Let Me Know (4 page)

Chapter Three

Amber

“Amber?” Emma’s voice breaks through the fog in my head.

I blink, then snap out of my frozen state. Both the salesclerk and Emma are watching me, waiting for my answer.

“Sorry, what did you say?” I ask, wrapping my arms around me to hide my slight trembling.

Her pale eyebrows draw together. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good. I zoned out, that’s all.” Something I’ve been doing a lot since last spring. I shrug as if it’s no big deal, and inventory what happened so I can tell my therapist.

I remove my wallet from my purse, hinting that I want to pay for the body lotion and leave. The sooner we get out of here the better. The only place I want to be right now, other than in Marcus’s arms, is at Grandma’s. More than anything, I want to see Smoky.

“Are you sure?” Emma asks.

“Yeah, I just need to get out of here.” I don’t want to explain beyond that. Emma has seen the scars on my back. She doesn’t know Paul whipped me until I finally stopped screaming. I told her the scars were from the broken glass when I tried to escape.

Emma and I pay for our purchases, then weave our way down the crowded mall, stopping every now and then to visit Emma’s favorite stores.

“There’s a book I want to look for,” she says, carrying several bags from various clothing stores she’d practically lived in when Crossfields was our home. “Everyone on the basketball team has been talking about it, so I figured I’d get it.”

“Okay.” Marcus isn’t due here for two more days. Until then, I’ll need something to keep my mind off how much I miss him. I hustle to the romance section in the store we end up in and scan the tightly packed bookshelves. Anything to keep my mind preoccupied for a few minutes, to keep it from heading to Marcus again.

My phone buzzes in my purse as I reach for a book. As if reading my thoughts from over two hundred miles away, Marcus has sent me a text:
Love
you
.
Will
call
after
exams
finished
.

Love you back. Good luck!

“Here.” Emma hands me a book with a black-and-white picture of a couple on the cover. All you can see of them is the waistband of their jeans, their otherwise naked bodies pressed together.

Instantly my thoughts go to Marcus and I inwardly groan. It’s going to be a very long two days.

“This is the book,” Emma says. “The guy’s a hot guitarist and everyone’s in love with him.”

I grin. “Didn’t realize you have a thing for musicians.”

“I don’t, normally. They’re too moody.”

I hand it back to her and remove a copy from the shelf for myself.

“I thought you moved away,” a high-pitched voice says behind me, and what feels like a nest of spiders scurrying over my body puts me on alert. Melissa.

Against all instinct, I twist around to find my former classmate glaring at me. Nice to know things haven’t changed. She hated me even before Paul stepped into my life. His actions only intensified her venom.

“Back off, Mel.” Emma steps between us.

“I can’t believe you’re defending her after she killed your brother.” If Melissa were a dog, I’d have her pegged as a snarling pit bull.

“You know she didn’t kill Trent. She wasn’t the one responsible for the car accident. And she was as much a victim as he was.”

“Yet he’s dead and she isn’t.”

Yep, nothing has changed. Like when I was released from the hospital last spring and allowed to go back to school, and Melissa “accidentally” knocked me into my locker and I ended up with a concussion. She had planned to humiliate me. My concussion was an early birthday present.

“I would do anything for Trent to be alive.” My voice cracks. No matter how many times I say that, it will never bring him back.

She regards me through narrowed eyes. “If you hadn’t stolen him from me, he’d still be here.”

“Get over yourself.” Emma squares her shoulders, aiming for the intimidation she’s best known for both on and off the courts when she’s pissed. “Trent never would have dated a bitch like you. Amber’s the only girl he ever loved. And it doesn’t matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, he was never interested in you.” She turns to me. “Let’s go.”

Without sparing Melissa another glance, Emma stalks off with me trailing not far behind. From the way Emma’s holding her body rigid as she walks, it doesn’t take much to realize she’s more steamed at her former teammate’s words than she needs to be. Especially as they were directed at me.

“What’s going on?” I ask as we approach the long line for the cashier. Cheerful Christmas music plays in the background. A contrast to the bored, not-so-cheery expressions on everyone’s faces. “You never acted this way when Trent was alive, when she went on and on and on about me stealing him from her.”

