Текст книги "Paper Thin"

Автор книги: Jennifer Snyder

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Emma didn’t say another word. Instead, she continued on her path inside the house. I watched her, noticing Dawson standing in the kitchen. My stomach clenched at the sight of him. I wasn’t sure how long he had been there or how much of our argument he had heard, but from the look on his face, I was sure it was enough. Emma surprised me when she didn’t acknowledge him. She continued to roll right past him.

“I guess I picked a bad time to come by,” he muttered, staring after her.

I slipped through the back door and closed it behind me. Unable to bring myself to stand without support, I leaned against it, waiting until my heart slowed to its normal rhythm. So much had been said during the length of that one conversation and so much decided.

Our mother would be going to a home. I would be staying for as long as my sister would allow me to. And Emma would never be the same.

The accident was tearing us apart as if we were all paper thin.

“SO WHAT WAS ALL the yelling about earlier?” Dawson tipped his beer up and took a sip. We were sitting outside on the bench near the fire pit again. This seemed like it was becoming our spot. The place where we vented to one another about the things that had happened throughout the day. Lately, I sat and listened to Dawson talk about his dad and how his body was reacting to his treatments. Not tonight. Tonight seemed to be all about Emma and the argument he’d overheard us having. “I don’t think I’ve seen either of you that angry before. What happened?”

I melted into the bench a little more and closed my eyes. I was mortified to tell him what Emma had overheard. Now that I had cooled off, I knew it made me sound like such a self-centered bitch. “I was talking to Sadie, my friend from school.”

“Uh-huh, I remember you mentioning the name once or twice.”

“I ended up saying a few things Emma took out of context.” I let out a long sigh. “Well, maybe more along the lines of a few things I shouldn’t have. Emma overheard me venting about stuff to Sadie, and she took it straight to heart.” My stomach churned as her facial expression drifted through my mind again.

“Oh hell,” Dawson drawled. “So that’s what set her off? What did she hear you say?”

I folded my legs beneath me and dropped my gaze into the fireless pit in front of us. “I don’t know. Stuff. I was venting. I wasn’t really paying attention to everything that came out of my mouth. It was like word vomit, you know?”

“Word vomit?” He chuckled. “No. I don’t think I know what you mean by that. Care to elaborate?”

I smirked at him. “You know what word vomit is, don’t even play.”

He took another swig of his beer, his Adam’s apple bobbed with the force of it. Our eyes locked, and I noticed when his lips quirked into a smile. “You’re right, I do. Just wanted to see if you would entertain me by giving me your definition.”

I rolled my eyes, my smile never wavering. “Anyway. I said some stuff I wish she hadn’t heard, like how I didn’t need some guy’s number because I wasn’t coming back anytime soon and there was no point in starting up a relationship with him.” I thought back to the conversation, trying to remember what I had said. “And something about how I have too much here to focus on right now, how I barely have enough time to focus on myself. She took it as me being selfish or something.” My gut continued to twist as everything rushed back to me again. I sloshed my half-full beer around in its bottle, watching the dark color of the liquid move around inside like a wave. I took another sip.

“Ouch. Okay, so she heard you vent. What did she say to you about it?”

“That she was glad to know how I really felt about being here. She said it sounded as though I was blaming her and Mom for holding me back.” The words tasted bitter on my tongue. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the sliver of truth embedded in them I didn’t care to admit, or if it was my beer growing warm. Either way, there was a funny taste in my mouth. I took another swig. It was the beer.

“Warm already?” Dawson chuckled.

I glanced at him. “Yeah, how did you know?”

“Aside from the fact that you’ve been holding it since we’ve been out here, which is going on forty minutes now?” He paused as though he was waiting for me to say something, or at least that’s what I thought. “You do this thing with your nose when you take a sip of a warm beer. It crinkles or something, like you’re so damn disgusted with it, but you’re still determined to drink every last drop.”

“I do?” I’d never noticed before.

“You do.” The side of his mouth lifted into a lopsided grin, one that made him look boyish. Sexy even. “It’s cute.”

His words were simple enough, but there was something about them that made me pause. The air seemed to spark with that same something, causing my stomach to twist and flip with an unexpected feeling. It took everything I had to look away, to cut the moment, whatever it was, we were sharing in half, but I did. I tipped my beer to my lips and took another sip. The bitter taste blasted across my tongue, but I resisted the urge to spit it out.

“There it is again.” I glanced his way at the sound of his voice. There was a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “Don’t drink it if it’s piss warm, Charlotte.”

“It’s fine,” I lied. “It’s not piss warm.”

