Run With Me (Fight For You Book 1) (16 page)

Mr. Sanderson sighs and rolls his eyes toward the roof of the giant metal overhang, looking more irritated by the information than outraged, which pisses me off even more.

“Where I come from, we don’t let guys hit girls,” I say, not bothering to hide my contempt.

“Yeah, we don’t care for that, either.” Mr. Sanderson’s gaze slides to Lono, who’s picked himself up off the floor, before flicking back to me. “But I read your file. You’re no hero, Mr. Cooney, far from it, and you’re going to learn really quick that we don’t put up with violence at this school.”

He turns to Boot Girl. “Head in to the nurse Sam, I’ll come talk to you after I’m done with these two. And from now on, try to stay out of the middle of things, okay? No need to go looking for trouble.”

“Okay,” Boot Girl—Sam—says as she moves around Mr. Sanderson and starts toward the office.

But she only takes a few steps before she looks back over her shoulder. Our eyes meet and she smiles again, a just-between-us smile that makes me feel amazing, even though all the places Lono got his punches in are starting to hurt.

Right then, I know she’s not going to stay out of trouble. She’s going to come looking for trouble…for me.

The moment of connection only lasts a couple of seconds before she turns and walks away, but I know this isn’t the end with this girl. Insanely enough, I think she might like me—like really like me, not just as a friend. If I don’t screw things up, I might have a chance with her, even though I’m small for my age, my face isn’t anything to brag about, and she’s obviously one of the pretty, good girls who wouldn’t have sat next to me on the bus for a thousand dollars back home.

As I follow Mr. Sanderson to the office, I make a decision that’s nothing like me. I decide to suck up, play nice, and do whatever it takes to keep from getting sent home. I should want to smooth this over so I don’t upset Caitlin, but Sam is the real reason I want to stay.

I’m not too proud to play the victim if it means I’ll get another chance to see her smile today.

I’ve got tears in my eyes by the time Lono and I sit down across from the principal’s desk and I play the poor new kid who got beat up trying to defend a girl so perfectly Mrs. Nakayama has tears in her eyes by the time I’m done. I get off with a warning, Lono gets three days suspension, and I’m back in first period only a few minutes after the tardy bell rings feeling damned proud of myself. Even the fact that Mountain Boy didn’t get in trouble, and is still going to be around to glare at me during lunch can’t bring me down. I’m in school, and I’m going to see Sam again today.

I think about her all morning, and when fourth period English finally comes around, I’m so nervous I feel like I’m going to be sick.

I’ve never had a crush before—at least not a serious one—but this one is hitting me hard. When I step into Mr. Fiore’s room and see Sam’s fuzzy hair in the second to the last row, my stomach turns over. When I sit down next to her and she turns to me and smiles, it’s better than the time I found a giant stash of fireworks hidden in Caitlin’s closet.

“Hey, you okay?” I ask. “Your stomach and…stuff?”

“Yeah, thanks.” She studies my face for a second before she asks, “Did you really get in fights a lot at your old school?”

I shrug. “Sometimes. And sometimes my friends got me into fights. Some of them were pretty stupid.”

“The fights or the friends?”

“Both,” I say, smiling when she laughs. “But today was different. I’m really glad you’re okay. I hated seeing him hit you.”

“It didn’t hurt that bad. And it was worth it, you know? To stand up for what I believe in.”

“Yeah,” I say, even though I’m not sure I do know. I haven’t done much standing up for what I believe in. I’ve lashed out at the world for being shitty and unfair, and I’ve caused trouble because that was what was expected of me in a town where all the men in my family ended up in jail, sooner or later.

But now, I’m in a different place, and maybe I don’t have to be the same person I was. Maybe I can be the type of guy who stands up for things, for people. I’m not sure what I believe in, but I know I’d stand up for Sam again in a heartbeat.

“Want to eat lunch together?” I ask before I lose my courage.

“Yeah, sure,” she says. “I usually sit with Janis and Tia. You can sit at our table. They’re both nice, and sometimes our friend Pip sits with us, too. You’ll like him. We all go surfing together on Fridays. Do you surf?”

“No,” I say. “No ocean where I came from.”

“That’s okay, it’s not as hard as people think,” she says. “I could teach you if you want.”

“Yeah, that would be cool,” I say, but then it’s time for class to start and I do my best impression of one of those kids who pays attention in class, though really I’m still thinking about Sam.

We don’t get another chance to talk until lunch, but when I sit down with her friends, I’m immediately accepted because I’m with Sam. I sit there with three nice, pretty girls and a funny guy with long brown hair, who I think might be gay but I can’t tell for sure, and feel like one of the good kids for the first time in my entire life. By my first Friday at Haiku Junior High, I’m calling all of them friends, and by the second, I’m loading into Tia’s dad’s van with everyone after school, heading over to Baby Beach to learn to surf.

That year on Maui is far from perfect—Caitlin loses her baby, her friend Isaac becomes her boyfriend and things are weird at home—but every school day I get to see Sam, and slowly I become the kind of person who’s good enough to be her boyfriend. I learn how to control my temper, and stop looking for trouble. I start to understand what I believe in and how to make choices that show I’m better than the other predators who roam the school looking for easy victims.

I ask Sam to be my girlfriend at the Halloween Dance, and we start spending time together after school, and on weekends, too. Pretty soon, we’re inseparable. She’s the best friend I’ve ever had, and I want to kiss her so much it’s this gnawing feeling that chews away at my stomach lining every time we’re together. But I’m worried a kiss might change things, might make things too serious or something and then Sam wouldn’t want to be around me anymore.

I don’t think I could take that, so I wait.

I wait and wait and wait until the next summer, the day before we fly out for my dad’s funeral. I’m leaving the island for the first time since we moved, and a part of me is scared I won’t be coming back.

