My Sweetest Escape (33 page)

Read My Sweetest Escape Online

Authors: Chelsea M. Cameron

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary, #General

BOOK: My Sweetest Escape
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fun now. And I used to be no fun at all.” He

took my hands and pulled me to my feet.

“You ready, Red?” He got in a position

that made me think of runners preparing to

sprint.

I copied him, getting down. “Ready.”

“And…GO!” We both took off running

and then slammed on the brakes, trying not

to crash into each other and also to keep

our balance. I made it down the hallway,

and Dusty got all the way into the kitchen.

“No fair,” I said as he moved backward

to the door to prepare to go again.

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” he said,

getting down. I joined him at the door and

we went again, but this time I tried to push

him but he dodged me and I ended up not

going very far.

“Cheaters never prosper, Red.”

“Whatever.”

“Oh, don’t pout. It’s too cute. Here.” He

held out his hands and we faced each other.

He started running backward and I planted

my feet. I was afraid he was going to trip on

something, but I was too busy squealing as

he pulled me along the length of the

apartment.

“Again!” I said the second we stopped.

“Let’s try this.” He went and got my

sweatshirt and tied it tight around his waist

and then had me hold the end. It reminded

me a bit of sled-dog racing. He took off and

I slid along behind him. Dusty was

right—the new socks worked great.

We went again and again until we were

both panting and laughing too hard to keep

going. We both fell on the couch and he put

his arm around me and pulled me close.

“Is this allowed?” I said, turning my face

and looking at him.

“I think I can control myself. For the

moment. We might need to bring out

Napoleon again.” As if he’d heard his name,

Napoleon mewed from Dusty’s bedroom.

“Poor little guy. I’ll go get him.”

I opened the door to Dusty’s bedroom

and I heard him rustling around in my candy

bucket.

“You’d better not be sticking your paws

in my candy bucket,” I yelled out, taking my

chance to look around his tiny bedroom.

There was about enough room for his bed

and that was about it, except for a dresser,

a basket of laundry and a few knickknacks. I

picked up the crying Napoleon and cuddled

him.

“It’s okay, buddy.” I gave him a kiss and

he licked my face.

“Thanks, I needed that.” I wasn’t

snooping, exactly, but I was curious about

Dusty. I still knew so little about him.

He was cleaner than I thought he’d be. I

saw one lone picture frame on his dresser

and picked it up.

It was of Dusty, a few years ago, with his

arm slung around another guy. A guy I

knew.

The picture frame slipped out of my

hand and crashed on the floor.

“Jos!” Dusty heard the crash of the glass

and rushed in.

“What happened?”

“N-nothing. I just… I dropped

something.”

“Be careful. Come over here. I don’t

want you to step on the glass.” He moved

me aside, since we were both still wearing

just our socks.

“I’ll get the broom,” he said, leaving me

standing there, still holding the kitten.

How was it possible? Why would they be

in the same picture? Clearly, they were

close if they were in the same picture.

“Who is that, in the picture?” I blurted

out when he came back. I saved myself

from saying his name.

“What?” He stopped, his arm holding

the broom out.

“The other guy in that picture. How do

you know him?”

And then he said the thing that pulled

the world out from under me.

“He’s my brother.”

I nearly dropped Napoleon. Nathan was

Dusty’s brother.

How was that even
possible?

I opened my mouth, but nothing came

out. Just one thought ran through my head.

One line, over and over.
Get
out, get out,

get out.

“I—I have to go. Right now.” I set

Napoleon on his bed and shoved past him.

“Jos, what’s wrong?” Everything.

Fucking everything. I grabbed my purse and

my keys and threw myself down the stairs

with abandon. If they collapsed and took

me with them, maybe that wouldn’t be

such a bad thing. Then I wouldn’t have to

ever explain to Dusty the reason I’d freaked

out and fled his house after dropping a

picture of his brother that I didn’t know he

had until he told me. A brother that was

now dead.

Dusty pounded down the stairs after

me, but I had a head start.

Shit, I didn’t even have my shoes on. I

got in my car and peeled away from his

house, heading for the only place I could

think to go. Tears streamed down my face

as I drove, and I had to keep wiping them

away with my hand so I could see and not

crash into someone. The snow was just

barely starting to float down from the sky,

but it was too warm still for it to actually

stick to the ground.

It was a miracle of epic proportions that

I made it to the parking lot near Hannah’s

dorm without killing and/or maiming myself

or anyone else. I didn’t even know which

room she was in, so I just sent her a text

saying I needed to talk and asking if she was

in her room.

She responded immediately, and then a

short time later she was at the front door,

holding it open for me, since my University

key card didn’t work for her building. When

she saw my tears she pulled me inside and I

was crushed into a hug.

“Sweetie, where are your shoes?”

I was still wearing the brand-new socks,

which, by now, were filthy.

“I left them somewhere.” My voice

sounded robotic.

“I have no idea why you’re crying, but

you look like you could seriously use a hug.

Let’s go upstairs. My roommate is gone.”

We took the stairs to the second floor

and walked down the second of what I

knew were four identical hallways that

jutted out from the center of the building.

