Every Little Piece (18 page)

I’m speechless. A couple days ago Tate told me he needed a break, yet, here he is. My rock. My safe place for the past few months. Maybe that’s why the last couple days have been so hard, and not because Seth came to town. Maybe I’ve missed having someone there for me, who doesn’t press me to talk, who’s my friend. I want to run up and hug him, but I’m still a little pissed.

“Decided I’m worth sticking around for?” I ask casually, but glance at the door, wondering if Noah will look for me back here.

Tate runs his fingers through his hair, leaving him with a major bed-head look. “That’s not how it is and you know it.”

My annoyance factor skyrockets, but it immediately fades into nothing. He likes me. I can see it in the concern in his eyes, but maybe for some reason I’ve been nothing more than a safe place to him too. That’s not fair to either of us. He deserves someone who tingles under his touch, whose heart races in anticipation of his kiss and it leaves her breathless, wanting more in a shivery anticipation. That person isn’t me. Only one boy has ever done that for me.

“I know.” I slug him gently on the arm. “I’m kidding.” And with that confession, my love, a brotherly kind of love, of gratefulness, floods through me for Tate. During this past year he’s picked me up late for bowling dates, forced me out on my lunch break for ice cream and a quick stroll down the boardwalk. He’s put up with my forced cheeriness and the days I couldn’t even muster a smile.

He’s been a good friend.

He spreads out his arms in an effort to show his vulnerability. “I don’t seem to be able to compete with your past.”

“I’m sorry.” This is where I need to end it even though it means I’ll be alone, without a way of escape from the dull and drone of life. “What can I do?”

“Are you willing to try and let go?” He shuffles his feet on the ground, a strong guy like him, nervous.

I tug on his sleeve. The emotion rushes into my throat and my voice wavers. “I’d love to move on with you. I’d love to be that one for you, the one you need, the one who loves you back with everything she’s got.” My throat closes, and I can’t finish, because that boy, that one person who does that for me has told me he’s not here to fight for me.

He nods as if admitting what he already knew. His sad smile though still brings peace to me. “I want to be there for you. This weekend. I’ll take you if you’d like, if you want.”

The emotion dissolves, and the numbness steals over my heart, mind, and soul. “No.”

He pulls me to him. “You need this, Haley.”

The spark of anger flares, and I push against him. Everyone’s telling me what I have to do. I have to go. I have to find closure. I have to stop running. “Why don’t we leave this on a good note?”

He gives me a quick hug and a gentle peck on the cheek. “Fine, but if you need a friend, let me know.” Then he leaves.

I wonder how much he ever really cared about me, because he doesn’t seem to find it too hard to leave. Maybe I’m not the only one who doesn’t feel that spark. I blame Seth. If he hadn’t come back to town and caught Tate and I together, then Tate and I would be fine. I storm back inside, slamming the door behind me, almost knocking over a tray of freshly made sandwiches.

For the first time in a year I wish I had a car, but I haven’t driven since I left with Justine, and I don’t plan on it now. I rip through the kitchen and into the restaurant. Noah has been waiting this whole time, but is just now exiting out the front door. I catch up and hook my arm through his. Might as well deal with him too.

“Let’s go,” I order.

He startles and narrows his eyes, suspicious. I don’t blame him, especially since I’ve been avoiding him for the past year. He lets me lead him outside. I’ve caught him off guard, which is good. I search back and forth on the street parking. “Where’s your car?”

“Why?” he asks, his stubbornness showing.

“Because I need a ride, and I don’t have a car.” I study the hard lines of his jaw and the determined set of his eyes. Crap. I forgot that Noah’s no pushover. “Fine.” I huff. “If you take me where I want to go then I’ll listen to what you have to say. Deal?”

He nods and presses the button to unlock the doors. We were standing right next to his car. “Where we going?”

“I’m not sure yet. Let’s just drive.”

We drive through town a couple times. Before I know what I’m doing, I search the bobbing heads of the people on the boardwalk and the outside tables of the restaurants. Seth hasn’t contacted me since last night. Maybe he’s changed his mind about spending time with me. My heart sinks and pulls my thoughts with it.

Noah fiddles with the radio station, and the car fills with the melody of memories, the beat of the past, drumming through my body. The feeling creeps over me slowly, building. The pressure lies on my shoulders and squeezes my chest. The doors of the car close in around me.

“It would help if I knew where we were going.”

I sigh and try to find distraction in Noah’s interrogation. “Seth’s in town.”

Noah’s fingers tighten on the wheel, and a muscle twitches in his jaw. “I’m surprised the coward dared to show up.” He glances at me. “Has he talked to you about anything?”

“No.” My heart rate increases. I don’t mention this coming weekend, hoping Noah doesn’t know about the invitation in my dresser drawer.

“Good.” He stares back at the road, visibly relieved.

I study him harder. He knows something. About Seth. And the spark flares again. In one big rush, the past catches up to me and I can’t breathe. “Pull over.” I gasp.

“Haley, no. We’re in the middle of traffic.”

“Pull over!” I yell. I’m suffocating and the heaviness in the air and the knowledge of last year at this time hits me like a tidal wave. I claw at the door. “Let me out.”

