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Miscarriage or no miscarriage, my screwed-up family went on as normal…
Thankful to have avoided another pointless confrontation, I kicked off my shoes and hurried up the staircase to get out of my damp clothes.
We had a secondhand tumble dryer in the utility room that I wasn’t supposed to use because of how hard it was on the electricity, but I was going to use it this evening. I had no choice.
Back in the house of pain, I closed my bedroom door and then quickly stripped out of my wet clothes before throwing on my pajamas.
I was halfway down the staircase with my uniform balled up in my hands when there was a knock on the front door. Pausing midstep, I squinted my eyes and tried to make out who the tall shadow outside the frosted glass could be.
Another knock came, louder this time, so I hurried down the remaining steps and wrenched the door open, only to find Johnny standing outside in the rain, looking like some sort of semidrowned angel.
Instantly, my heart jackknifed in my chest and then began to thud so hard it was almost painful.
Seriously, God?
Why?
“Hi,” I whispered, clutching the door with a death grip. The step into our house was a least a foot high, but I still found myself staring up at him.
“Hi,” Johnny replied, blue eyes locked on mine. “You live at ninety-five.”
I nodded, mortified.
“I thought your house was number eighty-one?” He frowned. “That’s where I’ve been dropping you off.”
I shrugged helplessly, feeling at a loss.
“Well, you left your bag in the car.” Shifting my bag off his right shoulder, he held it out to me.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, feeling my cheeks flush once again. “Your jacket’s up in my bedroom. I’ll go and get it.” I turned to run up the staircase, but he stopped me with a hand to my wrist.
“Don’t worry about it,” he explained, quickly retracting his hand. “I’ll get it off you at school or something.”
“Okay.”
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Johnny rocked back on his heels, considering me for a brief moment before blowing out a breath. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I whispered, not feeling one bit okay.
“Shannon, I don’t want you to think that I don’t want you—”
“Please, don’t say anything,” I begged, beyond mortified at this stage. “Please.”
“Things are complicated for me right now—”
“Johnny, please just forget it ever happened.”
He stared hard at me for an achingly long moment before nodding stiffly. “If that’s what you want.”
I sagged slightly. “It is.”
His gaze flicked to my neck then, and his expression instantly darkened.
“I need to go inside now,” I stated, fearful of him starting back up where he had left off.
“Right,” he said with a small shake of his head. “Of course, yeah, and I’d better get going.”
“Okay.”
