Nearly Found (15 page)

The door clicked shut. I whirled around. Reece leaned against it, his head tipped back. Like he’d been out there, listening the whole time. My heart skipped at the sight of him and I hated myself for it.

“We need to talk,” he said.

I closed the textbook. “How did you know I was here?”

“I was planning to find you at your locker after school, but I was running late. I saw you go upstairs, and I figured I’d wait for you—”

“So you followed me?”

He pushed himself off the door toward me, his face pinched with anger. “What is it with you that you expect the worst of me? I didn’t follow you! I followed Fowler.” Reece clenched his jaw, like he’d said more than he’d intended.

“Why were you following Jeremy?”

“Because clearly you two have been hanging out a lot together and I wanted to make sure . . .” His voice trailed off, and he swallowed. “I wanted to make sure it wasn’t anything more.”

I resisted the urge to touch him, to taste the jealousy I saw on his face. “I thought we were over all the sneaking around.”

“If you would talk to me, maybe I wouldn’t have to.” He looked away, as if ashamed, his gaze coming to rest on the whiteboard. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

I turned my back to him and tried wiping away the numbers, but the shadows of the message stuck stubbornly to the board. I sprayed it with the bottle of cleaning solution and told myself it was the isopropyl that made my eyes burn. “I could ask you the same.”

“This isn’t the same thing and you know it. This is about your safety, Leigh. This is about you not getting hurt.”

“Bullshit!” I threw the eraser at him, making him duck as it sailed past his head. “If you didn’t want me to get hurt, you would have told me about her! You would have told me you had feelings for someone else! I don’t owe you anything!”

“This isn’t about me, Nearly! It’s about you! I’ve been standing outside that door the entire time. I heard everything! Reggie Wiles is out on parole. Someone’s broken into your trailer. Twice! You’re being threatened. And now someone’s dug a body out of the ground and carved it up like a goddamn Christmas goose, gift-wrapped with a message for you, and you think there’s anything more important to me than that?” His eyes flashed icy blue, his mouth close to mine. So close, I thought my heart would break.

“Are you finished?” I asked through a thin breath.

He shut his eyes and reached for my hand, but I pulled away. He was right when he’d warned me that there are some things you just can’t un-see. And now, every time I looked at him, I’d see her face behind his shoulder. Every time he reached for my hand, I’d know she’d held it too. She’d held it, without ever having to feel what he made me feel. “You can’t fix this,” I said.

“Maybe not,” he whispered. “But I can keep you safe.” I could smell the sweet mint gum on his breath. The one he used to cover the smell of cigarettes and beer that followed him home when he’d been narcing. Because he knew how much I hated them. I looked up, secretly checking the smooth planes of his neck as I did, looking for a trail of hickeys, then berating myself for the relief I felt when there weren’t any there. I hated myself for still wanting him. For wanting to forgive him. Maybe he could keep me safe, but safe wasn’t the same as unharmed.

“How?” I said, forcing my gaze from his lips. “You can’t possibly know Reggie’s next move.”

Reece thought for a minute, staring at the hazy numbers on the whiteboard behind me. “No, but there may be one person who does.”

M
Y MOTHER WAS STILL SLEEPING
when Alex’s Charger pulled up in front of my trailer that Saturday morning. I’d spent the last three days trying to work up the nerve to tell her where I was going. Instead, I made up a lie about spending the weekend at Gena’s place.

I grabbed my backpack, containing a change of clothes and a toothbrush, opened the back door of Alex’s car and slung it in. Reece glowered with his arm stretched across the seat back. I wedged my backpack in the space between us and rolled my eyes at Gena. I had made it very clear I didn’t want him to come, even if it had been his idea. She wore a sly smile in the visor mirror.

“Don’t be like that,” she scolded me. “He’s worried about you, Leigh. He insisted on coming.”

I leaned against the car door, as far from Reece as possible. He smelled cool and confident, like shower gel and shaving cream, and his T-shirt looked soft, as if it was fresh from the dryer. I rested my head against the window, trying not to breathe him in, resisting the urge to curl under his arm until all of this was over.

Gena craned her neck to look at me as Alex pulled out of Sunny View. She pushed her sunglasses down and stared at me over the rims. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Her smooth forehead was pinched with worry, making her look much closer to her real age than she usually did.

“You’re the one who said I should talk to someone,” I said.

Alex’s gray eyes watched me in the rearview mirror. Reece had agreed not to tell them about the notes and the break-ins. If they knew the truth—any of it—they never would have agreed to this. As far as they were concerned, I needed this trip to put TJ’s crimes behind me. To look him in the eyes, find closure, and move on. Gena had been concerned enough about my mental state to agree. And Alex had pulled strings to get us a pass into Powell Ridge.

“I need to do this,” I said, more to myself than the rest of them. As much as I hated to admit it, Reece was right. No one would know Reggie Wiles like his own son. And if anyone was helping Reggie, TJ might be the only person to know who, and how they were pulling it off.

Reece frowned out the window. “I don’t like this,” he grumbled. “The guy is a sociopath. He tried to kill you. This is a bad idea.”

