Brock’s gaze followed mine, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. “What?” he asked, and I narrowed my eyes.
“Heather flipped out this morning because someone stole all her underwear.”
“Probably the first time anyone touched her skanky panties.”
“Oh, you’re hilarious. Guess who had to deal with her meltdown?”
Brock didn’t say anything; he just ran his hand over his hair as he bit back a laugh.
“Oh, you think it’s funny?” I grabbed my pillow and tossed it at him. He caught it before it hit his chest and tossed it gently back to my bed. “You said you wouldn’t do anything.”
“Bird, where I come from, if someone steals your shoes, they catch a beatdown. She got off easy, and I bet she won’t do it again.” He raised an eyebrow as he casually strolled toward me.
“You can’t fight my battles for me.”
His hand ran through my hair before his fingers tangled into a fist, and he gently pulled my head back so I’d look up at him. “You can’t just sit back and let people walk over you. You don’t deserve that, and I’m not going to sit back and watch as it happens. You mean too much to me.”
“Oh, yeah?” I asked playfully, as he bent down and pressed his lips against my forehead. He breathed in deeply before pulling back.
“You have no idea, Bird.” His forehead rested against mine, and I let my eyes fall closed. “No idea.”
The music stopped, and I blinked myself awake. Abel held my phone in his hand, and he placed it next to me and picked up a picture of Brock.
“Mystery solved.”
I sat up and snatched the picture from his hand. “Go home.”
“I was just leaving. I wanted to say bye. I’ll see you Tuesday.”
“I won’t be here.”
“Where will you be?”
“Not here,” I snapped, as I rolled away from him.
“All right. I’ll see you around then, I guess.”
I didn’t say anything, and his eyes danced over the mementos one last time before he left. It took only a moment for his annoying presence to be replaced with Trish’s.
“Oh, my God!” she squealed, and I stared down at the picture of Brock so she couldn’t see how much what she’d said in the living room had hurt me. It didn’t matter anyway. She wouldn’t care. “Abel’s fucking hot, right? I mean, like, epic fucking hotness.”
“Yeah, if you can get past his horrible personality.” I glanced up at her, and her hands were on her hips. “Right. He’s perfect for you.”
“I know! I mean, come on. He’s like sex on a freaking stick.”
“I’m happy for you. You guys deserve each other.”
“Thanks, Lie.” She squealed again and left my room so I could sulk in private. I grabbed my phone and sent a quick text to Marie.
I put everything back in my box and hid it in the closet before Marie responded and told me she’d be at her office in half an hour.
I forced myself to shower and make myself presentable. I wasn’t the biggest fan of makeup, but it was all part of the new and improved Delilah.
The walk to Marie’s office was quick, and there was hardly anyone around since church hadn’t let out yet. The door to her office was locked, so I knocked and waited for an answer. She pulled it open with one hand as the other secured a barrette in her hair.
“Sorry it took me so long,” she said. “I slept in this morning, and traffic was hectic.”
“No worries. Sorry to bug you on your day off.” I stepped inside and waited for her to lead me to her private room.
“It’s no problem, Lie. I’m glad you want to talk.”
Marie took her usual seat, and I walked over to the window, not wanting to look her in the eye as I spoke.
“What happened?”
“I don’t like it here.”
“I thought you liked Florida better than Mississippi.”
“Things change.” I glanced over my shoulder at her, and her eyes were on me, a notepad in her lap and a pen between her fingertips.
“What changed?”
“I obviously didn’t. I’m still me on the inside no matter what I do.”
“You can’t judge your self‐worth by the opinions of others.”
“Sometimes I wonder if it all ever happened, ya know? Maybe I made it all up. Maybe I’m the crazy one.”
“Most people with mental illness don’t know they have it, so the odds are in your favor.”
I looked back again, and Marie was smiling. “Are you allowed to make jokes?” I asked her. “Isn’t that against the therapist superhero code?”
“I won’t tell if you don’t.”
“Secrets are what I’m good at.” I looked out the window to the palm tree just outside. The bright‐green fronds hid the dead brown ones below. It was kind of like me. The makeup and stylish clothes hid the ugliness underneath. “Brock thought it brought us closer, keeping secrets from the world.”
“What did you think?”
“We didn’t have much of a choice.” I shrugged as I dragged the pad of my index finger down the glass. “I think it was a positive way to look at things.”
“Was Brock a positive person?”
“That depends on who you ask.”
“I’m asking you.”
I made my way to my seat, noting the chessboard was gone, replaced with checkers. I snorted. “I take it none of your patients knew how to play?”
“Tell me a positive memory about him,” Marie prodded.
“He was my first kiss.” I smiled as I drifted back to that day in the shelter.
“Why are you sitting over here all by yourself?” Brock asked, as I stared at the floor of the main lounge, not wanting him to see my face. I knew my skin was blotchy and my eyes swollen from crying. He crouched in front of me with his arms resting on his knees for balance. “Have you been cryin’?”
