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“Let’s go home,” Scott says.
Home. My room with my clothes and my box of Lucky Charms in the pantry. Home. It can be my home if Scott will help my mom.
The red taillights of Shirley’s car disappear as she turns left onto the main street.
I exhale all the air out of my body and turn to Scott. “We need to talk. ”
He nods in agreement as he hooks an arm around my shoulder. Three months ago, I would have decked him for touching me.
Now, I welcome the embrace. With exhaustion weakening my knees, I lean into my uncle.
“We’ll talk tomorrow. ” Scott continues to lead me to his car. “You’re dead on your feet. ”
We’re halfway to his car when a moment of déjà vu hits me. Like I’m seeing something that I’ve seen before—a memory in slow motion. I jerk my head to the right and realize that it’s not a memory, but reality.
I flinch to a stop and Scott halts along with me. “What’s wrong?”
“Isaiah,” I say not to Scott, but to myself.
My best friend is here.
Leaning against the hood of his black Mustang, Isaiah watches Scott and me from a distance. He dips his head when he spots me looking at him. I step toward him and Scott grabs my arm. “No, Elisabeth. ”
My head whips. “Just for a second. Just one second. Please. ”
His grip loosens at the word please. When he finally releases me, I sway. I’m worn out—physically, emotionally, but I dig for strength. I have to talk to Isaiah.
Isaiah stays where he is, not even bothering to me meet me halfway, and speaks before I reach him. “Shirley told me about your mom. Are you okay?”
His question stops me about a car’s distance from him. Hurt pours out of his eyes, and every muscle in my abdomen clenches. My close proximity actually causes him pain and that fact slaps me in the face.
“Yes,” I answer, then think about it. “No. She’s addicted to heroin. ”
Isaiah glances away and a lead ball drops into my stomach. “You knew. ”
He meets my eyes again. “She’s bad news, Beth. You’re not going to change her. ”
She will change. Scott will help me. I know it. “How are you?”
“I’m surviving. ” Isaiah surveys the night sky, then pushes away from his car. “Have a nice life. ”
“Isaiah…” I say, unsure of how to make us better. “This isn’t goodbye. ”
“Yeah,” he answers as he unlocks his driver’s-side door. “It is. ”
“If you believed that you wouldn’t be here now. ” I’m energized by a second wind as my words sink in. “We’re friends. For life. ”
He rubs a hand over his face before sliding into his car, shutting the door, and turning over his engine with an angry growl.
The brief burst of energy drains from me, starting in my head and seeping out through my toes. It hurts to know that I’ve caused Isaiah pain, but someday he’ll really fall in love and discover that all we’ve ever been is friends.
I OPEN MY EYES AND CURSE. This is twice I’ve gone pathetic, fallen asleep, and Scott has had to carry me in. Just like the first night in this house, the blanket is tucked around me and my shoes are neatly placed near the bed. It’s dark and I don’t bother looking at the clock. I toss aside the blanket, climb out of bed, and head into the foyer.
In the kitchen, Scott sits at the island and stares at the countertop. I flop onto the cushy leather couch. I’ve lived in this house for three months and I’ve never sat here. “Nice couch. ”
“It’s about time you tried it out,” Scott says.
He wears a Yankees T-shirt and a pair of jeans.
