The Truth about Us (5 page)

It's empty.

“Kyle?” I call.

There's no answer. My heart pounds a little quicker. “Kyle?” I call again. I bend down and look under the desk, but he's not there. The most logical explanation is that Stella came to the office and took him, but I pace, tapping my fingers on my chin, and then hurry out of the office to look around the main room. I head back to the kitchen. No sign of him. Or Stella.

“You seen Stella?” I call to Sunny.

“I saw her in the basement,” she says. “Where's Kyle?”

I ignore her, but my worry begins to fester as I walk down the dingy halls to the basement. Stella's in the sorting room. She's talking to a gray-haired woman about the shortage of underwear for men. Kyle isn't with her.

“Stella?” I say, not wanting to be rude, but I'm getting kind of panicky. “Do you have Kyle?”

Her gaze snaps over to me, and she glances down at my empty hands. “What do you mean, do I have Kyle? Flynn said he left him with you in the greenhouse.”

My face flushes at the mention of Flynn. And the possibility that I have lost his little brother. “Where's Flynn?” I ask.

“He went outside to fix a picnic bench. He said Kyle was with you.”

“Wilf sent us to cut cakes. And we did, but then I had to go to the washroom. So I left him in your office. I got kind of sidetracked by a little girl, and then I got slightly lost.” I glance around, as if he's going to pop up somewhere in the room. “When I got back to the office, he was gone.”

“Dear mother of God,” Stella mumbles and darts past me, out of the sorting area. “It took you less than an hour to lose a five-year-old boy?”

My face burns, and I swallow an insta-lump in my throat.

“Where would he go?” I ask as I hurry behind her.

“We have to find him immediately,” she says. “The lunch crowd will be arriving soon.”

I close my eyes and struggle to take a deep breath. My heart is pounding, and there's a strip of sweat on my upper lip. She moves surprisingly fast for a woman of her size, and I hurry up the stairs behind her. She opens the door that leads outside to the back of the building. “Flynn was over there,” she says and points.

There's no sign of him.

We hurry back toward the office but he's not there, and we move to the dining area. Flynn's inside, carrying a bench. I sprint past Stella to reach him. “Flynn,” I say, breathing fast and hard. “I can't find Kyle.” I swallow a lump and hold in tears. Each one represents something different. Fear. Worry. Guilt.

He blinks, puts the bench down, and scratches his head as he registers my words. “What?”

“He was in Stella's office. I went to the bathroom…” The reality of the situation kicks in, and my eyes burn with the fluids trying to escape.

“Where have you looked?”

I tell him, and Flynn takes off running. I follow behind him.

“I'll get everyone looking,” Stella calls as we race out of the dining room.

Kyle is nowhere in sight.

How can this be happening? I can't catch my breath.

“You look in the kitchen. I'll look in the art room,” Flynn calls.

I race to the kitchen. More volunteers are around now. There's a man stirring a huge pot of soup and lining bowls on a table in front of him. People wander around, each doing a task. Some are tossing big bowls of salad, and others are putting sandwiches on a platter. A few older women are filling pitchers up with orange juice.

“Has anyone seen a little boy?” I yell and hold my hand in the air where his head would come to. “Kyle?” I realize I don't even know his last name. “He has black hair. He's wearing jeans and a blue Thomas the Tank Engine shirt.”

A few people look over, but they all shake their heads. I keep moving, my eyes scanning. I go through the kitchen back to the dining room, where the tables await guests who will be arriving soon. I scan the room from left to right, but there's no sign of him.

I run toward the entrance of the building, past a security guard who's manning the door. Guests are already beginning to line up in the hallway and out into the street. I run back inside to the women's washroom and peer below the door in each stall. Nothing. I rush back out and run into the men's room and do the same thing.

“Kyle?” I call. My voice is shrill and high. My hands are shaking. I run to the other side of the dining room where there's a stage. On it, there's a microphone on a stand. A couple of men are standing behind it, talking. I speed toward the stage and run up the stairs.

“We have a lost boy!” I shout at the men. “Kyle. I was watching him for Flynn.” My face burns. My heart is ready to explode right from my chest. I should have found someone to look after him while I went to the washroom. I didn't know kids could slip out and disappear so quickly, even when you told them not to.

One of the men nods and steps up to the microphone. “Attention, please. We have a lost little boy. Kyle Carson. He's five. Brown hair.”

I glance around the room and see Flynn. The panic on his face as he runs toward the stage makes me want to pass out.

“Everyone in the building, please search the area around you,” the man says over the mike.

“What the hell?” Flynn says to me when he reaches the foot of the stage. “Where the hell did he go?” He runs up the stairs and grabs a hold of my arm. Hard. “Where did he go?”