“She’ll be monitored the whole time. He won’t be able to hurt her,” Gena reassured him.

“If he does, I’m holding both of you responsible.”

“Hey, don’t take it out on Gena. This was your idea,” I said.

His arm slid off the seat back and folded over his chest. “Don’t remind me.”

The rest of the six-hour drive to Powell Ridge was mostly silent. Reece’s phone buzzed repeatedly, and he cursed under his breath every time he took it from his pocket, before sending the caller to voicemail. I wanted to pitch it out the window. I pretended not to care.

Alex pulled off the highway and into the parking lot of a small country diner with an adjacent motel, just south of Blacksburg, where we planned to stop for the night. Gena got out of the car and stretched. Alex leaned on the roof, watching the slope of her arched back with a content smile.

“You go get us a table,” she said, batting her lashes. “I’m going next door to get us a couple of rooms.”

A couple of rooms? Meaning two? Reece raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t get any ideas, Romeo.” Gena shook a finger at him. “One room for the girls, and one for the guys. And if you’re lucky, they’ll have two double beds, so you don’t have to share.”

Alex’s and Reece’s faces fell.

“I’d rather sleep on the floor,” Reece muttered.

“That can be arranged.” Alex locked the car and walked into the diner. Gena headed across the parking lot to the motel.

I started toward the diner, but Reece pulled me up short. “I was hoping we’d have some time alone. To talk. I know what it looked like . . . what you think you saw . . . but that’s not how it was.” I looked through the windows into the diner. Then at the motel. Gena would be back any minute with the room keys and Alex was waiting inside.

“Later? Please?” he asked.

I nodded, too tired from the long trip and from carrying around all of our unspoken words to argue. “Later,” I agreed.

• • •

That night, Gena and I sat propped up on pillows on an oversized bed. She pointed the remote at the TV, clicking absently through the channels with the sound muted.

“Sorry,” she said. “They only had one room left with doubles. I thought about making the boys take the king.” She smiled wickedly. “But then I figured someone would probably be dead by morning. And that wouldn’t be good. Don’t worry, I don’t snore. But Alex says sometimes I hog the covers.” She paused at a reality TV show I’d never seen before, skipped past it, and settled on a cooking program. Then she rolled her pants cuffs to her calves, spread a hand towel over the comforter, opened a bottle of deep red nail polish, and began carefully stroking on a first coat.

“Okay, girlie,” she said when she was finished. She put the wand back in the bottle and capped it. “Alex told me what happened at the station with that chick in lockup.” Gena wiped a spot of paint from her cuticle. “You want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Great, let’s talk anyway.” She grabbed the remote and turned off the TV.

I picked at the comforter. “When you and Alex were working undercover, did you ever see him do something that made you doubt him?”

Gena bit her lip. “I thought we were talking about you.”

“We are.”

“What did you see?”

I tucked my knees to my chest. “Reece and that girl. They were holding hands.”

I was taken aback by the abrupt shift in Gena’s tone. “No. That’s an oversimplification. You saw more than that.”

I pulled at a thread. “It was only a minute. We didn’t even talk.”

“Think, Leigh. You’re smart. You’re aware. Close your eyes. Put yourself back in that place. Focus on the details.”

“The details suck.” I didn’t want to dig them up. If I let them stay buried, I could forget they ever happened. I shut my eyes, mostly because I didn’t want Gena to see me cry.

“Start simple. What were they wearing?” she asked, as if she were sitting on the other side of an interrogation room rather than the other side of a hotel bed.

I described Reece’s worn gray T-shirt. I told Gena about the girl. How her hair clung to his cheek when she rested her chin on his shoulder. The slinky way she twined her fingers with his and wrapped herself around him, entirely too comfortable and familiar. The way he took her hand, a little too hard, and led her away.

“So what you’re saying is that you saw her put her arms around him?”

I cracked an eye open. “Yes, but—”

Gena held up a finger and I closed it again. “Answer the question.”

“Yes.”

“And you saw her hold his hand?”

“Yes.”

“And you saw him forcefully take hers for the purpose of dragging her pathetic clingy ass out the door?”

“Yes.”

“So what you didn’t see is Reece touch her in any affectionate manner?”

“No.”

“And you didn’t see him looking like he enjoyed having her all pressed up against his shit?”

I wanted to say yes so badly. If only to validate my feelings, but I couldn’t. “No, but—”

“No buts,” Gena said, taking me gently by chin. Her touch was cool and certain, sprinkled with compassion. It soothed the lump in my throat. I opened my eyes.

“Sometimes, the things we don’t see are more important than the ones we do. You’re looking for evil everywhere, and I get it. I do. Your father betrayed you. Your mother wasn’t honest with you. Your best friends turned their back on you. Your neighbor tried to kill you. None of us, not even me and Alex and Reece, turned out to be the people you thought we were. After everything you’ve been through, you don’t want to be blindsided again, so you’re looking for reasons not to trust people. But you’re seeing things that aren’t there. All those times you called me and thought you saw Reggie? That’s your fear taking hold of you, making you see terrible things. Not everyone is a monster. Not everyone is out to hurt you. And all these doubts you’re having about Reece? That’s just your fear talking too.” The room was quiet as she let that sink in. “He loves you. Try to remember that when you talk to him.” She looked at her watch. I started at a soft rap on the door.

