The Wrong Path_Smashwords (23 page)

The thought comforted her somehow, making her smile. She rested her head against the arm of the couch, which smelled vaguely of Will, and closed her eyes.

The sound of a car startled her. She looked up, shocked to see it was dark outside. She hurriedly set aside the blanket, her heart hammering against her chest as she ran to the window to see outside. She could only see headlights in the darkness, which went out even as she watched.

Her blood ran cold as she heard the footsteps slowly approach the barn.

If it were Will, he would have run up to get out of the rain, wouldn’t he? So then who was walking up with such slow, deliberate steps? Will had told her no one would come to the barn, but what if he was wrong? What if someone did know about the barn?

What if she were about to be in a lot of trouble?

She ran to the back of the barn, turning the dial on the lantern to extinguish the light. She hid behind the standing shelves, crouching low to the ground. The rain sounded impossibly loud on the roof of the old barn, as if it had somehow amplified within the last few seconds. Her blood rushed in her ears as she waited in trepidation for the person to enter. She heard the scrape of metal and wood as the barn door was opened. A figure stepped in, drenched with rain. He paused a foot inside of the barn and looked up, the dull light from the window barely lighting his features.

Will.

She darted out from behind the shelves, running to him. “Will!” she cried, throwing her arms around his neck.

He caught her with a slight step back, his arms holding her almost automatically. “Belle?” he asked, sounding bewildered. “What are you doing here? Whose car is that?”

She hugged him tightly, all the fear she had felt replaced with so much warmth and relief she could almost feel it exuding from her. “It’s my dad’s. I came to find you.”

“Your dad’s?” he repeated. “Where did it come from?”

“He’s had it for years. He doesn’t take it out of the garage.” She pulled back and looked up at him. His hair dripped onto his shirt, hanging in pieces around his tired, thin face. “Are you okay?” she asked him.

“I’m fine. You didn’t need to come here.” She nearly gasped when he pulled away from her, stepping around her to the couch. She watched as he knelt down in front of a trunk beside it and unlocked it, pulling out a long-sleeved t-shirt.

She tried to push down her hurt feelings. “I was worried about you,” she objected. “Ebony told me that you were missing.”

Will yanked off his wet shirt, scowling. “Of course she did,” he muttered.

“Will—“

“Belle.” He turned on her, the dry shirt still in his hands. “Thank you for coming. Really. But I came here to get away from everything. I’m fine. Tell Ebony not to worry.”

She frowned at his dismissal, watching as he tugged the shirt over his head, settling it around his waist. “Will—“

“Why are you here?” Will demanded, turning on her with flashing eyes. “Really, Annabelle. What are you doing here?”

“I came to find you,” she repeated, her heart aching.

“I noticed.
Why
? Did you have a bad day again? Need a shoulder to cry on? Need someone to cheer you up because you got into a fight with your boyfriend? I’m probably not the person you want for that right now.”

He was hurt. She could see it all over him. Will looked exhausted and hurt, like he was barely keeping it together. She crossed the distance separating them, facing off against him squarely as she took his hands, interlacing their fingers. “No,” she agreed. “I’m the person you want for that right now.”

He looked… caught off-guard. And then angry. He pulled his hands from hers, smiling darkly down at her. “Really?” he asked. “I’m pretty sure we did that. And I left.”

She tried not to flinch at his harsh words. She forced herself to remain strong—to believe in everything they had been through together. To believe in Will. He was upset about something, and if he would just talk to her, they could work it out. Together. “To go home,” she pointed out.

“Where I left.”

“Because you got into a fight with Trevor.”

He flashed another dark smile. “Your boyfriend.”

