The Keys to Jericho (8 page)

“I’ll vouch for that one,” my Dad offers. I frown at both of them.

Abruptly, I laugh. “Remember the girl with a limp you dated for a while?”

“Her name was Carolyn and we only were together two months.”

“What happened?” my dad asks between bites.

Dash’s smile hits the skids. “She left me for her cousin’s boyfriend.”

I facetiously smirk. “Did he have a limp, too?”

“No. She limped because she had an ingrown toenail that was removed wrong or something.”

I recoil, letting my pizza hang limply. “That’s fricking disgusting.”

“I never saw her feet!”

“I doubt you saw anything else, either. Not that she was makeout material. She talked like an auctioneer, making
you
sound like you had shit in your mouth.” I laugh, but hear my dad’s chagrin swirling in his sigh.

“Yeah. My mom met her when we saw Carolyn at a store. She said she’d kick my ass if I knocked her up because she could never keep up with our kid.”

“Truest words ever said. Especially since your mom wore the eight-inch heels back then.”

Dash rolls his eyes and says, “I’m pretty sure
you
had more girlfriends, but you hid them.”

I try smiling, but fail. “Nope.” There was only one I wanted. My gaze slides to the patch of grass across the parking lot, frantically trying to forget.

Dad and Dash both give me a strange look. I don’t see it, but I feel it in the silence that follows, which is unsettling. Without looking at them, I edgily ask, “What?”

“I think you’re not telling us something,” my dad accuses.

Tired of this shit, I push off the tailgate. Dad asks, “Where are you going?”

I say over my shoulder, “I don’t think I need a permission slip signed anymore.” I hear whispering and then quick footsteps behind me.

“Wait, Jericho.” Dash catches up with me. “Why do you shut down like that? It’s just your dad and me.”

“And you just answered your own question.”

“I know you have issues with your dad, but don’t you trust me, at least?”

I honestly don’t know how to answer that, so I just keep walking.

“Jared, there’s something going on with you. You and Rio never fight like you did the other night. Why does Liberty bother you so much? You’d find she’s really funny and nice if you took the time to get to know her.”

“Like
you
do?” I glare at him. The wind blows through his blond hair, making it chaotically ruffled, which he hates.

“More than
you
do,” he challengingly retorts as we cross the street. I shake my head, walking onto the Spa Creek Drawbridge, sliding past people waiting for the race to start. He asks, “Are you afraid he won’t want to be friends with us anymore?”

“Just put a sock in it, Dash.”

He punches my arm. “There you go again. Shoving everyone away.”

I shoot him a dirty look. Anyone besides Rio and Dash touching me like that would’ve been on their ass right now. “Watch it or I’ll be shoving
you
off this bridge.”

Amongst the crowd, we find an open spot on the other end of the drawbridge, next to an old man. It could go either way. Old people are unpredictable. Some try to talk to me, while others leave me alone. There’s a fifty-fifty chance that I’m going to be bothered. I hope this one doesn’t even realize I’m here.

Leaning over the pinkish top rail, I prop my foot on the bottom one, and look out to the plethora of boats ready to start. On the other side of me, Dash talks to people around us, which is a given when we go anywhere. I yank on the bill of my cap and hope he doesn’t try to pull me into his banal chatter.

Is there something to what Dash and Rio have said? I’ve always been closed off to people, for the most part. Dash and Rio do know more about me than anyone else does, so I don’t get why Dash is bitching about me “shoving everyone away.” That’s bullshit. They both just want something to complain about or someone to blame. I’m always around to hear about their problems, but they want
me
to solve them. Fuck, I can’t even solve
my
own damn problems. Why do they want to know so much about mine? There’s nothing they can do about them. Anyway, they’re water…under the bridge.

“No way! Look at you!” I hear him laughingly say to someone. I roll my eyes at the water below. How can he be so into people in general? Even strangers love him. He’s revoltingly bubbly. We’re nothing alike. How in the fuck have I stayed friends with him for 22 years?

Suddenly, Dash smacks my arm. “Hey, I want you to meet someone.”

Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.

I grit my teeth. I just want to stand here and watch the boats. He knows I hate these tedious kinds of introductions. I’m not good at feigning interest, even with people I
do
know. I don’t need to meet one of Dash’s million followers; someone that I’ll never see again. What’s the point?

