Fall (Roam Series, Book Two) (25 page)

He lifted my head so I’d face him, tilting my chin.
The relief in his face told me that I’d given him the answer that he wanted to hear.

After a few moments, he sighed.

“Okay, then.”

His lips touched mine, hesitant. I kissed them tearfully, and then his cheek, and then wrapped my arms around him. “Tell Violet how you feel.”

The lights flickered on, and my dad looked at us from the door. “A little dark in here,” he said pointedly. “Hey boot.”

“Mr. Camden,” Logan cleared his throat and stood, gathering his book bag. “I have to get home. Call if you need me, Cam.”

“Bye,” I said softly, knowing
our words still weighed heavily in the air.

“Bye.”

I watched Logan leave, and my dad replaced him on the couch. “You okay?”

Brushing at my tears, I nodded.

He gathered me against him, his body still cold from the chill outside. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I won’t let you down anymore.”

“No, dad…,”

“Yes, I have.” He hugged me tightly. “I can’t disappear like after mom died. I’m not drinking anymore, and I’m going to a meeting tonight.”

“I’ll come with you,” I kissed his cheek, and he smiled lovingly.

“I’d like that.”

I spent the evening at the AA meeting with my father, sitting in a back pew of the church where it was held. West’s text came through silently.

Everything okay tonight?

I texted back quickly.

Spending some time with my dad.

His response was instantaneous.

Good. I love you.

Morgan brought home
Chinese take-out, and the three of us settled at the kitchen table together. I stared at my food, listening to them talk about Morgan’s classes.

“What do you want from Santa this year, sweetie?” My dad interrupted my thoughts, and I smiled at him, stirring my rice with my fork absently.

“Just… this. Together time.”

“Oh, come on,” Morgan groaned, tearing into her fortune cookie. “You always do that. I just spent a half an hour talking about those boots I want, and you always show me up with crap like ‘together time.’”

I laughed, and my dad grinned at Morgan. “Your sister is just easy to please. She always has been.”

Thinking of Logan, I shrugged. “It just takes me too long to decide what I really want.”

Morgan watched me carefully, and then glanced at the clock. “Are you still sleeping over at Ally-May’s tonight?” She asked, giving me a
look
.

“On a school night?” My dad raised his eyebrows, and then shook his head. “I guess it doesn’t matter. Your grades are phenomenal.”

Dropping my fork, I gripped my fingers together under the table. “I’ll stay here tonight… but I’m staying with her this weekend.” I said softly, and then lifted my eyes. “I… got into Harvard.”

“What the- Jesus, why didn’t you tell me? When did you send your application? Roam!” Morgan burst from her chair, and my dad stood up, pulling me into his arms.

“Ah, Roam. I’m so proud of you. I wish mom was here,” he pressed my head to his shoulder, and I hugged him tightly, tears brimming.

“We need to get moving on
scholarship applications and financial aid. The online forms…,” she met my eyes, and her face softened. “We’ll take care of that later. Let’s just celebrate tonight.”

We went out for ice cream, our traditional celebration for whenever anything really good happened. The King Cone was deserted, other than
one bored sophomore that I recognized from school. After ice cream, Morgan and I made popcorn and settled on the couch while dad went to bed.

“It was him, wasn’t it,” Morgan said, under her breath, as dad walked up the stairs.

“He made some calls, and sent my transcripts. I don’t even know how he got them, but I don’t care.”

She played with a piece of popcorn between her fingertips. “I told Jason.”

I looked at her quickly. “And?”

“He
believed me… said he’d do anything to help,” she bit her lip before a wide grin spread. “And he told me that he loved me.”

“Oh, Morgan.” I hugged her tightly. “Do you feel the same way?”

“I really do. Just nervous about it.”

“Don’t hold back,” I whispered against her ear. “Hearts can be broken more than once… and they can heal more than once.”

She pulled away, her eyes misty. “You already taught me that.”

That night, I lay in bed, holding my phone as if it were West’s hand. My dreams were scattered and unclear, snippets of the day, scenes from
Titanic
, West’s note, written in French…

And Eva
.

Logan was his old self again on the way to school, insisting that I bring my swimming gear (though I had no intention whatsoever of
getting back in that pool.) In history, West collected all of our maps. He asked James to stay back after class, so I hurried into the hallway, not lingering and waiting for him.

Going through the motions.

At the end of the day, a text came through from him.

Come see me.

Logan waited at my locker, and I gestured to my phone. “West.”

“Do you need a ride home?” He asked, deeply involved in his own phone.

“I’ll be fine. Thanks,” I hugged him before walking to West’s classroom.

He was packing up for the weekend, and smiled wh
en I came in. “I have a meeting. Why don’t you swim for a while, and I can take you home afterward.”

I shifted my weight. “Are you and Logan working together on this?”

“Roam.” He took a step toward me, and even with more than four feet between us, my body reacted. I exhaled sharply, lifting my chin to look up at him. He stopped walking, and I watched his jaw tense.
He feels it, too.
“
Get back in the water,
” he ordered roughly.

“I
just want to go to your bedroom.”

He took a step back. “This is going to become more difficult to
resist. The longer we… control ourselves, the stronger the… pull.”

My knees melted beneath me, and I shifted my book bag, swallowing hard. “I can’t even think,” I murmured, turning away from him and staring at the empty desks.
Covering my stomach, I fought to still the burgeoning need inside. “
Just take me to your bed.
”

“I have a meeting,” he repeated, turning away from me as his voice cracked. “I’ll come down to the gym at four.”