I finally go for the kiss in Sam’s backyard, after we’ve been jumping on her trampoline and are lying on the warm black surface, staring up at the sky as the stars pop out. The second my lips touch hers, I know that kissing is only going to make a good thing better, and that the love I feel for her is more than love for a best friend.

This is the real thing, this is what all those stupid songs are about, this is why Caitlin cried every night for so, so long.

Because she’d had this and lost it.

As Sam’s lips move beneath mine and her arms wrap around my neck with this little sigh that lets me know she’s happy, I swear on everything good in the world that I won’t lose her. No matter what I have to do, no matter who I have to fight, no matter what obstacles try to come between us, I will hold onto her forever.

Until the day I go into the ground.

Chapter Sixteen

Present Day

Samantha

“For the sword outwears its sheath,

And the soul outwears the breast,

And the heart must pause to breathe,

And love itself have rest.”

-Lord Byron

I hike up the trail into the foothills surrounding the lake, past the last cabin and up, up, up a fire road to God knows where. I only know it goes too far for me to find the end of it.

I walk until my feet hurt and the sun starts to set, and turn around when the forest grows chilly enough to make me shiver beneath my fleece. Only then do I start back the way I came, arms crossed tightly at my chest, jaw gritted against the cold. I’ve been gone at least an hour and it will take nearly that long to get back.

Danny should have had plenty of time to pack and leave.

Danny. Leaving.

Packing up his things and never coming back.

A fresh wave of misery washes up from my feet to punch me behind the backs of my eyes, but I don’t start crying again. I’m too tired to cry. I’m too tired to do anything but curl into a ball and sleep, though I doubt sleep will come easy when I’m lying alone in the bed where Danny slept beside me last night. It’s going to smell like him. I’ll be able to catch a whiff of his shampoo on the pillowcase and his Danny scent on the sheets. And it might be for the last time.

I may never smell him, touch him, see him smile ever again. The man I love might have decided he can’t love me anymore.

If so, I’ve made my worst fear come true.

Maybe I should have told him what really happened. If he knew the truth, he might be able to forgive me for being a coward, though I doubt it would change the outcome in the long run.

Our relationship would still be forever changed.
I
am forever changed.

Nothing I do will bring Deidre back, but I’m beginning to think nothing will bring me back, either. Not the old me, the girl who was so rarely afraid. The girl who had no dark secrets, no shame, no regret.

I hate that girl.

I hate how innocent she was, all while thinking she was wild because she enjoyed a little spice in the bedroom with the boy she’d been dating for so long they were practically the same person. I hate that she drifted through life expecting the bad things to be far and few between, and that she walked through the doors of the frat house so certain nothing terrible was going to happen.

I wish I could travel back in time and slap her in the face, shake her until her teeth rattle, do whatever it takes to knock some fear into her before it’s too late. I wish I could go even further back in time to shame the people who raised her to be fearless and brave, and to warn the boy who loved her so well he made her believe love lasts forever that he was setting her up for a long, hard fall.

Nothing lasts forever. Sometimes, knowing that everything comes to an end was the only thing that helped me get out of bed in the morning.

But now losing forever with Danny feels like it’s going to destroy what’s left of my heart.

It’s almost dark by the time I reach the cabin. I can’t see the parking lot from here. I don’t know if the car is gone, but I’m too tired to walk down and check.

My head is spinning and my lips and fingertips feel frozen. Stress and misery are as exhausting as training for a marathon. Worse, because at least you get an endorphin rush after a ten mile run and a few circuits in the weight room. All stress and misery leave behind is emptiness, hopelessness. They throw you down the deepest well in the world and leave you there to shiver alone in the darkness.

I’m shivering as I climb the stairs, and hoping the fire will still be lit. I’m too afraid to hope for anything else.

I saw the look in Danny’s eyes before I left. He’s never looked at me like that before, like a stranger, a monster who was holding the girl he loved prisoner. I’ve done my share of hating myself the past few months, but nothing as awful as the way I’ve felt this afternoon.

I wish there was another choice. I wish I could see some way out of this other than the way I’ve chosen. But I can’t and now all that’s left to do is to find out if I’ll be moving on alone. I push the door handle and step slowly into the cabin, holding my breath as I scan the room.

When I see Danny sitting on the carpet in front of the fireplace, I practically sob with relief.

And then I see them, the bottles…

There are two empty bottles of wine on the table beside him, and a third in his hand. From the looks of the liquid sloshing around in the bottom, it will be empty soon.

“What are you doing?” I push the door closed behind me, fighting the urge to cry.

“Going down with the ship,” Danny says with a grin. “Aw, don’t look so upset. It’s just a few bottles of wine. Nothing to cry about.”

“You’re an alcoholic,” I remind him, though I’ve never seen him wasted and have had to take his word for it that he and alcohol don’t mix well.

Even back when he used to drink, Danny never drank in front of me. Anytime there was a party on the beach or at one of my friends’ houses, he would volunteer to be the designated driver. He said he didn’t want to lose control or put me in danger. Back then, he swore he didn’t need alcohol to have a good time, but maybe now he needs it to dull the pain.

“I am,” he says with a shrug. “But who gives a shit, right? I like to drink. No, I fucking
love
to drink.”

He takes a swig of wine straight from the bottle and lets out a happy sigh. “Nothing feels this good. Just numb and free, up above it all.”

I lick my lips and cross my arms, not sure what to do, whether I should try to take the last bottle away or let him finish before I coax him into bed with a glass of water. I’ve never drunk anywhere close to three bottles of wine, but I’ve overdone it enough to know he’s going to feel like shit tomorrow whether he gets that last cup or so in him or not.