Emma snorts. “Too bad she never said it to his face. He would have told her where she stood.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re angry.” I place my hand on her arm to stop her. “She can say all she wants—it won’t change anything.”

“I don’t trust her. You don’t know her like I do. She can be malicious.” Emma sighs. “Remember when you first started getting those letters from Paul and then Trent accused you of cheating on him?”

I nod. It was ridiculous and he felt bad afterward, after I reminded him in ways that left us both breathless that there was no other guy in my life.

“Mel told him she’d seen you with another guy.”

“And he believed her because of those letters,” I say, filling in the pieces. I don’t bother to point out, though, that none of it matters. There’s nothing she can do to hurt me again.

Chapter Four

Marcus

“Hey babe,” Amber says on the other end of the phone line, and I can’t stop grinning. “How was your exam?” When we first met last semester, I woke her up from a nightmare and she told me to go to hell. The last thing I expected is that she’d one day call me “babe.” The last thing I expected is that I’d love the way it sounds from her lips. Like I belong to Amber and only Amber.

“It’s finished. That’s all I care about.” White puffs of air escape with each word, swept away by the brisk Chicago wind, as I walk from the engineering building to the parking lot. “I have to do a few things first, then hit Haysboro Mall on my way out. I should be at your place in four to five hours.” Or less, depending on how long it takes to track down Alejandro.

“I can’t wait.” Her voice lowers. “My mom won’t be home for another five hours...” The implication behind her words is left hanging.

“Then I’ll be there in four if I can,” I say, grinning again.

Crap, it better not take me long to find Alejandro. This could be my only chance to make love to Amber over the next several days, while we’re staying with her mom. I suspect her mom isn’t going to let me sleep in the same bed with Amber, even if it’s only to keep Amber’s nightmares away.

At Alejandro’s high school, I park on a side street and stride to the main entrance. The loud buzzer cuts through the air. Several minutes later, students flood from the building, pushing through the doors as if the place were on fire—or because it’s the last day of school until the new year.

Alejandro steps through the open doorway, chatting with Juan and another boy who I’ve seen around the youth center. The new friend is shy. That’s all I know about him.

“Hey, Alejandro,” I call out when it’s obvious he doesn’t see me. “What year did the Bulls acquire Artis Gilmore?”

He looks up and a hesitant smile creeps on to his face. “Er, nineteen-seventy-six.” He says something to his friends, then makes his way toward me through the mess of students rushing to catch their buses.

“Wanna ride?” I ask.

“Can you give Juan and Matt one too? They live near me.”

I barely keep from groaning out loud. “Sure, no problem.”

Alejandro waves his friends over. “Marcus is giving us a ride to my place.”

Matt smiles, the movement at the corners of his lips barely noticeable.

Juan bumps fists with me. “In what year did Jordan first retire?”

“Nineteen-ninety-four,” I reply.

Alejandro snorts. “Dude, it was nineteen-ninety-three. Thought you were supposed to be smart. What with being in college and all.”

This time I do groan. Shit, that was an easy one. “It’s not like knowing Bull’s trivia is required to be an engineer.”

That gets a snicker from Alejandro and Juan. “You said it,” Juan says. Matt looks around, either searching for someone or already bored of the basketball talk.

We walk to where I’m parked while I think of ways to ditch Juan and Matt. The only boy who’s animated is Juan, and I’m not sure if he’s trying to fill the uncomfortable void hanging over us, or if he’s clueless about the odd tension suddenly sluicing off his best friend.

“Do you play basketball?” I ask Matt.

He shakes his head, hands shoved in the pockets of his ski jacket. Unlike Juan and Alejandro’s jackets, his is clean and without any obvious wear.

“He’s into science,” Juan explains. “His dad is a university physics professor. He’s really cool. He explained how physics determines which direction a ball will bounce.”

Alejandro huffs a laugh and shoves his friend’s arm. “Not that you understood any of it.”

Juan’s face reddens. “Maybe not. But it was still cool.”

“And you live near these guys?” I ask Matt. University professors tend not to buy houses in the projects. The school caters to middle class students, but they are bussed from farther away—and not within walking distance of Alejandro’s house. Which means it’ll take even longer before I can be with Amber again. Both my dick and my heart grumble in protest.

