The Line That Binds (13 page)

I cleared the side of my house and saw her chuck something into the grass. She ran toward the trees, brandishing the weed whacker like a chainsaw. I broke into a run because it looked like she was out of control and it would be my luck that she’d hurt herself. Explaining that to Simone would suck. I’d be tagged with some bull crap punishment for sure.

The engine kept revving inside the trees, and I slowed my pace as I got close to LJ’s path of destruction. Between steps, I spotted a silver phone sticking out of the grass. I put down the weed whacker and picked it up. When I touched the screen, a girl appeared, staring back at me from a position that every man dreamt about. Her blue eyes were wide with large fake lashes that almost reached her brows. She had her mouth wide open, but it wasn’t empty. Given LJ’s reaction, she either knew the girl or she knew the hidden dick. Or maybe both.

I walked into the tree line, climbing through the hacked bushes, vines, and twigs. My heart jolted when I heard her scream and the weed whacker’s engine settle to idle. I pushed around another set of large trees and spotted her sitting with one leg draped over the side of the well.

Shit.

Her head was tipped down, examining her hand in her lap. I grabbed the weed whacker at her foot, startling her. She jumped to her feet, leaned back on the well, and propped both hands behind her back on the rocky surface.

I killed the engine and set it down on the mossy ground. “Are you okay?”

Her goggles rested above her head and tears stained her reddened cheeks. She lifted her arm and wiped her face along her shoulder, clearing the wet streaks. “I’m sorry. I …” she muttered, pulling her right hand from behind her and inspecting it closer.

I moved closer and took her hand into mine. An inch-long gash sliced through the base of her thumb and blood was spattered up to her forearm. “That’s a nasty cut. What happened?”

Her hand trembled inside my loose grip. “I tripped over a branch and fell. I think there’s an uneven seam along the metal part of the weed whacker because my hand slid across it when I landed.

I looked up at her troubled eyes. “You might need stitches.”

She shook her head and pulled her hand from mine. “No. No stitches. I’ll be fine.” She wiped her face on her the shoulder of her T-shirt again. “I’m sorry for this. I’m not usually like this.”

“Forget it. I understand,” I cut her off and handed her the phone.

She took it with a grimace. “Did you …?”

I nodded. “Sorry.” She ducked her head like she was ashamed. “Was that your boyfriend?” I asked. It was the obvious answer, and I probably shouldn’t have asked, but I wanted to know. I wanted to find out more about her.

She shook her head. Her long, black pony tail wagged lazily in response. “Was.” She sniffed then let out a breathy laugh. “He was, until a month ago I suppose. She was my friend, too. I’m not surprised, really. Both relationships were over. This was just the fly on my shitty day.”

“Ah,” I sighed. “Your dad, right?” I couldn’t help it. I knew I should take her inside, to wrap her hand and get her away from the well, but I just wanted to be alone with her for a while longer.

“You heard that, huh? Yeah, we aren’t exactly close.” She placed her hands behind her back again to adjust her position. “So this is Janine’s well?” she asked, changing the subject. She turned around, rested her injured hand on the column that supported the well’s wooden roof, and leaned over to peer down the hole. Her jeans were snug, stretching smoothly over the curves of her backside.

I looked around, imagining my bike instead of how gorgeous her ass looked in those jeans.
Dammit
. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Yeah, this is the well,” I finally responded and stepped beside her. It wasn’t until she pulled her hand away from the column that I realized she had smeared blood onto it and the well’s opening.

I screwed up.
I knew Pop believed the curse so it didn’t matter whether I did or not. He believed Janine. This was the one thing he trusted me with: to make sure LJ stayed away from the well. And I screwed it up. What the hell was I going to tell him?

LJ examined the well, looking down to her feet at the three holes laden with moss from missing stones. “Have you seen this before?” she asked, crouching in front of the well.

“Yeah.”

