thirty-two

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A week from the night of the party, I'm walking down the school hallway and end up passing Lacey on the way to my locker. Our gazes lock as we move in opposite directions, Lacey's blue eyes icy as they narrow into a death glare. If looks could kill, I'd be long gone by now. I shudder once our encounter is over, wondering how something as simple as a glance in my direction can get under my skin, while also pondering how seriously Lacey is going to take the threats she used against me at the party.

Turning the combination into my lock, I pull open the door to my locker and try to tell myself the glance I just shared with Lacey doesn't mean anything. I haven't even spoken to her once since the party, and—as far as I know—neither has Jack. Lacey's last attempt to tear me and Jack apart didn't work, but that doesn't mean she's not going to try again. And the more time that passes after she threatened me with nothing but silence from Lacey, the more uneasy I become. I mean, she can only be laying low because she's planning something, right? I doubt Lacey would ever just accept the fact Jack and I are together. All of this worrying is becoming exhausting, however. In all honesty, part of me wishes Lacey would get her revenge on me for "stealing" her boyfriend over with already. That'd be better than feeling on edge all of the time, constantly expecting the worst and waiting for Lacey to make her next move.

Since Jack and I first started dating, I've caught Lucas and Lacey huddled together in the hallways multiple times, which is the sketchiest part out of all this drama. It's no secret that Lucas and Lacey have never liked each other, yet all of a sudden they seem to be inseparable. Whenever I spot them talking to each other, I always notice their heads bent closely as they whisper amongst themselves. The second they notice me staring, they always pull away from each other quickly, scattering down the hall before I can piece together what could be going on between the two.

I try not to let the sight of my ex (boyfriend and friend in general) and my boyfriend's ex together bother me too much, yet it's harder than it should be to let it go. As far as I know, Lucas and Lacey have absolutely nothing in common, unless you count me and Jack. I don't want to believe that either of them are the kind of people that would seriously go out of their way seeking revenge after a high school break up, but I'm not so sure anymore. Of course, I could just be paranoid.

But I can't shake the feeling that I'm on to something.

I shake my head and exhale sharply as I close my locker, trying to release my thoughts. I just need a moment to myself; need to find somewhere I can clear my head. I end up in front of the door to the office before I know it, my feet leading me to the destination without any thought. I guess my subconscious knew a visit with Elena is just what I need to take my mind off of everything else I have going on, as she never fails to make me laugh and feel better when I'm down without even having to try.

I've grown pretty close to Elena in the time since I've moved here, stopping by the front office to see her whenever I get the chance. She grew up here in Aster Pines, and even went to school with my father. I haven't had as much time to visit her lately, and this thought makes me realize just how much I've missed her. Elena is always fun to be around, and it's almost as if she's just another student. She has a tendency to make me laugh no matter what mood I'm in, and she's loaded with stories of my father when he was in high school.

When I reach the front office to stop by and talk with her, I'm surprised to find that Elena isn't alone. I brush the realization to the side, assuming it's merely another student who needed a pass or help with a schedule or something. Entering the office, I'm almost stunned when it hits me that the person speaking to Elena isn't a student at all. In fact, I know the man she's talking to well, considering he raised me. I'm glad my presence hasn't yet been made known as I stare at my dad, who is leaning over the front desk as he talks to Elena with a faint smile. So far, everything looks normal, just two old friends catching up while they have the chance.

And yet something about the scene sets me on edge, this odd something's happening feeling rushing through my veins. I study the pair before me intently, paying attention to every last detail. My dad's blue eyes wrinkle around the corners as he smiles down at Elena, his grin the widest I've seen him smile since Mom passed. Dad laughs loudly at something Elena has said, broad shoulders shaking with the gesture. Elena's dark brown eyes gleam brightly as she offers my father a smug smile, as if knowing that she's funny without him having to tell her. Then she's laughing, too, dark hair tumbling down her shoulders in effortless waves, a few strands falling into her face. And then my dad is raising a hand to Elena's cheek, tucking her unruly hair back in place, hand lingering on her skin a few beats longer than necessary, their gazes meeting as the laughter in the room fades.

