She directed me to a part of town that I knew existed but had never been in before. The houses were smaller, not as well maintained as where I grew up.
“Just here,” she said, pointing to one on the left. “And turn your lights off.”
I did as she asked. Even went as far as turning off the engine and letting the car roll to a stop. She nervously chewed her lip. Her eyes squinted, focused on the house.
“What’s going on, Abby? Are you out past curfew or something?”
She laughed quietly. “Or something.”
I looked from her to the residence. My nerves formed a knot in the pit of my stomach. Shifting my gaze back to her, I asked, “Are you afraid to go home?”
Her eyes narrowed.
There it was again—that protective instinct. “Is someone in there going to hurt you?” I started to open my door. “I’ll kick their ass.” I was dead serious. I didn’t even think about the ramifications of what would happen if I did.
As I began to step out of the car, she grabbed my arm.
She eyed me sideways. “No one is hurting me, I swear.” She tried to contain her smile. “There are kids inside. I just don’t want to wake them—it’s early. If they wake up now, it’ll throw their routine off for the entire day . . .”
“Oh.” I felt like an idiot. She must’ve sensed it, because her hand settled on my arm when she said, “It’s really sweet that you want to protect me, though. Thank you.”
I wanted to tell her that it was fine and that it wasn’t a big deal, but the sensation of her hand sliding down my arm made the words catch in my throat. Her hand nestled against mine, palm against palm. I watched with bated breath, waiting for her next move. When our fingers linked and curled over, I exhaled with such force that the back of my head hit the headrest. I turned to face her. She raised her eyes and locked them with mine. “You should’ve said something,” I told her. “We could’ve hung out for a bit longer. I didn’t need to take you home.”
She shrugged. “I just thought that you’d be busy. I didn’t want to take up too much of your time.”
I squeezed her hand.
“Walk me to the door?”
I smiled. “Of course.”
I wasn’t even sure how it had happened, but on the way to her house, we had both silently reached for each other, linking hands like we’d done in the car.
Instead of leading me to the front door, she sat down on a swing seat in the yard. I followed her lead; I had no choice, since her fingers were still locked with mine.
I pushed away thoughts of Hannah.
“We have to be quiet,” she whispered, gesturing toward the house.
I nodded and pulled her until she was as close as she could get. She hesitated, only for a moment, before she succumbed to my advances and leaned into me. I swapped the hand that was holding hers and wrapped my arm around her shoulders. I didn’t even think. I just did. “You have younger brothers and sisters?” I asked, kicking off the ground and looking toward the house. The seat swung back and forth a few times while I studied the two-story, wooden building. It was more worn than any of the others on the street. The gutters had come loose, and the shutters were barely hanging on. The yard was overgrown, and the house obviously needed a coat of paint.
“Kind of,” she replied, leaning back so she could study my face. “This is a foster home, Blake.”
“Oh. So you’re . . .” I trailed off.
“A foster kid?” She shook her head. “No. I mean, I was, not anymore. But they’re cool. They’re letting me stay here until gr—” She broke off and let out a disbelieving snort. “No getting-to-know-you stuff, remember?”
I sighed. “You don’t think we’re past that yet? I’m sitting in your front yard with my arm around you, holding your hand. We’ve walked around together, had a meal together, and driven together. That’s not worth something from you?”
She pulled out of my grasp, raised her feet onto the seat and wrapped her arms around her knees. Resting her chin on them, her eyes lowered, she said, “And what would your girlfriend say if she knew that you were doing all that right now?”
“Honestly? She probably wouldn’t care. As long as no one saw us, and it didn’t ruin her reputation.” It was the truth. What Hannah and I had was fickle, at best. I didn’t love her, and I didn’t think she loved me. The way I saw it, it was a show. We never spoke about it. Never dealt with it. I wasn’t sure how we’d ended up the way we had, but for whatever reason, we had never bothered to change things.
“I doubt that.”
I shrugged. “Doubt all you want, but I’m not lying.”
“You better go,” she said, avoiding my gaze.
The knot in my stomach tightened. I didn’t want to leave her. Not yet. So I did what I knew best—I turned into a dick. “You’re pissed at me now? So . . . when did you work out that I had a girlfriend? When I gave you her shoes? Tell me if I’m wrong, but that was before you held my hand in the car, right? And before you invited me to walk you to the door? Before you decided to sit here with me and let me be this close to you? Why do all that if you already knew and it mattered to you?”
