Jaded (20 page)

“I know. They’ll just know that we found her. That’s it.”

“Her parents,” I said softly, haunted. “I bet they’ll be devastated.”

Bryce frowned next to me and said, “Your parents would be devastated too.”

“Would

they?”

“Yeah,” he said firmly.

“Your mom would pray for me.” She should’ve prayed for Leisha.

Bryce laughed abruptly and then stopped just as quick. He swore.

I slid my hand into his and threaded our fingers. I asked, “Why don’t you want me in the mornings?”

“What?” he asked, startled. Distracted.

“In the mornings. We don’t have sex. Why not?”

Bryce shrugged.

“Why not?” I pressed.

“Sheldon,” he sighed.

“I want to know.”

He burst out, “Because it’s too hard to make myself give you space if I make love to you in the mornings. It’s too hard to go back and remember your ‘hands-off’ policy.”

The emotional ties. That was why.

“I’ve never given you a hands-off policy,” I said faintly.

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“It’s the same thing. No commitment, right?” Bryce cursed. “I swear, you get pissed if I
don’t
let other girls hit on me.”

I

shifted

uncomfortably.

“See,” he pointed out. “This is what Corrigan was talking about. You don’t talk about anything, especially you and me.”

“I just asked why we don’t have sex in the mornings.” I turned and glared at him.

Pissed. No, I was livid.

“No,” Bryce said firmly, daring me to argue with him. “I said ‘make love’ and you said ‘have sex.’ They’re different.”

“It’s not that different. It’s still screwing.”

“No,” he spelled it out, saddened. “You screw me. I make love to you.”

I pulled away and scooted directly underneath the water. It plastered my hair to my face, covering my eyes, nose, mouth, everything.

I sat there, stunned at Bryce’s words until he cursed and yanked me out of the water. He brushed the hair from my face and glared at me.

And then he softened and kissed me.

I moaned and clung to him, demanding. I needed this, I needed this kind of

warmth.

Bryce grabbed me and lifted me on top of him.

I straddled him and sunk down until he was firmly sheathed inside of me. And then I moved.

Bryce groaned and moved with me. He grabbed my hips and we both tried to

drown each other.

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It didn’t take long until we exploded and I fell limply against him. Bryce swept his arms around me and kissed my shoulder, a tender kiss. He ran a soothing hand down my hair and down my back.

I closed my eyes and rested my head on his shoulder.

Just then Corrigan pounded on the shower door.

Bryce swore and yelled for him to leave.

Corrigan coughed, “Cops are here. Hurry up.”

Bryce used some colorful words to describe Corrigan and what would happen if he had listened to us the entire time.

I told him to be quiet. Corrigan joked, but he wasn’t like that. We were in our world and probably couldn’t hear him knock on the bathroom door. Bryce clamped his mouth shut, but his jaw was clenched tight. Too tight.

We dressed in our dirty clothes and went to meet the police. It was two different detectives this time, but I saw Officer Patterson had accompanied them. She gave me a small nod while a balding guy in a suit started asking us questions like why didn’t we hand over the letter, what did it say, where was the letter now.

We answered each and every one. Numbly. I knew I was in a daze at the end of it when Sheila threw me a curveball. She asked, “Why didn’t you say anything about the other two letters?”

Bryce

frowned.

Corrigan asked, “What?!”

I sat there and swallowed painfully. I surrendered when I met her all-too-knowing eyes, “Because…if I said something then it was real.”

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“We went over your house after the breakin. We found both of them in the

trash,” she said further.

This was a nightmare.

“When did you get the first note?”

Bryce and Corrigan sat stunned.

I sighed and answered, “Wednesday.”

“And the second?”

“Thursday.”

“And your house was broken into that night, correct?”

It was and I felt on trial.

Sheila glanced towards Bryce and Corrigan, but asked all of us, “Is there anyone who’s been harassing you?”

Who wasn’t?

I glanced at the guys. Corrigan slumped further in his chair. Bryce spoke up,

“Chad Yerling. He’s been making threats.”

“What’s he been saying?” Officer Sheila was all business, the epitome of a

detective.