I’d been here once before, and I’d needed

Hannah’s help to navigate that time, too.

On the campus map, Hannah’s building

looked disturbingly like a swastika.

She unlocked her door with her key and

pulled me inside.

“Sit. I’ll make you some tea and then we

can talk.” I flopped down on her futon and

grabbed one of the pillows.

Her laptop was open on her desk and

playing music that I recognized as The Black

Keys “Howlin’ for You.” I would have

complimented her on her choice in music,

but I was a little preoccupied.

My phone went off again. Dusty had

been blowing it up ever since I’d driven

away from his apartment. I’d thought I’d

seen him following me in his Golf, but I did

a little maneuvering and lost him by

pretending I was going to Yellowfield House

and then doubling back to Hannah’s.

Hannah’s microwave dinged and she

handed me a mug of Lemon Zinger tea.

“I started drinking it because of you.

We’re not allowed coffeepots, and

sometimes I’m too lazy to walk down to the

dining hall.” Even though the mug was

screaming hot, I held on to it for dear life.

Hannah sat down next to me and touched

my shoulder.

“What is it, Jos? Did something happen

with Dusty?”

My phone went off again.

“Is that him?” she said, and I nodded.

“Do you want to talk to him?” I shook my

head. Words weren’t my method of

communication right now. They were just

too much work.

Hannah picked up my phone, turned it

off and tossed it on her desk.

“There. Now you can talk, or not talk. If

you want to sit here and watch Buffy, we

can do that. Whatever you need.”

She stared at me and it was with so

much love and care that I started to cry

again. Dusty was right. I had all these

people in my life that would do anything for

me. I didn’t deserve it.

“I can’t tell you. I just… I can’t.” I’d

carried it for too long, this thing inside me.

I’d locked it away and shoved it aside, put it

to the back of my mind, where it sat there,

not letting me forget. It was a devious little

thing, always making itself known when I

least expected it, when I let my guard down

a little. It was always looking for an opening

to jump into my mouth and scream itself

out loud. I wouldn’t let it. Not now, not

ever.

“It’s okay, Jos. I understand the secret

thing. I seriously do. So what do you need?

You know, within reason.”

“I need…” What did I need? A fucking

time machine. A do-over. A different life.

“You gotta give me something, girl,

something I can do. I’m not good with this

emotion stuff. Like, you know how some

girls are, like, awesome at the consoling and

knowing the right things to say? I am not

one of those girls.” This made me almost

laugh, and given the circumstances, that

was something.

“I’m so confused, Hannah.” I stared at

the steam rising from the mug and took a

sip of the tea. It tasted of comfort and

home and waking up. If only it could solve

all my problems.

“I sorta got that. Reading between the

lines.” I had another sip of tea and started

to feel weird that Hannah was staring at

me, as if I was a bomb she was waiting to go

off.

“I’m not going to explode, you know.”

She shook her head back and forth.

“Yeah, I know. Like I said, I’m not good

with this kind of thing. So, I’m going to do

what I do when I am suffering from life

suckage—watch Buffy. It works. Every

time.” She got up and went to her DVD

collection and pulled down the first season

of Buffy. I couldn’t remember where we’d

stopped, but Hannah seemed to, so she put

in the disk and found the right episode and

hit Play.

And for some weird and unfathomable

reason, I stopped thinking about the ugly

thing in the back of my mind. I

acknowledged its presence, but I chose to

focus on something else instead. Like a

teenage girl fighting vampires. Too bad my

ugly thing wasn’t a vampire I could stake

that would just turn to ash. That would

make things a hell of a lot easier.

Bam, staked. Done.

As Buffy navigated the tangled web of

high school and vampire slaying with her

trusty sidekicks Willow and Xander and her

watcher, Giles, I wondered, distantly, if

Dusty had gone to the house, and if he had,

what he would say to them. It wasn’t like he

could tell them the whole story without

making himself look bad, so what would he

say? In a weird way, I hadn’t lied to Renee.

Here I was, at Hannah’s. Yes, we weren’t

working on a project, but I was where I said

I would be. I’d just made a stop in between.

I could have gotten over Dusty lying to

me. But this…

I couldn’t. He definitely wouldn’t, if he

knew. He’d never forgive me. He’d hate me.

It was way better for him to just think I was

a freak than to have him know that I was…

Yeah, it was much, much better to let

him think I was a freak.

“Are you hungry?” Hannah said. “I have

Skittles and crackers and we can raid my

roommate’s fancy cookies. She’ll never

know.” She went into her roommate’s

closet and pulled out a bag of Milano

cookies. I hadn’t had those in ages.

Hannah mentioning food reminded me

that I’d left the entire bucket of candy Dusty

had made for me. It was a loss, but there

was no way I was going to try to get it back.

She handed me the bag and I took out

one of the cookies and she took one for

herself.

“What size shoe are you?” I knew her

feet were several sizes bigger than mine.

“Six.”

“Perfect.” She got up and rooted around

under her roommate’s bed and handed me

a pair of cheap slip-on sneakers.

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