The Line That Binds Series Box Set (12 page)

The sun had fallen behind the trees, shrouding the ground in darkness and streaking the sky’s clouds with tints ranging from orange to purple. A crisp hint of autumn filled my nose as I inhaled, a prelude to colder temps. I looked up toward LJ’s room and was surprised to see her silhouette in the glass, blocking the room’s glow behind her. The colored sky dimly lit her face, which was looking down at me.

I pulled my helmet on and kept walking, afraid I’d do something stupid, like wave to her.

“What do you want me to tell you?” I asked Dad when we pulled into the driveway Friday afternoon.

He let the wheel slide beneath his hands as it straightened itself. “I just want to know what’s going on with you, with Gavin.” He sighed.

Since Gavin rode the bus and I hadn’t found a ride, Dad had been my acting chauffeur all week. The trips to and from school were quiet. Evidently, all the silence was getting under his skin. But I wasn’t in the mood to appease him with mindless chitchat. It had been a long week, and I was tired; tired from an excessive amount of paranoia at school, tired from the physical demands of my new job, and tired of not knowing who I was. I didn’t know what to do or who to be. I hid from socializing at school, but I craved the small interactions with Ben in the afternoon. For some reason, it felt like he’d be okay to talk to. He seemed real, which was a nice change from the guys I knew in Summerlin who were so full of crap I could smell their lies from miles away. I also couldn’t help staring at him when he showed me what to do around the property. He was easy to look at. The problem was that he barely looked at me, and I had no idea why. Maybe he thought I was who I used to be, or pretended to be: a snobbish elitist. I didn’t think I’d been acting that way toward him, though I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t know how to act anymore.

Dad’s concern about Gavin struck me the same way. “Gavin hasn’t really talked to me either. I’m worried about him,” I admitted. I tried to talk to him every day after work, but he just brushed me off and told me he had homework. His sneakers weren’t nearly as white as he used to keep them and he also stopped wearing most of his nicer clothes. If he was having problems, he wasn’t talking about them.

“I’m worried too. About both of you,” Dad said. We got out of the Escape and walked up the slate steps to the front door. “Would you just talk to me?”

I opened the door without a response, and threw my book bag inside the entry. I didn’t want to hear any more from him. I just needed to go to work.

“Lila,” Dad called as I turned around and walked past him.

“I have to go to work.”

“Lila! Why are you shutting me out? We need to talk!”

I stopped at the corner of the house and turned back to him. “Doesn’t feel so great to be on the outside of someone’s life, does it? I’ve been there. Gavin’s been there. Where the hell were you when
we
needed to talk, huh? Why the hell did you shut
us
out?” I screamed at him.

I’d yelled at my mother before, but this was the first time I’d yelled at him. And it wasn’t because I didn’t want to before; this had been a long time coming. We just hadn’t been around each other long enough for it to blow up. Though, that didn’t stop me from exploring the things I’d say to him when I finally found my voice.

Here it is.

He stared at me, his eyes heavy from the truthful blow.

“I don’t need this right now,” I said, breathing erratically as the blood surged hot through my veins. “For once, it’s me without the time to talk.” I stormed around the side of the house, cutting the corner too close and clipping my shoulder on the rough stones.

In my rush to escape Dad, I nearly ran into Ben. His eyes widened, and I knew he’d heard every word. I couldn’t look at him, so I ducked around him, too. The tears might retreat if I kept walking; they’d surely overflow if I stopped.

I was a coward. Again. I had the opportunity to convey the pain that Gavin and I had gone through during Mom’s abandonment and Dad’s continued seclusion, and I punked out. I couldn’t do it. The irony of me using work as an excuse wasn’t lost to me either. It was fitting actually. All in all, at least he got my point despite the short delivery.

Besides, my goal was to get him off my back about school. Throwing the old, unaddressed crap in his face wasn’t the best way to deal with our current problems, but it might shut him up for a while. There was really no point to talk about more disappointment. The fairytale-loving part of me wanted to tell him that this whole screwed-up situation was okay. Moving here was okay. School here was okay. Losing our old life was okay. Gavin was okay.

And I wanted it to be true.

But we both knew it wasn’t. It might never be okay. So why bother discussing.

With no other direction, I trampled over to the edge of the property and sat on the grass beside a weed whacker and a pair of work gloves. I covered my eyes, wishing the mess inside my head would disappear. I had no plan, no answers. My heart continued to pound out my sorrows. I took in a long breath filled with the smell of fresh grass clippings before I pinched the bridge of my nose to mask the sting from holding back tears.

The sound of footsteps in the grass forced me to look up. Ben stopped in front of me. His dark eyes were calm, sympathetic. He shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked the grass under his work boots. “I was going to teach you how to use a weed whacker so we could edge the gardens today. Do you need another minute or something?”

I looked back to the grass and shook my head. “No, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” he replied. I stood up beside him and he handed me a set of ear plugs, a medical mask, and a pair of goggles. “You should use these. This thing can kick up a lot of debris.” He reached down and grabbed the weed whacker.

I put on all of the safety equipment, and he nodded. I had a feeling I looked ridiculous, but he didn’t seem to notice, and I barely cared. Things were bad enough, why not add looking goofy to the mix?