My eyes widen in horror at the sight before me, and suddenly it's hard to even think straight. Because I know this moment. I've had my own version of this moment with Jack. I'm much too familiar with the flirting and the laughing and the hair-brushing and cheek-touching. I've always known my father and Elena go way back and that they grew up and went to school together all their lives, but I never fathomed . . . This can't be happening. It just can't. I mean, that's my dad. And Elena. Dad would never . . . we only lost Mom a few years ago . . . and dad loved her, he wouldn't . . .

I think I'm going to be sick.

Unable to bear watching whatever it is going down between my father and Elena, I turn around on my heel sharply, storming out of the office as quickly as I can. I don't care that the rough way I push open the door makes my presence obvious, interrupting all of the staring my dad and Elena are doing with each other. I just tell myself that the faster I walk and the further away I run, the more I'll be able to erase the image of my dad's hand lingering on Elena's skin from my memory.

I have enough to worry about as it is, but this . . . this is the worst. I mean, Dad loved Mom. So much. There's no way he'd just move on an forget about her. He can't be ready for that yet. Not when her loss is still so fresh. Not after the pain of losing her nearly shattered us both. He can't be ready to push all of that to the side and start over with someone else. Right?

Maybe the truth is that I'm not ready yet. I'm not ready to see a new woman standing in our kitchen in the morning, sipping from Mom's favorite coffee mug. I'm not ready for my dad to hold another woman close and whisper his love for her, wrapping his arms around her the way he used to do with my mother. I'm not ready. Maybe I'll never be ready. And just the thought of my father moving on before I'm able to accept that is killing me.

I keep moving until I've walked right past my classroom. I walk by my locker without a second thought. I don't stop running until I've slipped out of one of the exits at the end of a hallway, rushing out to the parking lot and hurling myself into my car.

And then the tears take over.

I haven't done anything like this in a long time. The last time I ditched school because I couldn't hold myself together was when I still lived in Texas and Mom's death was still months fresh. That time, a memory of my mom had hit me so vividly I could have sworn it was really happening. I couldn't handle the overwhelming pain that consumed me when I realized Mom was gone and never coming back, so I locked myself in a bathroom stall and cried until I thought I would never be able to shed a tear again. But this time I'm not crying over the loss of my mother; instead, I'm crying over the loss of what once was. Because now that I've seen my father with a woman in what could be taken as a romantic kind of way, I can't help longing for the relationship he used to have with my mother. Knowing that my dad is missing having someone to love only makes me miss the woman he used to love more than I already do, and I can't handle the overbearing sadness that begins to wrap around me.

My mom is never going to hug me again. She's never going to kiss the top of my head the way she used to, or hold my hand to comfort me when I need it most during moments like this. She's never going to meet my future husband. Mom will never hold my grand children as babies or watch them at her place for a weekend. She's not going to witness my wedding day. She'll never even see me graduate high school. She's just . . . gone. And right now, that realization is just too much for me.

How can Dad act as if none of this matters? Maybe I'm jumping to conclusions over what I saw, but my father's interaction with Elena seemed more than friendly. And maybe I'm overreacting, but I have a right to. It's not like I can control my emotions. Unfortunately, it seems to be the other way around.

I rest my shaking hands on the steering wheel before me and lean my head against the leather seat as I cry, streaks of mascara forming inky black waterfalls that stream down my cheeks. But ruining my make-up is the least of my problems right now, as I've got much more to worry about.

As I sob, my phone dings from where it's kept in my back pocket. I inhale shaky deep breaths as I reach for it, wiping at my tears and wishing they would disappear. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, the screen flashes with a text.

