Page 30 of Inseparable
“What did Coach say?” I saw his car parked outside the Carters yesterday, and it doesn’t require much brainpower to figure out the topic of conversation.
He shrugs. “Not a lot he can say. Obviously, he’s upset and concerned, but the season’s just about over, and it’s, hopefully, only a temporary setback.” He slouches against the counter, smiling at me.
I frown a little, eyeing him curiously. “You’re taking this remarkably well.”
He shrugs again. “Stressing out about it isn’t going to change anything. Anyway, Dad’s doing enough of that for the both of us.”
I cringe, recalling his dad’s angry tirade the morning we returned from the hospital. Words like “good for nothing” and “chip off the old block” were bandied about. “Does he still want to press charges against him?” I can’t even say Devin’s name out loud without it causing enormous pain. Mom said to give it time, that it won’t hurt as much, but, so far, the pain hasn’t eased at all.
“Mom talked him down, but he’s banned Devin from the house. Not that it matters, because I want nothing to do with him anyway.”
I nod over the painful lump in my throat, not wanting to get into it again. “Let’s get out of here. Might as well get this over and done with.”
Heated words are exchanged when Ayden tries to take my book bag as we leave the house. “You’re freaking injured, and I can carry my own bag.”
“I’ve still got one good arm,” he protests, raising his uninjured arm in demonstration. “And I’m not an invalid.”
I roll my eyes as I throw my bag in the Jeep, rounding the driver side. “I know you aren’t, but it’s time you let me look after you, and don’t even attempt to argue with me because we both know you need to do what you’re told and not jeopardize your recovery.”
I swing myself up into the Jeep, adjusting the seat for my shorter legs. I run my hands over the steering wheel in awe, my temporary panic over the impending shit-storm in school forgotten in the excitement of getting to drive Ayden’s Jeep around for weeks.
“I like looking after you,” he huffs, buckling himself in. “And I hate not being able to drive my own Jeep or do other stuff for myself.”
I lean over, patting his knee. “Poor baby.” He pouts, and I laugh as I turn the key and crank the engine. “Just sit back, relax, and enjoy being treated like royalty.”
He flips me the bird, and I roar laughing as I ease the Jeep out of the drive.
Anxiety returns with gusto the nearer we get to school, and I’m on the verge of a full-blown panic attack by the time I swing the Jeep into a vacant space in the school parking lot. My knee taps up and down, and my heart’s beating ferociously in my chest.
“Relax, Lina.” Ayden pivots in his seat, placing his hand on my knee, stalling the jerky motion. “It will be fine. Just remember, you’re not at fault. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
I draw in a brave breath as I jump out of the truck. Ayden slides awkwardly out his side, slinging his bag over his good shoulder. When I round his side, he takes my hand in his, and we head into the building together. The sneaky looks, hushed whispers, and sly finger-pointing starts instantly, but I keep my chin up, doing my best to ignore it. Ayden’s grasp on my fingers strengthens, and a muscle clenches in his jaw as we walk toward my locker. We round the corner, and I slam to a halt. Devin is sitting on the ground in front of my locker, with his knees bent. A small crowd has gathered in front of him, whispering and giggling as they wait for the show to commence.
Well, they can wait. I’m not going to give them anything else to gossip over.
“I can’t believe his nerve,” Ayden mumbles under his breath.
“Just ignore him. That’s what I’m planning on doing,” I whisper back.
The crowd grows quiet as we approach, drawing Devin’s attention. He looks up and climbs to his feet. I open my locker without looking at him or the gossipmongers.
“Can I talk to you both in private?” Dev implores in a hushed tone.
I ignore him, pulling books haphazardly out of my locker and stuffing them in my bag. Ayden’s good arm rests on my lower back, offering reassurance. He silently fumes, glaring at Devin.
“Please,” Dev says.
His voice cracks a little, and damn, if it isn’t hard to react to that, but I harden my heart in protection. “There is nothing you have to say I want to hear,” I reply without looking at him. I slam my locker shut with more force than necessary, whirling around into Ayden’s waiting embrace.
“And we don’t need to put on another show. God knows they’re still gossiping over the last one,” Ayden growls under his breath.
“Well, when can we talk?” Dev persists.
Ayden looks to me for guidance, and I know he’ll follow my lead. Encased in his protective arms, I risk a quick glance at Devin over my shoulder. He looks like death warmed up. His pale skin is bruised in several places, his lip is cut, and he looks like he hasn’t slept or shaved in days. “I don’t want to talk to you,” I whisper. “Just leave me alone.”
A grief-stricken look washes over his face. “Please, Ange. I know I fucked up, but please give me a chance to explain.”
I shake my head as tears start to well in my eyes. “I can’t. It hurts too much.” Ayden tightens his hold on me, and I’m careful not to press into his injured arm as I snuggle in closer.
