Keep Me Still (9 page)

T
hree
weeks later, neither of us has mentioned the events of Thanksgiving. But things are different. Easier somehow. The high school marching band goes by, playing our school fight song. Landen’s arms wrap me from behind, and I’m dizzy from inhaling his cologne and clean soap smell. His full lips barely graze the side of my neck, just above my scarf, and my knees go weak. He’s getting braver. Probably because I never stop him. I press my backside closer against him, relishing in the closeness.

“Easy,” he mumbles into my ear, the deep soft cadence of his voice sending a shockwave of pleasure vibrating through my core.

“I’m really not,” I say, twisting around so I can grin at him.

“Tell me about it,” he grumbles, squeezing me tighter around the waist.

I giggle as I turn back to watch the parade. Landen O’Brien has turned me into a girl that giggles. Wonders never cease. It’s cold out, colder than usual this time of year, but in Landen’s arms I’m warm. Safe. The safest I’ve felt since my parents held my hands moments before a stranger took them from me.

I’m so grateful for him in this moment that I barely stifle a shudder at the thought of how I almost lost him. Almost didn’t let him in. I tried to push him away after Homecoming. But he wouldn’t be pushed. He showed up every day to drive me to school. Stalked me to every doctor’s appointment. Okay, maybe not stalked, but showed up and refused to leave my side. Pestered me to death in class, until I couldn’t avoid him anymore. And then his own dark secret came out on Thanksgiving, and much to many a cheerleader’s dismay, I was his and he was mine.

I see the darkness in him, and the light, and I want it all. And tonight I’m going to tell him. That I love him and I’m ready. I want him to be my first kiss, and maybe when we’re both ready—or when I’m ready because I’m pretty sure he was ready like
yesterday
—the first man I sleep with.

I’ve almost had two seizures since Homecoming. One when two sophomores got into a fight next to my locker and one of them banged his head on a metal door beside me. And another time when they shot off fireworks I wasn’t expecting after our last home football game. Both times Landen was there, wrapping his arms around me like they are now and whispering in my ear.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Both times he kept me still. The tremors came and went but no full-blown seizures like before. Even the doctors can’t explain it in medical terms. But they think my PTSD stems from being afraid of what was about to happen to me, from feeling unsafe and alone. Landen is my cure. I snuggle into him even closer, and a satisfied yet pained groan escapes his throat.

My stomach is tied in knots of anticipation at the thought of Landen’s mouth on mine, his tongue inside of me. I’m nervous and a little scared. Scared of crossing a line I’ll never be able to come back from. Scared it will change things. He’s my best friend—heck, my only friend if I’m being honest—and I can’t imagine my life without him.

But right now, with his body pressed against mine and his breath on my neck, I can’t imagine anything that would ever separate us.

He knows about my parents, my seizures, and I know about his dad. Something about knowing each other’s darkest, ugliest truths has made us even closer than any kiss ever could.

And we’re both going to UGA next year—together. Staring at his hands, I wish we didn’t have gloves on so I could feel his skin now. But I know I will later. A little shiver passes through me and he leans down and murmurs into my ear again.

“Cold?”

His voice has my insides turning to molten lava and I can’t speak so I just shake my head no. He holds me tighter anyways and I’m glad. His grip is the only thing keeping me anchored to Earth. Otherwise I’d probably float off into outer space from being so full of lightness for the first time in so long.

If we weren’t pressed up against each other so tightly, I might not have felt the shift in his stature when his shoulders went stiff.

“Fuck me,” he mutters under his breath, and I almost say “maybe one day,” just to see his reaction. But his eyes are tight when I turn in his arms and his mouth is set in a grim line. It’s an expression I’ve only seen him wear around his asshole of a dad so I search the crowd for the Colonel.

But I don’t see him. The parade is ending and the crowd thins around us as we turn to leave.

“Landen.” I tug on his gloved hand so he’ll slow down, but he’s like a man possessed. When a couple about our age appears in front of us, he squeezes my hand so hard it hurts.

“O’Brien, long time no see, man,” a shaggy-haired guy says, reaching out a hand. I hear Landen suck in a breath just before the dark-haired, dark-eyed girl with him launches herself at Landen and kisses him square on the mouth. His hand drops mine and I’m lost in an undertow of confusion and pain. It’s a chaste kiss but it slams into me like a punch to my gut. Because it was mine. The kiss she just stole.
He’s
mine. Or so I thought.

