Ruin Me (59 page)

“Got a little scary there for a second,” I say.

“I had it under control.”

“I don’t mean the fight.”

He looks at me and flexes his jaw. “I wasn’t expecting you to be there,” he mutters.

“You seemed…” I pause, “angry with me.”

“I was.”

“Like you were going to hit me—”

“I’d never hit you, Claire,” he says quickly.

“Are you still angry now?”

He takes a long, deep breath. “No,” he finally says.

I nod slowly. “Why not?”

“Do you want me to be?”

“No.”

He smiles and steps a little closer to me. “I have more important things to worry about than you.”

I blink. “Ouch?”

“It’s not meant to be an insult,” he says. “It’s just the truth.”

My body trembles against the wooden door. Feeling unwanted has become a familiar feeling to me these last few weeks. My mother didn’t want to put up with me anymore. My stepfather sure as hell wanted to see me gone and jumped at the first opportunity he had to get rid of me. Charlie’s pretty good at not showing it, but I get the feeling he’d rather not have me around either. And now, it’s Tobias’ turn to reject me. I’m not sure why I’m so surprised.

Rick really is the only one that wants me around at all.

“I should get inside,” I mutter. “Congratulations on your win.”

He reaches out and grabs my wrist. “Claire—”

I pause with my fingertips on the handle. “What?” I ask with my eyes down.

“Look at me.”

Hesitation takes hold of my chest. “I have to get some sleep—”

He reaches out and grabs my other wrist to draw me forward. “Claire, I would
never
hit you,” he says. I look up into his deep, green eyes. “I want you to know that.”

His voice sends shivers down my spine. “Okay…” I whisper. He slowly drops my wrist, but I let them linger between us.

“Goodnight,” he says.

I leave the barn and walk silently back to the house.

***

I raise the pitchfork above my head and set it back where it belongs on the wall. That’s Charlie’s number one rule, after all.
Put everything back where you found it.

The barn is hot and muggy. The sun blazes in the summer sky, so warm I can barely stand it, but I don’t want to take a break. It’s just after noon and I’m not even close to being done with my chores. Let’s just say the memory of Tobias’ eyes drilling down into mine has left me feeling rather distracted the last few days.

I turn to leave, but I catch sight of the punching bag in the corner once again.

My feet carry me over to it. I reach out and push the leather shell with my fingers. It floats back and forth slightly but quickly comes to a stop. I ball my hands into fists, stopping for a moment to make sure my thumbs aren’t on the inside. I twist into a fighting stance, just like Tobias taught me, and throw a single, solid punch into the bag.

“Protect your face.”

I drop my hands and spin around to see Tobias standing in the barn doorway. “Hey—!” I gasp.

He nods and steps over to his motorbike. “Been practicing?” he asks as he reaches into his pocket for his keys.

“Not really, no,” I answer. He grips the handlebars and starts to push the bike out of the barn. I follow slowly behind him. “Going out?” I ask. “It’s a little early in the day for you, isn’t it?”

“I have an errand to run,” he mutters as he throws a leg over the seat and sits down.

I smile and put a bad southern drawl on my voice. “Where you going? Down to the sock hop with Sally May?”

He chuckles. “Your knowledge of small town life is really outdated.”

“Enlighten me then.”

“Well, for starters,” he says, “we don’t do sock hops during the summer.”

“Uh-huh,” I nod.

“And Sally May is kind of a bitch.”

I laugh. “I stand corrected.” I bite my lip. “Where else do you run off to at night?”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“Well, you’re gone like every night. Fights only happen once a week. You have a girlfriend or something?”

His lips curl and he leans in closer to speak at a whisper. “You know, I actually
do
work at the automobile factory across town.”

“No shit?”

“A few nights a week,” he nods. “It’s called having a cover.”

“You really do take this whole secret identity thing seriously, don’t you?” I joke.

He stares back at me and offers a quick smile. It’s strange to see him in broad daylight like this. He appears brighter and warmer, almost like an entirely different person. “Here,” he says as he reaches into his jacket pocket. He pulls out a silver device with a pair of small ear-bud headphones wrapped around it.

“What’s this?” I ask as he hands it to me.

“My old music player,” he says. “Found it stashed away in a drawer. I thought you might get some use out of it.”

I inspect the device, noticing the small scratches on its face. “
Old
being the key word,” I joke. “What is this, a generation 2?”

“Hey, if you don’t want it—”

“No, no,” I say, clutching it tight against my breast. “It’s fine.”

“It’s better than silence,” he says.

“What’s on it?”

“None of that rap or princess pop you city kids are used to,” he smiles, “but put it on shuffle and you should find something you like.”

“Tobias…” I twist my voice back into my awful southern impression. “Did you make me a mix tape?”

“I have to run,” he says, rolling his eyes. He shoves the key in and starts the motorbike. “Don’t let my dad see that.”

“Oh, Tobias! You’re so keen!” He revs the engine loudly to cover my voice. I drop the accent. “Tobias!” The engine falls back down to a dull rumble and he glances back at me. “Thank you,” I tell him.

“You’re welcome, Claire.” He slides the helmet over his head.

I take a step back and let him ride away. Gravel kicks up behind him, creating a white cloud of dust that follows him all the way down to the highway. I glance back at the house, suddenly feeling like I’m holding a nuclear bomb in my hands. I stuff the player in my jeans pocket as I quickly scan the house to make sure Charlie isn’t watching.

