Page 30 of Wildly Yours
"Because you're my business!"
I turn back to face forward, trying to calm my heart with my breath.
One red-tailed hawk perched in a tree. Three cedar saplings close to the road. Two dead bugs on my windshield.
We drive the rest of the way into town in silence. When we pass Buzz's Garage, Cody's twin, Caleb is out front with a customer. He waves, and then does a double take when he sees Cody driving my car. I already know he's tapping on his cell phone with a text to his brother. We turn the corner and drive down my street, pulling into the driveway.
Cody turns off the engine and we sit together. No words. No movement. One ping on his cell phone. Finally, he breaks the silence.
"I'll help you into the house. I can wrap that ankle properly. I'm well-trained in first aid."
I nod and undo my seat belt while he gets out and rounds the car. He opens the door and reaches out his hand to help me up onto my good foot. When I grasp his hand, the comfort of his touch reappears, sending a warm wave of tingles through my hand and down my arm. But instead of relishing the feeling, it makes me want to cry. This tug-of-war inside and between us is too much.
"Think I could hop on one foot? Don't want my neighbors getting any ideas."
"I can carry you."
"And when you are gone? Who's going to help me? I need to figure out how to move."
"I can stay."
There's tension between us. A rubber band pulled too tight.
"For how long, Cody? You and I both know that—"
"Is this about me leaving because I live at my own house, or leaving because you don't believe I'll stay to care for you? I told you, you aren't alone." His eyes are boring into me, searching for an answer that is stuck in my throat.
I think he will leave because that's what he does. And I'm not sure there's anything he can do to change my mind.
"Just, please let me do this."
With his help, I hobble to the front door and unlock it, feeling a pang of yearning for him to carry me over the threshold. To live the fantasy I've had since we were in the eighth grade. Yet again, I'm awash with sadness. No matter what, we're broken, and we will always be this way.
Chapter Sixteen: Cody
Iget Serena settled on the couch and look for her bandages in the bathroom cupboard.
Her house exudes femininity. There's fluffy cushions on the couch, art on the walls, and a basket of knitting supplies next to her recliner. Everything matches, or it looks like it belongs. It's almost as if I walked into a museum exhibition that someone decided to live in. Her bathroom is no different. There is light streaming in through the window, and cheerful colored towels handing on the rack. The soap has a mild almond scent, and a mosaic table next to the bathtub with everything you'd need for the full spa treatment.
This place is the polar opposite of mine. It's cozy like one of my birds' nests. I want to crawl inside and never leave.
I lean against the stand up sink and look at myself in the mirror. I see a confused man looking back at me. A man conflicted by his own decision to stay away and keep her safe—from me. A man who convinced her that she is alone in the world. That she has to work herself to the bone to create a safetynet around her because she doesn't believe that anyone will help her when she needs it.
And I can't help but return to what happened this morning. I kept my cool in the face of the violence of Blake's intention. I passed a test I didn't know I would be taking.
I want it to be enough. But it won't be for her. She deserves someone who doesn't have a secret like the one I'm holding. A secret that if she knew, she'd be right to run away from me.
I find the bandage in the cupboard. It's inside a box with a label that is handwritten, just like all the box labels in here. I look at each one, neat script describing the contents. Each box organized like a drill sergeant lives here.
When I stand up and start looking around, I notice everything is in its place. Nothing askew. I walk back down the hall to the living room, and survey my surroundings. Everything is neat and orderly. Books are organized by color and size. Throw blankets are folded with corners matching up.
I sit on the couch next to her, and she shifts her pillows as she adjusts. Her hand brushes up against the one between us, setting it straight.
"Serena, what are you trying to control?"
"What?"
"This house. Everything is just right."