“Your mom called our mom and said you guys were moving back so we decided it was time for a road trip and came to help you pack,” the girl says, smiling up at my…Landen.

It’s too much to process at once and my head swims. Who is this girl? And he’s moving? Back? Back where?

“Layla,” Landen says, grabbing my hand and pulling me forward into the little group. “This is Tuck and Danni Anderson, friends of mine from Colorado.” Maybe I imagine it, wishful thinking and all that, but it seems like he puts special emphasis on
friends.
“Guys, this is Layla Flaherty,” he tells them while I stand open-mouthed, trying to think straight.

Colorado then. He’s moving back to Colorado and he didn’t even bother to tell me.

“Hi,” I say quietly, waiting for more of an explanation.

“I was going to tell you, tonight, about…everything,” Landen says, directing his words solely at me. But I can’t make my tongue work to formulate a response.

“Aw hell,” the Tuck guy says, running a hand through his hair. “We’ll meet you back at the hotel, man. Let you guys talk.” He shoots Landen an apologetic look and says that it’s nice to meet me. I parrot his words because my brain’s not able to come up with any of my own.

Danni
runs her eyes over Landen and her mouth forms a tiny smile. “Sorry to accost you like that. Just thought it’d be a nice surprise.” If she’s looking for confirmation, Landen doesn’t offer any. Just nods and says that he’ll see them later.

Once we’re alone in the cab of his truck, it comes on slow, gradually getting louder until the ringing in my ears drowns out everything else. But I’m not about to seize out. No, this is much worse. I’m about to do the one thing I haven’t allowed myself to do in front of anyone since my parents were killed. I’m about to cry.

“I
t’s
not what you think,” I tell her in the cab of my truck after Danni and Tuck appeared out of nowhere and ruined my life.

“Okay,” she says softly and I don’t miss the tremor in her voice. She’s fighting to keep her eyes dry, swallowing hard and waiting for me to explain. I take a deep breath and give it my best shot.

“My mom is leaving my dad. He’s a bastard, as you well know. And she’s had enough. ‘Bout fucking time right?” Air escapes my lungs in a snorted huff, but she doesn’t speak so I keep talking. “She’s going back to Colorado. Day after tomorrow. She had a job there and they want her back. She wants me to go with her, and Layla, honestly, I don’t want to. But my dad went pretty ballistic when she dropped the bomb. It’s not like I have a ton of options here.” Yanking my gloves off, I reach out to touch her. She flinches back so I rake my hands through my hair instead.

“When were you going to tell me?” she asks without looking at me. She’s staring at her hands and she’s that girl again. The one she was when I first got here, pulling into herself, throwing up walls. Back then they were brick; now they’re steel, double reinforced, impenetrable.

“Tonight. I wanted you to enjoy the parade. Then I was going to take you home and tell you and your aunt about my situation. Because this isn’t the end, babe. You know that, right? I want to talk with Kate about you coming to visit and maybe making the trip to meet halfway.”

“You know I don’t drive, Landen,” is all she says, and her voice is so empty I’m dying. It’s far, fuck, I realize that. But what I feel for this girl isn’t geographical. I’ve had that before.
So long, see ya, it was fun
. It’s all I’ve ever had. Until now. This isn’t that. And we’ve already both committed to UGA in the fall. As soon as my mom told me what was going on, I started looking for jobs I could get and apartments I could live in this summer so I could move back as early as possible.

But she’s acting like I just said I’m moving to the moon. And won’t be back. Ever.

“That’s what planes are for,” I say, begging her to smile with my eyes.

“You should probably head onto the hotel so you can pack.” The chill in her voice leaves me cold. No. Fuck this.

“Layla.” Her name is a plea on my lips, and I’m reaching out to grasp her face. I’ve waited—God knows I’ve waited—for her to be ready, but she needs to know how I feel and she needs to know now. Leaning closer, I breathe in her sweet scent, licking my lips in anticipation. But she jerks out of my grasp and scoots away from me.

“I’m ready to go home now.”