Jack ♥: hey, Lana just texted me saying she saw u storm out of school. what's wrong?

I'm not really in the mood to talk to anyone. I want to tell Jack that everything is fine so that he won't worry about me, and then tear out of the school parking lot and drive until I end up far enough away to clear my head. I hardly ever skip school and I'd never make a habit out of it, but right now I can't think of a better idea. Besides, I don't want to run into Dad when switching classes, which would be inevitable if I stayed until the end of the day. I don't even want to see Elena, for that matter. 

I unlock my phone and type a quick reply to Jack, hoping he'll just drop the subject.

all good. nothing to worry about.

Jack ♥: i thought we agreed not to lie to each other?

i'm not lying.

Jack ♥: so u normally storm out of school and ditch? cause i don't buy that.

i said i'm fine, Jack.

Jack ♥: u can't even lie over text.

Jack ♥: if ur gonna skip, i'm coming w/ u.

you could get caught & suspended from the team, Jack. not worth it.

Jack ♥: it is to me.

I don't know how he manages to make feel better no matter how miserable I'd previously been feeling, but it seems to be one of Jack Crawford's many talents to lift my spirits. He never ceases to unintentionally say exactly what I need to hear right when I need to hear it, and I almost hate him for that.

I spot Jack's lithe figure crossing the parking lot only seconds after his last message sends, walking toward my car as if he thinks I'm going to take off without him. And I probably should, considering all the trouble I could get him in by letting him tag along while I ditch school. Yet I kind of want his company, because there's no fun in being sad and alone.

"Hey," Jack says as he falls into the passenger seat next to me, closing the car door behind him quickly. "Did you check out, or are we actually skipping?"

"I didn't check out." Of course I didn't. That would mean talking to Elena, which is not an option right about now. Besides, I wouldn't have been able to cause a dramatic scene by storming out of the school if I'd played by the rules first.

I eye my rear-view mirror as I pull out of my parking space, hoping my dad won't notice I've skipped school at the same time I realize I don't care if he finds out. Let him notice my absence. He kind of deserves it, after all. 

"So." Jack turns to face me, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Where are we going?"

"No clue," I admit, keeping my gaze trained on the road. And I don't have an idea where I'm going, not really. Aster Pines is such a small town, there aren't many places to run off to. The mall is basically the only place to go for fun, but that option is ruled out now. Someone could recognize me and Jack, which could lead to us getting caught ditching school. And if word gets back to my dad that we cut class, Jack could be removed from the football team and I could be grounded.

"I have an idea." The sound of Jack's voice breaks through my thoughts, startling me so badly I actually jump in my seat. My nerves are shaken and I'm more than rattled after my breakdown, my emotions bouncing all over the place like a tennis ball. Feeling Jack's gaze burning into me, I know he can tell how jumpy I am. "Stop at my house."

His request confuses me, and I temporarily forget I'm driving. I turn to glance at Jack with curious eyes, wondering if he really just told me to go to his house when he knows that we're supposed to be at school. Our homes are maybe the worst places we could go, because that's where people would look first if we're found out.

Sensing my discomfort, Jack stares me dead in the eye and asks, "Do you trust me, Scott?"

I return my eyes to the road, though Jack's gaze lingers on me. As if to answer his question, I turn left at the next stop sign, taking the road that will inevitably lead us to Jack's place. I only do this because I do trust Jack. Possibly more than anyone else in my life. And he knows better than anyone how hard it is for me to put trust in others.

I park my car in the center of Jack's massive driveway, studying his house closely. I've been here once before, though I was so out of my mind drunk I hardly remember a thing about the experience. The building is as large as I vaguely remember it to be, and I recall comparing the place to a castle when I was wasted. The house is made of patterned bricks, complete with an enormous front porch and dozens of windows scattered along the face of the building. The two-door garage is closed, the driveway empty besides my own car. I know Jack's parents own a farm, and I can spot the faint outline of a barn in the distance behind the house. Aster Pines lies in the outskirts of Georgia, so practically everyone around here lives on farmland.

