Page 77 of Redemption
He walks toward me, slow and intentional, like he knows I’m ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. His irises are the color of the clouds when a storm approaches, and I wonder what storm we are bringing out now. Will it be one where we can dance in the rain, or will we have to find shelter again when it finally blows through?
I can’t take the tension, so I blurt out the words that make me the coward I was trying to prove I wasn’t.
“I think we should be friends.”
The words come out in a rush, stopping him in his tracks just before he gets to me. There’s a flash of disappointment swirling in that storm, but it’s there for a moment and then gone, turning into a smirk.
“You came all the way here to tell me that?” he asks, his voice a dark gravel that sends a shiver down my spine.
I don’t want Hayes to see that, though, so to cover it up, I roll my eyes and spout off—playing the game we are used to. “It’s a ten-minute drive, Hayes. It’s not like I drove across the country. Besides, after—you know, three days, I thought we should clear that up.”
He hmms like he doesn’t quite believe me but thankfully doesn’t comment. His eyes dart to my hands, and then he says, “What’s in the bag?”
Looking down to where he’s nodded, I realize I had forgotten about what I’d brought in. I drag my gaze back to him and plaster a big grin on my face.
“A peace offering,” I say, turning the label so he can see the local diner’s name on the side. “Are you hungry?”
His face gives nothing away when he shrugs and says, “I could eat.”
Chapter 24
Mallorie Jade
“Do you remember when I was seven and wanted to be a princess?” I ask, shoving my burger into my mouth.
Around any other guy, I might not be as forward about my love for food, but I’m pretty sure Hayes watched me eat a whole pizza by myself once. The look he gave me afterward was half terror and half pride. He’s seen me at my best and my worst, so I don’t bother eating pretty in front of him.
We are sitting at his desk—him in his chair, leaning back to recline, and me on his desk with my legs tucked in. When I climbed up here and started pulling food out of the bag, Hayes rolled his eyes but said nothing. He’s put up with my antics for half his life. Nothing fazes him by now—well, except for when I attack him with a tire iron. I’m pretty sure that did.
Hayes covers his mouth to keep from spitting out the fries he had just shoved in his mouth when he laughs. “How could I forget? You convinced me that you needed a pathway of rose petals to walk down so you could have a grand entrance. I helped you pick some of your mom’s prized roses and peel the petals off because you told me she wouldn’t get mad. You were trouble even then.”
I laugh, letting the sound wrap around me. For the first time in a really long time, I don’t feel guilt strangling me. It’s not gone, but it’s lighter.
“I know you were Langston’s friend first, but I always thought of you as mine, too. That’s been the hardest part over the past six years—losing your friendship when I’d already lost my brother,” I say, carefully folding my trash and putting it back in the bag. “I’ve missed that—I’ve missed you.”
That last part comes out as a whisper, as if the confession may be the part that reveals to him that friendship will never be enough for me. The mask I’ve carefully constructed is made of glass, and if I’m not careful, he’s going to look straight through it.
He studies me, letting his eyes roam from the top of my head to the tip of my toes before he brings them back up to mine. Brushing the salt from his hands, he leans forward. From where I’m sitting on the desk, I’m taller than he is, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He lifts his chin, staring up at me as he reaches out and palms my face. I lean into it, letting the weight of my head settle into his hand.
“I’ve missed you too. I—” He stops, his eyes bouncing between mine, and I wait for him to continue you. Those steel irises are so dark, I’m afraid I might get lost. He licks his lips, trying to decide if he wants to continue, and I track the movement, not caring if he does. If he were to lean in and kiss me right now, I would probably let him because that’s my downfall—Hayes is my downfall. I give in to him every time because my lines for him are always drawn in sand, and the friendship line I drew earlier—well—I’m almost convinced to let him wipe it away so that he’ll put his lips on mine. But just when I think he’ll give in, he leans back and clears his throat. His hand slips from my face, and even though it is only the warmth of his hand on my skin, my whole body feels cold. “I’m glad you’re back, even if you did break my nose.”
I laugh because I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do. There’s a familiarity that comes with knowing someone sincefour years old. You learn their tells—when they are lying and telling the truth or just holding back. For Hayes, it’s the way his eyes cut to the side when he speaks. There’s more he’s not saying, but I can read those unspoken words in his eyes. If I were brave like my brother thought I was, I would demand he say the things he’s holding back—but my courage died with Langston.
So I let it go.
“Langston would be proud of that swing, and you know it,” I say, nudging his ribs with my elbow and letting the conversation settle to something less dangerous.
“Yeah, he would have been.” His voice is serious, and I know he’s talking about more than just how I defended myself. I swallow hard against the tears that threaten to fall. He must see that I’m right on the edge of losing it because he chucks me lightly in the shoulder and says, “I’m proud of you too—that was a heck of a swing.”
I nod. “It hit almost as hard as Tanner’s mood swings.”
This topic isn’t necessarily safer, but I would much rather talk about this than us—whatever kind of us there is.
Hayes blows out a breath and runs his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, that was—a lot.”
“Do you think the problem is his parents?”
“They certainly don’t help,” Hayes says, sitting back in his chair. “Not that I’d expect anything else from Eric. But he’s the stepdad, so it makes me wonder where his dad is. Maybe his absence has something to do with Tanner’s mood swings.”
