He likes to rub it in whenever he can that I once took a swing at him at recess in fourth grade. I’d expected him to dodge it, but he hadn’t. He stood there, unflinching, and took it. He deserved it though. He’d accused me of cheating on a spelling test, but he was just pissed because I scored one point higher than him. Like usual.
“How much longer are you going to keep covering for him?” I ask, rolling my eyes when he starts popping his jaw like I did permanent damage. “I know he feels responsible for what happened to your dad, and I know you feel bad for him because of that, but you can’t let him ruin your life at the same time he’s ruining his.”
I glare at Torrin’s house. I want to go back in there and make Caden’s nose bleed again when I remember the consequences Torrin has wound up with because of him. Yeah, I know Caden would have been suspended for good if he’d chalked up another infraction, but so what? He’s dug his grave as far as I’m concerned.
“I know. I’m done with it.” Torrin exhales and looks off into the distance. Whatever he sees there makes his eyes narrow. “I don’t want to lose you because I’m trying to save him.”
I tug on his hand until his chest is brushing mine. “You won’t lose me, Torrin.” I wait for him to look at me. When he does, his light eyes are finally starting to clear. “I guess I’m just hoping you’ll figure out one day that you can’t save everyone.” When the skin between his brows creases, that damn ball in my throat doubles in size. “Sometimes you have to just let go.”
His arm stretches around me, pulling me closer. “I’m a sucker for a hopeless case.”
When his smile starts to move into place, I exhale. “Good thing you’re so cute.” I smile back at him, slipping my thumb through one of his belt loops.
“And I might, you know, be pretty decent in bed?” His brow lifts at me.
My stomach knots as I think about how decent he is in bed. “I need to collect additional data before I make my final conclusion.”
His face flattens as he holds out his arm. “Hey, consider my schedule cleared. Time, place, I’ll be there.”
The seriousness in his voice and his face makes me laugh—loudly enough that Mrs. McCune’s little terrier starts barking at the front window.
“Jade Childs!” My dad’s voice echoes from where I guess he’s stationed at the front porch.
I wince. My dad’s voice has a way of doing that. Torrin’s expression doesn’t change. He’s immune to it or something.
“Coming!” I shout back, which only makes Roco at the window go even more nutso.
“Come on. I’ll walk you home.” Torrin shoves his hand in his pocket and starts leading me down the sidewalk.
I don’t move. “No, better not. After what happened in the hall last week, you’re lucky your man parts are still connected . . . and functioning rather impressively if I do say so myself.”
I bite my lip and try to contain the blush I feel creeping up my neck. Much to my parents’ dismay, I’m not the demure girl who blushes and could be voted Miss Congeniality. I’m the girl who lives in band shirts and rolls her eyes at cheerleaders. They’ve been calling me a strong-willed child since I was a toddler, but while they admit that with disappointment, it’s a point of pride for me. I know who I am and what I want, so why in the hell would I let a bunch of other people try to tell me who I should be and who I should want?
Torrin has to scrub at his crooked smile before he can reply. He’s practically gloating from my compliment about his nicely functioning manhood. Guys . . .
“I’m not letting you walk home in the dark by yourself. Nice try.” He tries moving down the sidewalk again.
I stay where I am. I’m a pain in the ass as far as girlfriends go, but he puts up with me. He’s a pain in the ass as far as boyfriends go, but I put up with him. I guess that’s the way it is with love. Everyone’s a pain in the ass in their own way. The goal’s to find the person whose pain-in-the-ass is worth putting up with. I’ve found mine.
“It’s ten o’clock,” I say, blinking. “I live half a block away. We live in one of the safest cities in the country. What are you afraid’s going to happen?”
He scans the neighborhood around us like there are things I can’t see. “What I’ve been afraid of from the first day I knew I loved you.” His hand tightens around mine. “That I was going to lose you.”
The breath I’d been taking gets stuck in my lungs. As misguided as his fear of losing me is, I know where it comes from. I guess most kids who lose a parent at a young age probably feel the same way. They’ve experienced firsthand the fragility of life and how quickly it can be extinguished. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve told him I’m not going to leave him; my words never seems to take root.
Instead of trying for the hundredth time to convince him, I go with something else. “Here. Take this.” I pull the chain I’ve worn around my neck for ten years out of my shirt. I don’t even take it off when I shower. It’s become as much a part of me as my ears and toes.