Page 6 of All I Have Left

Literally seconds after she leaves, Shane calls me. It’s like clockwork with him.

Sliding my finger across the screen, I sigh and stare at myself in the mirror again. “Shane, you have to stop calling me so much.”

He’s quiet for a moment and then sighs. But this time there’s humor in it. There’s a three-second pause before he says, “Ya gonna stop me?”

“How is this going to convince me to take you back? It’s only proving to me that you can’t give me space.” My whole body begins to shake as I close my eyes and try to remember not to poke the bear.

“I’ve given you space.” His tone takes on a desperate pleading. “Fuck, Evie. I don’t know what to do to make it better. I’ve given you time, and you still won’t listen to how goddamn sorry I am. Nothing I do is ever enough for you.”

Because there are parts of me that no one can fill. Not even you.

I breathe out a shaky breath, tears burning. “I’m going to be late,” I mumble, yanking on the hem of the dress. It’s no use.

“Yeah, okay.” The line goes dead.

Shane… he has reasons for the way he is. An abusive personality isn’t something that happens biologically. It’s a learned behavior. I’m not saying it’s justified, but it’s impossible not to see that his behavior is a direct response of his childhood. I’ve heard the rumors, the boy from Montgomery whose mom killed herself in front of him. But that does not give him a reason to hurt me.

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I look at the mirror.

Who is this girl?

4

GRAYSON

There’s an old dirt road in a small town in Alabama that time hasn’t touched. It’s paved now, so I guess some things have changed. The memories, they haven’t.

It’s funny when you think about it, but growing up, I thought this place was the worst. Too small town for me, and I couldn’t wait to leave home.

Then I left and experienced the world at its worst. Now these small towns mean everything. They’re a way to remember that despite what’s out there and everything that’s wrong with the world, there’s still a small piece that remains untouched by the harshness or the rest of the world.

As I pull off the highway, I nod to the sheriff when passing through town. He politely smiles, returning the wave, but I can tell by the set frown, he’s not happy seeing this truck back or the too cocky kid who thought he never had to do the speed limit driving it. I also once set the police station on fire. By accident. I swear.

It’s down another long country road before my childhood home comes into view, and I’m careful not to look over at her house. Afraid actually. If I do sneak a glance, I’ll probably justrun over there and bang down her door and beg her like a fool to drop whatever life she has now for me.

I can’t ask her to do that. I won’t.

Shutting the engine off, the sticky southern air blows through the window.

Frankie catches me before I reach the front door, wrapping her scrawny arms around my neck and hugging me tightly.

At first, I don’t know what to do. My heart thuds wildly in my chest. It’s strange to hug someone, awkward even. I can’t remember the last time I wrapped my arms around someone and expressed affection.

Staring at the house behind her, I gently tangle my arms around her, returning the hug. She squeezes me tighter, drawing a laugh from deep within when she wraps her legs around my waist.

Dropping her legs, she stands before me, both her hands on my cheeks. “You’re just as pretty as I remember, little boy.”

Hardly little. I’m twice the size of her. She used to put makeup on me and tell me I was too pretty to be a boy. I guess that hasn’t changed much over the years. “Come on!” Frankie pushes me along the stone path leading to the house, her hands on my shoulders. “We have so much to do before tonight and I have to get back over and help Evie.”

Evie? Fuck, there’s that pain. It hits my chest with a jolt and makes my stomach drop to my knees. If I had any doubt that my feelings for her might have changed, I know the answer now.

Dragging me down the hall, Frankie catches onto my expression. She offers a cheerful smile, like she already knows what’s up with me. My sisters, they always know.

“Here, wear these.” She tosses an armful of clothes toward me once we’re in my old room. “You’ll look great.”

“What’s wrong with my current attire?” I run my hand over my wrinkled black T-shirt I’ve been wearing for the last two days. Okay, maybe I do need to change.

She stares at me, her brow pulled together in confusion. Hereyes move from mine, to my chest and the tattoos I’ve accumulated on my forearms. “Where have you been? We thought you were dead.”

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