Never (4 page)

And then everything fell apart.

So I cried and prayed for God to give me something else besides the tears. And he answered and gave me a cold, hollowing fear the first night Mom and I slept at a truck stop.

We had the marginal safety of the station wagon, windows and locks on the door. One up-side to the situation was I got to eat all the junk food Mom refused to let me eat before. But when I ducked out to use the bathroom without saying anything to her, I made a terrible mistake. She stormed into the convenience store, her face stricken with terror and a steely determination to knock anyone in her path out cold. Behind the badassery, I saw fear...and I knew that the truck stop wasn’t safe. Someone could have taken me. Hurt me. That’s when I knew that our whole life had changed. Nothing would ever be the same.

Little things I took for granted like annoying teachers, work and privacy were no longer options. We went to the public library during the day. Mom would give me my ‘syllabus’ for the day which included reading and writing a short paper on what I learned while she surfed the web for a job and a place for us to stay.

And privacy? There was none, besides going to the bathroom. After I went off that night without saying a word, she stuck to me like glue. It was almost ironic that the thing that made her paranoid about me being kidnapped was the only place that I could escape.

I’d stand in front of the mirror after washing my hands and face and close my eyes so tight that I saw stars and I’d pray again, asking for God to give us somewhere to go. My prayer was answered two weeks into our 24/7 road trip. Grandma Emily had space for us in her trailer in eastern North Carolina.

I almost cried from the excitement of finally having a proper bed and going to a proper school until I saw the uncomfortable smile on my mother’s face. And then I remembered the reason I hadn’t seen Grandma Emily since I was knee high was because she and Mom had a falling out over her brother.

The whole ride to Snow Hill I pressed my mother for more information about my uncle. He had to be terrible since she seemed less than thrilled at the idea of having to share a roof with him. She never answered, which made me even more afraid.

I shrugged it off, on cloud nine when Grandma Emily came out to meet us, her flowered apron flapping in the wind as she ran out and hugged my neck. The decade that kept us apart evaporated and I accepted the happiness with arms wide open. Mom even relaxed, getting settled, finding a job cleaning at the local high school.

And then my uncle got out of jail.

Uncle Benjamin seemed nice at first. He was always making jokes and sneaking me chocolates before dinner when Mom and Grandma Emily weren’t looking. Whenever Mom had to work late he’d come in my room and play games with me. I always expected he let me win, but he seemed so nice that I never called him on it. Which was why I didn’t suspect anything when he came in one night just as I shut my light off.

What happened after that was broken in bits and pieces, fragments that didn’t make sense when I tried to put it together. I remember Uncle Benjamin coming to me, stroking my face, then leaning down to kiss me on the mouth before I wriggled away. He didn’t take no for an answer and lunged at me. I remember four scratch marks slashing across his face, then tasting something coppery and bitter when my jaw exploded in pain. Grandma Emily’s screams. The flash of a knife and Mom coming in, her face angrier, more frightening that I’d ever seen it.

The police came and arrested Uncle Benjamin. That night was the last time I saw him or Grandma Emily.

I remembered enough about that night to know that other than the cheek stroke my uncle hadn’t touched me. But I also had the sickening knowledge that he wanted to do more. That if we’d been alone in the house...

That doesn’t matter now
, I told myself. I learned an important lesson. I learned to be wary of happiness. To always wait for the other shoe to drop.

I wanted to believe that Lucas and I would work. To let myself be happy with him. But a part of me was holding my breath and waiting for the bottom to fall out.

I pushed the heavy oak door, the cool chill of the library cutting through my memories. I had so much to do. I couldn’t think about Lucas or Candi or my past if I had a prayer of putting a dent in any of it.

I strode to the elevator, past rows of books and tables lined with students hunched over notebooks. I had one desk I gravitated to. It was a little cubicle with a hint of a view of the interstate just past the academic buildings. Tall trees masked most of the traffic zipping by, but I could still see the cars streaking past to their varied destination. It helped me focus. It should have had the opposite effect, but seeing those cars speed by reminded me of how far I’d come. How I was working toward the life Mom promised was waiting for me all those years ago.