“Yeah. I’d say it is.” He reached for it, but I cradled the bottle close to my chest to keep him from getting it. “Let me have it.” He laughed.

“No. I’ll drink it.” I ducked away from him when he lunged for it again.

“Seriously, there’s more in the fridge. I’ll go get you another one.”

“Not necessary.” I pushed his hand back and leaned farther away from him. He moved with me. I wasn’t sure how it happened, but the next second Dawson lost his footing and slipped. His chest landed in my lap, his beer at my feet, and my beer clunked him in the back of the head.

He laughed, and I laughed. Neither of us moved for a drawn out moment, each of us soaking in the humor of the situation. Finally, he corrected himself and rubbed the back of his head where I had hit him. I reached to feel if there was a knot, and was surprised to feel a tiny lump forming.

“Oh my God.” I attempted to stifle my laugh, but it wasn’t happening. “I’m so sorry, but that’s what you get for calling my beer piss warm. Obviously, it took offense.”

“I guess so.” He dropped his hand from his head, and bent to retrieve his now empty bottle from where it landed at my feet. My heart lurched in my chest at the sudden feel of his breath on my legs. I sank my teeth into my bottom lip, watching the back of his head as he inched upward, rolling his body back into a sitting position beside me.

Our stares collided once he had righted himself, and it was as though time stood still for a few heartbeats. The same sensation I felt from minutes before rippled through the air around us again. This time I knew what it was, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t equal parts ashamed and excited by the feel of it.

I focused on his lips. How they were pressed together into a thin line as though he wasn’t sure if this sensation zapping around us was right either. Inch by inch the space between us seemed to be feathering away, becoming nothing, and I wasn’t sure which one of us was choosing to erase it. His breathing grew shallow, and I felt my body tingle to life from the nearness of him.

I had always wanted this. I had always wanted him. The old desire from my teenage years pulsed to life within me. I had spent the last few months shoving everything I felt for him away, but in this moment something stirred inside me again. His scent triggered old memories, starting with my first kiss on the dock and flashing all the way up until now. My heart hammered inside my chest as I watched his familiar blue eyes scan my face. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, or if he was looking for anything at all, but I wondered what my expression told him. Did it reflect acceptance for this moment and where it would go, or fear for how it would hurt Emma, or guilt for how much I wanted this, him, even though I knew it wasn’t right? Maybe it was a confusing combination of all three.

The distinct sound of a cell phone ringing pulled me back. Where was it coming from? Was it my phone? Had I brought one out here? Dawson reached into his pocket, and I realized it wasn’t mine; it was his.

This was all I needed for my mind to come back to me, for my conscience to speak, and for guilt to swarm me. I scooted away from Dawson as he fumbled to answer his phone, putting space between us that should have never been erased. My gaze shifted to the house. I scanned the windows, praying Emma hadn’t seen what nearly happened between us. The house looked asleep, all except for the kitchen, but I didn’t see anyone. Maybe we were okay. Dear God, I hoped we were.

“Hello?” Dawson’s voice ripped through the night, slicing the silence surrounding us into tiny bits.

I took another sip of my piss warm beer and grimaced at the awful taste. A new one would be nice, but I didn’t think it would be wise to share it with Dawson. Not tonight. Maybe not ever again after what almost happened. How could we have come so close to kissing? What were we thinking? What was I thinking? He was Emma’s fiancé.

“Okay, um, I’ll be there in a minute. I just, um, oh, God. Okay.” My gazed shifted to him. Something was wrong. Dawson’s face had grown pale, and his chest heaved as though he couldn’t get enough air. My heart hammered as I watched him continue to break apart in front of me. “I know. Okay. Yeah. No, I’m all right.” He exhaled a deep breath, and I wondered who was on the other end of his phone. The voice sounded like a woman’s, but it was too muffled to make out her words clearly.

“Is everything okay?” I whispered, unable to handle not knowing anymore.

His eyes met mine, and all I could see was his pain. I was transported back to the hospital, to seeing Dawson doubled over in pain from the sight of Emma. “Thanks. Thank you for calling. I’ll be there shortly.” Dawson’s fingers fumbled to hit the end call button on his cell. He pulled in a shaky breath and dropped his gaze to his hands.

I watched him, waiting for a reply. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he moved to lean his elbows against his knees and hung his head. My heart beat triple time.

“I have Mrs. Nelson from next door stay with my dad in the evenings when I come over here. She’s a retired registered nurse. Did you know that?” There was a wild tone to his words, one that had me wondering if he was holding back, trying to hide from his breaking point. “I pay her a little, not much, but a little to sit with him when I can’t. I figured it was good for both of us. Gives her extra money, gives me piece of mind.” His voice shook, and I noticed tears roll down his face.