Silently promising to shove Calder off the bridge later, I stiffly turn from the railing and force some semblance of a smile. However, the smile slips when I see purple-striped hair, those unreal, dark blue eyes, and a bright smile.

Dash nods sideways at me. “Kat, this is my best friend Jared Beckett.” Her smile widens as my impatience grows. She has the gall to smile after what she pulled on me this morning?

Licking my lips, I glower at her before I spread the adoration to Calder, guaranteeing he will meet his demise shortly. Ignoring my ire with his own grin, he says, “Jericho, this is Kat Merrick.”

The bridge may as well have crashed into the harbor beneath us, taking my stomach first. I wouldn’t have noticed.

As my jaw hangs open at Dash, Kat complacently says, “We know each other.”

I really wish I had brought my sunglasses because there’s no way I can hide my shock in any way.

Kat Merrick.

Not
Brandcroft.

Katriona Merrick.

She looks unbelievably different, but my instincts were right.

It
is
her.

She’s the one that got away in high school.

She’s the one who repeatedly rejected me.

She’s the one I still dream about.

She’s…

Fuck me. Fuck me.

Fuck. Me.

CHAPTER 5

KAT

“Nice to meet you.”

“What’s your last name?”

Could he have twisted the knife into my heart any further by uttering those cutting words to me?

Having Jared walk back into my life is either a blessing or a curse. In school, he was hot, but now, he’s undeniably, smoking hot. Though he looks broader and there is an indescribable wariness about him, his hair is still a warm caramel and his eyes are the same, cool mix of green and hazel. They’re spellbinding.

Yet, looking into Jared Beckett’s blank stare when I saw him at my mom’s for the first time, genuinely not recognizing me, I took off before I broke down in front of him. It was my nightmare come true. I always thought if I ran into him again after all these years, he’d remember me and, and if we were both single, possibly picking up where we left off…whatever it was that we left.

I just can’t forget that he did forget me.

This is definitely a curse.

Love is something I’ve never been good at or have possessed much luck. I’ve had two boyfriends and a handful of crushes from afar. Well, almost all of them were from a distance. Years ago, I thought Jared and I were friends. I had wanted more, but he didn’t. He only liked teasing me with the possibility before yanking it out of my reach.

I should go back to the beginning.

My name is Katriona Elyse Merrick. Kat.

Or as Jared Beckett used to call me, Kit Kat.

Jared and I went to high school together. During my sophomore year, which was his junior year, we took driver’s education class together that was offered after school three times a week for a semester. The class was split up and we would rotate practicing things like parking, driving around cones, and backing into a parking space in the school’s parking lot, while others would spend an hour in a classroom, and one student would drive on the road with another instructor.

When we were practicing in the lot, we each were paired with a partner, while the instructor looked on and graded us. They wanted us to practice driving with someone who could possibly distract us, but in a safer setting instead of throwing us out onto the street with distractions. I was paired with Jared often.

The first two weeks was classroom instruction, to become familiarized with the laws of the road, and the basics of operating a motor vehicle. Jared and I each sat in the second chair, a row apart. Helena Keiser sat between us, since we were seated alphabetically. One day during the second week, Helena caught Jared smiling at me as I casually caught his eye. She thought it was some kind of significant moment, I guess, because she remarked that we would look “cute together” and that Jared should ask me out on a date. I was so horrified that she would put him in that awkward situation of being caught unawares like that. I wasn’t anyone in my school. I didn’t play any sports. I wasn’t a cheerleader, in any high-profile clubs, or the band. I wasn’t popular or even known for being one of the extremely smart kids. I wasn’t a burnout, a dropout, or put out. I did my work, was a good student and had a handful of friends, but there wasn’t anything that singled me out. I wasn’t unlike other students, yet that’s it. I was just…there.

In contrast, Jared was a varsity football player—wide receiver, to be exact. I knew that because after Helena’s comment, I looked him up in my previous yearbooks and school newsletters. I even stopped by the team picture, hanging outside the gym doors, which listed their names and positions. Since I wasn’t into football or into who’s who in school, I had known nothing about him prior to having class with him.

