The Wrong Path

Chapter Sixteen





“I didn’t go with them after that night, you know.”

She watched as Will’s fingers toyed with hers from her position against his chest on the bed, confused at his sudden admission.

“Who?” she asked, when he didn’t elaborate further. She lifted her head from his shoulder to look up at him.

His eyes were distant as he continued staring at their hands. “My friends. I didn’t go with them again.”

She felt her heart skip a beat as his words slowly sank in. He had listened. Their fight hadn’t been for nothing. Her words really had reached him.

She lowered her head back to his shoulder, her eyes falling closed with relief. He interlaced their fingers, their hands falling to his chest as he turned and sighed against her hair. She smiled slightly at the sensation, pressing closer to him.

She almost groaned at the light ding of the doorbell rang throughout the house. She closed her eyes, willing whoever was at the door to go away.

“Annabelle!” came a call from down the stairs. “Trevor is here.”

Her eyes flew open at her mother’s announcement, her blood running cold. She felt Will go rigid beside her, his fingers tensing almost imperceptibly around her hand.

And then Will pulled away from her, sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to her. She could feel hostility rolling off of him as she stared at his stiffened shoulders, not quite sure what to do.

“Well?” Will finally asked, without turning to look at her. “He’s waiting.”

Almost on cue, she heard her mother’s voice again, louder this time. “Annabelle!”

Annabelle flinched, her heart pounding in her chest. Hesitantly, she reached a hand out to Will and placed it carefully on his tense back. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I promise.”

He gave no response. With pained movements she rose from the bed, an ache in her heart as she headed out of the room and down the stairs. Her mother was waiting for her at the bottom, her eyes sympathetic.

“He’s in the game room,” she told her, her voice soft.

It wasn’t until she was crossing the threshold to the game room that Annabelle realized it was the first time in her entire life her mother hadn’t knocked on her door to get her.

She hesitated, turning to look back in disbelief at her unusually perceptive mother. Did her mother know that Will was hiding in her room? How long had she known? Why hadn’t she said anything?

Her mother gave her a tender smile, full of understanding and compassion. Annabelle felt tears spring to her eyes, hoping her mother could feel the overwhelming gratitude she couldn’t even express. Of course her mother knew. Wasn’t that why she hadn’t said anything when Annabelle, who never ate a lot, made two sandwiches for lunch earlier that day? Wasn’t that why she hadn’t said anything when Annabelle kept disappearing into her room?

Both her parents had to know. And they trusted their daughter. Trusted her to make good decisions.

Annabelle had never loved her parents more than at that moment.

“Annabelle.”

The quiet sigh of happiness and relief brought her attention back to the game room—and her guest. She turned to look at the couch, where Trevor had stood. To her surprise he appeared almost completely unchanged except for a little discoloration from lack of sleep under his eyes. He smiled tiredly at her, but the smile was warm.

“Hi,” he greeted softly.

“Hi,” she returned, her voice sounding strained. She quickly cleared her throat and went on. “How are you doing?”

He offered a half-smile. “I’m okay. Hanging in there.” He walked toward her and held out a white envelope. “It’s an invitation to Mom’s funeral. For your family. It’s on Saturday.” She tried not to stiffen as his hand reached up and lightly combed through her hair. “I’d really like it if you were there.”

She felt almost sick as she forced herself to nod. “Of course we’ll be there. I’m really so sorry for your loss, Trevor.”

He nodded and smiled tiredly. “Thank you.” He let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’d really like to stay, but I have to deliver some more invitations and help dad with the preparations. Maybe if you have some time later this week we could have dinner.”

The idea made her want to cry, but she smiled tightly. “Good luck with the preparations. Let me know if you need help with anything.”

He nodded again, then drew her to him, hugging her close. She tried not to shudder as he held her, her body rejecting the unfamiliar body against hers. She stepped away as quickly as she could without being rude and flashed a supportive smile, leading him to the door.

“I’ll see you later,” she offered weakly.

“See you,” he confirmed.

She shut the door behind him, racing back up to her room as quickly as she could. She hesitated outside of her door, terrified to open it and discover the room empty. Bracing herself, she turned the knob and pushed the door open.

Will was sitting on the edge of her window, his feet just barely touching the floor as he stared out at the street between the two houses.

Relief flooded through her as she stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. Will had stayed. He looked like he had been thinking about making a run for it, but he had stayed nonetheless. He had trusted her.