I brushed my hand against his warm back, hoping to offer him some comfort. “What happened, Dawson? Is everything okay?”

“No.” He shook his head. “She called to tell me Dad stopped breathing. She called an ambulance, but said there isn’t anything they will be able to do. He’s gone. Died in his sleep.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. My mind raced as I wondered if I should go inside to wake Emma up. She should be the one to console him, right?

Suddenly, I wasn’t sure. How could I expect her to console anyone when she couldn’t even console herself? I chewed along my bottom lip, wondering if that was a decision I should let her make for herself.

“Is it bad that I feel sort of relieved?” His voice cracked, and more tears trickled down his cheeks. His eyes lifted to meet with mine, and I saw the conflicting emotions slicing through him all at once. “Does that make me a bad person?”

I swallowed hard. “No.” The word came out stronger than I thought it would, because it was the truth. He wasn’t a bad person; he was human. It was normal for us to not want to see someone we loved suffering anymore.

“Then why do I feel like I am?”

I didn’t know how to answer that question for him, so I did the only thing I knew to do. I reached out and wrapped my arms around him, offering the only thing I could—to hold him until he could piece himself back together again.

I SLIPPED THE BLACK dress I had borrowed from Emma over my head. Dawson’s father was being laid to rest today. Traditional funerals terrified me. I’d only been to one in my life, but one was enough to assure me the fear I felt toward them was deep rooted. Maybe it was the product of watching one too many scary movies, or the simple fact I would be close to someone who had recently crossed over. Either way, my limbs trembled as I bent to retrieve the pair of black heels I’d set out earlier. I sat at the edge of my bed and slipped them on.

A banging in the hall caught my attention. I scurried to my feet, wondering if it was Emma. She wasn’t in the best of moods today. I wasn’t sure if it was because dealing with the emotions that had surfaced in the wake of Dawson’s father’s death were straining her already fragile nerves, or if she was still upset and frustrated from having me help her slip into her dress and shoes.

Another loud noise sounded from the hall. I buckled the clasp on my shoe, and started toward the door to make sure she was okay. Lately, she had been falling from her chair, which scared the crap out of me. I was afraid she would hurt herself.

I slung my door open, and spotted her lying on her stomach in the doorway to her bedroom. “Are you okay?” Panic hung in my words.

“I’m fine,” she grunted as she hoisted herself up onto the palms of her hands.

“What happened?” I darted to her, wanting to make sure she was okay.

“I fell.” Her tone was flat and irritated.

As I moved to grip her shoulders and help shift her into a sitting position, Emma slapped at me and fell forward again. I jerked back, realizing what I had done. It wasn’t that I didn’t think she was capable of maneuvering herself; it was that I wanted to help. Seeing her struggle hurt my heart.

“What did I tell you last time?” she snapped. Her cheeks were flushed, and her dark hair had fallen into her eyes. “I don’t need your help. I can do this on my own.”

I held my palms up, facing her. “I’m sorry. I know you can.” The look in her hazel eyes killed me. Frustration darkened them, while embarrassment swirled through, creating a marble of emotions rolling through her narrowed eyes.

I straightened myself, curling my fingers into my palms, and forced my hands away. She could do this on her own, but the desire to remind her she didn’t have to rested on the tip of my tongue. Instead, I stepped back and watched her figure it out. It didn’t take her long. Charity had been practicing this with her for the past couple weeks. Either Emma had mentioned to her she was having issues with falling or Charity knew.

“See, I told you I could do it alone,” Emma muttered as she wheeled past me and down the hall.

I chewed my bottom lip, hating how debilitating things were for my sister as I followed after her.

It seemed as though the entire town was here, each person dressed in black. Some of the older ladies cried into the shirtsleeves of their husband’s shirts or tissues. Out of all of them, I knew Mrs. Nelson’s were the only tears that were genuinely felt. The others were mostly for show, a way to gain sympathy from those around them. They would later sit around steaming cups of coffee or tea and discuss how hard it had been to come for the service, how much they had cried.

I hated those women.

They were the town gossipers. The ones who loved to talk about how selfish I was for leaving Emma when our mom had first gotten sick.

My eyes moved down the line of people giving their condolences to Dawson and Emma. I wondered if, when they took Emma’s hand, their ‘I’m sorry’ held a double meaning. I wondered if they meant it not only for the loss of Dawson’s father, but also for her accident as well. It was the first time my sister had been in the public eye since the accident.