Matt looks toward the street. “No, but my dad is picking me up later on. He had tests to grade.”

“Matt always comes over after school on Wednesdays,” Alejandro says. “He’s been helping me with math since you got shot.”

I cringe. Frank screwed us both up in more ways than one. I used to tutor Alejandro so he wouldn’t be kicked off his school’s basketball team. He’d been headed in that direction because of his math grades. “Thanks,” I say to Matt. “I owe you one.”

He shrugs, and again avoids looking at me. He reminds me of a student in my engineering program. He doesn’t often make eye contact and is awkward around people, but the guy is a fucking genius. I’m guessing Matt is too if his father’s a physics professor.

I unlock the car doors and the three scramble inside. A few snowflakes drift from the dark gray clouds. Hopefully the heavy snowfall holds off until I get to Crossfields. I’m not missing out on seeing Amber, but I’d rather avoid the fucked up roads if I can. I don’t have chains for the tires.

I park in front of Alejandro’s house. Before he can escape the car, I place my hand on his arm. Matt and Juan are already scooting out of the backseat. Juan slams the car door and they wait for Alejandro on his side.

“I need to talk to you,” I say.

Alejandro doesn’t reply. His body turns rigid and he stares out the front window. It’s like he’s not even here with me, but not in the same way as Amber when she has a flashback. He has shut down, though I suspect it’s because he knows what I want to talk about. He’s never acted this way before. Until Frank hurt him, he was always outgoing and friendly.

Matt and Juan stand on the sidewalk, waiting for Alejandro to join them. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bouncing like a basketball, but he still refuses to look at me.

So not to make the guys any more curious than they already are, I try to look casual, a relaxed smile on my face. It feels anything but that. “Frank needs to be locked away, but I can’t do it on my own. Ryan is dead, and you’re the only other person who can tell the cops what Frank did.”

I watch for signs that he knows others who are involved, but he doesn’t give anything away. He continues watching out the front window. I can’t tell if he even notices the darkening sky or the falling snow or the dented bumper ahead of us.

“There’s nothing to tell,” he says, voice lifeless. “I told you he didn’t do anything.”

“What are you afraid of?” I push down the anger funneling beneath the surface; it fights back. “Did he threaten you? Is that why you won’t talk?” I struggle to keep my voice calm. It doesn’t work.

Again, nothing.

“He can’t hurt you if he’s in jail,” I say. “He can’t hurt anyone.” Though I’m sure his jail mates wouldn’t have the same qualms when it comes to hurting Frank. Child molesters are at the bottom of the food chain. Where they belong.

Alejandro breaks his gaze from the front window and turns to his friends. They’re no longer watching us. Juan is busy talking, hands moving with his words. Matt is listening and nodding, attention focused on the snow-crusted ground.

“I have to go,” Alejandro says, voice still flat. He opens the door and escapes the car as if it’s about to explode. The same way my insides feel at his stubbornness.

“Shit!” I slam my palm against the steering wheel. As much as I want to shake him, to make him see how nothing’s going to change for him until Frank’s put away, I know it won’t help. I’ll have to find another way to get through to him. If I don’t, he’ll never be free. He could end up screwing any willing girl just to prove to himself he’s not Frank.

I slam my palm against the steering wheel, again. Like I’m one to talk.

Ryan and I kept silent because of the shame we felt at what Frank did to us. Alejandro’s silence is no different than ours. We were afraid what people would think of us, what our friends would think of us. It wasn’t only about the risk of being yanked from our home and split up in the foster-care system. It was about the stigma placed on us because a man had sexually abused us. There would be lingering questions in people’s minds, wondering if we had enjoyed it. There would have been lingering questions, wondering if we were gay. There would have been lingering questions as to who we were and how to treat us, given what we had gone through.

Silence might have come at a cost, but it was one we had been ready to accept.

Until now.

I watch Alejandro and his friends retreat into the small single-level house. Alejandro doesn’t acknowledge me as he shuts the door behind them, and a sinking sensation consumes me.

He’ll never forgive me for what I didn’t do. I might not have been the one to touch him, but after my silence for all those years, I might as well have been.

And with that realization burning inside me like battery acid, I pull away from the curb and drive toward the mall.