He veers across two lanes of traffic. A horn blares. I cringe as memories hit, wave after wave. He screeches to a stop but grabs my arm before I can leave.

“Please. We need to talk.”

“No. I can’t,” I whisper. “I’ll walk home. Don’t worry about me.” I scramble outside and sprint down the sidewalk, past the stores, the ice cream shops, the gift stores. I keep running. My feet slap the cracked pavement. I don’t stop. This was a mistake to go with Noah. This is what would happen if I ever went home, if I went this weekend. The memories and secret blame would crash, and I can’t bear everyone staring, judging, knowing it was all my fault.

A stitch cramps my side, and I gasp for breath but the momentary pain feels good. It’s something I can control. Maybe I’ll just keep running and never stop. Like Forrest Gump. Across the state, across the country and then I’ll turn around and do the whole thing again. I’m not really looking where I’m going until I slam into someone. I stumble and fall to my knees.

A gentle hand is on my arm. It’s an older gentleman with a kind smile. He helps me to my feet.

“Are you all right?” His voice is firm but raspy. His face is weathered and a fishing hat hides his eyes. Crumbs are entrenched in his mustache.

“I’m fine.” My voice shakes. “Thanks.”

I stumble away and lean against a wooden bench. My eyes flutter shut and I breathe deeply. What is going on with me? I’ve been in control for almost a year. I’ve avoided my family because they always lecture me about facing the past. What most of them don’t understand is that I don’t want to deal with it, and I shoved that part of my life away in a box in a deep corner of my heart, like I did the memories and pictures in the back of my closet. Even though those memories stay with me every day, every second, under the surface. I’ve moved on the best I can.

Noah watches from his car parked on the other side of the road, so I walk. My feet stumble and feel like wooden blocks, but I move forward, one step and a time, heading home.

I’ll get there, eventually.

I fumble with the lock at my grandfather’s cabin when someone taps my shoulder.

I turn and can’t see anyone or react before a fist lands on my jaw, and I fall against the front door.

“What the hell?” I crouch in a fighting stance, ready to defend myself, when I see Noah. All fight leaves, and slowly, I stand straight. I deserved that. He told me to leave and never come back.

He folds his arms and everything about him is strung tight and full of rage. It ripples in his biceps as he clenches and unclenches his fists, ready to punch me again. It floats in the furious haze that simmers in his eyes. It shows in the color that tinges his cheeks.

I sigh. “What do you want?”

“I gave you a choice last year. Be there for my sister or stay the hell away from her.” His voice is sandpaper. “She’s had a shitty year and doesn’t need you back in her life.”

“I ran away for all the wrong reasons, but I’m back now. She can’t hide out in the restaurant forever.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw as he grinds his teeth. “Don’t you dare tell me about her. I’ve made sure she’s not stuck there all the time.”

I jerk my head. “What’s that supposed to mean?” The truth lies in his eyes. He’s been behind the scenes of Haley’s life, controlling what she does. I think of Tate. Her casual boyfriend who probably is the one to make sure she’s not stuck inside. “Does Haley know?”

“What?” he asks.

“That you’re messing with her?”

He steps closer. “You don’t have the right to question me or even be here. Why don’t you run away again? No one wants you here.”

I sigh in defeat. He’s right. All the confidence and peace from the past couple hours slips away. “I’m going to take care of it. I’m going to tell her the truth and apologize.”

He steps so we’re nose to nose. “You get one chance. I want you out of her life by the end of the week. If you hurt her, I’ll chase you down and kick your ass.”

I nod. “Got it.”

He storms away. My hands shake as I unlock the door and then slip inside. For the first time it hits me hard how much I hurt Haley when I left. Noah’s always been protective, but not like this. From what he says, he’s been pulling strings behind the scenes without her knowing. This confirms what I’ve begun to suspect. It just might be that Haley needs saving, too.

I pull out my phone and send her a text.

Me
: hey, you there?

I wait a few minutes before I get a response back.

Haley
: yeah

My fingers pause and for the first time in a while I decide to be truthful.

Me
: I’m sorry. For everything. For running last year.

A few minutes go by before she responds.

Haley
: Why now?

Me
: I need to make things right.

Haley
: What if I’m not ready?

Me
: I don’t blame you.

I hold in a breath. My fingers tremble.

Haley
: Did you ever stop and think that I didn’t want you out of my life? You took that decision away from me last year. You never asked. You just left. Why now?

The truth hurts, and I feel the anger behind her words. I get it. Anger is much easier than hurt.

Me
: I’ll answer any of your questions, and then I’ll be gone.

Her text comes fast.

Haley
: Who said I ever wanted you gone? Don’t you get it? I went through hell but I stayed there when you up and left.

I type in the hardest words, the first step to making this up to her. I tell her she’ll want me gone once she learns the truth, but as soon as I finish the last words, I delete it all. This can’t be done through texting, and I can’t leave her hanging.

Me
: Give me next couple days. To make up for my mistakes. We both need to move on. Trust me. This is something we both need.

I press send but she doesn’t respond, so I send one more.

Me
: Want to hang out tomorrow afternoon?

I wait more than a few minutes but she never texts back.