Unease pricked along my skin. I wanted this moment to be over with. I couldn’t stand being in this room, drowning in a sea of black clothes and sad faces, for a second longer. My eyes shifted to Dawson, and my heart seized. His anguish was palpable. It drooped his shoulders, and forced his lips into a tight frown. Bags and dark circles rimmed his eyes, making them look like those of a stranger’s. It hurt me to see him this way.

I realized then, it must hurt Emma as well, because she had reached out at some point and clasped Dawson’s hand in hers. My eyes zeroed in on their fingers woven into one another’s for comfort. Warmth slipped through me, causing my throat to burn with the promise of tears. I had hoped Emma would comfort Dawson, but feared she would remain cold and closed off.

She had surprised me, and I was glad.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” A familiar voice brought me back to the present.

Millie Green stood in front of Dawson. Her hair had been spun into an elegant bun on top of her head, and her makeup was done to perfection. There wasn’t a single tear in her eyes, which made me wonder if her words held any truth. She shifted her little boy higher on her hip, and gestured her daughter to move on to Emma. Her husband, Miles, was behind her. He was still as tall as I remembered him being, and his shoulders had grown wider and muscular. Apparently, Miles was one of those rare guys who looked even better than they did while in high school.

“And you,” Millie addressed Emma with a little more sugar in her voice than necessary. If I hadn’t seen her looking at Emma, I would have thought she was speaking to one of her kids. “Goodness, I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through recently.” She put a heavy emphasis on the word everything that made me want to slap her.

“Thank you.” Emma’s voice was low, but still somehow sweet and polite. She was so good at this, at pretending to be okay for the sake of being polite. Again, I thought of my sister as a superhero.

“Honestly, I don’t know how you have managed to pull through all this. I know I wouldn’t be able to.” Millie shook her head. She brought a hand to her chest, and inhaled a deep breath. “I just couldn’t. You are so strong, Emma. You inspire me.”

I pursed my lips together as I continued to watch her act. My stomach burned with fury toward the condescending bitch.

When Millie shooed her daughter toward me, finally giving the theatrics a break, her sudden teary-eyed scene ended. “I’m glad to see you here, Charlotte. Nice to see you finally stepping up to help out your family for once.”

That was all I got. Millie moved right along.

Anger burned through me. It died out at the sound of sobs coming from beside me. Emma was crying. Millie had made Emma cry.

“Charlotte, can you get me out of here? I think I need some air.”

I maneuvered behind Emma and gripped the handles on her chair. “Absolutely.” Alarm pumped through me steady and strong. Emma was breaking down. In front of everyone. I was reminded then how my sister was no longer the superhero I had always made her out to be in my head.

Once I got us around to the back of the building, where we were free from prying eyes, Emma lost it. She buried her face in her hands, and large sobs shook her frail body with a force I didn’t know was possible.

“What’s wrong?” My voice trembled as I spoke. I wasn’t used to seeing her this way. She had her fair share of bad days lately, but nothing like this.

“I can’t do this,” she sobbed. “I can’t be there for him like he needs. I just can’t.”

Her words shocked me. It was rare to hear Emma say she couldn’t do something, especially when it came to helping someone else. She was always thoughtful, caring, and compassionate. The version of my sister sitting in front of me was not the girl I had known since birth.

“But you did,” I said. My hand reached out to console her, rubbing her shoulder. “You are.”

She shrugged off my touch. “I tried, that’s all I did.”

“That’s all that matters to Dawson though,” I insisted, knowing it was the truth. “He only wanted you here with him, for him. That’s all he wanted you to do.”

“It’s too much.” She wiped her tears away. “I want to go home.”

I stared at her, thinking she couldn’t be serious. This was Dawson’s dad’s funeral. She couldn’t leave. It wasn’t even over yet. “What?”

“I want to go home, Charlotte. Take me home. I can’t be here for him. Not right now, probably not ever.”

What the hell was she saying? She couldn’t dump the guy at his father’s funeral. “No.”

“Charlotte, don’t. I don’t have it in me right now to fight you. Please take me home.”

“Why?” Anger bubbled through me, but I contained myself as best I could.

“I can’t handle seeing the way people look at me. There’s too much sympathy and pity pooling in their eyes.” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Dawson wants something from me I can’t give him. He needs support and encouragement. He needs someone to lean on, to help him through all of this, but that person isn’t me no matter how much he wants it to be. I can’t help him through this when I’m still struggling to help myself.”

I stared at her, unable to move or speak.

“Please,” she begged. “Please take me home.”

“Okay.” I moved around to the back of her chair and gripped the handles.

The accident had broken Emma. I only hoped she wasn’t broken beyond repair.