“Bryce,” Corrigan warned.

Bryce shrugged it off and said flatly, “That he wants to rape Sheldon. He wants to make her scream for me to help her.”

I’d figured it was something like that.

Sheila glanced at the two detectives and asked, “How often has he made these threats?”

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“A few times. He started awhile back, but last Sunday—it got worse. He got

worse.”

“What else should you be telling me?” Sheila shared me in her sweeping glance.

Corrigan said quietly, “He did something to a girl last Friday night, a week ago.

We warned him to stop and not ever do anything again, but on Tuesday…he threatened Sheldon.”

“He didn’t really…” I murmured.

“He scared you. That was enough,” Corrigan said fiercely.

“And what did you do?” Sheila asked.

“Bryce roughed him up and I roughed up his car.”

I

looked

away.

“I got arrested for fleeing the ‘scene of an accident,’” Corrigan quoted,

unapologetically.

One of the detectives mentioned, “Chad Yerling was admitted to the hospital for two days last week. Was that your handiwork?” he asked Bryce.

Bryce shook his head and Corrigan volunteered, “That was me and a few other

guys. I’ll take the fall. We wanted to make sure he wouldn’t do anything to Sheldon or any other girl.”

“You were at a party tonight. Did anything happen at the party?”

“Yerling showed up. He was doing the same stuff. We took him out back and just threatened him again,” Bryce spoke this time. “We didn’t hurt him too bad. He was able to walk when we let him go.”

“What’d you threaten him with?”

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“Just that if he didn’t stay away from our kind, we might have to hurt someone of his,” Bryce said matter-of-factly. “We wouldn’t, but we didn’t know what else to do.

We’re not going to kill the guy or keep putting him in the hospital.”

“You think this Yerling guy could’ve done something like that to Leisha

Summers?”

I flinched at the name. She was still so cold.

“I don’t know,” Corrigan said lamely.

Bryce shrugged. “I thought he was all talk, but you never know…”

I stood up abruptly and asked harshly, “Are we done? Can I go?”

Sheila studied me a moment and said, “Almost. Where’s the letter now?”

Corrigan pulled it out of his pocket and handed it over. “We all touched it. I’m sorry.”

She pulled a glove on and took the letter. After she handed it to one of the other detectives, she asked gently, “Where are your parents, Sheldon?”

“Getting a divorce. You know that,” I spat out.

“Where are they?” she asked again.

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Have you talked to them this week?”

“About the divorce. That’s it.”

Sheila nodded and murmured instead, “We talked to your school counselor, Miss Connors. She’s been trying to get you to talk to her. Why don’t you want to talk to her?”

“Would you?” I clipped out.

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Sheila didn’t say anything. The other detective commented, “It would be

beneficial for all of you to go and speak with your school counselor. Miss Connors has an excellent reputation as a counselor. She offered for all of you to sit together or individually.” He glanced at me and said, “She thinks Sheldon, particularly, would appreciate the group setting versus an individual setting.”

Miss Connors could appreciate all she wanted.

“We contacted her over the phone. She offered to come here, if you’d prefer or you could meet somewhere if you would rather not visit on school grounds.”

“Right now?” Corrigan asked.

“She’s with Miss Summers’ parents right now. She would be available tomorrow or at a later date.”

Leisha’s parents.

“How are they—I mean—how are Leisha’s parent’s doing?” I asked before I

knew what I was asking.

Bryce watched me.

Sheila studied me again, she hadn’t stopped. She murmured, “They’re pretty torn up as parents should be.”

The balding detective asked, “You say that Yerling hurt a girl last Friday? Got a name?”

Bryce shook his head. He crossed his arms over his chest and his biceps twitched.

“No. It was just a rumor, but we wanted to be safe, you know.”

“Okay.” The detective finished his notes and glanced at his two colleagues. “I think we’re done here. We’ll contact you if we have further questions.”

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“Please don’t,” I muttered and the cops stopped in surprise.

Bryce and Corrigan looked unfazed.