“First, turn the switch. Then push this bulb about three times to prime the engine. Next you slide the choke on,” he said, pointing to each then completing the sequence. “When that’s done, pull the cord. After the engine turns over, you slide the choke back to ‘Run’ and give it gas to start weeding. Ready?” He slid his goggles down over his eyes.

I nodded. He tugged the cord, flexing the muscles beneath his T-shirt. The engine kicked on and he pointed to the choke and slid it back. He moved a little farther away, held the weed whacker out at arm’s length, and squeezed the trigger. The engine revved, and the lines beneath the half-shielded end spun so fast they disappeared. He stepped up to the tree line and swept his arms back and forth, clipping the grass low to the ground.

“Got it?” he yelled. It was a little difficult to hear him, but he didn’t have a mask on so I watched his mouth. The bands he’d had on all week were gone, allowing his mouth to open a little wider. I still wanted to ask him how he broke his jaw, but I’d have to wait. Right now he was staring at me.

I nodded again, realizing he was waiting for a response.

“Okay,” his lips moved. “You try.”

I took hold of the circle grip attached to the main bar and grabbed the handle in front of the engine, easing my finger over the throttle trigger. The engine shook my hands and rattled my arms some, but it wasn’t overpowering.

“Now just hold it away from your body,” Ben yelled, though this time he’d moved behind me to speak into my ear. “When you’re ready, squeeze the trigger.”

I’m not a little kid.
I hadn’t done this before, but he was acting like I was going to fall apart or break something if he didn’t explain every little thing. I extended my arms and squeezed the trigger, feeling the engine kick slightly under my grip. I revved it, then revved it some more before I lowered it toward the brush. The lines spun and spit clippings of shaved grass out to the side. Some of it kicked back and pelted my jeans.

A smile crept across my mouth as I made more passes. It was like cleaning and being destructive at the same time. I cleaned when I was angry or upset. It was my release, and that’s probably why it had turned into an obsession. It was the one thing that helped. Working outdoors might help fulfill that need now, especially if I got to use more tools like this.

I turned to Ben and he smiled at me, a full-on smile, letting his dimples make an appearance. My stomach flipped and my entire body heated, especially my cheeks. I hoped he couldn’t see them under the mask because they felt like a beacon of my embarrassment. I had to remind myself to breathe.

His eyes darted away toward the barn for a second. “I’m going to get another one so we can start edging. Stay here and practice along this line until I get back, okay?”

I nodded at him.
Ugh.
I felt like such an idiot. I watched him walk away, enjoying the view of his back as much as his front. Why was he affecting me like this? He probably thought I was a lunatic for staring at him. But I couldn’t help it. There was something about him that drew me in. His eyes. Those dimples.

Okay, I was losing it. I had to pull myself together. I was working, after all. And I needed to know this job since I’d run the property soon enough.

A buzzing in my pocket surprised me. I lifted my finger from the throttle trigger, wondering if it was causing my body to shake.
Nope.
Another short vibration.

My phone.

It was weird to feel its alert. The last text I’d received was on Tuesday night when, after exploring more of the house, Gavin got stuck in the dumbwaiter and needed help out. I think he was actually hiding from Dad. Though, I was just as guilty of asking him how he’d been feeling so he could’ve been hiding from both of us.

My phone buzzed again before I could grip the weed whacker in one hand and dig into my jean pocket with the other. I hit the menu screen and touched the number three hovering above the message icon.

I gasped so hard I almost choked.

The close-up picture was a blend of beige skin and blonde hair. When my eyes focused enough to piece it together, I realized it was my ex-boyfriend and old best friend. Veronica and Mark’s lips were tangled together.
I scrolled to the next one: he was smiling as he grabbed her boob. And the next: her eyes were looking up at the camera and her mouth was full of …

Gah!

I gagged then chucked my phone. She’d done this before to other girls at school, though the pictures were a smidge tamer. At the time, I’d thought it was somewhat cruel of her to do. I realized now how much I had underestimated. It was very cruel, disgusting, and crude. Why would she do this to me? Neither one of them had called me in about a month. I already knew it was over. So why bother? I was no longer there, no longer somebody who counted.

Anger grew inside of me. It was a rage that I’d never felt before. I was mad at them, but I was infuriated with myself for associating with a group of people who thought behavior like this was normal and who never cared how they affected others. I was hurt, and ashamed, but I was angry most of all.

I gripped the handle of the weed whacker and charged into the tree line, swinging my weapon, hacking the vines and weeds like I wanted to do to my prior life. I was sick of fooling myself, sick of pretending, sick of what I’d become. I swung the weed whacker more, pushing through the brush that looked so hideous compared to the rest of the property. It was like the stain of my life that I needed to clean. It had to go.

Then I saw what I’d wanted to see ever since I laid eyes on its numerous painted portraits.

The well.

I grabbed another weed whacker from the barn and headed back to the trees behind the event house’s courtyard where I’d left LJ. I was so glad I needed another one because it was an excuse to get away from her. There was something happening between us. I could feel it.

She’d been watching me all week while we worked. She never gave me attitude on the tasks I assigned her; she just did her job. I thought maybe her real personality would show when I made her do some mundane chore like wire brushing rusty tools, yet she never complained. She actually cleaned a couple of the shears so well that they looked brand new.