By the time I was finished a sweat had formed across my skin and I was breathing like I’d just run a marathon, but that burn in my gut had been snuffed. I’d settled the storm inside me the only way I knew how.
I spun around, focused on nothing as I pulled the image of Shane up in my mind, remembering exactly what she looked like when she’d been standing in in my room just days before. That memory sparked something inside of me and my feet started moving before my brain had a chance to engage. I was down the stairs and out the front door before I realized what I was doing.
I needed to see her. It was the only thing that would make me feel better. If I had to drive along every street in this goddamn town for hours looking for her, that was exactly what I’d do.
Because after the latest run-in with my father, I needed her light more than I needed air.
Shane
Sixteen years old
The ice cream shop where I spent most of my free time, working as many shifts as the owner, Margaret, would give me, was thankfully quiet this afternoon. There had only been a handful of people to come in so far, giving me the chance to pull out my books and get some of my schoolwork done between scooping ice cream into waffle cones and cleaning the stickiness left behind by little kids off the tables and floors.
My study session was cut short when the bell over the door rang, pulling my attention from my textbook. I looked up with a smile, ready to greet the latest customer, only to have my lips droop into a frown once I saw of who’d just walked in.
“What are you doing here?”
Jensen’s lips curled up into that same cocky smirk he’d worn every time I’d seen him. “Would you believe this is just a big coincidence?”
“Not a chance.”
“What if I said I was just in the mood for some ice cream?”
“Why are you here?” I repeated, refusing to be sucked into whatever game he was attempting to play.
The arrogance in his expression bloomed as he moved to the counter, his eyes heating as they raked over me, making my skin feel tight and my pulse pound. “Careful, sunshine. You keep this up and I might start to think you aren’t happy to see me.”
Pushing back the flicker of excitement that made my belly flip, I rolled my eyes and let out a huff as I hopped off the stool and slapped my book closed. An irrational spike of anger surged through me, only I wasn’t sure if it was anger at him or at myself for my body’s stupid reaction. “That’s because I’m not.”
I spun around and started for the back, but was stopped when his hand shot over the counter, gripping my arm just hard enough to prevent me from escaping.
“Come on, Shane. I promise I’ll behave. Just . . . don’t go.”
I looked down at where his fingers were wrapped around my arm, ready to pull away and storm off, when the sight of his scraped knuckles made me suck in a harsh gasp. “Oh my God,” I cried. “What the hell did you do to your hand?”
Not thinking about my actions, I spun around and grabbed hold of Jensen’s wrist, pulling from his hold so I could get a better look. There was dried blood, dark and flaky, mixed with the fresh red that was still pebbling up from his battered knuckles. They looked bad, really bad. And I didn’t recall seeing his hands look like this after his fight with Ronny.
“Jeez, Jensen. What happened?”
He tried to jerk his hand back, but I kept my hold firm, bending down to inspect the damage closer. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
“This isn’t nothing. This looks serious. You could have broken fingers or someth—”
“I said it’s nothing,” he clipped, iciness filling his voice as he snatched his hand away.
I lifted my gaze to his and pinned him in place with a frown. “So who the hell did you pick a fight with this time?” I asked sarcastically, feeling defensive at the sudden shift from playful to hard in his demeanor.
“Fuck this shit,” Jensen spat, the wave of anger rushing off of him with those three words leaving me speechless. “Should never have come here.” He whipped around before I could form a reply and started for the door. With his fingers on the handle, he looked over his shoulder and said, “And just so you know, I didn’t start that fight. That Ronny guy’s a dickhead, and he got exactly what he deserved.”
I was suddenly hit with a spike of fear at the thought of him leaving. It was irrational and frantic. My brain was screaming at me to just let him go, that this boy was all kinds of hazardous to my well-being. However, there was another part of me—a much larger one—that snuffed out that voice in my head.
“Jensen, wait,” I called, panic tangled in my voice. “I-I’m sorry.” He stopped, the door pushed halfway open as he looked back at me. “I shouldn’t have said that. Please just . . .” I wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. I mean, I hardly knew this guy, and I certainly didn’t understand everything he made me feel. I didn’t want to beg him to stay, but I couldn’t stand the thought of him leaving. “We have a first aid kit in the back. Will you let me take a look at your hand?” He released the door handle, letting it swing closed once more before turning to face me fully. He remained quiet, standing there like he was waiting for something, and as I stared into those stormy eyes, I felt my lips part and the word please come out in a whisper.
The sense of relief I felt when he started back in my direction was so intense it actually scared me, but I pushed on. He followed me wordlessly to the employee breakroom where the first aid kit was stored. He sat perfectly still as I flipped the lid open and rummaged around for what I needed.
The silence in the room as I dabbed at the cuts that spread across all four knuckles was stifling, making the air thick and uncomfortable. I chanced a peek at him from under my lashes, seeing for the first time that those stormy eyes were completely flat, devoid of all emotion. That smug shield he wore was gone, leaving nothing but icy indifference behind.
I hated it.
Unable to take it for another second, I sucked in a bracing breath and started talking. “You were right. Ronny Culpepper is a raging asshole.” All I got from that was a huff, so I pushed on. “And I shouldn’t have said what I said. It wasn’t cool. I’m sorry for accusing you of starting that fight. Knowing Ronny, I’m not surprised at all to hear it was him.”
The heaviness in the room began to lighten. Jensen blew out a deep sigh, his breath tickling the skin on the side of my neck as it drifted past, making me shiver.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
I looked up at him. Seeing the spark in those dark grays start to come back to life made my lips tilt up in a tiny smile. “No problem,” I whispered before I looked back to his damaged hand. “So . . .” I hedged, my curiosity getting the best of me. “These cuts look fresh. You wanna tell me where they came from? ’Cause I’m pretty sure they didn’t happen when you kicked Ronny’s ass.”
“Things got kind of heated between me and my closet door.”
His tone was much lighter, as if he was trying to make a joke out of it, but my head shot up. My lips parted and my eyes went wide in shock. “You did this to yourself? Why would you do that? How? I mean . . . it had to have hurt like hell.”