Letting Go

Evernight Teen

www.evernightteen.com

Copyright© 2014
Bridie Hall

ISBN:
978-1-77130-704-8

Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

Editor: JS Cook

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.  No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

~ ~ ~

Isabelle had expected the return home from Paris to be a lot like waking up in the middle of a beautiful dream. But having her luggage stolen mere minutes after landing in Atlanta was worse than a rude awakening. She was stuck at the airport, with her mobile phone and ten dollars the only things she had left. She was hoping calling her best friend would improve her mood.

“You’re doing what?”
Chloe’s voice was almost a whisper, such was her disbelief. Or maybe the phone line was bad, Isabelle hoped.

“It’s not like
I have a choice,” Isabelle argued weakly. “Do you think I’m enjoying this, Chloe? Jamie arranged for Harper to come pick me up. I couldn’t exactly say I don’t want to go with him, it would’ve been strange and ungrateful.”

Jamie was Isabelle’s boyfriend and Harper was his older brother.

“Do I have to remind you that you seem to be a bit confused about Harper lately? I’m even suspecting that you escaped to Paris to get away from the brothers so you could clear your head.”

“Actually,
I went for the art. And even if I wanted to, I can’t avoid Harper. He’s Jamie’s brother.” Isabelle ignored her best friend’s insinuations. Chloe was always trying to spice up life by blowing things out of proportion, Isabelle thought. So she’d danced with Harper and it confused her a bit because she wasn’t sure what his intentions were. But that didn’t mean she was confused when it came to Jamie, her boyfriend. She loved him.

Isabelle
called Chloe to tell her she would be getting home later than planned because her luggage had been stolen while she was studying the train timetable. She wanted to hear words of comfort, not to have her own worries magnified.

“Why didn’t you call your dad instead? He
could come pick you up.” Isabelle couldn’t decide whether Chloe sounded worried about her or jealous because she liked Harper.

She didn’t want to irritate her
, so she didn’t ask. Instead, she said, “I tried calling him, but I couldn’t reach him and his voice mail was turned off. So I called Jamie.”

“Didn’t he go home over the holidays?”

Jamie and Harper were originally from Atlanta, but Jamie had moved to Isabelle’s hometown two years ago to finish high school there. When she’d called him half an hour ago to tell him of her misadventures, he suggested that his older brother Harper, who would be leaving Atlanta this afternoon, could come pick her up at the airport and drive her home. Harper didn’t go to high school and Isabelle wasn’t exactly sure why he had come to live with Jamie almost a year ago, but he seemed to be her only chance of getting home any time soon.

“No, but
Harper did, so …”

“
Are you sure you’re fine with this? Will you be able to handle it?” Chloe’s tone switched from incredulous and annoyed to concerned. She had been Isabelle’s best friend since first grade. Sometimes Isabelle thought Chloe knew her better than she knew herself.

“
Of course I’m not fine with it. The last thing I want is to spend five hours in a crammed car with Harper. But I’ll be okay.” She had a distinct feeling that she sounded just as unconvinced as she felt. She got along okay with Harper, on occasion she even enjoyed his company; he could be cool and agreeable. But sometimes he was a real pain, teasing and taunting her, particularly about her relationship with his younger brother.

“Sure?
I mean ... this is Harper we’re talking about.”

“
I know, Chloe, but I can handle him. I’m fine, everything will be fine. I’ll call you soon. I have to go get something to drink.” Isabelle was breathless from focusing on sounding positive.

“Okay. If you need anything, to talk, yell, cry or
for me to stop you from doing him, I’m just a speed dial away,” Chloe laughed.

“
Chloe!”

“
Kidding. I know you can behave.”

Isabelle
exhaled when she realized Chloe was trying to be funny.

“But can he?”

“Wha—”

The line went dead.
Chloe’s words echoed in Isabelle’s mind. She kept hearing them as she stood in line at Macdonald’s and still when she finished her milkshake. By the time Harper called to say he’d be by in twenty minutes, she was feeling edgy and she had a pounding headache from this voice loop that was going on and on in her head. She couldn’t switch it off. It was like a refrain to an already miserable day of jet lag, getting robbed, and having to accept a road trip with her boyfriend’s annoying older brother. Ugh.

****

Of course he was late. Forty-five minutes late. She stood under the huge white clock like an idiot. People that had somewhere to be were bumping into her as they walked past with a purpose. They were eyeing her cautiously as if she was the one preying on careless tourists to rob them and leave a bitter aftertaste to their otherwise glorious holidays.

Of course he didn’t apologize
when he finally arrived. He was dressed in jeans and a black leather jacket. There were tiny droplets of rain shimmering in his dark, messy hair. He’d had it cut since she had last seen him, Isabelle noticed.

He
waved at her and quickened his step when he saw her. He half hugged her, kissing her cheek in a true French fashion. Isabelle could smell the toasty skin of his neck and his aftershave.

“What was that for?”
she asked, uncomfortable, although a little bit charmed. She’d never admit that, though.

“Just so your return
from France to the crass America won’t be too abrupt and difficult.”

She
hid her smile while he looked around. “Where’s your luggage?”

“I don’t have any. It got stolen.”

His expression darkened. “Seriously? In France?” he asked.

“Nope, right here when
I was trying to sort out the mess of the train timetables. Didn’t Jamie tell you?”

“He
just said to come pick you up. You’re okay?” He reached out to touch her forearm.

She shrugged it off
. “I’m fine. I didn’t even see how it happened. I had my suitcase by my feet and there was a little crowd at the table so I didn’t notice anything until I reached down to get my purse to go buy the ticket. But then I didn’t have enough money ... I tried calling Dad, but I couldn’t reach him.” Isabelle felt like she had to justify this trip with him. He didn’t seem to care about the reasons.

