AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I can tell he's panicking as much as I am. He is right though. Easton will know what to do.
I give him a nod, then rush to the kitchen. The peanut butter and jelly still sit open on the counter. How is it that just a few hours ago I was making a snack with East? Now I’m trying to clean up a crime scene. Holy hell. My heart starts to race and my palms sweat. I grip the kitchen counter for support before my legs collapse under me. The last time I had to clean up a crime scene… I shudder at the thought of all that blood. I never wanted to see the aftermath of my mother’s suicide, but that prick ordered me to clean as he dealt with her body at the morgue. The scent of the blood and her perfume still haunt me. I close my eyes and wipe the tears from my cheeks.
Why does this shit keep happening to me? Everytime something good happens in my life it’s tainted, poisoned with something evil. I take a shaky breath and open my eyes. I glance around, and Jase was right. There isn’t anyone here. I move over to the sink and wash my hands, then reach into the cabinet and grab as many cleaning supplies as I can carry. I rush back to the room and freeze. Jase covered her body with a sheet, but that doesn’t stop my stomach from twisting.
I may not have known Kyna well since she was new this year, but she was a super sweet girl. Always offering to help tutor us so we didn’t get kicked from the team and baking us treats. But now she’s gone. Dead. And it’s all our fault…
“Mr. Hawthorne, please behave. Don’t think I didn’t hear Layton ask you to leave. You may rest here until he wakes up, then you need to go. He’s being moved to mental health in the morning.”
I internally groan at that. I’ve been here a week already, and even with all the therapy, they’ve decided I need to be admitted. Who knows, maybe this will be good for me. I open my eyes but stare at the ceiling.
“Why are you back?” I mumble and the intake of a gasp from Jase almost makes me turn his way. His weight indents the small bed and I sigh when he leans over to kiss my forehead.
“I never left,” he mutters on my skin, before pulling away. The scraping of a chair makes my head throb and I wince. He must have noticed because he mumbles, “Sorry.”
My eyes burn and I know I’m going to start crying again. As if I haven’t been for the past week. You would think I wouldn’t have any more tears to shed. I think about what the therapist and I have been talking about. I need help. I know I need help. Jase has tried and sometimes it works but…
“I’m leaving Jase,” I tell him, and he jolts from his seat and stands in front of the door. He crosses his arms, and puffs his chest up. A small smile graces my lips for the first time since waking up, but it doesn’t stay long. They never do these days.
“The fuck you are,” he growls giving me a glare full of exhaustion, grief and strength. “I know I fucked up, Lay. I know that,” he chokes out while stabbing himself in the chest with his finger. “Please, don’t leave me too,” he finishes in a whisper, tears falling down his face. I close my eyes and fight back my own.
I clear my throat, before whispering, “I need to go Jase. They're coming in the morning to take me to mental health, and I think after my two weeks are up I’m going to transfer to a facility. I don’t want to die anymore. I want to fight. To live, but these bad thoughts... They haunt me. I love you.” I open my eyes and let him see my truth. “I love you so much, but you need to let me go. I need time. Maybe when I get back we can talk about things, but until then I need you to not fight this, Jase.” He leaves the door and rushes to me, collapsing on my chest. He wraps his arms tight around my ribs, and I try to hide my wince. His shoulders shake from his sobs, and I rub his back and run my fingers through his unwashed, messy hair. He’s mumbling, “I'm so sorry,” repeatedly and I know he is, but I need to do this for me. For once in my life I need to think of myself and get the help I deserve.
Eight
Carson
A few days later I’m still in my bed, wallowing. He did it. Connor listened and returned to campus. It’s what I wanted, so why am I so miserable that he left me? I groan and lie back on my bed. My stomach churns, and I pray I’m not about to make a hundred yard dash to the toilet again. Me and that porcelain throne have gotten well acquainted lately. If things weren’t bad enough, I think I caught the flu. I reach over for my latest book,Rising Queen by Alisha Williams—I'm loving Queenie and her tendency for violence, for revenge and protecting the ones she loves. I just finished another amazing read byScarlett Philips and Iris JamescalledNot Again!It brought a smile to my face with the crazy characters—when there’s a knock on the door.
“Hey kiddo,” my dad says, popping his head in, giving me a once over. “Still not feeling well?”
I shake my head, and he sighs. “Okay, well I’m making a run into town. Have to grab some more hay and chicken feed. Do you wanna tag along? Fresh air might do ya some good.”