“Here,” she said softly, joining him at the window. She held out the invitation, watching as his eyes slowly lowered to the white envelope.

A brief look of confusion flashed across his face, followed quickly by dispassion. His head raised and he stood from the window, stepping around her to the middle of the room. “I don’t want to see it.”

She looked down at the carefully addressed invitation, then back up at Will, who still had his back to her. “He said it’s this Saturday. They’re making the preparations right now—“

“I don’t care.”

She flinched at the empty, flat tone. Will cared. Will cared much more than he was willing to admit. She knew, because he looked haunted, and she had barely been able to get him to eat more than a sandwich in the last two days. “Will—“

“Are you still dating my brother?”

Startled, she stared up at his flashing, dark eyes. “Am I…?” she repeated, stunned. She hadn’t thought about Trevor once since she had been with Will, let alone talked to him. She had even turned off her cell phone to ensure that she couldn’t be reached by anyone. Today had been the first day she had seen him since the hospital. Though, as her mind returned to his suggestion of dinner later in the week and his hug downstairs, she supposed they were technically still dating. “I-I guess.”

He smiled coldly. “I thought you might say that.”

To her disbelief he suddenly headed to the window, almost half out of it before she was able to grab a hold of him. “Wait, Will!” She yanked him back into the room as hard as she could, her heart pounding frantically in her chest as she gaped up at him. “Stop!” She panted for air, suddenly out of breath as she looked up into his dark eyes. “What do you want me to do?” she demanded helplessly. “Call him after not talking to him for days and break up with him right after he…” she let her sentence trail off as she realized what she’d been about to say, swallowing hard against her own insensitivity.

He laughed coldly. “Lost his mother?” he finished for her flatly.

She tried to reach for his hands, but he pulled them roughly from her grasp. “What’s wrong?” she pleaded desperately.

He glared at her. “I’m just a little tired of being my brother’s substitute. Your on-call boy you keep holed up in your room so you have someone who understands you while you reap the benefits of dating the quarterback in public.”

She swallowed hard against the hurt and anger that built up inside of her at his words. “You’re not being fair,” she warned quietly.

“I’m not being fair? Go take a long hard look in the mirror and tell me who’s not being fair, sweetheart.”

She tried not to cringe. A part of her understood what he was saying, but he didn’t get it. He didn’t know how much he meant to her. He couldn’t know. He couldn’t know how much he had changed her—how much he had changed her entire life. How could she possibly begin to tell him how important he was to her when she couldn’t even express it properly to herself?

“You don’t understand—“ she started slowly, trying to formulate the words in her head.

“Oh, I understand perfectly, Annabelle. I get it. And I want out. Go date your preppy jock boyfriend, hang out with your backstabbing plastic friends, and party at all the coolest clubs until you black out. Just don’t come looking for me at the end of the night.”

His harsh words delivered, Will reached through the window. Annabelle stared in disbelief at his back, her mind whirling with his cruel words and the realization that Will was leaving. For good. Will was angry because he didn’t understand—he didn’t know—and he was leaving. He was writing Annabelle out of his life. He wanted nothing more to do with her. And it wasn’t even fair.

He was hurting from his mom’s death, and Trevor showing up, and it was too much for Will to take. She could understand that. But he wasn’t even giving her a chance to explain. He just went on the attack, like he always did, and ran away.

Not this time.

Her hand shot out and gripped his arm, yanking him back into the room so forcefully that he staggered back several steps. He stared down at her threateningly, his mouth open to spew more hateful words.

She slapped him.

She had never slapped anyone before, but she hit him with as much force as she could muster. There was a loud crack and then he stilled, his face turned to the right. Her hand stung and throbbed as she stared at his profile, a red palm print already forming on his light skin.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

And then Will’s head slowly turned to face her, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “Are you,” she began quietly, “finished now?”

She was satisfied at the brief flash of confusion that flickered across his face before it was quickly repressed under a smoldering gaze.

She released her tight clamp on his arm and stepped into him, willing him to understand everything she didn’t say as she wrapped her arms around his waist. “I won’t let you go that easily.”

When he didn’t move, she briefly feared he would push her away—that she had crossed a line. But her anxiety was put to rest a few seconds later when his arms slowly closed around her, drawing her to him. “Stalker,” he said softly.

She smiled slightly, her heart aching in relief as she snuggled deeper into his arms.



***



When she woke up the next morning, Will was gone.