Pushing The Limits: Take Me On Part 23

"This is where I work." Her fingers shake against my skin and her eyes are hazy, as if waking from a dream. The urge is to kick his a.s.s and it's hard as h.e.l.l to listen to what she's telling me...that I could cost Haley her job.

"f.u.c.k." I crouch beside her and place my hand on her frozen cheek. Being a selfish b.a.s.t.a.r.d, the connection isn't for her. It's to keep me from losing control and smas.h.i.+ng my fist into that a.s.shole's face. Jesus, why is she always so d.a.m.n cold? "Are you okay?"

Haley nods and her eyes automatically dart back to Matt. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d stays seated on the other end of the curb and watches us; specifically, he focuses on my hand on her face.

"What's it like to be p.u.s.s.y whipped?" he asks.

The muscles in my body jerk, but instead of removing his b.a.l.l.s with my foot, I slide my thumb against Haley's skin and kiss her forehead. She sags into me and I kiss her one more time before glaring at Matt. That's right, she's not your property. Haley chooses me. "Sorry I'm late. You ready to go?"

"Yes."

I enfold her into the shelter of my body the moment she stands.

"Consider it, Haley," Matt says as if I'm not here. "I'm not expecting an answer tonight. You and I could save a lot of people from a lot of heartache. It's your choice."

"Yes," she says slowly. "It always seems to be my choice."

I hate the tilt of her head, the faraway glaze in her eyes, all of it screaming that whatever he said to her has her thinking, a.n.a.lyzing, and I don't want one word from that b.a.s.t.a.r.d circling in Haley's mind. "Let's go."

I guide her to the SUV, tuck Haley safely inside, then join her when I climb into the driver's side. With the car on, I blast the heater and tear out of the parking lot, craving to put as much distance between Haley and Matt as possible.

With her head lolling against the headrest, Haley stares out the window, looking as lost as I felt after Abby's "present" to me. Abby's got to be lying again because Mom's parents are dead and she has no siblings. Abby's confession from weeks ago echoes in my brain: Have you ever found out something you wished you hadn't?

I peek at Haley out of the corner of my eye. I asked her once if she still had feelings for Matt, but I've never asked for details on their relations.h.i.+p. In fact, I've never asked her about anything and the kick in the nuts is the realization that Haley hasn't asked anything about me, either.

All this time I thought I had coasted at school and with Haley in regard to my past, but it's easy to coast when no one gives a s.h.i.+t.

Lights and cars become blurs as I speed down the road and head for the highway. Haley doesn't seem to notice when we pa.s.s the turn for the gym and I f.u.c.king hate the sensation that only her body is present because her soul is still at that d.a.m.n curb.

"What the h.e.l.l is going on with you?" I ask. "With Matt?"

As usual, she's silent, choosing to be locked away inside her brain-thinking, a.n.a.lyzing, not sharing, not talking. Haley plots and she plans, but she hardly ever discusses. "Say something!"

"Take a right."

"What?"

Haley peers toward the oncoming street and her fingers hover near the window like she's a child frightened to touch a broken piece of gla.s.s. "Take a right."

Muttering a curse under my breath, I hang the right and we enter a neighborhood. My headlights. .h.i.t one of those signs with a kid chasing a ball informing me to slow my a.s.s down. I do and idle along at twenty-five as I wait for her further instructions.

Most of the homes are two-story brick houses that flaunt amateur landscaping. It's better than her uncle's but lower scale than where I live. Overall it's nice, pleasant and very suburban.

"Stop." There's a longing in her voice that p.r.i.c.ks at my chest. Haley presses her hand against the window; condensation forms an outline along her fingers. "That's my house."

I s.h.i.+ft the car into Park. It's a lot like the others: two stories, a chimney, but this one has a front porch, blue shutters, rosebushes and a for sale sign with the word sold.

"Mom would force Kaden and me home from the gym because she wanted us to eat dinner together. On Sundays, we'd order pizza and watch a movie in the living room. And that's my bedroom. The corner one with two windows. There was always a lot of light in my room. I miss that-having a lot of light."

Having no idea how to steal her pain, I gently stroke her hair one lock at a time. Rachel asked if I had a girlfriend-if I was Haley's boyfriend. If I was, I would know how to make her better. I would have the words or the actions, but I only own silence.

I've never felt so much over a girl before. The emotions are unknown and confusing.

"I had a yellow lab," she says. "She slept in my room and died a little over a year ago. Did you know..." And Haley stops and her breathing hitches. It's like being slashed open with a knife. "Did you know she's buried in the backyard?"

"No." Because I wouldn't know, but somehow it feels like I should. I think of me and Ethan at ten and nine dressed in our best suits to help Rachel bury her hamster in a s...o...b..x in the backyard. It was my idea to hold the service when Mom was locked in her room, crying over a long-lost daughter, and Dad, once again, was busy with business.

Rachel sobbed and sobbed as Ethan held her. I dug the hole and I repacked the dirt. There is nothing I wouldn't do for my brother and sister.

