Hailey and I are sitting on the edge of a giant crater, a spot that once housed my part-time job, otherwise known as Millick's gas bar. Except there's nothing left of the gas station, and I don't know if they excavated everything this quickly or the explosion was this large or something else entirely is going on.
Much to the dismay of several sets of foster parents, I don't take orders well. The warning to stay way wasn't one I could swallow. As soon as Sheriff Shoreditch left my dorm room, I had Hailey on the phone for a road trip out to the site.
"A bomb," Hailey says, and she flicks her long dark hair over her shoulder. "I vote bomb."
"I think it was a gas leak. My clothes smelled like gas, and not like how they normally do from the station but like I'd been coated in natural gas. But would it have done this?" I gesture to the giant hole. I lean back on my hand, and it rests next to Hailey's which is the same brown as the dirt. My skin is so pale in comparison, as though I've never seen a sunny day. Freaking European ancestors.
"Honestly, the hole is the least interesting thing to me." Hailey blows a bubble with the gum she insisted we stop to purchase. "Who rescued you?"
"What?" I let out a little laugh. "I left early."
"Oh yeah? Where's your receipt for your cab? I know you keep them."
I do. Stupid, but I always weigh the cost of a shift against the reward of being paid. When you grow up with nothing, you count every penny. Rejoice in every dollar. Lament every earned hour that goes to someone else instead of in my own pocket.
"I haven't looked," I admit. "It's been a weird morning."
"I bet you won't find it, and I bet this—" she waves her hand at the crater "—wasn't an accident."
"I know a lot of weird things happen in Cape Beatrice, but if this was done on purpose then the sheriff is in on it."
"He is a Shoreditch."
Hailey has this theory that all Shoreditchs are lying, cheating assholes. I blame the guy she slept with for a month when we first got here, the one I never met. He was like a mythical creature—rocking her world at night and barely appearing during daylight hours. At one point, I asked her if he was actually a vampire. She laughed and said vampires were biters and she was more into scratchers, whatever that meant.
Hails and I aged out in the same foster home, and we came here together. She got a scholarship too, which seemed like the greatest piece of luck ever. Considering I've never been lucky since the day I was abandoned as a baby, I was thrilled we'd get to stay together.
"I'll go back to my dorm, and I'll find the receipt, and everything will make sense."
She gives me the side eye but doesn't come out and say I'm an idiot. If I smelled that much like natural gas, and the explosion was this big, no one could have rescued me. Unless I was sitting in a natural gas leak for my whole shift. I didn't ask if the leak was inside or outside. Leaking natural gas gives you a headache, which would explain the hangover sensation I had this morning.
"Probably, I wasn't feeling well, and I left early."
"You still taking those pills the quack doctor said would make you feel better?"
I don't answer and just stare into the hole. She thinks the antidepressant drugs are stupid, and maybe they are. They used to make me feel better, but they don't anymore. Even upping the dose only eased the itching in my blood a little, which is the only way I can describe this longing for more that I can never quite find.
"You lost time, Emmy, so your ideas about what happened last night are based on nothing."
"Not nothing," I scoff. "Plausible circumstances and evidence."
"You really have no memory? Not of any of it?" She searches my face.
I close my eyes, and I try to focus, but when I reach into my memories, there's nothing but warmth, heat, a fever in my blood. Under the warm sun, I shiver.
"Nothing," I say.
"Hmm." She shakes her head and releases a deep sigh.
"Okay, this is going to sound weird because I don't remember anything specific. A sensation, maybe." I let out a little laugh because I can't believe I'm about to say this. Except with Hailey, I've always known I could say anything. She's never once judged any of my oddities. "Overwhelming danger, but also like..." I search for the right word. "Safe. Protected? Like I didn't really feel like I was in danger but that the situation was dangerous."
"And you don't think you were here when the explosion happened?"
"I would have died." I throw my hand at the pit in front of us. "There's nothing left."
Hailey doesn't say anything, but I can tell by the crease in her brow she's overthinking something. Pressing her means she'll press me back, and I honestly can't tell her anymore than I already have. Like the pit in front of us, my mind is a hole where something should be.
She gets up and dusts off before offering her hand to me to help me up. I take it and brush off the dirt I've accumulated too.
When we get back to the dorms, Hailey drops me off to head to her own. While we came here together, we both wanted our own physical space. She's not even in the same building as me.
"Let me know when you find that receipt," Hailey says across the seat through the open window as I'm walking away.
"I will!" But as I climb the stairs to the entrance, Brody, the guy I've been dating for the last few weeks is at the door. He's tall with blond hair and light blue eyes, and every time I see him, I'm reminded of a warm, sunny day. Hailey doesn't like him—says he's too weak for me. Like so many things Hailey says, I have no idea what she means. Whenever I ask for an explanation, she comes back with something even more cryptic, or she turns the spotlight on me. For the most part, I've stopped asking her to elaborate on her off the wall notions. She's never made me feel weird for anything I've said or done during our friendship, and so I do my best to extend her the same kindness. We're just two weirdos who relish each other's company.
Brody scans me from head to toe with lines of worry in his forehead. "You okay? I heard about the gas station."