“Stop it!” she shouted, frustrated. Why did it always have to come back to Trevor being her boyfriend? Why did he always have to point out that she was dating someone else? Someone who happened to be his brother? Someone she didn’t even
want
to be dating? “I had been about to break up with Trevor on the way home from the fair. Because I was thinking about
you
.” His eyes flickered, but she went on, unable to stop. “And then he got the call about your mom and I couldn’t. I couldn’t do that to him.” She shook her head, convincing herself of the words even as she said them to Will. She raised her eyes to his, meeting his unreadable gaze. “So
stop
telling me Trevor’s my boyfriend. I know. I know, and I’m
sorry
.”

He looked away. “You’re just upset because you got into a fight with Trevor today. You don’t mean—“

“I got into a fight with Trevor about
you
!” she cried. “For not telling me you were missing! Because I thought you had run off because
I
had done something wrong! God, Will!” She turned away helplessly, throwing her hands up in the air, before turning back on him. “I gave up my boyfriend, my friends, and everything I have spent years working for, just to be with you! What else do I have to do to prove that I love you?”

His head lifted instantly, his eyes stunned. Her chest heaved as she panted for breath, refusing to look away from his shocked gaze. She had said it. She hadn’t meant to say it, but she had. She had finally been able to tell Will—to tell herself—that she loved him.

“You,” she began, her voice trembling with emotion, “changed everything.” She shook her head, laughing almost bitterly at the memory. “I think the moment I saw you and Ebony in the mall the first time, something in me changed. I kept staring at you, admiring your courage.” It all felt like so long ago, but she went on, needing to say it. “And then I started seeing you everywhere. Every time I turned around, you were there. To save me. To help me. You were completely different from anyone I had ever known. You showed me things I didn’t even know existed. Whenever I went out, where ever I was, I started looking for you. Hoping you would be there. I looked forward to every time I would see you again. Not because I wanted a shoulder to cry on, but because I wanted you
with
me.” She looked up at him, tears blurring her vision. “Because you made me want to be me.”

He yanked her into his arms, clutching her fiercely. She let out a sob, fisting his shirt in her hands as she held onto him.

It was a long time later when Will slowly stepped back, just far enough to look down at her. Her heart fluttered as he gently smoothed her hair away from her face, a tender look on his face.

“When I was thirteen,” Will began, his voice soft, “I hurt my arm pretty bad. They said I would never play baseball again. I was sitting in the front yard, angry at everything, when I saw you walk out of your house. You were wearing this light blue dress and you had your hair up in a ponytail, and you were wearing this big smile. You called back into the house that you would be back before dinner. Then you shut the door, walked to the tree between our houses, and sat down and started crying.” Will’s eyes focused on her. “Suddenly my hurt arm didn’t seem so bad. You looked so sad. I thought, if you would just stop crying, my arm could stay broken forever.” He held up his right arm and flexed his hand. “It didn’t, but the next year you transferred to our school.”

Annabelle felt hot tears slide down her cheeks as she looked up at him. He reached up and carefully wiped the tears away, his expression softer than she had ever seen it. “I don’t know how I would have gotten over what happened if I hadn’t seen you that day.”

“I wish,” she said softly, her voice thick with tears, “that you had come over to comfort me then.”

He offered a half-smile. “I have been wishing that for years.”

She smiled lightly. “I think you more than made up for it, though.”

He leaned down and kissed her lingeringly on the forehead. Her heart ached in a way she had never felt before, with so much happiness that it hurt. When he pulled back and looked down at her, his dark eyes loving and warm, she thought she would break.

And then, her emotions swirling around her, she reached up and kissed him.

Will’s lips were warm and soft against hers, smooth and gentle. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, drawing her impossibly closer, sealing the distance between them. She locked her fingers in the silky strands of his hair, holding him to her, refusing to let go.

A while later they were laying together on the couch, Annabelle lying contentedly against his chest. Will had one arm behind his head against the arm of the couch, the other lightly stroking her hair. She smiled into his neck, sighing deeply at the faded cologne scent that still lingered around him.

