Blindness (17 page)

“I’ve only been in love once, and I don’t
even know if it’s real,” I say, letting out a heavy sigh with my
admission, and also bracing myself for Cody’s response.

“Me, too,” he says. His answer comes fast,
but it’s short and powerful. I know he’s talking about the girl in
the picture, the girl I’m pretty sure is Kyla—the one that left him
when she thought he was broken, and he probably needed her
most.

“The night you slept in my room…in my arms?”
he starts, his voice giving out slightly. “That’s the happiest I’ve
been since my dad died.”

The heaviness of his confession smacks me
hard in the chest, and I lose my footing a little. Cody notices,
and pulls me next to him, but doesn’t say anything. His focus is on
our feet and the path in front of us. We’re not following the map
any longer, but rather meandering around winding rows of corn,
avoiding the crowded areas at all costs.

I don’t know how to answer his confession, so
I say the closest thing that comes to mind. “That night was the
scariest decision I’ve ever made,” I say, almost a whisper. I tell
him the truth, though he doesn’t know all of the details of the
turmoil that played out in my heart and head that night—or now, for
that matter.

“I don’t take a lot of risks,” I say, almost
ashamed of the way I’ve floated through life, letting it happen to
me rather than actively participating. Every experience, the
painful moments and the happy ones, playing out around me like a
movie. I’m never the star, but I feel it all the same.

“I take too many,” Cody says, looking down at
his feet as he comes to a complete stop. He rubs his hands over his
face then tucks his thumbs inside his sleeves and crosses his arms,
trying to get warm. I move a little closer out of instinct. The
closer I get, the more Cody fidgets, and soon he’s staring at the
sky above us.

He takes in a deep breath, and blows it out
slowly, letting his lips vibrate softly, before he looks at me
again. Long seconds pass, then finally, his right cheek pulls up
into a tight dimple, his mouth a half-smile. “I want to kiss you.
I’ve wanted to since the first time we met, but I
really
want to kiss you now,” he says, his arms falling limp to his sides,
with a tired shrug, letting it all out for me to see—his
declaration a challenge, a dare, the
twist
to the game.

I close my eyes and force my feet to move my
body closer, and I swear I can feel the nervous patter inside his
chest as well. Without looking at him, knowing I’ll never be able
to say what I want to say if I do, I take the dare.

“I want you to kiss me,” I say, biting my
lower lip, but unable to quell the numbing tingle that’s taken over
my lips and tongue. I hear his breath hitch, but I keep my eyes
closed, only reaching my hands up to grip the soft fabric of his
shirt for strength. I know it’s my turn, and I know I’ve gone down
a road that can’t be retraced—there are no U-turns here.

Deep breath.

“For once in my life, I want to
live,
”
I say, hoping Cody understands what I mean.

The cold air whipping through the towering
stalks around us sends goose bumps all over my body, and I know I’m
starting to shake visibly—both from the frosty chill in the air and
the complete vulnerability I’m displaying. I lift my eyes open
hesitantly, terrified that I won’t find Cody’s eyes looking back at
me. But they are. They’re still and crystal—and deliberating. He
isn’t blinking. He isn’t breathing. He’s only looking at me, trying
to decide if this game he started has gone on long enough, and I’m
so afraid that he thinks it has.

Cody slides his hands up from my elbows to my
hands that are now clutching desperately at his shirt. His eyes
never leave mine, and he never flinches. He pulls my fingers loose
from his thermal, and presses my hands flat together within his,
pulling them to his mouth. My insides tremble watching him as he
touches his lips slowly and softly to my freezing hands, pulling me
even closer while he does.

He holds them flat against his chest with one
hand, while he slides his other hand along the side of my neck, his
thumb stroking the line of my chin first, and then my bottom lip.
His eyes leave mine for the first time when he does this, his
attention lost to my mouth, and when his tongue slips slightly from
his parted lips and grazes his teeth, I shiver.

Cody is taking his time; it’s sweet and
wonderful, and achingly torturous—I never want this to end. He
pushes his fingers deeper into my hair while he erases the few
inches left between us. He drops his other hand from mine, which
are now locked onto his chest, and slowly sweeps the few strands of
hair blowing across my face to the side and behind my other
ear.