After I knew who he was, that’s when I started hearing his name more, or rather, I knew who they were talking about when I heard his name. The more I heard his name, the more awkward I felt that Helena suggested he ask me out. Jared Beckett was popular, but not massively so, casually finding out from friends of friends’ intel on him that he mostly kept to himself. Nevertheless, he would never be seen with me. Why would he when he could have anyone he wanted? I didn’t think I was horribly ugly, but I wasn’t gorgeous like the cheerleaders or the popular girls. My hair was dull and shoulder-length. I didn’t wear much makeup. I wore glasses, a retainer, and I was a bony thing with hardly any boobs. Those didn’t make a full appearance until my senior year.

After Helena’s bold proposition, things immediately became different, but in an appealing way. Jared and I were paired together in a car for parking lot work. At first, he teased me about how far I’d have to pull up the seat compared to him, how serious I looked when I concentrated on not running over cones, and how I forgot where the turn signal was. Jared had also started calling me
Kit Kat
. I’d roll my eyes at him, but his smile riveted me and his laugh was infectious. It was impossible not to laugh with him.

We’d started talking more, too. We talked about our favorite TV shows, hobbies, and what we wanted to do with our lives. Then, just as quick as the initial teasing started, it took an unforeseen turn. The following Monday, Jared found reasons to touch me. Whether it was to get a closer look at my earrings or my rings, to playfully rubbing my shoulder and neck, he was definitely not paying attention to how I was driving, which made
me
not pay attention to how I was driving.

Oddly, it became nearly a given that we’d be partners for lot work. He’d take me by the arm, leading me to a car before I had the chance to pick someone else. Each time in the car with him, he became braver. Once, I wore ripped jeans, and as I looked to the left, Jared touched the fringes on my knee, slowly grazing his fingers over my skin. Shocked, I quickly looked back to his soft smile and persistent gaze as his fingers continued to trace my knee. I had never experienced goosebumps so fast in my life. Turning to look over my shoulder as I backed into a space, the car became almost intimate. His head leaned toward me more, closer each time I had to look behind me. My nerves were buzzing and I had a hard time concentrating. When he closely whispered, “I really like your perfume,” I gasped a thank you to the back window before the car shook to a hard stop, nearly running us over the curb. 

When it was Jared’s turn to drive, I teasingly squeezed his arm and tried to tickle his neck as repayment. Even so, nothing seemed to bother him. He was a good driver, but he apparently didn’t have to focus as much as I did. He had more fun with it, especially when the instructor wasn’t watching; though, all three of the instructors had told him to slow down on more than one occasion. Because of that, I came up with a nickname of my own for him, referring to his driving style that made
him
laugh. Jared was unflappable, that is, until the moment I patted his leg, returning the favor. He practically jumped out of the driver’s seat. The dazed look on his face was funny, but he didn’t laugh with me.

About two weeks later, his flirting escalated even further.

“When are we going to go out?”

I laughed in disbelief. “Whenever you want to go.”

I thought that maybe Helena’s teasing was carrying over from the classroom to the car, so I played along with him. I tried acting nonchalant, yet was anything but. I was floored.

It ended up turning into a weekly thing. Jared even asked for my phone number at one point, but neither of us made a move to actually make plans. It was bizarre. I didn’t know how else to handle the odd state of play I found us to be in. His picking up my hand to look at my ring, turned into him briefly winding his fingers with mine. The first time he did it, I hesitantly looked at his calm face, yet his eyes said something more. Something he couldn’t, maybe. Although I knew he didn’t really want to go out with me, the affectionate closeness that was occurring between us felt…real…like he wasn’t putting on a show, since we were alone in the car and had no audience.

Jared continued to do that with my hand, still without a word said. I didn’t question him about it because I was afraid if I did and he shrugged it off, then it would burst our little bubble we had built around us, or the bubble
I
had built around us in my head and heart. The cars were the only places we could quietly get to know each other, even if we didn’t talk about what was happening between us. Though he didn’t say it or follow through, from his touches, the few words he said, and the looks he gave me, I swear I wasn’t imagining that he wanted more.

Regardless, I couldn’t fathom
why
he’d want anything more from me. He had my number, but he didn’t call. I lamely sat by the phone every night, yelling at anyone who talked more than five minutes, call waiting be damned. After a week of sitting by the phone, I scolded myself for being tremendously misguided, and from then on, I was positive he really wasn’t serious. So, I proceeded as such.