My heart freezes, yet somehow a hot tear drips down my cheek. I shake my head, my lips tight. I have no answer. What were we all thinking, leaving me in charge? I'm not cut out for caring for myself properly, never mind a child.

A buzz travels through the crowd outside the building as the guests discuss what's going on inside, and someone asks if lunch is going to be late. I close my eyes and try to breathe. We have to find him. I have to find him. There're bad people in this world. I know that for a fact.

“For God's sake,” Flynn says to no one in particular. “Where the hell is he?”

I'm ready to throw up or run away myself. What can I do? I think of my dad's words. “You can't always hide away from your trouble,” he says. Not even ironically, as if he doesn't notice that everyone in my family has gone into hiding.

Hiding.

I remember the story my mom used to tell. From when I was a kid. Hiding in closets. I run off the stage and hurry through the dining room and into the kitchen. I keep running and don't stop until I reach Stella's office. I pull open the first cupboard level with the ground. Nothing. I pull open the next. Nothing. I run to the closet and take a deep breath. And then I open that one.

Kyle's curled up in a ball on the floor. Sleeping.

The what-ifs I've been holding back rush into my brain, and I sink to my knees.

“Kyle?” I say. His eyes open and he smiles at me, his little face innocent and sweet.

“Are you crying, Jess?” he asks.

“Kyle Carson,” a voice yells from behind me. Flynn races to the closet and stares down at the two of us on the ground. “You scared the living
shit
out of us,” he says.

Kyle looks up at him with huge eyes. “Flynn, you
swore
,” he says.

I can't stop. It's as if a dam has been opened in my head, and I can't shut it off. I sniffle and sit on the floor, crying like a big old baby. I'm not sure it's even about Kyle after a while.

Flynn kneels down beside me and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Hey,” he says softly. “It's okay. He's okay.”

I shake my head, but my face and my nose are running and gushing gross liquids all over the place. What if he hadn't been there? I feel like a complete and utter failure.

Flynn's hand stays on my shoulder. “It's okay,” he mumbles, like I'm the little kid.

Kyle sits up and crawls into my lap and wraps his arms around me. It shocks the snot out of me.

“What were you doing, buddy?” I ask him and hiccup and sniffle.

“I was really tired, Jess.” He yawns and puts his head on my shoulder. The warmth of his hug quiets all the noise that's warring inside of me, and I'm filled with a gooey kind of calm.

“Kyle,” Flynn says, and Kyle lifts his head.

“You scared Jess. You shouldn't have hidden on her. You're not supposed to wander off. You scared us.”

Kyle blinks at me. “You were scared?”

I nod. “Yeah. Really scared.”

Stella walks toward us. I didn't even hear her come in. She kneels down beside us. “We were all scared. You have to be careful, Kyle. No hiding.” She stands, walks to her desk, and leans against it, her arms crossed.

“Not even when we play hide-and-seek? I wanted to play hide-and-seek with Jess when she went to the bathroom. But I got tired of waiting, and I lay down and fell asleep.”

“I'm sorry,” I interrupt. “I didn't mean to leave him alone for long.”

“No,” Flynn snaps.

I cringe, waiting for him to berate me, tell me what I already know. I'm irresponsible and stupid. I've got a bad track record.

“It's not your fault.” He stands up. “Not cool, little dude. You don't start a game of hide-and-seek without telling anyone. Especially not when you are being babysat.”

“I'm not a baby,” he says. Kyle wiggles his head back and forth.

“Then don't act like one,” Flynn tells him.

He looks up at his big brother and blinks. “Am I in trouble?”

He's so friggin' adorable, but fear and attention get to Kyle, because he starts to cry too.

Flynn leans down and takes him from my lap and stands him on the floor. “Apologize to Jess,” he says.

I shake my head, but Flynn glares at me, so I stop.

“I'm sorry, Miss Jess,” Kyle says, his little lip jutting out and quivering.

I think before I say anything. “Um. It was a mistake. And we learn from those.” I wipe under my eyes and sniffle, and Flynn holds out his free hand and helps pull me to my feet. He flicks his hair back, and I have a brief desire to spin around and flee, because even now with all this drama, I still can't help appreciating that he's stupid hot. And I don't know how I'm going to see him every day when he thinks I'm such an idiot. His lashes are longer than most girls who spend their money on Latisse.

He smiles at me though, and my insides freak the hell out.

“Sorry for being a dick,” he says and glances at Stella. “I mean jerk. Kyle is my responsibility. I shouldn't have put that on you.”

