second before moving to the girl holding his laundry.
I continue up the stairs, my steps too fast.
“Rae,” Caleb calls again, revealing he’s following close behind.
I pull in another deep breath, steeling myself and blinking the tears back as I turn to face him, a contrived smile on my lips. “Hey.”
“You okay?” he asks, searching my face for each sign I’m working hard to conceal.
“Yeah. I’m fine. Are you? I saw those girls were trying to get their claws into you.”
He continues his search for another beat, and I throw in a small laugh to make myself more convincing. “We haven’t really had a moment to talk,” he says. “I know things are kind of a mess right now.”
My smile starts to slip, but I bat his words away with a quick shake of my head. “I’m good,” I tell him. “I just need to grab some things.”
He swallows. “You know you can stay here, right? As long as you want to, you’re welcome.”
His kindness disarms me, reminding me of how many of my truths he’s witnessed firsthand. I nod. “I don’t want to inconvenience everyone. You guys have a routine, a rhythm.”
He shakes his head. “And you’re a part of it.”
I shake my head faster, disputing his words. I’m not. I haven’t been in a long time. “Is Pax home?”
“No. He left. I think he went to go see Candace.”
I wipe a hand across my face, pushing away the fine hairs that often fall across my face because my hairdresser insists framing my face is a good thing. “He’s really gravitating toward her with everything going on, isn’t he?”
Caleb presses his lips together, teetering between a frown and a line intended to hide his feelings. “I think he just likes feeling needed right now. You know Pax, he hates change, and after this bomb went off, I think he’s afraid of more change.”
He’s right. So right. Paxton, like mom and me, has always hated change.
“I’ll call him,” I say, my tone apologetic, knowing I should have worked harder to ensure he was okay, especially with the souvenir he’s worn on his face in the way of a cut and bruise from our dad, reminding me he’s not.
Caleb shakes his head once, then twice. “He just needs time.”
Footsteps pound behind us, and we both turn—my heart matching the bass and rhythm as hope invades the space in my chest.
“Rae Rae!” Arlo calls, a broad smile showing off his teeth. “What are you guys doing? I think that blonde thinks you guys came up here to get it on.”
I roll my eyes, annoyance feels like salt in the wound disappointment created. “You can go back. I just need to shower and grab some things. I’m meeting Poppy.”
“Invite her over,” Arlo says.
“That depends, do I get my own fan club?”
Caleb smirks. Arlo grins. “Trust me, some of these girls would totally be into you.”
I tilt my head back and laugh. “Only to get your attention.”
Arlo shrugs. “Stick around, and we’ll find out. I’m ordering some pizzas. You hungry?”
Caleb nods. “Cheese with extra cheese. We’ll text Pax and see if he’ll come by.”
“If you guys keep worrying about me, those girls are going to lose interest.”
“Nah. It just makes them work harder.” Arlo makes his eyebrows dance.
“I feel used,” I say.
His grin reappears.
“Maybe another time.”
“Tell her to come over,” Arlo insists.
I shake my head. “I need to study. I have a test in my statistics class next week, and I’m nowhere near ready.” The reminder sets me into motion, and I move farther down the hall to where my things are clumsily organized within the small closet space.
When I turn back around, Arlo and Caleb pause their hushed conversation and look at me.
“I’m okay,” I tell them.
“You should see if you can get Pax to talk to you. I’m worried he’s going to lose his starting position.” Arlo rubs a hand over his short hair.
Surprise has me pulling my head back. When Lincoln mentioned Pax not focusing, I had never guessed it was a dire situation. I assumed he was being an uptight asshole, and his teammates were getting fed up with conditioning. “What’s going on?”
“He’s late. He’s missing looks he shouldn’t be. He’s distracted.”
“Okay.” I clear my throat. “I’ll call him on my way to class, see if he’ll meet me.”
Arlo hesitates, his gaze moving to Caleb.
“What?” I ask.
“We’re worried about him,” Caleb answers. “He’s been smoking pot every day and drinking. It’s just not him.”
I brush the hairs that have fallen in my face again. “I’ll call him, and if he doesn’t answer, I’ll go over to Candace’s.”
Arlo nods, his shoulders slowly relaxing like my words offer an assurance that I don’t feel nearly as confident about. “We’ll see you later.”
I gather my things and then descend the stairs with the weight of Paxton’s future hanging over me like a giant shadow.
The girl with dyed red hair sizes me up, her eyes ticking over my features and then my bag. “I know you from somewhere,” she says.
My heart beats too quickly. “I don’t think so.”
She taps her chin with a narrow index finger. “You look familiar.”
Lincoln looks at me, and I stare back, silently accusing him of things that I know logically are being fabricated by my fears, but they feel too real—too raw.
27
Lincoln
There’s something in Raegan’s gaze that makes it difficult for me to see or hear anything else. A glimpse of something I recall seeing in my mother’s eyes before she left my dad.
She pushes her bag higher on her shoulder and then tucks some hair behind an ear. She looks tired and not just physically. With her shoulders squared, she turns, ignoring the redhead's questions and walks out the front door with a barely audible good-bye that I’m fairly certain was directed solely at Caleb, as Arlo moved back to the girl with russet-colored hair.
As I stand, Caleb and Arlo both look at me. Arlo nods a silent ‘she’s pissed’ confirmation. I clear the front door in time to see Raegan slam her trunk closed. I jog down the steps, placing a palm on her car door when she reaches for it.