Long After

  A lot of good that did me.

  In the end, I keep it all down, and decide this new version of me is going to let go every once in awhile and eat shit with no nutritional value. Just for the hell of it. Because even though I was regretting it after, I felt pretty damn satisfied while I devoured each slice of my pizza.

  Next time I’ll refrain from shoving the whole thing down my throat though. I’m giving myself a pass today. I think I earned it.

  Hannah gets back right when I’m summoning the energy to go wash my face. She has horrible timing. Of course she’d come home tonight. I guess I’ll be sleeping in my make-up another night, which I try really hard to not care about.

  We don’t talk often, mostly because she’s never here, but I think that’s why we get along so well. I know I can be a lot to handle with my endless post-its, compulsive cleaning, and constant need for order. But Hannah seems to take it all in stride.

  With a long, drawn out moan, she kicks her shoes off. One lands right in the middle of the room and I roll over so I don’t have to see it. Behind my closed eyes, I imagine Hannah picking her shoes up and placing them in the closet. I know she doesn’t do this—it wouldn’t even occur to her—but it makes me feel better.

  I sigh softly.

  I don’t want to be this person.

  I don’t want to care where Hannah puts her shoes.

  Sliding my hand under my pillow, I feel around until I find my phone, and then I slip out of bed and out the door. I feel Hannah’s gaze on me, but she doesn’t say anything, so neither do I.

  The common room’s empty. Most of my dorm mates went to bed early, tired from traveling, or in preparation of the new semester. I have to be up early too. I have a class first thing in the morning. I’m so drained. I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up in time.

  Maybe I won’t go.

  Maybe I’ll skip it. Or maybe I’ll just drop the class all together.

  As freeing as the thought is, I know I won’t do either of those things. In fact, I’ll get up extra early to make sure I have time to do whatever’s necessary to cover my face.

  I sit on the chair in the corner, pulling my legs to my chest, and dial Chase to check in. I don’t really know what I’m supposed to say to him, but I have to call.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi,” I say.

  “Everything okay?”

  Is it? Not really. “Yep. Everything’s peachy.”

  He grunts and I have no idea what that’s guy for, but I have a feeling he doesn’t believe me. “Have you heard from Loden?”

  God, just hearing his name turns my insides into razor blades. “No,” I utter. And I hope I never have to again. I hope that somehow I can make it through these last few months without ever setting eyes on Loden Guiles again. Never seeing his smirk as he takes pride in knocking me to the floor. Never having to look into his cold eyes as his fist makes contact with my flesh for no other reason than the pure pleasure of it. Never have to see him try so determinedly to break me.

  Because he did. For a while, he tore me apart.

  I wipe the moisture from my chin, sweeping my hand up to smooth away the trail on my cheek. I don’t want to cry anymore. Not over Loden. He doesn’t deserve one granule of salt from my tears.

  And then I sigh. I’ll have to be careful that nobody sees my face. I’m sure I just cried streaks though my ten layers of base.

  “I’m sorry,” Chase says, his voice so quiet I almost miss it. I want to ask him what he’s sorry for. Because he knows I’m crying? Because of what happened to me? Because of his proclamation earlier?

  But I don’t bother to ask. I don’t have to. It’s for all of it. I feel it, even if I don’t have verification.

  “Me, too,” I whisper. And I am. Truly and wholly sorry for all of it.

  ~*~

  The following morning comes way too soon. I go through the motions, getting myself ready, and going to class.

  I do everything I’m supposed to do, smile appropriately, talk when it’s expected, pay attention, take notes, stay focused. I do it all. And even though I’m doing everything right, I feel empty. Lost. Alone. I don’t know how long it’ll take for this feeling to go away. Maybe it’s never going away. Maybe this is it for me.

  Maybe I should be okay with this.

  Maybe it’s better this way.

  I push the door open after my final class and I’m instantly greeted by the backs of several other students. Some are just standing there, gawking. Others laugh. A few shout. But they’re all mesmerized by what they see.

  There’s a group of girls to my right, short enough that I’m able to peer over one of their shoulders.

  And this is when I see Chase and Loden facing off in the center of the quad. My throat tightens. It feels like my heart may have lodged itself in my windpipe. I can’t move. Can’t breathe. Can’t even manage a coherent thought.

  This isn’t real. It’s not happening. I’m still in my room, sleeping, and this is just a messed up nightmare.

  Over the gasps and chuckles, the shouts of encouragement and appeals to stop, I hear a gut-wrenching sound I know well. Fist against flesh.

  A cold resolve washes through my veins and I shove my way through the gathered crowd. I yell Chase’s name as he raises his hand, ready to hit Loden for what appears to be more than the first time. Much, much more.

  He whips his head around, searching for me. As his eyes finally land on mine, Loden uses the distraction to his advantage, and slams his fist into the side of Chase’s face. I watch in shock as his head snaps back, and he loses his balance.

  Loden pounces on him then, pummeling him rapidly with a fury I’ve never witnessed before. I drop whatever I was carrying—books, purse, computer case—all of it, and run. I slam my palms into Loden’s chest, shoving him full force. I barely budge him, but I somehow squirm my way in between them.

