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This isn't working.
I move into the bathroom, run the water until it's freezing, splash it over my cheeks.
It's not enough.
I pull my cell from my pocket. Go straight to the last voicemail Mrs. Hart left. I need the reminder that I'm supposed to protect her. That she trusts me. That her entire family trusts me.
"Hey Brendon. How are you? I hope work is going well. Mike is happy to be back in New Jersey. His old team is still here, and they're much easier to work with than the team at the Santa Monica o
ffice. And being near my mother—it's been wonderful."
She lets out a heavy sigh.
"You're doing so much for us. I want to repay you, but here I am asking for more. Kaylee hasn't been picking up my calls. I know she's angry with us for leaving her out of the decision. And I understand. We knew she wouldn't be happy about this or about us deciding to stay here. But we couldn't give her the choice."
She pauses.
"We wanted to protect her from that. She'd never choose herself over Grandma. And if she did, can you imagine the guilt she'd have over putting her future first? Sorry, I'm rambling again. I'd like anything you have. A text even. My mother is doing better. She hasn't needed as much help. But she would love to hear from Kaylee. We're going to fly Kaylee out in a few weeks, but we don't want to interfere with school. If you have any suggestions for a weekend, we'd appreciate it."
The message beeps.
My head gets it—I'm supposed to take care of Kay, not picture her naked in my bed.
But my body—my body is whining for more of her in that sweet sundress.
Maybe Ryan was right.
These blue balls aren't helping any.
This isn't what I want to do.
But it's a lot better than crossing the line.
Chapter Eleven
Kaylee
Damn, I'm tired. My back is tight. My arms are aching. My legs are trembling.
I collapse on the bed—my bed. It's a simple white frame, a cheap but comfy mattress, white sheets.
I stretch out like a snow angel. Try to breathe deep, something to soothe my sore muscles. It doesn't help.
Am I this out of shape?
Or is Brendon that fit?
We've been working to unpack and put together furniture all afternoon. And it was mostly him. And now he's heading to the gym to lift more heavy things.
How the hell does he have any energy left?
Maybe it's me. That's another side effect. Fatigue.
Only it's also a side effect of my medication.
Do other teenagers feel this heavy all the time?
Are they always wondering if what they're feeling is them or their medications?