"Do you know what I miss the most?" Haley whispers.

"What?" I ask, terrified of her answer.

"The feeling that no matter what happened or what I did, there was someplace safe to fall." Haley looks at me and my insides wither at the moisture in her eyes. "What's it like to go home? I fantasized about it and I'm sure you did, too. What was it like?"

I'm in love with you. I'm in love with you and I don't know how to make you better. I'm in love with you and I shouldn't be. I'm in love with you and once you figure out who I am, you're not going to love me. I'm in love with you and I seem to f.u.c.k up the ones who love me back.

"Do you want to go there?" Each uttered word is cut against my heart. Once she sees where I live, once she knows I'm a Young, whatever it is going on between us will be done.

Haley nods and as I U-turn it out of her old neighborhood, I lace my fingers with hers. I hold on to her and what kills me and warms me at the exact same time is how desperately she clutches me. Like the two of us are drowning and the only way to stay afloat is to never let go. I've got minutes left with Haley and I want the memory of her skin touching mine burned into my brain for eternity.

Haley My fingers trace the split of my lips as I stare at the sprawling house from the pa.s.senger side of West's SUV. I'm not sure if my fingers are there to keep the words in or to help them out. I think of those sci-fi movies where a character sets his gun to stun. I'm stunned. This-speechless, frozen, numb-this is what being "stunned" feels like.

"There's a five-car garage around back." West's keys clank together as he circles them on his finger. "I can show you that if you'd like or we can head inside."

My chest moves as I inhale, then exhale. Never would have I imagined that this is where he lives. "It's a mansion."

"It is."

"They threw you out?" Aren't people with money supposed to be better than...well...everyone? The way his hands clutch his keys tells me how terribly wrong I am.

"Yeah." A pause. "I'm not like you-I'm not a good person. My dad had valid reasons for throwing me out. In fact, it's amazing he didn't throw my a.s.s out sooner."

West focuses on his lap and I have to force myself out of my stupor. Words. Words would be good right about now. But I don't know what to say. He lives in a mansion.

But mansion or not, I hate the pain on his face. I bite my bottom lip and reach out to West, just like he reached out to me in the parking lot with Matt a few feet away. I rest my fingers on his shoulder and brush my thumb against the material of his s.h.i.+rt.

When he doesn't respond, my heart flutters at the thought of becoming bold. My mouth dries out and I swallow. I'm not a bold person, not when it comes to intimacy-to touching. I inch closer, and, like I've dreamed of a thousand times, I caress the hair on his head, sliding my fingers into the golden-blond strands, then retucking it behind his ear.

West finally allows his deep blue eyes to meet mine.

"Will you take me inside?" I ask. "Will you show me your home?"

We're out of the car in a heartbeat, and, with our fingers knotted tightly together, West leads me up the white stone stairs as if he's terrified I'll change my mind or he'll change his. He shoves the floor-to-ceiling door open and the air rushes out of my lungs.

And I thought it looked huge on the outside. "My G.o.d."

West shuts the door and my eyes dart about, trying to comprehend the splendor. I stand on a marble floor and in front of me is a sprawling staircase that winds with immeasurable grace. The ceiling appears to soar to the heavens and at the very pinnacle above us is a domed skylight. Because this house is perfect, the moon itself is centered in the middle.

I glance at West and I expect to see quiet expectation or a glimmer of pride. Instead, his expression contains an ache. I squeeze his hand. "It's beautiful."

"It's excessive."

I appraise my clothes: my best blue b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rt, my best pair of jeans and black shoes. There is no way my best could ever measure up. My grip on him loosens and West clings tighter. A constant seesaw between us of holding on and letting go.

High heels click against the floor and I raise my head to notice a slender woman gliding into the foyer from a back hallway. She has mail in her hands and she flips through it with an air of absentness. I bet she doesn't receive collection notices.

"Hi, Mom," West says and I flinch, startled by his voice breaking the silence.

She stops abruptly. It's obvious where West inherited his good looks, golden hair and blue eyes. A tender smile brightens her face as she surveys him. "You're home. I thought you'd be out celebrating with your friends."

Celebrating? My forehead scrunches. Is he purposely avoiding my gaze?

"This is Haley Williams. Haley, this is...." West pauses and the pleading glance he sends me causes me to s.h.i.+ft. Meeting parents can be awkward, but West is acting like he's about to slash open my heart or his. "My mom, Miriam Young."

Young. I suck in a breath as my heart pounds faster. He's Young.

West Young. I've heard his name-have said his name-a hundred times and it never clicked. Not once...until now.

He's not just any Young. He's the Young. This is the family that half of the buildings in the city have been dedicated to. They're the reason why the zoo can throw a Halloween party. Because of a plaque at the check-in desk, I knew they were the ones who paid for the mattress I slept on at the shelter.

I let out a slow, steady stream of air because breathing is helpful. Breathing can keep me upright and deter the black dots encrypting my vision. Breathing may possibly make this moment less real.