"Yeah, did you—weird question—but did you pick me up from there early by any chance?" He drove me to the station last night for my shift, and I don't know why I didn't think of this before. The person who rescued me could be my boyfriend. No cab receipt needed. The fact he hasn't crossed my mind all day likely isn't a good sign, but from the moment I woke up, nothing has been normal. It's hard to remember sometimes that Hailey doesn't have to be my only system of support. Not sure how I'd explain my gaps in time, my violent history to Brody. Neither of those make me an ideal girlfriend. Here's my ocean of trauma; want to float in a tiny tin boat with me in it? No one says yes to that. Not foster parents, and definitely not guys that want to fuck you. That's baggage they'd prefer you didn't carry and would rather not shoulder either.
"No, uh." His frown deepens. "I didn't talk to you last night. You don't remember coming home?"
"No, I—" I give a helpless shrug. "I came home early. Wasn't feeling well. Probably took a cab. A bit fuzzy, you know? Probably inhaled too many fumes."
He wraps his arms around my shoulders and kisses the top of my head. It's nice to be held, so I reciprocate the affection. Everything about Brody is nice. Calm. Stable. My childhood was rarely this good, and part of me can't believe my luck for a second time. That a guy like this would be interested in a girl like me. Whether Hailey likes him or not, he's clearly perfect. Comes to check on me. Gives good hugs.
We haven't had sex yet, but I could see that being nice too. Pleasant, maybe? He's a good kisser, so maybe the rest would be okay too. Sex has only been disappointing in the past. Totally haven't understood why everyone makes a big deal about it. Not that I've had a lot of it. Just enough to know it's not something to get excited about.
The thought prods at a memory just out of reach. Heat. So much heat. Burning through my veins. Was I at the explosion? Why do I keep having this lingering sensation of fire?
"If you're feeling up to it, there's a party out at my buddy's lake house tonight. He lives next to the state park."
I was supposed to work, but unless I find a job and a shift in the next few hours, I don't have a reason not to go. Other than the fact that large groups of people set me on edge.
"Then maybe you can spend the night at mine, since you don't have any classes tomorrow." He presses his lips into the top of my head, and his words are mumbled.
Could I stay at his? He doesn't know about the antidepressants, and the night terrors, or any of the other unpleasant aspects of myself I've kept carefully guarded. He's my sunny weather boyfriend, and I'm not sure I want any of the darkness in me to touch him.
"Yeah," I say, because even if I'm not sure, if I never risk, I'll never know. We've been together for weeks. If I want different, I have to do different, or at least that's what my current therapist says. I've never been with a guy like Brody before, and maybe he's just what I need. Someone patient and kind.
Brody takes my hand and leads me into my dorm, and a shiver races through me. Are we being watched? I glance around the entrance, but I'm not sure what I expect to find. No one is there.
In my room, I rifle through my desk and nightstand, but I can't find a receipt from last night for the cab. Brody does slow spins in my desk chair while I search.
"Where would I have put it?" I mutter.
"There's only one cab company in Cape Beatrice. Just call them and ask for another copy." He grabs a stress ball off my desk and squeezes it.
"Yeah." I bite my lip. A good solution. A simple one, that'll ease the worry gnawing at the back of my brain. Hailey's words refuse to lie still. No one saved me. It's not possible. "I'll call them later."
He reaches out and drags me onto his lap, so I'm straddling him, and we're still rotating in a slow spin. I stare into his light blue eyes, and another memory flickers. Brody morphs into someone I don't recognize—dark brown hair, golden brown eyes, a sharp, angular face. I shut my eyes and open them, and he's Brody again, but my breathing is shallow and quick. Brody's blue eyes dilate, and I realize that same hot-blooded sensation is running through my veins.
He rubs his nose against mine, and then he kisses me. Underneath me, his erection presses against my core, and I grind against him. He groans into my mouth and deepens the kiss. And I'm not sure what's come over me, but I grip his face in response, slip my tongue into his mouth. His fingers flex on my hips, and he drags his lips from my mouth and down my throat.
When I lean into the contact, desperate for more, it throws us off balance, and the chair tips back in a rush. A little cry of surprise escapes me. But before we hit the ground, we slingshot back up, as though the chair has an invisible spring. Brody's arms tighten around me to keep me from flying off him.
He lets out a chuckle of amused surprise, and when he tries to keep me close, I climb off, shaken. What was that? What was all of that?
"I kind of like you as the aggressor," he says with a grin. "That was fucking hot." He swivels on the chair and rocks it back. "And this chair is some kind of magic. I thought for sure we were going to hit the ground."
So did I, and I can't meet his excited gaze any longer. Whatever happened between us just now didn't really feel like me. Not the real me or maybe not the me I'm trying to be. It felt raw, untamed. Like a valve being opened that didn't have an off switch.
Exciting.
As a child, I struggled with impulse control. Now, I don't take instructions well from authority figures, but that's a choice not a compulsion. The only person who knows what's best for me, is me. I want to fit in and feel normal. Help people. I'm becoming a nurse to help people, and I don't need whatever lives inside me emerging to fuck up my life. That valve needs to stay closed. It's the only good thing the anti-depressants have done for me—shuttered the untamed notions that used to overwhelm me.
So tonight I'll go to this party, and I'll have a good time, and I'll have nice, pleasant sex with my boyfriend, and my life will be normal. Be happy for once.
I won't get in my own way.
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