I make a mental note to stop and grab a new pair before my grandmother can.
“What were you going on about before . . .? You know, when you were screeching like a pterodactyl.”
Rory rolls her eyes.
“Bennett Becker asked me to homecoming.”
That grabs my attention. Bennett’s a senior, and as a freshman on the JV team, I also happen to share a locker room with the varsity quarterback. Having heard the way he talks in the locker room raises my hackles. But it’s also the fact that he asked a freshman when he could have taken anyone that has alarms going off.
Rory is smart and sweet. Too sweet for him. The way he talks about the girls at school is vomit including. Mentioning it to the coach only got me benched. Someone braver would stand up to him, but I’ve seen where that gets you.
I hide my concern behind a cocky smile.
“Becker, huh? We could make it a group thing. A few of the other guys from the team had mentioned going.”
Not me. But now . . .
“You’re going to homecoming?”
“Sure why not. There’s a girl in my English class that asked me.”
I hadn’t exactly told her no yet. Although my grunted response about not knowing how to dance was a good as one. But I’d smooth it over or go alone—it didn’t matter either way.
“What happened to, ‘I’d rather contract a communicable disease than waste my time on a pointless social right of passage’?”
Hearing it back now, yeah, I was a dick. I’d earned that title through years of practice with building walls. I’d seen the disappointment on her face when she’d been so excited about going.
“I’m a complex individual, capable of changing my mind,”I retorted.
“Whatever,” she huffed. “If you make this weird I’m putting frogs in your pillow.”
I paled. I fucking hated frogs. The sound of them had been my only companion for so many fearful, lonely nights back in my parents’ trailer. And there were everywhere out here, in the middle of nowhere.
“Emmett.” The soft voice filtered through my memories. As light as a feather, a hand on my arm dragged me back.
I swallowed down the flashback, trying to push it away. What had we even been talking about? The loft. The firm. Her brother.
“He cares,” I finally force out.
Dampness coats my palms as I fight to keep my heart from ripping through the wall of my chest. Chills sweep over me and a cramping pain constricts in a band around my chest, making it difficult to breathe.
No amount of masking can overpower the triggering reminder of Rory and the few years I was normal and happy.
I sway and brace against the doorframe, pain from my injuries there but not. The weight of grief and regret crushing me from the outside.
All the playfulness drains from Aspen’s features.
I open my mouth to try to tell her to go, but nothing comes out.
“Oh god. You need to get off your feet. It’s already been a long day for you.” I barely register her hand on my elbow as she steps into the loft and takes charge. Whether I ask her to or not, Aspen shows up. It’s who she is.
As steady as the hands bracing me, she leads me from the doorway, soothing me, like it comes more naturally than anything in my life.
Falling apart would be easier if she left. It’s only a matter of moments before I succumb to my past, so I lie to the stubborn nurse, hoping it’s enough.
“I’m just sore. It’s nothing.”
Sweat clings to the back of my neck, and the room tilts as I sway on my feet. I lean into the counter as we pass, hoping Aspen doesn’t notice.