I think about it for a few moments. I haven’t left my bedroom since Connor left six days ago. If it wasn’t for my dad and Frankie feeding me, what little I could keep down, I may have starved. I just have no energy or desire to do much. I guess this is what heartbreak does to you. Maybe I was wrong to send him away. Being wrapped in his arms did help, even if it did make me feel guilty. I know he didn’t do anything wrong. Neither did Lay or Xavier, and if I’m being honest I really miss them. I miss them all, though I shouldn't.
“Yeah, give me five to change,” I croak out. I should get some air. Maybe even go for a small walk. I haven’t been out to the barns, and Frankie mentioned a new litter of kittens. I haven’t had kitten snuggles since the last time we were out at May’s farm. She had us over for Christmas break and I was there to help her deliver a foal. It was one of the most amazing experiences. Out there in that barn, full of twinkle lights and in the arms of my guy as we helped a mama horse deliver her baby. I even got to name the little girl.
I blink my eyes, praying the tears don’t fall before my dad can leave. God, I really miss Lay. His tender kisses and the way he would hold me as if I was the most precious thing to him. For someone who grew up the way he did, he has the most gentle soul. He doesn’t deserve to be iced out with the other jerks. My dad snorts, and I give him a look. What could possibly be funny at a time like this?
“Um make it ten darling, hate to tell ya but ya smell as if you rolled with the pigs out back.” He wafts his hand in front of his nose. That brings a small smile to my lips and a roll of my eyes. Okay, yeah I guess that’s a good one.
“Okay, Daddy.”
His eyes widen and he walks closer, touching my forehead. “Daddy huh? You haven’t called me that in years. Maybe we should make an appointment with the doc in town? Get ya all checked out?” I groan, and he laughs.
“Still hate the doc huh? Thought you woulda grown out of it by now.” He stands and leaves my room, still chuckling.
Throwing the blanket off, I give myself a whiff.Ew he was right.I stand, and walk into my ensuite, and start the shower, turning the knob til it’s on scalding. I wait til my mirrors fog before removing Connor’s T-shirt he left here and a pair of old shorts, then jump in. The hot water hits my shoulders, and I feel some of the tension leaving my body. I love my shower. The water pressure in the co-ed dorms was god awful, and I was lucky if I could finish washing my hair before running out of hot water. I’ve always needed the water so hot it could scald before I felt completely clean. One of the perks of the guys living in Hawthorne House was I would steal their shower when I stayed over, and sometimes I didn’t end up alone. My nipples tighten as I think of the last shower I had with my guys.
I run my fingers down my stomach in memory of his hands soaping me up. I shouldn’t be turned on after what he did to me, but even the thought of him and his amazing body still melts my body. Plus him and Lay together in the hot steam with me. Thinking about them washing my hair, massaging in the special conditioner they bought just for me, and treating me like a queen both makes me hot as hell and devastated.
Damn, my hormones are all over the place. One minute I want to call them and make up, the next I want to set that slut-infested house on fire.A wave of dizziness overcomes me, and I grip the cold stone wall to support my suddenly weak knees. Yeah, maybe I do need to eat more. I quickly wash my body and hair, then rinse and jump out. Grabbing my towel and the counter for support. My stomach flips and I feel sick. I rush to the bowl, slamming my knees to the tile. I don’t notice the pain, for in the next moment I’m throwing up what little was in my stomach. Someone knocks on the door, but I can’t move yet, or speak.
“Cara baby, just stay home. Frankie changed your bedding, so take a nap sweetheart. I’ll bring you something from the store. Must have caught an awful bug or something.” He taps his knuckles one more time and sighs. “I don’t know what happened, babygirl, but I know you’re hurting. Whatever it is Carson, we'll figure it out,” he finishes quietly. I cover my mouth to muffle the sobs and let my heart break all over again as his footsteps pad away.
I wait until I know he's gone, then leave my bathroom and curl up on my bed, hugging my pillow close to my chest. I lie there for a few moments, then roll over to the nightstand and open it. I pull out an old journal of mine from my songwriting days with Memphis. I haven’t written anything new since before Valentine’s Day. I should use this emotion I’m feeling and channel it into some songs. Maybe I can make them a hit. I guess I should start thinking about my plan B.
I know all it would take is a phone call, but I don’t want to impose. I crack open the journal and gently touch our childhood handwriting. I always thought Memphis’ chicken scratch was funny. He writes so tiny compared to my loops and hearts above the letters i and j. I flip through a few pages and feel a smile forming on my lips. I reach for my phone and pull up his number. He never did return my text. Maybe he doesn’t want to hear from me after all.