“No. I mean, you'd think I'd be able to keep track of a five-year-old for a little longer.”

“It wasn't your fault,” Flynn says. “Anyhow, you found him.”

“I used to have naps in the closet when I was a kid,” I tell him. I walk to the front of Stella's desk, plunk down in a chair, and let out a big sigh.

Flynn follows me to the other chair, and all at once, he's staring into my eyes. It feels like he's seeing things I don't even know are there. There's this huge swoop. It starts in my belly, and my whole body goes on its own roller-coaster ride. It leaves me with goose bumps. I stare down at my shoes, wondering if he can tell what I'm feeling.

Stella clears her throat.

“Is Jess your new girlfriend?” Kyle asks. I look up, and he's standing beside Stella, watching us, his head barely visible over the top of the desk. He blinks at me. “He has a
lot
of girlfriends.”

“Dude,” Flynn says. “We've talked about that.”

I can't help laughing out loud, and Kyle giggles. Even Stella laughs. “You want me to clean this handsome boy up?” she asks Flynn.

“Yeah. One second though. Come here, big guy.” Kyle scoots around the desk, and Flynn bends down so he's at the same level as him. “No more running off?” Flynn says.

Kyle's eyes fill with tears, and his lower lip goes in and out. “I promise,” he says. It's about the cutest thing I've ever seen.

“Okay, handsome.” Stella gets up and walks to Kyle, holding out her hand. “You come with me and we'll clean you up, and then Flynn can take you to lunch.” She glances at me. “Good job finding him.”

I lower my eyes as they leave the room, because really, if I hadn't
lost
him in the first place, I wouldn't have had to find him.

Flynn stands. “Well, I guess you need to get back to work,” he says. His voice is slightly deeper, and Nance would say it's sexy. Who am I kidding? I'm the one who thinks it's sexy. The big brother thing, it works for him.

“Yeah.” I sneak a look up. He's watching me. Neither one of us moves.

“It must be kind of cool to have someone little who looks up to you like that,” I say. “My sister and I, we're nothing like that.” I don't know why I admit that.

“No? I don't know. Sometimes I worry I'm a bad influence.” He coughs and looks away. “I look after him when my mom works.” He glances back and smiles. “Your mom probably doesn't work. Or does she do charity work instead of a real job? I hear lots of the moms in Tuxedo are into that.” He doesn't say it with meanness, but it makes my stomach lurch.

I stare at him. “You honestly believe that?” I ask.

He hesitates. “Well, I saw your house, remember. I mean, it's pretty huge. I guess I assumed she doesn't have to work.” He eyes the door Stella walked out of.

I cross my arms. “Maybe she's the one with all the money.”

He purses his lips but glances at me. “She is?”

“Well. No. I mean, she did work. She had a good job.” I inhale deeply through my nose, trying to calm myself. “Some women like to work, you know. This isn't the sixties.”

“No. I know. I didn't mean it like that. Sorry. I just mean, she has a choice, right? She doesn't have to. Anyhow, you know what they say, all the stay-at-home moms live in Tuxedo. Sorry. It was stupid. Forget it.”

I glare at him. He doesn't know how far from the truth he is about my mom. “You think my mom has an easy life because of where we live?” I ask. Hot anger licks at my brain because that is so far from the truth.

“Hey, wait. I mean…well, kind of. I thought…” Flynn sputters and stares longingly at the exit.

“She worked,” I say through clenched teeth. “No. She had a career. And she loved it. But she doesn't anymore…” I take a breath, stopping myself before everything spills out. I won't do that just to prove my point. I uncross my arms. “She can't work. She
doesn't
have a choice.”

“Hey. I'm sorry,” he says after a moment of silence. “I didn't know.”

I wrap my arms around my waist. My face is hot. “Whatever.” I untangle myself a second later. “I have to work.” I stand up. I want out, away from him. He's a lot less hot now. I don't care how cute he is, he doesn't get to judge my family. It's none of his business.

He lightly grabs my arm to stop me as I try to slip by, but I pull away. He immediately lets go, but it tingles where his fingers pressed into my flesh. Treacherous arm. I frown at it.

“I really am sorry,” he repeats. He clears his throat again as if he's viewed inside my head and sorted through my thoughts. “You're not at all what you seem, are you, Jess?”

“Depends.” I bite my lip. “What do I seem?”

He tilts his head, watching me, and then he smiles. “Entitled, reckless, and maybe a little spoiled.” He laughs at the look on my face. He holds his fingers up to show me an inch. “A little?”

He grins then, full-on, and I try to be mad. But it's hard.

