Good Girl Gone
Page 19

She hangs up on me.
I set my phone outside the shower and towel the soap off.
Fuck. What am I going to do? I can’t just show up there. Not now. Particularly not by myself.
I roll out into the living room once I have on some pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. Star is on the couch with her feet curled onto the cushions, and there’s an open pizza box on the table in front of her.
“Everything okay?” she asks. She nods toward my phone, which is in my lap.
“Not really,” I tell her. “I think I have to take a short trip.”
She puts her feet on the floor. “Where to? Is everything okay?”
I drag a hand down my face. “I don’t even know how to explain it.”
Her voice is soft. “You could start at the beginning.”
I nod. That might be good. But Star will hate me if I lay all my shit bare. I’m sure of that.
“Who was on the phone?” she asks.
“Someone from my past.”
She leans toward me. “A good someone or a bad someone?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. Both, I guess.” I take a deep breath. “I need to call Paul and ask him if I can take a few days off.”
“To go visit a woman?” I can see her spine straighten.
“Yes.” I close one eye and stare at her. “No.” Then I take a leap. “Do you want to go with me?”
She pulls her legs back up onto the couch. “Where?” But she’s smiling. This is good.
“I need to go home for a few days.”
“Home.”
“Yeah. Home.”
“I’ll go with you.” Her voice is soft but wary.
My gut unclenches. “Really?” I ask. “You mean it?” My heart feels lighter just having her say she’ll go with me. I don’t have to walk into it alone.
She shrugs. “I don’t have anything else to do.”
I shift from the chair to the couch. I’m pressed up alongside her and she doesn’t move away. She picks up a piece of pizza and passes it to me.
“Want to watch a movie?” she asks.
I nod. “Can we cuddle while we do it?”
She grins. “You want to cuddle with me?” She pretends to be affronted and lays a hand on her chest in mock surprise. “With me? Seriously?” She laughs.
I finish my piece of pizza while she searches for a movie. She lies down and puts her head in my lap. She looks up at me. “Is this okay?” she asks. She blinks her brown eyes at me.
“Yeah.” She wiggles and gets comfortable. I pull her hair out from under her and start to run my fingers down the silky length of it.
“That feels nice,” she whispers. Goose bumps break out across her arm.
“You feel nice,” I tell her.
She smiles and starts the movie.
I barely know what’s happening in it, because I can’t get that phone call out of my head. My worst nightmare is going back home to see the one person I hurt more anyone else by leaving the way I did. And I’m taking Star into it with me. But—God help me—I’m just not strong enough to go there by myself. I’m just not.
Star
I wake up to the feel of lazy fingers tracking from one side of my naked belly to the other. I freeze, holding my eyes closed tightly. If I pretend to be asleep, sometimes he’ll give up and go away. He’ll huff and slam the door, and then his wife will get angry at him for waking up the other kids. She never gets angry at him for coming into my room, because she thinks he’s just coming to tuck me in. But that’s not the case. Not now that I’m a little older.
“Star,” a voice says from above me. The fingers are still on my tummy, and he gives me a little shake. A finger wipes at the hot teardrop that’s sliding down my temple. “Star,” he says more insistently. “Are you all right?”
I open my eyes. Josh. It’s just Josh. I look around. The room is bright and cheerful, and Josh’s concerned face looks down at me.
It’s not dark. It’s not quiet. It’s not the middle of the night. It’s not wrong.
“Josh,” I whisper. “It’s just you.”
“Who did you think it was?” he asks softly.
I shake my head and sit up. “No one. Just a dream.”
“A bad one. I’ve been trying to wake you up for a couple of minutes.”
“I’m sorry,” I rush to say. I don’t want to be a burden to him. I don’t want to be something he feels like he needs to worry about or to fix.
“What were you dreaming about?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Liar,” he says softly.
“It’s just a bad dream,” I tell him again. “That’s all.”
“Okay.” He narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t push.
“Is the movie over?” I see the credits rolling across the screen. “I’m sorry I fell asleep.”
“It had a terrible ending. You didn’t miss much.”
“Oh, good.”
He brushes my hair back behind my ear. “What happened to you, Star?” he asks gently.
I get up. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do.” He doesn’t move to his wheelchair. But his eyes follow me all the way to the kitchen. I get a drink and come back, handing him a bottle of water. “Thanks,” he says quietly.
“I didn’t get that because I think you’re incapable of getting your own,” I rush to say.