***

“Claire—”

I look up from my book. “What?” I ask.

Charlie stands in the kitchen doorway with the telephone against his ear. “It’s for you,” he says as he points it at me.

I set my book down on the table and stand up from my seat. “I get phone calls now?” I ask as I step closer.

“It’s your mother.”

“Oh.” I pause my stride. “Can you take a message? Tell her I’m out or something.”

Charlie furrows his brow and shoves the phone in my direction. “You don’t go out.”

I hold out my hand and reluctantly take the phone from him. As badly as I’d like to get out of this place, talking to my mother isn’t something I’ve longed to do since she abandoned me here. The long cable bounces around as I bring the old phone to my ear. “Hello?” I mutter.

“Claire, honey…” My mother speaks with a low voice, just above a whisper, almost as if she’s hiding in a closet. “How are you?”

“I’m alive,” I say, offering nothing more.

“Well…” she chuckles slightly. “I know that.”

“What do you want, Mom?” I catch Charlie watching me, so I step away, but I can’t get too far from him with a land line phone.

“I just wanted to know how my daughter is doing,” she says. “Is that so crazy?”

“I haven’t heard from you in two weeks…”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Your stepfather thought it’d be a good idea to give you some space—”

“Because he’s just so full of
good
ideas, right?” I bite.

“Claire—”

“Please don’t call here again, Mom. I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Honey, please—”

“No,” I say. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? The bad seed is finally out of your hair.”

“That’s not true, Claire. I want what’s best for you. I want to keep you
safe
.”

I scoff. “I have to go. Charlie has another menial task for me to do.” I hold out the phone and drop it into Charlie’s extended hand. He stares at me for a moment before turning around and hanging it up.

“Menial?”
he asks.

I drag my feet back across the room to the table. “Yeah, like a servant,” I explain.

“I know what it means,” he says. “I’m just surprised you do.”

I glare up at him. “Well, I’ve had plenty of time to read since I got here.”

“I’ve noticed.” He walks over to the table and sits down in the chair across from me. “Claire, nothing I have you doing here is menial.”

“I know,” I say. I pick up my book again. “Patience, responsibility. Work, reward. All that.”

“Why are you here?”

“What?” I ask.

“Why are you here?” he repeats.

“I’m here because my stepfather’s a dick.”

He chuckles. “My brother is many things, but this isn’t his fault. Watch your language and think again. Why are you here?”

I sit back in my seat. “Because the cop that picked me up knew him.”

“Getting warmer.” Charlie taps a finger on the table between us. “Why are
you
here?”

My eyes fall to my hands. “Because,” I sigh, “I screwed up.”

“That’s reason number one,” he says.

“And reason number two?”

“Well, there’s a banana peel out there somewhere that needs to be held accountable for a few things and you’re staying put until it does.” I stay silent. “Once we start taking responsibility for our actions, we can start fixing our mistakes. The sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be, Mary.”

“My name is
Claire
,” I say with confusion.

He pauses and sits back. “Right, sorry,” he says quickly.

“Who’s Mary?” I ask.

He brushes a hand through the air, avoiding my eyes. “It’s not important.”

I lean forward, hating the awkward silence that’s fallen between us. “How many people have you helped?” I ask him, changing my tone. “People like me.”

He shrugs and reaches for his coffee mug. “More than I can count, over the years.”

“Where are they now?”

“Most are fine,” he answers. “They’re clean, living normal lives somewhere.”

“And the others?”

He pauses. “The others… not so much. Claire, you might feel angry with your mother right now, but that’s going to pass.”

“Doubt it,” I mutter.

“It will,” he argues. “And when it does, you’re gonna want to make amends and do it quick. Believe me when I tell you that the worst feeling in the world is not getting to say what you need to say to someone you care about before it’s too late.”

I fall silent as the words sink into my skin. Charlie’s obviously been through a lot, far more than I have. It’s probably not wise to argue against him, no matter how pissed off I am at my mother.

“How are you feeling lately?” he asks.

I cross my arms. “I still have trouble sleeping.”

“Do you think about using again?”

“Sometimes,” I answer. “But not as much as before. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to — unless I wanted to snort sugar or something.”

His lips twitch. “Well, hold onto that thought. The urges will pass eventually. You just have to channel them into something more productive until you don’t want it at all anymore.”

“Like what?” I ask.

The front door opens and I hear Tobias’ boots enter the hall. I look up as he walks into the kitchen. He pauses, refusing to enter the doorway once he sees me sitting at the table.

“Like your chores,” Charlie answers. “Preferably.” He stands up and steps over to Tobias in the doorway. “Any changes?” he asks him.

Tobias shakes his head, his eyes briefly landing on mine.

“Well,” Charlie mutters. “Maybe next time.” He turns back to me. “How about we get the horses saddled up? Go for a ride.”

“Seriously?” I ask through a jolt of excitement.

“Why not? Still a bit of daylight left.” He looks at Tobias. “Wanna join us?”

Tobias hesitates. “I don’t want to intrude…”

“You’re not,” Charlie says. “And you’re the only one that devil horse will tolerate.” He steps around Tobias to leave room and Tobias’ eyes fall on me again.

Channel my urges into something more productive.

Easier said than done.

***

I grip the saddle and pull myself up with Charlie’s help. The brown horse, Leo, bucks beneath me and my stomach lurches as I dig my nails into the hard leather saddle.