I pulled out my earbuds as I rounded the corner, my heart rising with excitement when I didn’t see anyone—then dropping like an anvil when I saw a guy lean back and stretch his hands above his head.

Relax
, I told myself.
There’s plenty of other seats
. Still, I gave the back of the guy’s long, dirty blond head a glare, just as he turned and looked my way. My cheeks heated instantly and I dropped my eyes until I realized there was something familiar about the way he’d arched a single blond eyebrow.

I looked back up. I knew him.

The frown on his face slowly changed to a grin as he rose to his feet. “It’s Juliet, right?”

I nodded slowly, still trying to place him. “Yeah.”

“I’ve seen you in a couple of Dr. Suarez’s lectures. I’m her assistant, Lance Jackman.” He held out his hand and I shook it, the last few pieces clinking in place.

Lance—the TA for English class. He’d only substituted for Dr. Suarez once, but it was memorable because I didn’t have to cringe 80% of the class for whatever unlucky student she decided to embarrass for their insufficient answers to her questions. The other 20% was spent praying that she didn’t call on me.

Lance nodded at the book I clutched in my arms. “Trying to find a poem to memorize for the Wordsworth section?”

“Yep,” I said with a sigh, shifting the heavy book filled with his poems and biography. “I figure I better memorize several of his poems, know his favorite color, favorite toy as a child and where he honeymooned just in case I’m on her radar on Tuesday.”

“She’s pretty intense,” he laughed. He stepped closer, his muscles snug beneath his white t-shirt and cardigan. With his outfit, black horn rimmed glasses and perfectly messy hair, he was definitely the most muscular hipster I’d ever seen. “May I?”

“Sure.” I handed the book over.

He thumbed through the pages, emerald eyes glittering behind his glasses. “How about this one?” He handed the book back to me.

I scanned the page. “Lucy Gray?” I skimmed a few of the words. It was about a young girl, wandering in a storm. I didn’t have to finish it to know that things probably didn’t end well for her.

“I TA’d for her last semester too,” Lance explained when he took in my skepticism. “Most students try and impress her by memorizing one of his longer more abstract works, but she’s a sucker for simple and poignant.”

Considering Dr. Suarez decimated several people for their limited vocabulary, I wasn’t so sure.

A lopsided grin spread across his face. “Trust me, I wouldn’t steer you wrong.”

“Trust you?” I repeated, perking my eyebrow as my own smile tugged at my lips.

He crossed his arms. “Why should you, since you don’t know me?”

I shrugged, but that was exactly what I was thinking. My past experiences with TA’s were nothing to write home about. Most acted like they’d rather be anywhere else and were just there to collect their check. The others thought their poo didn’t stink and were so high and mighty they treated students like gum on the bottom of their shoe.

“Fair enough,” he murmured, shifting his weight. “I’m just trying to help, Juliet. I guess in the end, you just have to trust me.”

I tucked my hair behind my ear, already deciding that I did. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt like I could get a read on him. Besides, if he was a dick, some jerky trait would have showed it’s face by now. Still, I pretended I hadn’t made up my mind. “And why would I do that?”

“Because you’re an incredible writer and I want to read more of your work. That’s difficult to do if you get frustrated and drop the class.”

I frowned, not recalling him having a chance to read my writing. My throat tightened when I remembered having to do a write up of a painful memory—the memory I chose was having to leave Lucas.

As if he picked up on the awkwardness, his eyes twinkled playfully. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m being a little selfish by wanting to keep you in the class so I can learn more about you, and that’s probably breaking some sort of TA/student rule, but...I think you’re worth it.”

My cheeks reddened and I dropped my eyes to the floor. My stomach clenched and relaxed, flutters rippling through my gut.

Was he flirting with me?

A girl a few tables away cleared her throat and a glance in her direction proved that all the eyes on the wall were angled on me and Lance.

“Thanks for the recommendation,” I said quickly, turning to leave. He reached out and gripped my hand. When I pulled my eyes up to meet his, electricity shot from him and vibrated all over me.

He released my hand immediately, his gaze hooded and dangerous. This guy was trouble in the worst kind of way.