She raised her head then, her glare intense. Dropping her shoulders, she whispered, “I just wanted one night.” But she was speaking to herself. Then she swallowed loudly and repeated her words, only this time they were meant for me. “I just wanted one night, Blake. One night where I could forget myself.” She wiped her cheek against her arm. She must’ve been crying. “The person you ran into tonight, that’s not me. I wanted to lose myself. Feel something different, you know?” She shook her head. “It was stupid.”
“I get it,” I told her. I really did. “You wanted one night to be someone else. There’s nothing wrong with that. Unless, I guess, you’re running from an unchangeable reality. Then you’ll be running for the rest of your life. And you don’t want to do that. You don’t want to feel so trapped in your head that you’re constantly running.”
Her eyes went wide, and her mouth hung open. “Wow,” she said, exhaling slowly.
I glanced at her sideways. “What?”
“You’re not what I expected.”
“You met me four hours ago. How can you expect anything of me?”
She kicked her legs off the seat and straightened up. “Blake, I . . .”
Her front door opened.
We both turned to it.
A little kid popped his head out. When his eyes found us, he smiled and took a step outside, closing the door behind him.
“What are you doing, Sammy?” Abby asked. “It’s too early to be up, and you shouldn’t be opening the door and leaving the house without a grown-up.”
Sammy—maybe four—pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his chest as he made his way over to us. He climbed onto the seat, crawled into her lap, and put his arm around her neck. Then he just looked at me—more like scowled.
I put my hand out for him to shake. I didn’t know if that was a thing that kids his age understood, but I didn’t know what else to do. “I’m Blake,” I told him. “And what’s your name?”
He shut his eyes tight and counted to six, missing the five. Then he opened them. A smile quickly spread across his face. “I’m Sammy.” He looked down at my hand and slapped it. Giggling, he turned to Abby. “Is he your friend?”
She smiled, but it was sad. “I guess.”
“I didn’t know you had friends,” Sammy told her.
She sighed then. “You better get inside before Mary realizes you’re gone.”
He hopped off the swing seat awkwardly, causing it to glide backwards. And then he was gone, running up the steps to the front door, just as it swung open.
He froze.
“Inside!” A middle-aged woman whisper-yelled. I assumed that must be Mary.
He ran in, ducking under her arm while her eyes searched the front yard. When she saw Abby and me, a different expression replaced the scowl on her face.
Sadness. Sympathy. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” Abby replied quietly.
Mary studied me quickly, before speaking to Abby, “When you’re done out here, come inside and get some clothes on.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Then she, too, was gone.
Abby self-consciously tugged her skirt lower.
“Abby . . .” I said cautiously. “What’s going on? Why did you want to lose yourself tonight?”
“It’s the anniversary of my mom’s death.” She glanced up at me now. “I was having a really bad day, Blake. The kind of day where all I want to do is forget.” Her voice broke. A tear fell. She went to wipe it away, but I beat her to it. I didn’t remove my hand from her cheek. Not even when her eyes widened in surprise as I leaned in closer. She searched my face, begging for an explanation.
“Do you think that’s what she’d want?”
She sniffed. “What?”
“Do you think that your mom would want you to try to forget her existence? Even just for one day? I don’t really know you, but from where I’m sitting, you turned out pretty well . . . and if she had anything to do with that, then maybe you should try celebrating her life, rather than trying to forget it.”
She let it out now—the sob that had been brewing inside her. “I’m sorry,” I said in an effort to soothe her, but my words just made her cry harder. “I’m so sorry,” I repeated.
She pulled back. Her hair caught in the wetness of her tears. “Where did you come from?” It wasn’t a question, though. More like a thought that needed to be voiced. Then she rubbed her nose against mine.
And then it happened.
The kiss.
My eyes drifted shut. I could taste the saltiness from her tears. But the moment was over way too quickly. I was still frozen when she pulled away. Her breath brushed against my lips. Then the cold morning air replaced it. “Thank you, Blake.” My eyes snapped open. She was already on the steps, walking up to the door.
I rushed over and took her hand. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”
She turned to me and placed one hand on my cheek, rose up on her toes, and kissed the other. “It’s just one night, Blake.” There she went, using that tone with my name again. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
I blinked, confused, as she ran up the steps and into her house, closing the door behind her.
What the hell had just happened?
I sat in my car for a good ten minutes before finally starting the engine. I’d never felt anything like that before—that anxiety at the thought of never seeing her again. I took one last look at the house. The attic light was on. She was there, one hand raised, waving good-bye.