Page 202 of Composed
“Yeah.”Tell me something I don’t know. I scrub my wrist over my heart. “When did he leave?”
“About fifteen minutes ago.”
My throat dries. “Did he say where he was going?”
“No, sorry, hon.”
I start for the door on shaky feet. “Well, thanks anyway. I got what I needed here, so I’ll leave you to it.”
“Of course. Can we expect you again?”
“No, I don't think so.”
“I understand. It can’t be nice coming home to this.”
I shake my head, gaze tracing the ink on my wrist.
This isn’t my home.
It hasn’t been since the day I walked into that form room sixteen years ago and met a boy called Cole Hayes.
Chapter sixty-four
Hendrix • Now
Dial Tone – Catch Your Breath
Thesoundofwheelsagainst concrete greets me when I trudge through the tree-lined path. Floodlights flicker, heavy metal crackles through a phone speaker, and the clink of ramps has my shoulders drooping.
Nobody comes out here anymore. There’s a newer, better park a couple streets away. This place was left to rot, tucked away in the memories of those of us who frequented it as teens.
I follow the familiar noise, stopping just before the quarter-pipe when I see a blur curling the bowl.
He’s as fluid on that board as he was the first day I saw him here all those years ago. The same day I knew Cole Hayes wasn’t just any boy to me. He was the boy for me.
He does an ollie and my heart pitter-patters, a soft laugh spilling from my lips. “You know, I’m still pretty shit at one of those.”
He drops back onto the board, kicks it up with his heels, and spins to face me. “That’s because you never paid attention to your teacher.”
“He was very distracting.” I shove my hands in my pocket and rock back and forth.
A smirk curls one corner of his mouth. “Is that so?”
I fight the urge to step closer.
Cole doesn't move an inch.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him.
He lifts a shoulder. “I heard my girl was facing something pretty heavy today. Figured she might not want to do it alone.”
My stomach twists. “Did Riley tell you everything?”
“Just that you were going home to see your parents for the first time in ten years.” He shakes his head, eyes dull as they flicker over me. “Ten years, Rixie. It was pretty easy to deduce the rest when I walked into that house.”
A lump forms in my throat. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough.” His grip tightens on the board.
