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Life had just gotten so fucked up. I didn’t know what was happening to me or anyone else.
I hated that.
Tess felt the need to tell Paige what we’d overheard the day before on campus—damn, had that only been yesterday—and Paige had gotten loyally offended on my behalf, but none of that seemed to matter.
I wanted to know where Beck was. I needed to know. How dare that bastard just up and disappear without even telling me he was leaving or where he was going? Didn’t he realize he was my responsibility now?
Idiot!
My friends talked around me for a good hour and didn’t seem to notice how distracted I was. They thought they had all my problems figured out. They said I should just ignore all the nasty gossip about me and carry on as usual; it would die down soon enough.
Sure, sounded good to me. Whatever. I nodded and agreed in order to make them happy. God, I was such a shitty friend.
Honestly, I didn’t know how to talk about this. I didn’t know how to explain Beck or the protective need I felt to take care of him. How could I tell them something I didn’t understand myself?
Wanting him here so I could keep watch over him felt like an obsession, and obsessions were bad. If they knew how bad off I’d become, they’d try to intervene and stop me. I couldn’t stop. I had to worry about him. I had to find him. I had to fix him.
“Fucking bastard,” I muttered hours later after Tess and Paige had left, and they’d all gone to bed. I was the only one left in my apartment wide-awake and unable to sleep, pacing my room and wondering where the hell he was staying tonight. “Doesn’t he even care what he’s doing to me?” I demanded aloud.
Obviously, he didn’t. Frustrated beyond all get-out, I yanked open the curtains to my window, needing a change of scenery before I drove myself crazy.
“Where are you, you stupid bucket-head?” I muttered, plunking my forehead against the pane glass as I stared sightlessly down at the park across the street.
A loneliness crept into my veins, and suddenly I wasn’t sure if I was so upset because I was really all that worried about his welfare or because I felt abandoned.
But that last part was just stupid.
How could I miss him enough to feel abandoned? I didn’t even know him. I just needed to cut this shit out and get over him already.
Except the ache in my chest wasn’t listening to the rational reasoning part of my brain, and it could only remember the way he’d so trustingly curled into me and clung to me, needing me, relying on me to see him through. And the stupid little ache missed those precious moments.
I felt as sad at that guy sitting out there on the never-used park bench all by himself with the streetlamp spraying down on him and showing off how solitary and alone he looked. Wondering what had put that dude in such a funk, I studied him until my eyes started to squint, realizing how familiar his silhouette seemed. And then I was gasping as my mouth fell open because I realized I knew that silhouette with the ball cap on his head and his hoodie’s hood hanging down his back.
“Oh, that turd!” I growled, fisting my hands down at my sides before spinning for the door and racing from my room. I didn’t bother with shoes or a coat or stocking cap, or anything. I was too mad, and relieved, and ecstatic to see him again.
Ground moisture instantly soaked through my socks as I stepped outside. The cold blew right into my lungs, but I barely felt that either. Darting down the sidewalk and across the street, I scowled at him until I was only a couple feet away.
“Where the hell have you been?”
He lifted his head, and I faltered my lecture because he looked so gosh-darn defeated.
I ground my teeth, determined to give him a piece of my mind, anyway. “You had me worried sick. Do you even know what I went through, looking for you and wondering what had happened to you?”
“I’m sorry,” he said with a heartfelt simplicity.
I opened my mouth, wanting to rage and lecture more, but dammit, why did he have to look so much like a kicked puppy? “Oh, just shut up. Let’s get inside before we both freaking freeze to death.”
Except the stupid, idiot boy shook his head. “No. You’ve already done so much for me. Too much. I can’t. I’ll never be able to repay you. I don’t want…I can’t…”
I blew out a frustrated breath and shook my head sadly. He reminded me of myself, a little too proud to accept help and awkward about thanking people. But right now, it wasn’t working for me.
“Then why are you sitting outside my apartment like a lost little kitten?”
If anything, he looked even more lost than before. Glancing around the dark, empty park, he admitted, “I don’t know.”
I groaned, “Well, can you not-know inside, where it’s warm? I’ve ruined my socks and forgot to grab my damn coat.” Taking his arm, I yanked him up into a stand and started to march back in the direction of home.
He followed willingly for a couple feet, but then he resisted, saying, “Bailey.”