Sheila spoke, “Look, you’re eighteen. You’re an adult, but I highly recommend that you call your parents, Sheldon. They should know what’s going on with you.”

If they cared, they’d know.

“I don’t think my parents have the time right now. They’re too busy looking for houses and finalizing the divorce,” I said faintly.

A flicker of emotion crossed Sheila’s features, but she didn’t say anything. No one said a thing and then they left.

Corrigan spoke up when we heard the door shut, “Mom’s making breakfast if you guys want something.”

“No more questions,” I said firmly.

Corrigan nodded. “Trust me, I don’t want them either.”

“I could go for some food,” Bryce murmured and it was decided. All three of us traipsed into the kitchen and were met with aromas of pancakes, eggs, toast, coffee, and freshly cut fruit.

Corrigan’s mother smiled warmly at us and gestured to the table. She spoke with a spatula in hand, “Sit, sit. Eat.”

Corrigan’s father brought a cup of coffee over and placed it in front of me. He patted my shoulder and murmured, “Just how you like it, Sheldon.”

“Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Raimler.”

“No thanks,” Mrs. Raimler said from the stove. “Just eat. And it’s Harve.”

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Bryce and Corrigan devoured their food. When I sat there and sipped my coffee, Bryce snorted in disgust and placed a pancake on my plate.

I didn’t move and he said firmly, “Eat.”

I glared and Corrigan and Bryce both snapped, “Eat.”

I

ate.

Mr. and Mrs. Raimler chuckled and filled the plates of food again.

When Corrigan and Bryce were on their third helping, Corrigan’s parents sat

down and started on their own breakfast.

Mrs. Raimler cleared her throat as she patted the curlers in her hair. She

commented, “Bryce, your mother called here. She was very worried, but don’t fret. We told her you were here. You and Corrigan were upset about some news of a classmate.

She agreed with me that it was best for you to stay with your friends.”

Bryce and Corrigan. No mention of me. Thank god.

Bryce met my eyes in shared amusement and relief. If AnnaBelle Scout knew of my presence, she would’ve dragged Bryce back to her home, never to be seen again.

I shuddered at the thought.

“Sheldon, honey, I’ll ready one of the guest bedrooms for you. Harve can drive you over to your house if you’d like to grab some clothes and toiletries.”

Bryce spoke up, “Uh…I’ll take her later. That’s okay.” He glanced at Corrigan and I knew both of them weren’t planning on letting me out of their sight.

“Bryce, you can sleep in the other guest bedroom downstairs.”

Corrigan hid a smile.

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The Raimler household had guest bedrooms all over their home. There were a few on the bedroom floor. A few on the main floor. And two downstairs. We were both downstairs, right next door to each other.

I didn’t think it was by chance we had rooms beside each other.

“Thank you, Mrs. Raimler.”

“Oh—it’s Katrice, Bryce. Get it right next time.” She smiled warmly and

patiently.

Bryce

nodded.

“You always call me Mrs. Raimler and I always feel like your grandmother. I’m not that old, Bryce.”

“No, you’re not, Mrs. Raimler.”

“Bryce Elliot Scout,” she said firmly, feigning outrage.

I snorted.

Bryce just grinned and kept eating.

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The rest of the day was spent around Corrigan’s house. We all took turns at Guitar Hero. Corrigan was the best, no surprise. Bryce hadn’t spent as much time playing it since, until last week, everything centered around soccer.

I sucked. That was all there was to it, but for my defense—my mind was

elsewhere.

After awhile, I padded into the guest bedroom and curled into a dreamless sleep.

I kept fighting it because I hadn’t wanted nightmares, but I was grateful when I woke up with no dreams and no nightmares.

Bryce knocked on my door and poked his head inside.

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“Hey. Corr and I are going to go out for a little bit. Wanna come?”

“Where

are

you

going?”

“Harris’ parents are out of town for the whole weekend. I think some of the guys are going to hang out, maybe shoot pool.”

I could stay and do nothing.

I got up and yawned, “Yeah. Can we stop at my place to get some clothes?”

“Sure,” Bryce left to tell Corrigan the plan and within another few minutes, Corrigan was driving us to my house.