The Struggle (The Things We Can't Change Book 2) (10 page)

“There is something,” I finally admit, and move away from the bookshelf to sit in the chair, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to my chest. “It’s about… Zeke.”

She thinks for a moment, and then bobs her head. “The boy who saved you. Whose sister was hit by Tony. Quain, isn’t it?”

“Yes. He’s, um, working at my house this summer.” And I tell her what I know about Zeke, about how he treated his little sister, and about the spray painting and the deal. “It’s all different with him,” I finally say, and then fall silent.

“Different in what way?” Dr. Gottlieb asks, leaning forward a little bit. “You’re more scared of him than others? Or less?”

“Less. And that’s why it’s strange. Zeke is…” I struggle for the words to describe him. Magnificent would be one, and beautiful would be another. But they aren’t related to what I’m trying to explain. I finally settle for, “Tough. He has a reputation. I mean, he
really
has one now, thanks to me, but even before that, he had an intense reputation for being tough and unapproachable. He’s harsh and rude and irritating, but I can see that he’s hurting too, that he’s vulnerable. He’s the very last person I should be gravitating toward, and yet, I feel safe with him. Why is that?”

“I’m sure it’s just you attaching feelings to him because he rescued you,” Dr. Gottlieb replies instantly. “Your mind is associating rescuing with safety, and since Zeke is the one who saved you, you automatically think of him as a safe zone. I agree that starting any kind of…
romance
with Zeke isn’t a good idea. But there’s no harm in being friends with someone, Evie. It sounds like he’ll be around for a while, and even with his so-called reputation, I trust your father’s instinct. If he’s allowing Zeke to be around all summer, around
you
, then I don’t see any harm.” She checks her watch and then smiles at me. “Anything else? I’m calling time.”

I shake my head, thank Dr. Gottlieb, and leave the office. She’s got it all wrong, because I didn’t tell her the whole story, although there’s nothing new about that. The issue is that I don’t feel safe with Zeke just because he rescued me. That doesn’t explain the night at the dance studio, the way I felt with him
before
the incident in the bathroom with Tony. There’s something strange, inexplicable, between us. Just like with telling Dr. Gottlieb, I continuously go back and forth about it; wanting to explore it, try to understand it, and thinking it’s not a good idea and will probably end in disaster.

Not that Zeke would ever allow me to get close enough to try. We’ve been careful to avoid each other all week, not even making eye contact when we happen to cross paths. I’m sad to say, it happens quite often solely because I’m always home. I have nowhere to go, nowhere I really
want
to go. Normally, my summer would be full of days at the pool, evenings with Tony, sweaty afternoons practicing tennis and going on runs, hanging with the girls and staying out late seeing movies and going to parties and events at the country club.

I still run, finding some kind of relief as my feet pound on pavement or a treadmill belt. But I’m actually enjoying the empty summer. I’ve been reading nonstop, going with my dad to the office to hang out and try to train his new receptionist (and failing) but mostly, my days seem to be spent staring out the back window at Zeke as he tills my backyard and shovels dirt. I’ve become the worst kind of stalker, a stereotypical teenaged girl who can’t stop staring at a pretty boy.

I slap myself in the forehead as I start my car and shake my head as I drive home. The difference is that this isn’t a crush. It’s just… curiosity. Zeke has his own demons that he’s fighting, it’s plain to see, was plain even before he came to work at my house. And I can’t help but wonder what they are, how similar they might be to my own.

I pull into the driveway and head inside, grateful to see that both Clarissa’s and Hunter’s cars are missing from the garage. Hunter has been busy all week catching up with friends that are also home for the summer, and I’m grateful for the space. Just like his mother, he’s intent on doing everything he can to make me feel uncomfortable and make light of my situation. I know Clarissa is just jealous that my dad’s biggest focus is on me at the moment, and sometimes I have the urge to shout at her that I’d rather have all his attention on her if it meant I could just erase everything that has happened to me.

