Page 68 of Unhinged Love

Holding up his hands, he says, “I won’t pin you under the blanket… but I can’t make any promises about what’ll come out of me while I’m asleep.”

I should tell him to get lost, shouldn’t I? I don’t have the heart. And really, I don’t want to. Not when it’s so much better to crawl into bed after pulling my pajamas on and brushing my teeth. Not when it feels so natural, him bringing in his laptop so we can watch a movie together. And not when he wraps his arms around me. That’s all he does—it’s simple, sort of innocent, and neither of us says a word about it. We don’t have to.

If anything, talking would only ruin it. I would much rather lie here with my head on his chest than talk, anyway.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Carter

“Thanks, man. This will work great.”After taking a look at the contents of the baggie Kellan gave me, I tuck it into my pocket. “How much?”

“Like I would charge you,” he replies, grunting like I insulted him. “And don’t worry. It’s not as strong as that shit you smoked at my place. It’ll just be a nice, chill body high.”

That’s what I’m looking for. Not that anything is bad right now—really, things are going pretty well. This is the start of our second week without parents in the house, and it’s going better than I could have hoped—if I had any hopes in the first place.

We spent the weekend hanging out around the house, not doing much of anything, and it was surprisingly fun. Watching movies, sitting out by the pool. Elliana still won’t stick a toe in the water, but she sat reading under an umbrella while I swam. We just… coexisted, but without any negativity or fighting.

Kind of crazy, but I would like more of that. A lot more.

When he sees Elliana coming our way from across the parking lot, Kellan gives me a fist bump before going to his car.Meanwhile, I wait for her, leaning against the truck, and right away, it’s dead obvious there’s something wrong.

Maybe it’s the way her neck has pretty much disappeared, since her shoulders are up around her ears and her chin is tucked close to her chest. Great. Things were going well, too.

“Hey. How was class?” I ask once she’s close enough that I don’t have to shout.

“Fine, I guess.” She won’t look at me. She only stares down at the ground until I open her door so she can escape inside the truck and hug her backpack.

I strongly consider murder as I round the truck to get behind the wheel. Somebody’s still fucking with her. What the hell is wrong with these assholes? What do I have to do to make them leave her alone?

I can’t. That’s the problem. It weighs on me as I drive home with her sitting silent, basically hiding behind her hair. I can’t fight her battles, no matter how much I wish I could. I can’t be with her constantly. There are things she has to do on her own.

But how is she supposed to find the balls to do it when, every time she starts feeling even a little confident, somebody has to smack her down?

“Do you wanna get some pizza tonight?” I don’t really want pizza, but I know she likes it. One of the things I’ve found out about her this past week. Turns out, once I took the time to get to know her a little, I found out we have things in common.

I mean, not like pizza is anything revolutionary or whatever—plenty of people like pizza. But at least it’s something we can agree on.

“I’m not really hungry.” She’s barely moving her mouth to speak, just mumbling.

“Maybe not this minute, but you probably will be, eventually.”

“It’s fine.” She almost spits it at me before going back to being silent.

I have to try. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Doyouwant to talk about it?” she snaps back before sniffling softly, and I swear to God, I’m going to crack my teeth if I have to grind them any harder. Whoever they are, I hope they suffer for making her suffer.

“Okay,” I mutter. “Just thought I would ask.”

“I just don’t get it.” There’s real rage in her voice. “What do people get out of being cruel? Like, why? What for?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh? You don’t know?” When I shoot her a look once we stop at a light, she turns her face toward her window. “Sorry. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

Like I’ve never taken shit out on her. “Whatever. I get it.”

“Do you, though?” she asks. “Because I don’t think you do. I don’t think you could, because you’re Mr. Popular. Everybody knows you, people actually like you. They want to be around you.”

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