"You don't have to worry about running into my parents," Jack assures me, studying his own house as if trying to see the place through my eyes. "My dad doesn't get home from work until five, and my mom takes yoga classes in the afternoons."

We're both out of my car by now, standing across from each other on the pavement of the driveway. Jack eyes me wordlessly for a moment, and I swear he's trying to read me, like he's trying to figure out why I skipped class in the first place with nothing but a glance. When it seems he can't get the answer out of me by staring, Jack clears his throat and shoots me a grin that almost instantly takes away my bad mood.

"Toss me your keys," Jack requests, light green eyes dancing with amusement as he awaits my answer.

I cross my arms over my chest and narrow my eyes at him suspiciously. "Why?"

"Come on, Scott," Jack grumbles, though he looks more intrigued than annoyed. "Have a little faith in me, all right?"

I roll my eyes, though I do end up sending my keys his way. Jack catches them in one swift motion, showing off the fact that he's a football player. He opens the driver's side door of my car once my keys are in his grasp, dropping them into the seat without another word.

I'm curious as to what he's up to, though Jack doesn't give his intentions away. He merely shuts the driver's door and strolls my way casually, gesturing for me to follow him up the steps of his front porch and leading me to the door. I remain a pace behind him, waiting with my arms crossed over my chest as Jack inserts his house key into the door. As soon as he's worked the lock, Jack rushes inside to disable what I assume to be a security alarm. I shudder as I realize that, if the alarm had gone off, we would have been so close to getting caught.

Jack's eyes hold a teasing gleam as he turns back to me, a faint smirk playing across his lips. "Still think it's a castle?" he taunts, biting the corner of his lip as if trying to contain laughter.

"Don't tease me when you know I was drunk," I bite back, though my mood does lighten just the slightest bit.

"I wanted to grab this." Jack holds up a key chain for me to see, a single silver key attached and dangling before my eyes.

"What do you have planned?" I wonder aloud as I eye Jack skeptically, still unsure if I should go through with his plan or suggest we go back to school right about now.

"You'll see" is Jack's only response, along with a mysterious smile. He's being so cryptic it's almost infuriating, but at the same time I kind of like the game he's playing. We don't stay in the house long, which is fine by me. It's a bright and beautiful day outside, the air warm and crisp, fresh in my lungs. I like Jack's house because it's so far out in the country, it makes everything feel so much more real. There are no city lights or sounds of traffic; it's just nature as it was meant to be.

I follow behind Jack a few hundred feet to the barn, where he stops by a faded blue pickup truck. It's an older model, which leads me to believe the vehicle has been in his family for a while. Jack walks around the front of the truck to open the passenger-side door for me, the gesture making me smile. I have no clue what he's getting at, but I find there's an element of excitement to not knowing what's going on. It's almost refreshing, sitting along for the ride without anything to consume my thoughts.

Jack climbs into the driver's side, turning the key into the ignition. The action is met with a low rumbling sound as the engine roars to life, the seat vibrating beneath me slightly. Jack pulls the old Ford out forward a little roughly, though he has yards of open space that make up for it.

"You look so confused," Jack teases with a faint chuckle at my expense.

I swat his shoulder lightly as I bite back, "Maybe because I am?"

Jack glances over his shoulder to offer me his signature knee-weakening smile that makes my knees go, well . . . weak. "There's this spot not too far from here I like to go just to think," Jack informs me, filling in the blanks as to what we're doing. "It's down this old dirt road that can get really muddy, so I thought I'd drive this instead of risking getting your car all dirty."

His thoughtfulness brings a smile to my lips, as does the realization that the only reason Jack's going to all this trouble is to make me feel better. I know I owe him an explanation as to my recent actions, and I'll get to that. For now, however, I'm content to look out the rolled-down window next to me and

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