I walk into the kitchen and find my dad there, home from work on his lunch hour. He’s standing at the sink, a glass of water in one hand, staring out the window into the backyard. I join him, looking out at Zeke, who’s dumping a wheelbarrow of dirt. A large hole has appeared since I left that morning, making ready for the pond that will be put in.

“Hey there, baby,” Dad says, lifting his free hand to pull me in for a one-armed hug, still looking out the window. “How was it?”

I shrug. “Good. Just… good.”

We’re both silent for a moment, since he knows better than to push.

“Say what you want about his extracurricular activities,” he finally says, staring out at Zeke. “But the boy is a hard worker. Although I’m not so sure it’s dedication to us that drives him.”

“I talked to Dr. Gottlieb about him a little bit today.” I’m not sure where the words come from, but I know I can talk to my dad about it and he won’t assume or push. He’s stood by me all this time, been my rock, and I owe everything to him. Even with Dr. Gottlieb’s help, I’d still be a wreck if it weren’t for my dad.

“Oh yeah?” He finally looks down at me. “In what way?”

I shrug again and don’t look him in the eye, going instead to the fridge to pull out a can of pop. “I just explained about Cindy, and the deal, and how he’s going to be working here all summer. I, um… I was wondering why I’m not scared of him.”

My dad raises his eyebrows. “He rescued you. Isn’t that reason enough?”

I shake my head, telling him what I didn’t bother to tell Dr. Gottlieb. “It’s not that. I felt this way, felt, I don’t know, safe and calm, around him before that happened. His sister, Cindy, took dance lessons at the same studio as Jenny. He was there a few times when I stopped by, and we talked once or twice, only for like, five minutes. But I felt the same around him as I do around you. I just feel… safe with him. And I think that’s weird.”

My dad is quiet as he considers this. “I see a lot in Zeke,” he says finally. “Potential, as well as something else. He just lost his sister, and his mom ran off, from what Alex Quain has told me. He’s struggling, still grieving. Meeting him, you wouldn’t think he would do things like graffiti, and yet he does. I think what you see in him might be the same, oh, guilt and suffering you have. On a more animalistic level, you can sense that and it makes you gravitate toward him. I don’t think it’s dangerous or anything. I wouldn’t let him stay around if I thought it was bad for you.”

I look down at my feet, my eyes burning hot. “I gravitated toward Tony at first,” I whisper. I can’t tell my dad everything, still can’t tell him the whole story, but I can tell him this, the fear that keeps haunting me. “And I was so, so wrong about it. He had that darkness in him, the craziness, and I never even suspected. What if Zeke has it too?”

“Honey,” my dad says on an impassioned sigh, and he sets down his glass and pulls me tight against him. “You’re right to be cautious, to be careful, but the fact that Tony turned out the way he did isn’t your fault. No one guessed, and I don’t think you could have seen it coming. It was… an anomaly. The chances of meeting another guy who will do such an abrupt about face are pretty slim. You’re right to have your eyes open, but I raised you and I know you can trust your gut feeling.”

“I don’t trust myself,” I whisper. “I don’t want to marry or date or even kiss Zeke or anything. I have no interest in being in any relationship ever again. But I wouldn’t mind a friend. I wish I could tell him how sorry I am about Cindy.”

“I know,” my dad says, and he rubs my back as I cry. I’m not even sure why I’m crying, where the tears are coming from, since I don’t care about Zeke
that
much. I just know I’m feeling melancholy, feeling overwhelmed with all the secrets I’m still keeping. So many that I may as well still be with Tony, hiding so much of my life from everyone who might be able to help me.

And that thought scares me to death.

Ezekiel

34

It’s been two weeks since I started working at the Parkers, and my life has settled into a strange routine. Wake up, go to the Parkers where I work without talking to anyone. Then it’s home to laze with Dom and Koby or to work at the club. Cameron hasn’t bothered me again, thankfully, but I know it’s just a matter of time. The person who won’t leave me alone now is Tessa. She’s beginning to annoy me, and I’m just trying to hold out until she leaves for school in the fall. I’ve been avoiding her because she’s close with Cameron, since they’re neighbors, and I don’t want to be tempted or sucked into anything.