“But you're also good with my brother and maybe a little softer than you seem. Wilf likes you. That counts for something.” He bends his head, but the blush is visible on his cheeks. “I don't know what happened to you or why you're here. Maybe someday you'll tell me.” He smiles again, and it's lopsided, but his whole demeanor shifts. He's good-looking, but when he smiles…my heartbeat pounds.

“Maybe not,” I say, even though I'm about ready to tell him anything he wants to know.

“Is she sick?” he asks. “Your mom?”

I lower my gaze. Blink. Blink. Blink. No one asks. No one talks about my mom. “Kind of,” I say softly.

He watches me, his head tilted, his eyes soft. “That's rough,” he says.

I blink some more, resisting the urge to cry all over again. Two words. Nice ones, but I don't cry in front of people. Well, I usually don't. I smile to keep myself from blurting out the whole story. He seems like a good listener. But I can't. We. Don't. Talk. About. It.

“My mom works like a dog. My stepdad made sure of that. Such. A. Jerk. ” He shifts from foot to foot and attempts another smile, but it doesn't last.

I recognize the anger in his eyes. He sees me recognize it, understand it, and then he looks away. “Anyways, who does that?” He takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out.

“I don't know,” I say honestly. “I don't know.” The walls of Stella's office feel like they're getting smaller. The air is harder to breathe.

“We moved to Tadita. To start over.” Flynn flicks his hair back with his hand. “Too much information. Sorry. I don't usually go on about it.”

“No,” I say quickly, and without thinking, I reach out and touch his hand. The hand that moved back his hair. I want to touch his hair. I drop my hand to my side before I do anything stupid with it.

I could tell him the truth. Right here. Somehow, I know I can trust him. How it makes me feel. Terrible. Lonely. But it's so ingrained in me not to say anything, to pretend everything is fine, that I swallow the words. And say nothing.

Flynn clears his throat. “Well, I guess we're here for different reasons.”

“I guess.”

“For sure we're both sorry asses,” he says and raises both eyebrows, joking around.

“You have no idea,” I admit, “what a sorry ass I am.”

His expression changes. Gets serious again. “I worried for you the other night. When Braxton drove you home. Wandering around by yourself like that. Getting in the car. We could have been anybody. Guys who weren't so nice.”

“Sometimes I do stupid things,” I admit. I bend my head, remembering some of my other stupid human tricks. “It's like I'm testing myself or something,” I say softly.

I think about the stupid dress I ordered. How much it cost and what the people around here could do with all that money. I think about drinking with Nance and stealing a T-shirt from Abercrombie a while ago, just for the rush, just to see if I'd get caught. I'd almost wanted to. But I didn't. All the bad decisions. And that's only covering the last couple of weeks.

He presses his lips together and takes a step closer to me. “Be careful, Jess. Okay?”

I can barely breathe. I have an urge to confess that sometimes I don't even know who I am anymore. That sometimes I'm so caught up in pretending to be someone else that I don't feel anything at all. And that's why I test myself. To see if I'm still alive.

“I wish I had a little brother,” I say instead of blurting out the rest.

“I'll share him,” he says. “As long as you don't lose him again.”

I cover my smile with my hand. “Deal,” I say.

We're staring at each other again. As if we're really seeing each other. My stomach is a mess. Hormone alert. I focus my gaze on his bracelet.

“You're allergic to something?” I ask, pointing at it, the red symbol.

He covers it with his other hand. “Nope.” He looks at me.

The air around him is sparkling and sizzling with an invisible energy. I wonder if he knows.

“It was my dad's,” he says softly. “He gave it to me before he died.” He hesitates. “I don't usually tell people that.”

“I'm glad you told me,” I whisper back. My whole body tingles and I wonder what the hell I'm doing. Am I flirting? In Stella's office? But no, it's not even flirting. Not really. I'm being honest. We're connecting. And I realize with a flush that I want to kiss him more than I've ever wanted to kiss any other boy. My cheeks light up. I have a knack for the inappropriate.

“Jess?” Sunny pops her head into the office and crosses her arms when she sees the two of us standing together. “We need you in the kitchen.”

I take a step away from Flynn.

“Stella wants you to go get Kyle,” she tells Flynn. “It's lunchtime in minutes. Jess, come on. You need to get your scrawny butt out there.”

Sunny waits, a hard gleam in her eyes, until I'm walking, and then she spins and leads me to the kitchen, grabs a black-and-green striped apron hanging from a hook, and shoves it in my stomach. I put it on and tie it around my waist. “The stripes are the server's aprons.” She pushes me to the other side of the kitchen. “You have tables one to six. The family section. Get the salads to their tables first. We already sat your first group at the tables. Don't be late again.”