“As
long as you’re not hurt. You can always buy new clothes. Actually, you could use some more feminine pieces.” He grinned, his eyes travelling up and down her body. She made a face. Her blue tailored jacket was feminine. And what was wrong with jeans? Everybody wore jeans these days.

“
Ready to go?”

H
e led the way to where he had parked his car.

“So you went home over the holidays?”
She tried to fill the silence. It was uncomfortable, the opposite of how she felt in the company of his brother. She and Jamie could be quiet for long periods and still feel at ease and in sync. Harper, however, was making her nervous, itchy, and unsure of herself because of his comments, like the one about her clothes. He had an eerie ability to find all her insecurities and bring them out into daylight, ridiculing them.

“I don’t
go to school, remember? I don’t have holidays. But yeah, I went home on business.”

Isabelle
knew Harper’s and Jamie’s dad had a car dealership. It was their family business that the sons would take over once their dad retired. Their mom had left just months after Jamie was born, but Jamie never told her why or whether he’d seen her again. Neither of the brothers liked to talk about their parents.

Isabelle
could relate. Her mother had died of leukemia when Isabelle was six. It was just Dad and her ever since. Some days she wondered if they could be considered a family at all. They lived in the same house, but it often felt as if they lived in parallel universes where they seldom met. He would ask her how school was or if she had any friends, but Isabelle doubted he noticed she was a high school senior already. He’d met Jamie and Harper and any normal father would’ve questioned their roles in her life, but he never asked her who they were or why they came to their house so often. Isabelle suspected it didn’t even cross his mind that she could have a love life. Or maybe he was too embarrassed to deal with it.

She’d met Jamie
eighteen months ago and they’d been dating since. Jamie was nice and fun. He was a dream boyfriend, good-looking, calm, and obliging. She couldn’t remember ever fighting with him.

T
hen, ten months ago, Harper had swooped into town. He moved in with Jamie, who was renting a tiny apartment in their aunt’s house. The first few times Isabelle met Harper were interesting, to say the least. He was mostly switching between ignoring her and making her indecent proposals. She ignored him in return. But with time, he got under her skin. He turned out to be an interesting and funny person, albeit disturbingly sarcastic and cynical. She enjoyed their battles of words, his jokes (when they were not too disgusting or insulting), his view of the world as a huge playground for everyone to enjoy even if it meant you had to fight for your toys. He was her complete opposite. And Jamie’s too.

Lately, she was beginning to feel that t
he better she got along with Harper, the more strained her relationship with Jamie was becoming. She feared that Jamie was jealous, although he had no reason to be. It was all so confusing that when she got the chance to fly to Paris for a week, she jumped at it. She told Chloe it was for the art—and it was, but it was also a break. She wanted to give Jamie some space, time to think things over. She needed some time too, to clear her head. Unfortunately, jumping right back between the brothers the minute she returned was not the best homecoming. But she was trying to be positive about it. She hoped that maybe this road trip would clear things up, that she would realize what she had to do to make things between Jamie and her better again, the way they had been pre-Harper.

He opened the
car door and she got in. For a car dealer’s son, one would expect Harper to have a shiny new car. His Chevy was old, but at least it looked well preserved. She hoped it wouldn’t leave them stranded somewhere.

“Anywhere else to go
before we leave? The police?” he asked as he got in.

“I talked to them already. We can leave right away if you don’t mind. I’d like to get home as soon as possible.”
Isabelle rubbed her temples. The headache was getting worse.

It was
six in the afternoon and it was a five-hour drive. The weather was foul. They had taken off on a starry night in Paris and she landed in a foggy, rainy Atlanta. If anything, the rain was heavier now.

Isabelle
’s plans to get home early on Saturday were shattered when Harper said, “I was thinking of stopping in Perry later this evening and spending the night. Driving at night in the rain sucks. We’ll only be home a few hours later if the rain eases up by tomorrow and we’ll be able to drive faster in the morning. That okay with you?”

No,
Harper, that was not okay with her. She wanted to go home, sleep, forget the unpleasant day at the airport, forget the cramped and muggy interior of his Chevy, the nervousness in her stomach when she kept thinking what to say to him so they wouldn’t be silent all the way.

“
I don’t have enough money,” Isabelle said, pulling the two banknotes from her pocket. “I’ve only got four dollars left.”

“Don’t worry,
I’ve got a credit card,” he said.

She opened her mouth to suggest she could sleep in the car, but in this weather the idea seem
ed absurd even to her.

Harper
glanced at her and said, “Don’t worry about it. You can pay me back once we get home.”

“But …”

“I mean it. Don’t sweat it.”

“’Kay,” Isabelle breathed, not feeling any more at ease than before. But she didn’t have a choice.

****

“So ... How was your trip?”

“Great. It was really great.”
She was happy that he broke the silence and chose a neutral subject to talk about. Or so she thought.

“Did you meet any suave
amants parisiens
? Did you try
les escargots
?”

“I was only there for a week, I’m still American,”
she huffed, frustrated that he knew more French than she did.

His deep, warm chuckle filled the interior of the car
. “How did you like the City of Lights?”

“It’s beautiful. It has so much character and history. All those old buildings and the alleys, the historic cafes … It
all makes quite an impression.” She sighed at the pleasant memories. It had been difficult to leave Paris. There was so much she had yet to see, so many places to visit, to make a wish on the Point Zero in front of Notre Dame, climb to the top of Arc de Triomphe and see the traffic chaos below, drool over window displays on Champs-Élysées. But there was so little time.