He pulls my face close to his, and I watch as
his eyes lock onto mine—neither of us willing to close them,
wanting to witness every moment of
this.
His gaze flicks to
my lips again, and I hold my breath in anticipation. The first
touch is gentle, a taste of what’s to come. The next time Cody
pulls my top lip in between both of his, teasing me with his teeth
and a soft stroke of his tongue, which fills my body with a rush of
need and want so strong that I open wide in response.

My hands slide from his chest to his back,
holding him closer, and not wanting to let go. With my permission,
Cody slides his tongue deeper into my mouth with a sensual push and
pull, his lips strong and hungry against mine. He keeps one hand in
my hair, holding my head tightly to his, while his other hand
slides down the side of my body, his thumb barely grazing my breast
along the way. His hand comes to rest on the lower part of my back,
and I bow to the pressure of his strength as he moves me even
closer into his body.

I feel him, every bit of him, hard and hot
and strong against me, and I’ve never felt more alive. I know in
that second that if we weren’t in the middle of a field surrounded
by families, and strangers, and—
oh god—
Cody’s best friends…I
wouldn’t be able to stop. I would give in—give myself over to
him.

We both pull back at the same time when we
hear the familiar giggles closing in on us, but our hands are still
linked when Gabe and Jessie round the corner and scream out of
surprise from running into us. I feel the sweat cover my body
instantly—unsure if it’s from the panic at being caught or the
desire coursing through me.

I notice Jessie’s reaction, and I’m not sure
if it’s a smirk or a warning, but at this very moment I don’t
care—I don’t care that what I did was possibly the most
wrong
decision I’ve ever made, or that I might be throwing
away everything safe based on a kiss. All I care about is that
Cody’s fingers are still looped through mine, and our pulses are in
sync.

“Look!” Gabe says, holding up a baggie with a
complete set of puzzle pieces, completely oblivious to our
out-of-breath panting, “Free pie!”

Chapter 9:
Sober

The doorbell has rung six times—no one is
getting up to get it. Jim stopped in overnight before flying out
early this morning for Atlanta. I heard him and Shelly arguing when
I came home from my night out with Cody, and I was pretty sure
Shelly cracked open a fresh bottle of wine when they were done.

After the kiss, things between Cody and I
changed—an instant wall grew between us, awkwardness crept in. That
comfort that had done nothing but grow since the minute I met him
was stilted, wilting. Our drive home was silent, and we both kept
our hands to ourselves, not even venturing as far as the center
console for temptation’s sake.

I’m pretty sure he’s ringing the doorbell.
Though, I don’t know why he doesn’t just let himself in. I’ve been
watching the clock the entire time—about five minutes passing
between each ring. I know another one is coming in less than a
minute.

I drag my feet to the floor and head to the
shower, a clean T-shirt clutched to my chest. It’s Wednesday. I
have some studying to do before Dr. Rush’s class, and then I want
to spend the rest of the day refining my portfolio work for my
Thursday critique at the internship. I’ve been distracted lately,
clearly,
and I’m worried that it’s starting to show in my
drafts. They aren’t nearly as far along as I wanted them to be for
my first critique.

The water is sobering against my face. I
slept in fits last night, drifting between dreaming about my kiss
with Cody and waking to thoughts of my weekend with Trevor. It’s
strange how in the moment, there in the corn maze, everything was
so clear—I was ready to throw everything I had with Trevor away.
But the more distance we put between us and the scene of our
indiscretion, the longer we sat there in the car—silent—the more I
let regret eat away at me.

I was going to have to tell Cody it was a
mistake. And then, I was going to have to hope like hell he
understood and didn’t breathe a word of it to Trevor.

The doorbell chimes the second I turn the
water off. He isn’t going to stop, and I was going to have to face
this conversation at some point. Might as well get it over with. I
throw on some jeans and my shirt, slip my feet in a pair of boots,
and pull on a hoodie. The house is silent as I make my way
downstairs. The harsh sound of the doorbell against the quiet makes
me wince.

“Oh my god, stop alread…” I stop when I meet
Jessie’s face. She’s pissed, and there’s no confusing it.