I glanced up to look at his face as I wiped my palms over my cheeks. His eyebrows pulled together, and his stormy gray eyes reflected my own sadness.
“Stop that,” I whispered. “Stop looking at me like you pity me.” My gut twisted in embarrassment, and I wished I could run away from here. I let my long hair fall in front of my face so I could hide behind it.
“I’m not. I swear. I just want to make it better. Are you missing home again?”
I shrugged as my eyes danced over his hair because I didn’t want to look him in the eye when he answered with some rude remark.
“If your mom is so damn mean to you, why aren’t you happy to be away from her?” he continued. “You’re here with me.”
“I’m not crying over my mom, and trading one cage for another isn’t exactly a step up.”
“Then why are you crying? You’ve got give me something. It’s not like you can run away.” His muscles tightened in his face as he clenched his jaw. I remained silent as I looked him over. He was cute, and it pissed me off, because I knew outside of this hellhole he wouldn’t give me a second glance, and soon we’d both be out in the real world.
“Fine. Have it your way.” He moved next to me and took a seat on the floor, groaning as he relaxed his head against the wall.
“Just go away.” I whispered, and he turned his head to face me.
“So you still can talk. I was worried you’d stroked out on me for a second, Bird.”
I smiled despite trying to keep my scowl in place.
“She smiles too.” His hand went over his chest. “Now I’m the one who’s speechless.”
“Oh, wow. That was lame.” I rolled my eyes, but my smile grew, and I glanced at him as I tucked my hair behind my ear.
“You’re harsh. I didn’t know you had it in you, Bird.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For talking to me,” I told him. “I know you didn’t need to waste your time in here with me.”
“Is that what you think? I’ve wasted my time?” He stretched out his legs, but his face didn’t relax.
“You know you have. I’m going to be out of here soon, and it would be social suicide for you to show your face with me in school.”
He laughed loudly, and I couldn’t help join in. People turned to look at us as we disrupted whatever mundane activity they were doing. “You think I give a fuck what anyone thinks about me?”
“You honestly don’t care if people make fun of you for being around me?”
He smiled as he shook his head. “All I care about is what you think. What do you think, Bird?”
“I think you’ll change your mind once we’re out of here.” My eyes drifted over his black shirt, which was stretched tautly across his thick chest.
I ran my fingers through my dark hair, my fingers getting snagged in a snarl, and I groaned in frustration.
“It’s that quail soap or whatever the hell they call it. All the girls walk around here with messy‐ ass hair. Don’t worry about it.”
“Mine kind of always looks like this.” I raised an eyebrow.
“It suits you. Makes you look wicked crazy,” he joked, and I smiled, despite my sadness.
“I’m not crazy.”
“You sure? Well, I’ll make you a promise. I won’t tell anyone you aren’t bonkers if you don’t tell them I’m really a nice guy.”
“People are only nice if they want something.” I pushed myself to my feet and stretched. Brock stood up beside me, and I walked back around the corner and down the long hallway that housed the bathrooms and bedrooms.
“This again? What do you think I want from you?” His gaze flicked to mine, and my cheeks burned under his stare.
“I don’t know,” I said. “We barely know each other.”
“What do you want to know?” he asked, as he watched one of the girls walk by us and down the hall to the main lounge.
“Why did you run away?”
He sighed and ran his hand over his face as he slowed his pace. “This really isn’t going to help my case in making me look like a good guy, Bird.” He chuckled. “Well, I ran with a pretty crazy group of guys in Boston. They liked to take shit, cause fights. It was a tough neighborhood. You had to either fit in with them or be one of the pussies who got their asses beat to fund the next ripper.”
I drew my eyebrows together a she shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “A ripper is a mad‐cool party.”
“Wow, sounds like a great place. I can see why you wanted to go back.”
“It’s all I know, and after Laurie…this place is too…quiet.”
“It’s not that quiet for all of us.” I rolled my eyes and turned to walk back toward the main room.
“Someone fucking with you?” He put his hand on my shoulder to stop me from walking. “Lie, if you tell me, I can take care of it for you.”
I started to walk again, and he followed beside me. “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, and I highly doubt you want to take this one on anyway.”
“What? You think I can’t protect you?” Brock laughed and shook his head. “No faith in me at all, huh?”
“You see that overgrown jerk standing in front of the couch?” I motioned with my chin as we reached the end of the hall. “He told me this morning that I need to pay their dues.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
I shrugged as I let out a loud breath. “Judging by the way he was grabbing himself, it wasn’t hard to guess.”
Brock was halfway across the room before I could call out his name. He was piss and vinegar, pure testosterone and no outlet. He didn’t care what anyone thought, and I envied him for that. More than anything, I wanted not to give a shit about anyone else’s opinion, and I wanted to be tough like him.