“No, dammit. Tell me what to do. You want me to stay? I’ll stay. I’ll sleep in my truck in the goddamn school parking lot.” Without my permission, my hands slam into the steering wheel. She flinches next to me and I feel like an asshole—like my dad. “This isn’t my choice,” I tell her, knowing I sound like a dick. But I’m out of ideas.

I watch as the silent figure of a girl next to me chews her bottom lip. It’s not fair—she’s pissed and hurt. I get it. But she’s punishing me for something I have no control over. Sort of. I’m eighteen. I’ve thought of refusing to go and trying to find a place of my own, getting a job. But what kind of time would I have for her then? None. And what if I lost my job, or my grades dropped and they rescinded my scholarship? She can’t see it now, but I do have plans of a future with her, and I’m still protecting those plans with everything I’m worth.

Until she sets them on fire and scatters the ashes out the window.

“It’s fine, Landen. I overreacted. Friends can live in different states—that’s what the Internet’s for, right?” She waves a hand in front of her, batting my heart out of the way. “But I’m tired, so I’d like to go home please.”

She forces her lips to smile, but I can see the pain in her eyes, as hard as she tries to hide it. We’re back there again, where we hide things from each other and pretend we don’t care.
Friends.
Fantastic.

W
hen
I pull into her driveway, my mind is flooded with irrational thoughts. I’ll tell her I love her, throw myself on the lawn and refuse to go, propose. Shit. Something. But she’s still stiff and non-responsive. Barely offering me half-hearted smiles and nods as I tell her about the scene at my house earlier today when my mom lost her shit and finally stood up for herself. For me. She’s not even listening. If I followed through on any of my crazy ideas, she’d probably just step over my body and go inside.

Maybe I misread
everything
. Maybe she really just needed me as a friend and that’s all it was. Is. Rusted razor blades skinning me alive would feel better than this. But no matter what happens tonight, or tomorrow, or whenever, I promise myself I will always be a friend to this girl if that’s what she wants. If she’ll have me.

I turn the key in the ignition to turn the truck off, but it’s not necessary. Layla leans over, giving me one last whiff of her and a peck on the check. She whispers, “Have a safe trip. I’ll miss you.” And then she’s out of my reach.

So long, see ya, it was fun.

What the hell?
She’s out of the truck and at her door before I can form a complete thought.

I get out and cross the lawn just as she shuts the door behind her. She didn’t even look back.

Raising my hand to knock, I hear her aunt’s voice from the other side. “Layla? Jesus, what’s wrong?”

And then I hear it. Oh God. The sobbing sounds almost like an animal. An injured one. She held it in the whole way home but I broke her. I broke the girl I’d worked so hard to help. She didn’t cry when everyone at school treated her like a leper. Didn’t shed a single tear when she told me about her parents. And yet her cheek was damp the night she saw my dad hit me and she’s falling apart right this second.
Because of me.
Weakened by the realization that all I cause her is pain, I sit on her front steps with my head in my hands like a fucking lunatic. Because I can’t fix it this time. I won’t be around to pick up the pieces of her heart. Because I’m leaving. Like always.

Because you fuck everything up. When will you stop being so goddamn selfish
? The Colonel’s message finally comes through loud and clear.

I
’m
loading the U-Haul in the hotel parking lot with Tuck when my phone buzzes in my pocket. Mom said the Colonel is having them shut off and we’ll get new ones as soon as we can afford it, but apparently mine still works. I’ve been planning all night what to say to Layla, how to make things right before I leave. Trying to figure out my options in case she asks me not to. Because if she so much as hints that she wants me to stay, that she needs me to, then I’m staying. But when I look at the screen and read the two words she’s sent in response to all my pathetic begging and pleading messages, there’s nothing left to say.

Goodbye Landen.

I can practically see her reaching up to touch her scar. Her permanent reminder of what I tried so hard to convince her wasn’t true. Only to turn around and prove that it is.
Everyone can leave.

I stare at her message. I know what it is. It’s closure for her. The kind she’ll never have with her parents. I would’ve stayed, figured something out if she needed me. She doesn’t. So she’s letting me leave.

Layla and Landen’s story continues in
the full-length
New Adult novel KEEP ME STILL
.