“It’s amazing. And in really good shape for how old it probably is. Only a few stones are missing. It looks like a wishing well.” LJ stood up, tipping her head toward the opening.

I looked at the blood smeared inside LJ’s hand and tugged my shirt off. “Here,” I said, handing her the shirt. “It’s not dirty. You shouldn’t touch anything else before you bandage the cut or have it looked at.” Her eyes gaped at me. She was staring at my chest, but I didn’t react. The only thing I could think about was distracting her from the well. “We should probably get to the event house so you can clean that up. Or get you back to your place?”

“Oh, right,” she replied, wrapping her hand with the shirt. “Thanks. It really isn’t that bad. It barely hurts.”

I grabbed the weed whacker at her feet and the other one when we exited the trees. “You can take the rest of the day off. I won’t tell Simone about it if you won’t.” I wasn’t planning on telling anyone about it. Simone would kill me for getting her hurt
and
giving her the day off, and Pop would kill me if he knew about the well. I could only hope the curse was just a simple legend, an excuse Janine latched onto to explain her illness.

“No, I won’t tell. Are you sure you don’t need any more help, though? I think I’ll be okay as soon as I get a bandage.” She eyed me uncertainly.

“It’s no big deal, really. There’s not much left to do today. Actually, I think the weekend is booked with weddings so that means you’ll have off. It’ll be good for your hand to heal.”

Her eyes fell to the ground as her free hand fiddled with the loose ends of the light green shirt. After a second, she pulled the goggles and mask off of her neck and handed them to me. “What would you wish for, Ben? If the well were real?” she asked suddenly, catching me off guard.

“I, uh … I’m not sure,” I replied truthfully, trying to gather thoughts to steer the conversation in a different direction.

“Would you wish for your jaw to be completely healed?”

Is she just making conversation?
“Maybe.” I said, working my jaw back and forth in response to her question. It was getting a good the workout today.

She turned her face toward the house. The sun’s angled rays brushed over her cheeks and caused her eyes to squint. “I don’t mind having off on the weekend. And it may be good for my hand, but it won’t be good for my sanity,” she said, regarding my earlier statement. “Do you want to know my wish?”

Oh, no.

“I wish for someone to finally hire my dad so he wouldn’t be home as much.” She turned back to me with a delicate grin. “He used to spend more time at work. I think all this extra time together has been too much bonding for all of us. So, I’d love it if he were busy again.”

I grinned back as hard as I could, even though I wanted to scream.
Shit!
I had no idea how it all worked, but if the well and the curse were true, this could be pretty bad. Why did this have to happen? Janine should’ve just handed the property over to Pop.

LJ looked at me, waiting for a response that I couldn’t pull together. “I guess I’ll see you later, Ben. I’ll get your shirt back to you soon.” She turned to leave.

Whatever came of this, I’d need to know. And that meant I’d need to see her soon. I had to make sure all this paranoia was worthless. “LJ,” I called after her.

She turned on a dime and used my shirt to shield her face from the sun. “Wow.”

Huh?
That was an odd reply. “Wow, what?”

“You haven’t called me by name since … Well, since we first talked, actually.”

That remark conjured thoughts of the bubbles in her tub, clinging to her slick skin. I smiled despite my worry, making my thoughts pretty transparent. “Well, you told me not to use your initials. But you let Simone use them the other day so I thought it was okay now. Or should I just call you by your new nickname?” I arched an eyebrow, knowing she’d understand the bubble reference.

She shrugged. “Either would work, I guess.”

Oh, man.
She was flirting with me. I shook my head and smiled at the realization.

“Was there something you were going to say?” she asked.

“Yeah, you busy tomorrow?” I had to make sure there were no consequences from the well and this was the best way to do it.

“I guess I am now. You know where to find me,” she said and turned around again.

I watched her go, worried about what could happen as I admired the sway of her hips.

I’m in deep shit.