  Loden’s eyes are glazed with rage. I’m not even sure he sees me when he looks at me. He draws his arm back, elbow pointed high, and I know he’s going to hit me. Even with an audience, he’s going to do it.

  The moment of hesitation is all Chase needs to pop back up on his feet. He grips my waist, pushing me to the side, and takes the swing meant for me. His feet stumble with the blow, but he regains his balance and sends his shoulder into Loden’s ribs. They both fall to the ground and Chase doesn’t waste any time striking Loden with the same unleashed venom used on him just seconds ago.

  Finally a few guys I recognize from the swim team pull Chase off Loden. It takes a moment, but Loden climbs to his feet, refusing the hand offered to him. The guys stand between Chase and Loden, hands securely on their chests, holding them both back.

  “I’m done,” Chase pants, raising his hands in the air. “I think I made myself clear. Stay the fuck away from her.”

  Loden looks past Chase, directly at me and he winks. I hold steady, refusing to drop my eyes, no matter how much I want to shrink away. He chuckles, shaking his head as he bends down to sweep up his backpack. He walks away without looking back, but I know Loden well enough not to be fooled into thinking this is over.

  I turn to Chase. He stares at me as he wipes the blood from his lip with the back of his hand, his other hand on his hip as he breathes heavily.

  “What the hell happened?” I ask.

  He glances around at all the faces still watching us. Ushering me forward, he picks up everything I dropped earlier. Slides my purse over my shoulder, hands me the books, then slips the satchel crisscross over his chest.

  “Come on,” he says, directing me toward the parking lot.

  When we get far enough away from prying eyes, I stop and demand again, “What happened?”

  He shrugs. “We got into it. I hit him. He hit me back. That’s usually how fights work.”

  “But why?”

  Chase laughs dryly. “Why?”

  I nod, dumbfounded.

  All humor disappears from his features and he steps close to me. I shift back quickl
y, putting space in between us.

  “That’s why,” Chase states. He gestures toward me, his hand waving through the chilly air. “I can’t even go near you without you jumping half out of your skin.”

  I shake my head slowly. “But why would you hit him?” Nobody has ever defended my honor, let alone fought someone because of me. I don’t know if I think it’s sweet or completely moronic.

  “It’s not the first time I hit some dickhead over you,” he says indifferently.

  Whoa. “What?”

  Chase starts walking again and I have to jog to keep up. “What do you mean it’s not the first time you hit someone over me? What does that mean?”

  He stops so abruptly I nearly walk into his back. He whirls around to face me, placing his hands on his hips. “Senior year. Party at Warren Grant’s house. Christian Dunkin talked shit, so I hit him.”

  I remember that party clearly. That was the night Guy was in a car accident and almost died. It was one of the worst moments of my life.

  “But I thought… You did that for Hope.”

  “If you say so.” He starts walking again and it takes me a few seconds to follow. I thought that was all about Hope. I never even considered…

  “You did that for me?” I grab his arm, pulling until he stops. He looks over his shoulder at me and sighs.

  “I did it a little for Hope and a little just because Christian’s an asshole who needed to shut his mouth, but mostly, I did it for what he did to you.”

  I don’t know how to react to that. Christian was an asshole, just like Chase said. I lost my virginity to him in the back of his car because I thought he liked me, and for some sick reason, I had the biggest crush on him. But he had a girlfriend away at college—he was a cheating bastard—and I meant nothing to him. I don’t know how much Chase knows about it because I only ever told Hope, but obviously he knows enough. I knew it was a mistake, but I said yes. Because I didn’t want to upset Christian. Because I thought if I had sex with him then he’d care about me.

  None good enough reasons to give your virginity to some prick in the back of his shitty car.

  I’ve done nothing but choose the wrong guys my entire life.

  I trail my hand up Chase’s arm, stopping on the side of his neck. “You’re an idiot,” I breathe. His eyes narrow, but I don’t let him respond. I touch one finger to his lips as I place a soft kiss on his jaw. “But you’re a sweet idiot. Thanks Chase.”

  He smiles under my fingertip. “Anytime.”

  ~*~

  Chase is taking me to Park’s show. My bruises have faded and as sad as it is, this is our way of celebrating.

  I finish putting my make-up on and scoop up my shoes when my cell vibrates across the dresser. I’m already grinning before I even read the text. I know it’s him and he’s waiting for me.

  I grab my purse, hopping across the common room as I try to put my shoes on and walk at the same time. I fling the door open and Chase is standing there, his head bowed, his arms folded across his chest. He looks so good in his ripped jeans and thermal shirt.

  He lifts his head, his eyes raking over my frame. “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  “You ready?”

  I nod. I think so.

  He heads directly to the stairwell, making me smile.

  “I’ve got you trained,” I tease as he pushes the door open.

  He chuckles softly. “You have no idea.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask, pausing on the top step.

  I watch his tongue dart out and slide across his bottom lip. He cocks a brow and shrugs. “We’re going to be late.”