“We need to talk,” she says, arms folded in
front of her, and I have this amazing fear that she’s about to
punch me.

“Hang on,” I say, running back inside to grab
my keys and bag. I have a feeling the
talk
is going to go on
for a while. I lock the door behind me when I return and notice
Jessie’s at the end of the driveway, leaning on the hood of her
car.

“I need to know what the hell you’re doing,”
she launches right into it. Funny, I wish
I knew
what the
hell I was doing, but my girlish instincts have me defensive and
ready.

“What are you talking about?” I say, brow
scrunched—I’m really trying to sell it.

“Pffft,” Jessie rolls her eyes at me and
pushes off from the hood of the car, closing the distance between
us and showing me just how
not
intimidated she is of me.
“Let me be clear; I love those boys, Gabe and Cody. We’ve been
through some serious shit together. And I nursed him back to coming
out in the daylight the last time some chick ruined him…and he’s
still fucked up, but he’s a hell of a lot closer to the light than
he was five years ago. I’m not letting anyone take him back,” she
says, her foul cigarette breath pungent in my face.

I’m not going to lie, Jessie makes me
nervous—I wouldn’t say I’m afraid, but I just don’t know how to
approach her, deal with her. She’s honest, painfully so. And I know
she’ll call me on my bullshit. So I don’t even try.

“What happened five years ago?” I ask,
deciding that if I’m going to walk away from Cody, I should know
about the damage he’s survived. It makes me feel like I’m making
the right choice, not hurting him again.

It takes Jessie a full minute to talk. She
takes a deep breath and holds it, her mouth tight and her eyes
examining me, scanning to decide if I’m trustworthy. I relax when
she steps back a few feet and once again leans on the car, this
time sliding up the hood to sit and cross her legs.

“You know about the accident?” she asks, her
eyes unflinching, daring. I nod
yes
, assuming Gabe probably
filled her in on what he told me.

“Right, well, Cody was a mess before the
accident, and things just spiraled after it,” she starts, pulling a
pack of sunflower seeds from her back pocket and unfolding it,
reaching forward to offer me some. I just shrug
no
and she
continues.

“Jake and Cody were exactly what you wish
every father and son were—
in-fucking-separable.
God…Jake was
so proud of Cody. He taught him how to ride. And when most parents
would freak out because their kid was taking their dirt bike and
building ramps, Jake was buying truckloads of dirt from
construction sites and farm lots, helping Cody build the shit he
was jumping off of. He drove him around the country, got him
sponsors, put the garage in danger just to get Cody on the damn
tour. That’s why the garage is in so much trouble. Jake really let
business slide for the three years he had Cody in the X-games.”

“He was the youngest to pull some of those
stunts,” Jessie pauses for a minute, shutting her eyes. I can tell
how much she loves Cody because of the sadness on her face when she
remembers him before, when his body and his heart were stronger.
“His last few competitions? Damn, girl. He was sick—like people
were talking about how he was this phenom and shit. Then Jake died,
and Cody just lost his grip on everything.”

I slide my bag from my shoulder and move over
to sit on the other end of the hood. Hearing Cody’s story is
bringing out feelings of my own, and it’s getting harder to hold
onto the power I used to have to hide it, to bluff my feelings
away. “How’d he die?” I ask because I’ve been wanting to know, but
I know how it is to be the child without—you don’t want to talk
about the details.

I’m gripping the metal crease of the hood,
waiting for Jessie to speak. “That’s the thing. It wasn’t some
freak accident, like a car crash or something. One day, Jake was
fine—the next, he was gone. He had a brain aneurism, Shelly found
him on the kitchen floor, a gallon of milk spread on the tile
around him, his cereal bowl on the counter, bone dry. Dude was just
getting up to have some breakfast.”

I feel the tears falling down my
cheeks—Jessie has no clue how close to home her words have struck.
But I think I would cry hearing Cody’s story even if it wasn’t a
parallel of my own life in so many ways. I wipe them away quickly
with my sleeves, hoping she doesn’t notice, but she does. She
doesn’t make a big deal of it, but I know she sees me. “You said it
got worse. After the accident?” The need to know more is strong,
and I’m thankful Jessie is sharing.