She’s working the wedding tonight, as am I, and every time I see her, she’s staring at me. Girls. Never able to just have a fling, no matter how they promise they don’t or won’t get attached.

I can see Koby across the room and realize he’s serving the table where Jenny Hunt is seated, and they are careful never to lock gazes. I frown when I realize I’ve been too wrapped up in my own problems to ask if anything ever happened between the two of them. From what I’m seeing now, something did, but it doesn’t seem to have ended well.

My gaze returns to my own tables, because predictably, the Parkers are seated in my section. What a surprise, with my usually good luck.
Not
. Evie actually came tonight, even though she seems to avoid the club as much as possible lately. This is her first event since the police banquet, and I don’t really blame her.

There are always whispers following her, and especially when the two of us are here at the same time. In fact, I realize that tonight we’re attracting more looks and shared whispers than usual. I only figure out the reason after dinner, once everyone is milling around or on the dance floor, drinking and talking as the real celebration begins.

I can see Hunter Parker, or actually Hunter Grey, since he never took the name, slinking through the crowd. Every person he stops to talk to eventually turns and scans the room to stare at Evie and then me.
Pig
. Just as everything is beginning to calm down, he comes in to fan the flames. Probably spreading the word that I’m spending the summer working for the Parkers and allowing people to start gossiping about what that entails.

I’m not sure what he has against Evie or me, but I suspect a large portion of it is just boredom. Even with limitless funds at their disposal, rich kids never know what to do with their free time. His behavior to Evie, however, is downright nasty, something only proved beyond reasonable doubt as the night unfolds.

I keep my eyes on Hunter as I clear tables of dirty glasses and then dessert plates and forks after the cake is cut. Sure enough, he finally walks toward Evie with his posse, the same guys who taunted me about yard work. Two of Evie’s old friends, Grace and Tiffany, are with them.

Evie has her back to them and me, talking to an older guy with salt and pepper hair that I recognize as a partner of her father. Hunter turns to his friends and I clearly read his lips saying,
watch this
. Then he claps a hand on Evie’s shoulder and the girl jumps a
mile
into the air.

I catch a flash of the panicked look on her face. No, not just panicked; terrified or scared witless would be a better expression. She immediately backs away from Hunter, pulling away from him so quickly and sharply that she drops her glass.

It
thunks
onto the carpet and thankfully doesn’t shatter, but liquid quickly spreads across the carpet as Hunter and Co. laugh, disguising their mockery with feigned good humor. Evie smiles tightly, a blush suffusing her cheeks. The man she was talking with is clearly no fool. I see him instinctively lift a hand toward her, as if to comfort Evie, but she recoils yet again. His hand drops and he purposefully and deliberately turns to Hunter and engages the whole group in conversation. Evie seizes the chance and flees, and I heave a sigh and go to clean up the mess.

The night continues and I slowly become aware of the fact that Evie is being bullied. She clearly can’t stand to be touched, something I’m sure isn’t uncommon in abuse victims, and Hunter has figured that out.

For no purpose that I can tell aside from just being douches, I count five times when Hunter or one of his cronies goes up to Evie and casually, ‘accidentally’, touches her. Tapping her on the shoulder to get her attention, a hand on her back out of politeness as they pass behind her in a tight crowd, Tiffany even slings a faux-friendly arm around her shoulders.

Evie’s reaction is always the same. She pulls away reflexively, instinctively, as though she can’t control it—and she probably can’t. It’s always such a sharp move that everyone nearby looks over at her. The person touching her and all Hunter’s groupies who are always nearby, laugh every time as though it doesn’t get old. However, I suspect this has a lot to do with how much they have been drinking.

Evie is wilting from the attacks. A tight smile is frozen on her lips and she has a new glass in her hand and her grip on it is tight and white knuckled. I can see, when I look closely, that she’s trembling. It makes me feel sick, not just because it’s Evie, but simply because it’s disgusting and cruel.