Will let out a sigh against her hair and shifted, slowly sitting up. Annabelle sat up as well, sitting beside him. She frowned at the almost reluctant look on his face, alarm speeding up her heart.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

He looked over at her. “There’s something you should hear,” he told her. Her heart skipped as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a cell phone. “It’s how I knew you’d gotten into a fight with Trevor.”

Startled, she sat up straighter. “You knew?” she asked.

He looked down at the cell phone and then paused, frowning. She watched anxiously as he stared at the phone, practically hearing the wheels in his head turning.

And then Will’s eyes suddenly grew large and his head lifted, his face filled with disbelief and amazement. “That son of a bitch,” he breathed. Annabelle gaped at him, her heart hammering against her ribs as he quickly dialed a number, listening intently.

A machine’s voice filled the quiet room. “You have one saved message,” it announced.

“Hey… Will?” Annabelle heard Trevor’s voice say through the speaker. “You’re probably up at the barn, but can you send me a text when you get this to let me know you’re okay? Your friends haven’t heard from you all week. Mom’s funeral is tomorrow, too… It’s at eleven at the church. And, um…” Her heart skipped as she heard Trevor let out a deep breath. “Look, Will… I’m sorry about the other day. And… if you see Annabelle… will you tell her I’m sorry? I… I didn’t know. I guess I should have, but I… I just didn’t. Typical Trevor, right Will? Anyway… I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Will. Alright, well… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The machine’s voice took over. “To delete this message, press seven. To save it—“

Will ended the call.

Annabelle’s mind spun. She felt rooted to the couch, stunned.  Trevor had known where Will was the entire time? That was why he hadn’t been worried. And he had asked Will to tell Annabelle he was sorry. As if he knew Annabelle would find him. And speaking about something he should have known, as if he should have known all along, but hadn’t…? Saying he was sorry?

Saying he was sorry to
Will
.

Trevor had figured it out.

A part of her was so relieved that she wanted to laugh, and yet so sad she wanted to cry. Trevor really was a nice guy. She was lucky that she had gotten to go out with him. He had been a wonderful boyfriend to her. She would always be happy she had dated Trevor.

But Trevor wasn’t the one she wanted to be with. And Trevor had figured it out and let her go.

To be with Will.

She turned to him, tears of relief flooding her eyes. Will was still marveling at the phone, as if he couldn’t believe what he already knew. Annabelle couldn’t resist laughing, throwing her arms around him. Will fell back on the couch, clutching her tightly.

Nothing left to keep them apart.

Chapter Eighteen

The next morning she stood with her parents outside of the chapel at Mrs. Scarlett’s funeral. She couldn’t remember ever going to a funeral before, but it wasn’t quite as depressing as she had imagined. As they waited for the ceremony to start people stood clustered together, talking and laughing. Annabelle looked around for Ebony or Will’s other friends, but stopped when she realized Will wouldn’t have invited them. He wouldn’t want them there. He would want to do this alone. But, as she scanned the crowd of familiar faces for Will, she reminded herself he wasn’t alone. He had her.

They had spent the night in the barn, curled up together on the old, dusty couch. Annabelle had been reluctant to leave his arms even to bid him goodbye that morning, especially at the somber, heavy look in his eyes. But Will had given her a light kiss goodbye and they had driven off, Annabelle to return her father’s car after being out all night.

Her parents had been drinking coffee in the living room when she came home to face their wrath. To her surprise, her father had stood and offered her his mug of coffee, then asked if she had scratched the car. When she had said no, he had told her she would be hand washing it as soon as things settled down.

And she had hugged him as tightly as she could, overcome with love for her understanding, forgiving parents.

She finally spotted Will standing to his father’s left by the chapel’s front doors, Trevor on Mr. Scarlett’s right. They were all wearing black suits, accepting condolences from family and friends. Trevor and Mr. Scarlett both appeared to be on the verge of tears, ready to break down at any moment, but Will merely stood by passively, a blank, expressionless look on his face.