I walked through the front door, ready to fly up the stairs and go replay everything that just transpired outside, possibly while taking a bath. With bubbles.

I gripped Ben’s shirt in my hand, which still throbbed from the cut, and I heard Dad’s voice travel to the foyer from the kitchen.

“Thanks again. You won’t regret it. I’ll be there first thing in the morning.”

I turned the corner and Dad caught sight of me. As if on cue, pain erupted inside my head.
Great, a headache.
I didn’t want to get into another conversation with him so I tried to make a run for it.

“I just got a call back,” he said, catching up to me as I clutched the bannister of the staircase. “I’ve got a job!”

“Congratulations,” I replied and waved my injured hand in the air, ready to dip out of the conversation.

“Lila, your nose is bleeding. Are you okay?”

“What?” I asked, wiping my nose with my good hand. A streak of blood smeared my fingers. “Oh.” I pinched my nostrils closed and tipped my head back. “I’m okay.”

“What’s up with the shirt?”

“It’s nothing. I just got cut.”

“Let me see,” he requested, stepping closer.

“It’s okay, really. I’m going to clean it out and bandage it. No big deal. Ben gave me his shirt so it wouldn’t get the cut dirty. He gave me the rest of the day off too.”

“Really? That was nice of him. I’ll have to meet him soon.” He eyed me suspiciously.

Like you ever cared about the boys I hung out with before.
“Simone has him teaching me the grounds,” I huffed. “I told you Monday, remember?”

“Right. I met his grandfather, Lloyd. He seems nice. His welcome was definitely more cordial than Simone’s. He did say to tell you guys to steer clear of that nasty brush in the trees behind the gazebo. It was an odd warning with some explanation about avoiding grief. He kind of reminds me of my own grandfather who’d always give me obvious advice like, ‘Watch out for that beehive, you could get stung.’“ He chuckled at the memory.

“Funny. I just hacked a trail through that area with a weed whacker. That’s kind of how I got this,” I said, waving my injured hand at him as I resituated my other fingers over my nose. More blood leaked out.

“Gavin’s upstairs, ignoring us non-gamers as usual. I’ll go ahead and get some dinner started since you’re off early.”

“Thanks,” I squeaked out before retreating upstairs.

Gavin’s door was shut, rattling from the bass of some Dubstep song he had blaring. I wouldn’t bother him. He needed someone to talk to, but he’d made it painfully clear this week that that person wasn’t me. I needed to give him some space to sort things out on his own.

When I entered my room, I peered out the window. Ben was nowhere in sight. I figured he still had work to do, but it was worth a look.
He must think I’m an idiot.
I went all psycho ex-girlfriend on a group of unsuspecting weeds and made myself look like such a Barbie when I broke down crying. Granted my hand hurt like hell and I was bleeding all over, but it still looked like I’d been affected by those stupid text pictures, when in fact that was only the final crack that crumpled my emotional wall.

The hesitation hung between us when he spoke to me, like he had more important things on his mind. But he was kind enough to give me the shirt off his back. It was a simple gesture. One that was sweet and compassionate, with no hidden agenda silently demanding some form of reciprocity. It was a gesture I’d never experienced before. Most of the gifts I’d received were purchased, and still they held no value at all. And if the kindness wasn’t enough to make me swoon, I nearly blacked out at the sight of him shirtless. He wasn’t chiseled with nasty steroid-induced muscles, yet he wasn’t scrawny either. He was fit. His chest and arms were tighter and more defined than any of my previous boyfriends. Manual labor was the only difference I could think of, and it had cut him to perfection.

Even though he asked me to hang out tomorrow, I was probably being foolish thinking about him this way. Spending extra time with him could be a bad idea. We worked together. However, I’ve gotten particularly tired of shooting down ideas because of obligation, apprehension, and uncertainty. I’d done that too often in my life already. Dad’s home enough now, Gavin’s old enough to fend for himself, and I no longer have friends whose opinions I fear. I needed to move on.