And I wasn’t sure if that was a bad thing.

As soon as that thought tumbled out, Lucas’ face rushed to my mind and I took two steps back. What was I doing? I was taken. I loved Lucas.

“I’ve gotta go.”

Lance hiked a thumb over his shoulder. “From the way you were eyeballing me a few minutes ago, this is your usual spot, huh? How about—”

“It’s totally fine,” I interrupted, backing up some more. “It’s all yours.” I spun on my heels and booked it toward the exit, pushing down the traitorous admission in my head.

He was definitely flirting with you—and you liked it.

Chapter Five: Lucas

Lucas McNamara Proving He's Capable of Doing Homework Prior to the Last Possible Minute—take two.

I pushed into the coffee shop, tugging my ball cap down a few inches. It wasn't out of embarrassment since I hadn't been completely worn out and ventured to the library, but I still wanted to be incognito. Lately, being Lucas wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

After my little sister all but called me an asshole, it only took me attempting to call her back twice before she just shut her phone off altogether. It was a good thing, I guess. I almost felt as bad as I had when I ruined Santa Claus for her when she was six.

She'd been bouncing for weeks leading up to December, as annoying as those stores that put out Christmas decorations when they barely pulled out the Halloween stuff. Mom was in a mood and seemed to have some stupid project for me every time I got ready to go out and hang with Juliet. After repeating the first verse of 'Deck the Halls' for the millionth time, I snapped and lured Elle into silence with promises of a secret. Bright eyed and excited she skipped over and leaned in. I told her Santa Claus wasn't real and she pulled back, her big eyes welling with tears before she ran to Mom, calling me a liar. Mom kept up the ruse of course, but Elle didn’t sing ‘Deck the Halls’ again that Christmas.

I think deep down she knew it was a myth, the white lie parents tell to keep their kids happy and honest. Our happy family was a myth too. Elle wasn’t naive enough to believe that we were as glossy and perfect as we looked on the pages of the countless magazines. But it was a good lie, the white lie that kept her happy and honest. And I took that away from her.

I trudged to the counter and ordered a coffee with an extra shot, giving the barista a quick smile. “Can I get a—”

“Lucas?” She was petite, with wild, dirty blond hair that spilled past her shoulders. She wiped the front of her hands on her apron and a smile inched across her lips until it took up nearly half of her face. “How are you?”

I gave her an uneasy grin. “Uh, good.”

Her smile faltered. “It’s me. Talia?” She licked her lips, brown eyes staring up at me from behind big black lashes.

Something in the way she licked her lips was vaguely familiar. Since I didn’t have any friends that were girls, that meant only one thing. At some kegger or club, we’d stumbled into bed. And I couldn’t remember anything about her besides the way she licked her lips.

“Oh, Talia!” I said, nodding like I remembered her. “How’s it going?”

Her smile dropped altogether, her cheeks reddening as she snatched my debit card. “You have no idea who I am do you?” She didn’t wait for me to answer, angrily slashing the card through the reader on her register. “Micah Lannister’s end of the year party a few months back? You and me...” Her voice trailed off as she handed it back to me, eyes down.

So we did hook up. I wanted to tell her that I wasn’t that guy anymore, the guy that slept with girls and forget them without even thinking twice.

I stuffed a dollar in the tip cup and went to a table near the corner. I pulled off my ball cap since it wasn't doing me much good anyway and took a big gulp of the strong stuff, wishing I'd brought something to kick it up a notch.

Yeah that's exactly what you need
, I thought sarcastically.
The last time you mixed booze and homework it worked out so well
. I’d woken up with a crick in my neck because I used my textbook like a pillow, a raging hangover and a guilty conscience because I was not only a shitty brother, but I was a shitty boyfriend too.

After finally stepping one foot out of the dog house, Juliet drop kicked me back inside after I didn't share her freak out when she discovered Candi had ignored our mutual disinterest in her party and made good on her threat to invite us anyway. The girl was obviously crazy and trying to get an equally crazy reaction, so I figured the best course of action was to laugh and completely ignore her. From the frosty response I got from Juliet, that was the wrong choice.