"It's nice to meet you, Haley." His mother's eyes dance as she spots our joined hands. "And I'm a.s.suming Haley is your..."

"Girlfriend," answers West.

A sound leaves me that's akin to a squeak. West Young claimed me as his girlfriend.

Mrs. Young's smile overtakes her face, and, as she moves forward, I let go of West and extend my hand because that's what you do with royalty, right? c.r.a.p, maybe I should curtsy. Mrs. Young accepts my hand with both of hers, then draws me in for a hug. "West has never brought home a girl before."

"He hasn't?" I hug her back, sort of, because I'm wondering if I'm allowed to touch.

Mrs. Young pulls back and stretches out my arms in that weird a.s.sessing way. "She's beautiful. Really, West, she is. Simply gorgeous."

And she's touchy. "Thank you?" Am I a contestant in a dog show?

I shoot a please-help-me glance to West, and, thankfully, he swoops in for the rescue. He lobs an arm around my shoulder and his mother finally drops my hands.

"I thought I'd show her around," he says.

She claps. "That is a wonderful idea. You do that. I'll change into something less formal, and then we can meet in the kitchen. It'll give me a chance to properly celebrate your birthday."

We both stand as still as pillars of salt and watch as Mrs. Young sweeps up the stairs and out of sight. "That's my mom," he says with a hint of apology but mostly the pride I'd been expecting earlier.

"She's-" enthusiastic "-welcoming."

He chuckles. "She's a nutcase, but she's my mom."

"You're a Young," I say and there's a sad hollowing out in my stomach. He didn't tell me, but at the same time, he didn't not tell me, and I never cared to ask for details.

"Yeah." West lowers his head, then raises it. "I am."

West points in several different directions. "Kitchen, formal living room, formal dining room, Dad's office, bathrooms, sunroom, a couple more other rooms and the bas.e.m.e.nt is for lounging."

West claims my hand and starts up the stairs.

"Where we are going?" I ask.

"My bedroom. We need to talk."

West We didn't reach my bedroom. Mom was changed and out her door in less than thirty seconds.

The moment I introduced Haley to my mother, Haley's face drained as she connected the dots-I was a Young. Instead of allowing Haley time to decompress, my mother, the blinding social snowplow that she is, grabbed on to Haley and has yet to let go.

With a hip c.o.c.ked against the doorframe and arms crossed over my chest, I watch as Haley graciously laughs and chats with my mother at the ma.s.sive island in the overly large kitchen of stainless-steel everything.

I don't understand a lot of what's happening, but I know one thing: Abby told the truth. I did tear out of the bar like my skin was on fire and the guilt rides me hard that I left Mom to fend for herself. I a.s.sume Abby stayed to protect my mother's back. For that, I do owe Abby.

Mom opens another photo alb.u.m, flips through the pages and slips it over to Haley. "This was taken on the day we brought West home."

I'm eighteen today and I have never brought a girl home. d.a.m.n, Mom must have been dying to do this for a long time. Except for the fact that she spends her days and nights at the hospital instead of at a charity function, life has returned to normal...at least for everyone else. It's like, to them, I never left.

Haley examines the photo and glances at me with laughter in her eyes. "Your onesie says angel. I'm so going to remember that."

"That's because he was." Mom slides her fingers against the photo as if she could make the newborn me pop out and be real. "I had West to save Colleen."

Mom told Haley about Colleen a few minutes ago. Colleen was Mom's firstborn and she died of cancer when she was a teenager. Mom and Dad had Colleen, Gavin and Jack in a group and they considered their family done. When Colleen became sick, all bets were off.

"Colleen needed bone marrow, so I had West in hopes he'd be a match."

"Was he?" Haley's eyes flash to mine. She's aware Colleen pa.s.sed but doesn't know the when, the how or the why. But in the end, do any of us know the why?

"No," I answer for Mom. "I wasn't a match." A failure since birth.

"It didn't matter." Mom touches the picture again. "Colleen was too sick by then and died shortly after West was born."

My legacy in this house was formed a few days after my first breath: I failed at my sole purpose of life and my birth will forever be a.s.sociated with Colleen's death. Mom went on to become pregnant with Ethan and Rachel shortly after because I wasn't enough to make her happy. All Mom desired was a girl, a replacement for the child she lost.

"Well then." Mom shuts the alb.u.m and forces a fake smile. "What are your plans?"

"Quiet night," I answer. "I thought I'd show Haley my room. Maybe watch some movies." Have her break my heart into pieces because I've lied about who I am.

Mom narrows her eyes as she stands. "I want the door unlocked and I expect you to behave like a gentleman."

I laugh. If she knew what I've been doing behind locked doors at other people's houses, she would have given me this modified s.e.x talk years ago. Mom pokes me in the stomach as she pa.s.ses. "I mean it." Then leans in and kisses me on my cheek. "Happy birthday, West."

"Thanks."