Gena leaped to her feet and pulled her cuffs back to her ankles. “We have a long day tomorrow. Don’t let him stay too late,” she said with a cautionary expression that said more than she did. She opened the door and walked barefoot past Reece to the adjacent room.

Reece stood in the doorway, looking awkward and uncertain. “Can I come in?”

I nodded, pulling a pillow into my lap. He sat down gently on the edge of the bed with his shoulders hunched, his long, dark lashes lowered toward the floor. The winding thistle tattoo tensed over the lean muscles of his forearm, his hands gripping the mattress as if he were afraid I might change my mind and ask him to go.

I squeezed the pillow. Watched his lips part, and then close again while he struggled to find words. It had been so long since we’d talked like this, alone in a bedroom. His dark hair had begun to grow in, full and soft at the nape of his neck and around the curl of his ear. I took a long, thin breath, and breathed in the citrus and sandalwood smell of his cologne.

“I know what you think you saw,” he said again. The words were gravelly and deep. He closed his eyes and the muscles moved in his throat, like he was swallowing something painful.

“And I know it must have looked really bad. But you have to know, I would trade the eight hours I spent in that holding cell with her for one minute . . .” He took a deep, trembling breath. “One minute just to hold you.”

His eyes misted over. I wanted so badly to believe him.

I swung my feet over the edge of the bed and stood in front of him. Before I could think, I laid my hand on the back of his neck. His sadness was a rush of salt water around something small and granular and sweet. His arm circled my waist. He held me to him, pressing his head to my chest.

“You were right about one thing.” He lifted his head, and my heart tightened. “I should have told you from the beginning—before the school year started—that you might . . . see things that might make you doubt the way I feel about you. But you were wrong about everything else. I don’t have feelings for her. And I never
did
anything . . . would never
do
anything . . . with her or anyone else, that would compromise what I have with you.”

I felt a tear slide down my cheek.

“Tell me how to fix this,” he pleaded, brushing it away with his thumb. “I need you. I need
us
. I can’t do this anymore without you.”

He pulled me onto his lap and pressed his forehead to mine, his nose lightly grazing my chin, then my lips. His eyes closed as his mouth brushed mine, warm and sweet and wanting. He held me closer, his mouth opening, his lips tugging at mine. I kissed him slowly.

“Say the word,” he whispered into my neck, “and I’ll call Nicholson right now and tell him I’m out.”

I pulled away and stood up. “No! You can’t do that. He’ll put you back in jail for obstruction of justice.” Going back to jail would kill him. It would kill us both. “We’ll find another way to fix this.”

“How? I’d rather do my time and hope you’ll take me back when it’s over than keep doing things that hurt you.”

“What if—what if you tell me everything next time?” I said. “Even the things you think I don’t want to hear. And when you’re working, you try to stay out of places where I might be. I’m not trying to think the worst of you. But you and Mom and Gena . . . you all need to stop trying to protect my feelings. You need to be honest with me.”

“Can you trust me?” he asked.

“I promise to try.” Reece’s arm circled my waist and he drew me close again.

“I love you,” he murmured. I pressed my lips to his hair and whispered that I loved him too. He pulled me back onto his lap, his breath warm against my neck.

I shivered when his hands slipped under the hem of my shirt, sliding over my shoulder blades, holding me closer. He brushed his lips softly against mine. Then his tongue slowly traced the edges until I thought I would break in two.

I knotted my fingers in his shirt and I drew it up over his head. His brother’s pendant fell back in place between us, heavy against his chest. His back was warm and smooth, his arms strong around me. I dipped to kiss the smooth pink scar on his shoulder, dotting a slow trail over the silver chain at his collarbone, then over his neck. Reece moaned softly, his hands sliding up my sides and easing off my shirt.

Clutching it in his hand, he sank back onto the mattress. Then he rolled me beneath him, so the warm length of his body molded against my own. Our eyes held. He stroked the hair from my face, his finger caressing my cheek, then my neck, pausing only to trace the bare skin over my heart. Every touch was deliberate, careful and sweet. Filled with all the truth inside him.

I closed my eyes and pulled his mouth to mine. His fingers closed around my hair. His kiss was hot salt water, sadness, and need. I kissed him until the lines blurred between us. I touched him until I believed.

• • •

We lay together on top of the comforter in the dark, my head against his chest and my legs tangled up with his, Reece’s thumb stroking the length of my arm. My eyelids were heavy and the red numbers on the clock on the nightstand glowed too brightly.

“Gena will be back soon,” I said quietly.

His lips were soft against my forehead. “Let me stay,” he whispered. “Just for a while longer. I’ll let you sleep. I just . . .” My head gently rose and fell with the swell of emotion in his chest.

“Okay,” I whispered, my eyes drifting shut and my breath slowing to the beat of his heart. “Just until Gena comes back.”