Nevertheless, all that fell apart a few days later when Jared stopped by my locker on the way to his class.

“Kit Kat, are you coming to the game Friday?”

“I might. Why?”

“Watch me play. I’ll score you a touchdown.”

“You will?” His grin matched mine as he nodded. “I’ll be watching you then.”

He said, “Then I’ll be watching for
you
.”

I had gone to the game, but number 55 didn’t score a touchdown. I watched Jared nearly every second I could, but didn’t see him once look into the stands. After the game, I waited for him to come out of the locker room. I felt weird and out of place, so I didn’t wait too long. I had ridden with my impatient, older brother Peter, so I couldn’t anyway. At school, Jared asked me if I was at the game, saying he didn’t see me there. I told him I was and relayed things he had done during the game, which seemed to surprise him.

Confusion flooded me again the day he sat down next to me on a bench outside of school, waiting for our instructors to arrive.

“If I brought you my spare football jersey, would you wear it Friday?”

I laughed, but he didn’t, so I swiftly sobered. “Um, are you serious?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

I nearly stuttered, “Why would you ask
me
to wear it?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Nervously, I said, “Ok, I’ll wear it.” His smile was immediate and so bright.

Friday morning came, but Jared didn’t stop by my locker or find me to give me his jersey. I would’ve worn it, but apparently, he wasn’t as serious as he claimed to be.

Our driver’s ed. class was finished by winter break and I became depressed because every day, I’d wait for Jared to call me, but he didn’t, and since our class was officially over, I thought his association with me was over, too.

One Saturday over break, I was riding with my grandmother to get groceries. On the way home, out of the blue, she pulled over and told me to drive. At first, I protested, but she laughed and got out of the car, telling me to not think about it too long because she didn’t want her ice cream in the trunk to melt. It was winter! I still hadn’t gotten my driver’s license since class had finished, so I was only driving with a permit, which made me nervous, unlike my grandmother, who didn’t seem to be. I reluctantly got behind the wheel, uneasy about driving her car and having her as my passenger. Pulling back onto the road, I drove for about two miles when an oncoming car crossed the centerline into my lane, hitting us head on. My grandmother was killed instantly. I don’t remember anything after the impact. I sustained a fractured skull, a broken neck, broken nose, broken left arm, fractured ribs, and my right lung collapsed. I was put into a medically induced coma for over a month due to the brain swelling. The nightmares I had while I was under were like a never-ending horror movie, and stayed with me for months afterward.

I found out that a deer had run out in front of the approaching car, and the driver panicked, swerving into us. I didn’t have time to react, but I obviously reacted wrong, since I killed my grandmother.

Not many people came to visit me from school during my long hospital stay. My mom said once I was out of my coma, but sleeping, a few of my friends popped their heads in to see if I was still alive, but many felt uneasy and didn’t stay long. They had left cards and flowers, which were nice gestures, yet it also made me realize how little I meant to Jared after all, since he didn’t visit me.

I finally was allowed to return to school two months later. I had been in the hospital for Christmas and New Year’s, but that didn’t matter since I didn’t have my grandmother, and I was the reason for that. I also didn’t have Jared, not that I ever really had him.

Since the accident, I’ve been left with motor glitches such as a Swiss-cheese memory, a lapse in speech at times, and often have trouble writing down something. My problem isn’t physiological, but a mental block that won’t let me carry out a task for several seconds. Either stemming from the accident or the anesthesia drugs, the doctors had said it may pass, but it has yet to.

When Jared saw me my first day back to school, he stopped to ask me how I was doing in front of my friends, who still thought our status quo was weird. Although I was hurt he hadn’t visited me in the hospital or at home, I was glad that he was still acknowledging me. Just like driver’s ed. the previous semester, we fell into a routine of knowing where each other would be at certain times of the day. He also seemed to not be able to keep his hands off me again. He was constantly putting his arm around me, rubbing the nape of my neck, playing with my hair, or landing his Colts cap onto my head. My friends were flabbergasted. They asked if we were going out yet, but once more, Jared and I were in the peculiar situation we were in months before. It was like we were facing off, neither willing to budge to move things forward for us. Or maybe I was delusional, thinking that he wanted to move anything forward.