“I’ll be waiting. Fully clothed, in the bleachers.”

“Get in the water,” he repeated, closing his laptop.

“Nope.” I turned for the door, but his voice stopped me.

“Roam,” he called; I didn’t turn around. “
Get back in the pool, and I’ll give you anything you want.”

I turned, lifting my eyebrow skeptically. “Anything?”

“Anything. I give you my word.”

Considering his promise, I nodded. “Okay, see you at four.”

The pool held a few swimmers from the team. I put my swimsuit on in the locker room while exchanging hellos, grateful that I never became close friends with any of them.

At the ladder, I froze. The memories of Troy’s attack in the pool nearly had me forgetting to breathe. I turned to run, smacking into Logan directly behind me.

“I’m right in the bleachers. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Logan…,”

“There are seven other people in this pool, and there’s a faculty meeting in the office. The school is packed with people. You are not alone.”

“
I can’t get back in,” I shook my head, turning toward the locker room.

“Roam.” He pointed to the water, narrowing his eyes. “You’re stronger than this. I know what you’re capable of enduring.”

Ignoring him, I headed for the locker room. At the last moment, a rush of courage surged through my body, and I turned for the diving board. Holding my breath and closing my mind, and stretched my arms out in perfect form.

And I dove.

Once under the water, I opened my eyes, not having to worry about contacts. The mild burn of the chlorine was familiar, and the underwater so recognizable that I remained below for as long as my lungs would have me.

After four laps, I came up at the edge of the pool, and Logan squatted to smile down at me. “Feel good?”

“Thank you,” I said. He nodded once, glancing at his phone.

“West said
the meeting is running late, so to give you his key, and take you to his house, unless you want to wait until five when the meeting is over.”

“No, I’ll go now. I’m tired.” I climbed out of the pool, reaching for my towel. “Are you sure you don’t mind dropping me off?”

“No,” he smiled down at his phone, and then looked up at me. “You’re my best friend. That’s what we do.”

Violet must
be texting,
I realized, smirking at him.

Once at West’s, Logan turned the engine off, but I
touched his hand softly. “I’m fine until West gets home. You don’t have to stay.”

“Do not go in the basement.”

“I won’t,” I shook my head adamantly, my wet hair pulled into a loose pony tail. “I’ll be fine.”

Logan
walked through the house, checking the basement before leaving. He came up the stairs, paled but calm. “He’s mumbling about something. Don’t go down there,” he repeated. “Call me if you need me.” I nodded.

He left, and I waved to him from the doorway.
The house was dark, the vaulted ceilings and long windows adding to the shadows inside. I turned on every lamp and light switch, glancing nervously at the clock on the microwave.
4:45.

“Music,” I murmured to myself, almost making it across the floor to the
sound system without my eyes darting to the basement door.

He’s secured. There is no way he will hurt you.
I breathed deeply, counting backwards from ten. I turned the music on, not caring about anything but noise.

A phantom
nerve in my stomach twitched, and I sank to the couch, tucking my legs under my body.

Our child will save the world.

I drummed my fingers along the back of the couch, glancing at the clock.
4:47.
The conversation in bed with West weighed heavily on my mind.

I found myself standing in front of the basement door, my heart hammering.
Did I get up and walk to the basement?
I turned to look at the clock.
4:49.

I missed two minutes.
Am I going crazy?

Opening the door, I tentatively took three steps. T
he foundation of the first floor blocked my view until the fourth step. I took the fourth, my eyes fixed in Troy’s direction.

As he came into focus, I held my breath, my mouth open but unable to scream

He stood at the bars, staring at me.

Don’t run, coward,
I willed myself.
He can’t hurt you.
Still, I felt my fingers begin to tingle before I remembered to breathe.

His deadpan stare
snaked through my body, horrifying. I gasped, no longer able to withstand his eyes. Before I could climb to the step behind me, his voice made me jump and I missed the step, falling to my knees.

“N
ow the sword of death approaches us,
with pestilence and war more horrible than there has ever been
- because of three men's work.”

H
is arms, flat at his sides, were dirty, and dried blood was caked on the front of his white tee-shirt. His monotone diatribe sent me into hysteria. I cried out, a splinter digging deep into my palm as I clawed at the step for a grip.

I was being lifted into the air. Before I could comprehend what was happening, the slamming of the basement door jolted me from the convulsions in my chest as my lungs protested every breath. West set me down on the countertop, and met me face-to-face.

“Are you trying to die?” He asked, grabbing my hand. Blood trickled down from the deep gouge from the wooden stairs, and he cursed at the ugly splinter burrowed deep inside. “I’m going to dig this splinter out, and then I’m going to bury him in fucking concrete. Then he can’t talk to you. That is, assuming you’re not worried about his living conditions any longer.”

“He’s so scary,” I cried
, my words coming out broken. “His eyes terrify me.”

“Stay out of the goddamn basement then!” He was opening a first-aid kit, glaring at me. “What did he say to you?”

“He said… something,” I cringed as he cleaned the wound with an alcohol pad. “About three men, and war, and pestilence… it burns,” I grabbed his elbow with my other hand, balling his shirt sleeve tightly in my fingers.

He gentled his touch, reaching for the tweezers. “
Hang on,” he said, kissing my forehead. “I smell chorine. I’m proud of you.”