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I would never admit that the way he looked at me felt like he was lighting a fuse on my body.
“That’s a shame. I could have made this an even better time.”
“Doubtful,” I say, opening the door, slamming it behind me, listening to him laugh behind me.
I lock my bedroom door once I’m back inside, leaning against wood, sighing. This is bound to be the longest three months of my life.
I’ve spent the last three years trying to be a better person. I don’t want to go back to the Marley I was before. She was lost, troubled, and in a lot of pain. I’ve been through years of therapy and self-discovery. The only thing I need to do is get through this summer, deal with the ghosts of my past, and move on with my life.
I don’t have time for anything to derail my plans.
Especially not someone like Clark James.
* * *
I didn’t hear a peep from anyone the rest of the night. I’m not sure what time my brother got home, or if anyone else was even here. It felt like I was back in boarding school, alone, in complete silence.
I’ve always loved the quiet. Even when I was little. Mallory needed there to be noise to fall asleep, she got anxious if it was too quiet. You couldn’t even play hide-and-seek with her because she was scared when she was left alone for too long, but I was the opposite.
I do my best thinking when I’m alone. I’m at peace in silence.
I can hear people talking downstairs when I wake up. Given the information my brother gave me yesterday, I’m assuming it’s him and Clark downstairs. At least, that’s what I’m hoping. I don’t think I’m ready to come face to face with Spencer after four years of him ghosting his own daughter.
I grab a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt from school, throw my hair in a bun, and head downstairs.
“Hey, Mar,” my brother says, smiling.
Mitchell has always had the most contagious smile. It lights up the room. He’s always been so genuinely nice and such a happy, free spirit. The smile disappeared when Mallory died, but it’s nice to see it make an appearance every once in a while.
“Hey.”
I grab a seat at the kitchen table. My brother is currently flipping pancakes at the stove, and Clark is leaning against the counter next to him, laughing.
“How did you sleep?” he asks, looking over his shoulder at me.
I’m trying to concentrate on my brother and not the fact that Clark’s eyes feel like they’re burning a hole in my body. Jesus Christ, if you could catch fire from someone staring at you then I’d be up in flames right now.
“Fine. I’m still adjusting.” I shrug.
He looks at me concerned. Before I was shipped off to boarding school, and after Mallory died, I struggled with sleep. I think that’s why I found myself in the situations I was in.
“I promise. My sleeping was normal in school. I’m just trying to get used to new surroundings,” I reassure him.
It’s not a lie. The psychiatrist I was seeing prescribed me something to help with my sleep. I still take it religiously. I just forgot last night. I’m going to blame it on the fact that I was riled up with all the new information being thrown my way in such a short amount of time.
“I worry about you.” He sighs, turning back to the stove.
My face feels like it’s on fire. It’s embarrassing that he’s just airing all this out right here in front of Clark.
“Mitch, I’m fine. I promise.” I sigh, propping my elbows on the table, resting my head in my hands.
“Here,” he says, pushing a plate piled high with pancakes in front of me.
“Thanks,” I say, smiling up at him.
“No problem. What’s on your agenda today?” he asks, taking a seat next to me.
My eyes travel to Clark, who’s currently piling pancakes on a plate before he takes the seat across from me.