  I roll my eyes, but continue on down the stairs, fully aware he didn’t answer my question. But I let it go as we climb in the car and he hands me his iPod.

  “I came across something interesting today,” he says, his fingers working over the small device in my palm. “Want to explain this to me?”

  I press my lips together to keep from laughing. It’s the song I snuck onto his iPod the other day. I couldn’t resist. He had left me in his room, unattended, a few days ago. He was only gone for a few minutes, so I could only get the one song loaded, but it was worth it.

  I can’t believe it took him this long to find it.

  “Why the hell is there a rapping country singer on my iPod?”

  I burst out laughing, no longer able to contain it. “Payback’s a bitch,” I manage to say between giggles. And then I push play and force him to listen to it on the way to the bar.

  By the time we get there, he’s singing along, but shooting me dirty looks the whole time.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a country singer rap. It’s kinda cool in a weird way,” he muses as he holds the door open for me.

  The place is packed, body to body, and Park’s already on stage. We make our way toward the stage, getting as close as we can.

  “I can add more music for you if you want,” I offer.

  “Hell no,” he grunts. “Think I’ll pass.”

  I bite down on my lip, fighting my smile as I shrug. “Your loss.”

  I gaze up at the stage, watching Park wail the lyrics to Clever Love, lost in the emotion clearly displayed in his voice. And then Chase slides his hand down the length of my arm, soft and slow. My body stiffens out of habit, but he ignores it, interlocking our fingers. It’s the first time he’s ever done something like this. Holding my hand this way. He’s not doing it to offer me comfort because I’m not upset. It makes me nervous, but excited at the same time. The mix of emotions is overwhelming, but in this really great way.

  His eyes, golden in the dim light of the overcrowded bar, lock with mine as his hand squeezes against my palm. His thumb draws an invisible pattern over the back of my hand and I shiver. He turns his head, returning his attention to the stage as a smile plays over his face. I gaze down at our hands, still wrapped around each other, and feel something inside of me stir.

  A longing.

  He doesn’t let go until after Park’s band finishes on the small stage.

  And after that, he took my hand all the time like it was the most normal thing in the world. And every single time, my stomach fills with butterflies, and I wish he would reconsider that kiss.

  32

  Chase

  Present

  The cop is still sitting beside me.

  I’m not sure how long it’s been.

  Minutes?

  Hours?

  I just don’t know.

  I let my head fall back against the wall with a thud.

  I close my eyes.

  “I’m looking for my son, Chase Malloy.”

  My eyes pop open when I hear my dad’s voice. An officer points and my dad turns his head, following his finger. His gaze lands on me and I see the shock register on his face. My mom trails behind him, her arms wrapped securely around her waist, as if she’s giving herself a hug.

  I look down at my bloody clothes. My hands.

  I keep my head lowered because I hate for my parents to see me this way.

  “Chase?” my dad murmurs hesitantly.

  The officer beside me stands up and offers his hand to my dad. “Detective Cross,” he says.

  My mom and dad introduce themselves and then everyone turns their attention back to me.

  “What happened?” Mom asks. Her voice catches and I flinch.

  “He was killing her,” I utter.

  “Who?” My dad asks this, but Detective Cross pulls a notepad and pen from the desk, readying it.

  “I walked in and Loden was on top of Annie. He was chok—” I swallow and force myself to say it. “He was choking her. Killing her. So I…” I shake my head. “I stopped him.”

  “Okay,” Dad says, his palm pressing the air between us. “Don’t say anything else until you have a lawyer present.” He turns to Detective Cross and asks, “What happens now?”

  “Due to the nature of the crime, we’re not equipped to hold him. He’ll be moved to county until his court d
ate.”

  “When’s that?”

  “Should be in the morning. His lawyer will walk you through the process.”

  Dad nods his head, his hands resting on his hips. I look away, unable to continue to look at the expression on his face. Fear and disappointment.

  I zone out after that. I can hear them talking, but it’s white noise. Static.

  Mom sits beside me, but she doesn’t dare touch me. I glance sideways at her and she offers a cautious smile.

  “It’ll be okay,” she utters.

  Her words have me turning away. I focus hard on the floor. “Can you do something for me?”

  “Whatever I can, Chase. You know that.”

  “Find out about Annie for me. How she is. Where she is. Get a hold of Jenny or Guy. Someone. Find out if she’s all right for me.”

  Mom nods, her eyes glossing. She rubs her nose and blinks rapidly. My parents have known Annie as long as I have. I know she’ll do this for me.

  She stands up and I watch her walk into the hallway, pulling her cell phone from her purse. I keep watching her as she dials and presses the phone to her ear.

  I hold my breath, waiting.

  She hangs up and dials another number and repeats the same process. She calls three times, or maybe she calls three different people, I’m not sure, but nobody is answering her call.

  My head falls back and I stare up at the ceiling.

  My knee starts bouncing. I’m anxious. I need to know if she’s okay.

  “Hey,” I say, my head dropping so I can look at Detective Cross. He’s in the middle of a conversation with my dad, his arms hooked over his chest. He pauses mid-sentence and gives me his full attention.

  “You want to know what happened tonight?”