The Best I Could (13 page)

For a long time, I stared.

“I’m trying to decide which one of us is
stalking whom?” a voice hissed from behind me.

I whipped around, coming face-to-face with
Eli Lockston. Breath whooshed out of me, my back kissing the tree.
The bark could open up and eat me now, and I’d be okay with
that.

Eli’s eyes burned with curiosity. He’d
changed since the gym, a clean tee and jeans hugging his towering
frame.

His gaze caught on the streaks of dirt on my
clothes. “What are you doing here, roof girl?”

A demon possessed my body, rambling words
spilling forth, running away from me. “My family stayed in a cabin
once in the mountains. Years before my mom died. It had one of
those old PAC-Man arcade games in it. It was fun taking turns to
see who could make it through the most levels. We stayed up for two
days trying to see which of us could beat the other. So stupid, I
guess. God, we literally overdosed on pizza and that senseless
game. Like—”

“Is there a point to this?” Eli’s brows
puckered. “Not that I’m against arcade games or anything.”

I inhaled and choked, my body sagging against
the tree. I was a madwoman. Completely ridiculous. I was standing
in front of a guy who wanted to see what it would take to make me
cry, in a yard I hadn’t even been sure belonged to his family, and
I was babbling about a game. A game!

“Oh, my God!” I exhaled, my hands covering my
face. “This is stupid.” I sagged farther into the tree. My body
knew exactly how bizarre this was, but my tongue didn’t know when
to stop. It just kept going. “It’s funny,” I whispered. “I kind of
feel like PAC-Man right now, like this ravenous yellow dot stuck in
a maze trying to survive life while avoiding the ghosts.”

“Are you going to cry?” he asked me out of
nowhere.

I glared. “No.”

Reaching out, he took me by the shoulders,
tugged my body away from the tree, and released me. “Come with
me.”

Like death hooking his bony finger, beckoning
for me to follow.

I obeyed because I’m a lunatic.

Eli

When I saw her, I thought I’d conjured her up
somehow, her small figure clinging to a tree, her gaze on the main
house.

Watching.

For a long time, I spied on her.

She was frozen, like a paint-splattered
statue. When I spoke, and she spun, I had the breath knocked out of
me. Not because she was beautiful, even though she was, but because
she was tragic. Sunburned skin. Black tank top and cut-off shorts
covered in dirt.

One question, and the flood gates opened.
Words tumbled out of her. Some of them made sense. Some of them
didn’t.

The only thing I managed to catch was
PAC-Man.

PAC-Man?

Who the hell answers a stalker question by
talking about archaic video games? “Is there a point to this?” I
asked. “Not that I’m against arcade games or anything.”

She fell apart. Not the way I thought she
would. No sobbing mess. She just fell apart without actually coming
to pieces.

“Oh, my God!” She covered her face with her
hands. “This is stupid.” Her body sank into the tree. “It’s funny.
I kind of feel like PAC-Man right now, like this ravenous yellow
dot stuck in a maze trying to survive life while avoiding the
ghosts.”

Her lips quivered, and I fought the urge to
search my pockets for Kleenex. “Are you going to cry?”

She glared. “No.”

We were too close to the
house. I didn’t give a shit if my family saw her, but somehow I
didn’t think she
wanted
to be seen.

Reaching for her, I tugged her away from the
tree. “Come with me.” A moment’s hesitation, and she followed me
blindly. “What’d you do? Internet search me?” I asked, leading her
into the orchard—from tree to tree, over hills, and up a slope that
overlooked a pond in the valley below. The setting sun cast a line
of gold across the dark water, shadow trees undulating in the
gilded ripples.

“Wow,” Tansy breathed, yellow spots reflected
in her eyes. Tiny suns in a sea of blue. “It’s incredible.”

The scene didn’t mean a damn thing to me. I’d
quit seeing the beauty the moment I realized my mother was on the
property.

“Are you just going to keep avoiding my
stalker questions?” I asked.

Tansy winced, brushed a strand of hair off of
her forehead, and looked at me. “I stopped and asked someone if
they knew of any Lockstons in the area. My grandmother doesn’t have
wifi, and I don’t have a phone. Just an iPod, and it’s—”

“Do you always over explain everything?” I
leaned against a tree. The wind ruffled the leaves above us,
rattling the silence.

She stiffened. “No, I …” Her gaze shot away,
darting crazily before returning to me, and her lips pursed. “Wait
a minute,” her finger jabbed the air, “who are you to insult me?
You sought me out in an empty lot to spill a sob story about your
mother.”

I would have taken offense at her words, but
there was no animosity behind them. Only irritation. At me.

Patting my pocket, I found my cigarettes,
pulled one free, and twirled it in my fingers. “She’s here, you
know? My mom. She’s quite the socialite if you want to meet
her.”

Tansy’s eyes widened, horrified. She waved at
herself, at her dirty clothes and finger-mussed hair. “In this?
What are you …” Her gaze caught mine, spotted the sarcasm there,
and frowned. “You’re not serious.” She snorted. “Do you get off on
being an asshole?”

I shrugged. “Not on being an asshole, but I
do get off. Want to see?”

Startled heat shot through her eyes, sending
answering flames to my groin. “Look,” she swallowed hard, banking
the blaze, “I don’t even know why I came here. This was a really
bad idea.”

Stumbling, she rushed blindly past me.

My hand shot out, catching
her arm, my back no longer against the tree. “Wait.” She was
hurting. I could see that. Hell, I could
feel
it. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“I
am
an asshole.
It’s habit.”

She froze, her gaze dropping to my hand, her
chest heaving. My fingers burned. I loosened my grip, but I didn’t
let go.

“Like the cigarettes?” she asked, her eyes
rising to mine.

“Yeah.” I studied her face, noting the
darkness that lurked in her gaze. “Call it a defense
mechanism.”

Jerking away, she rubbed her arm. “Well, it’s
working. I don’t feel the need to be all confessional anymore.”

“So I’m a priest now?” I joked. “Do you want
to worship at the Church of Eli?”

She huffed, disgusted. “Get over yourself.”
Her lips twitched, her head dropping to hide it.

I grinned. “You’re not trying to smile, are
you?”

She gave me her back.

I circled her. “Oh no, you don’t!” Placing a
finger under her chin, I lifted it. “Laughing isn’t allowed at my
church. It’s sacrilegious.”

A wave of emotions flitted across her face,
her anger waging war with her mutinous humor. In the end, her ire
lost the battle, a small chuckle escaping.

It felt like I’d hung the moon and airbrushed
the stars.

“Did you need to make a confession?” I asked,
suddenly serious.

My finger burned where I touched her, not
just because of the sudden heat between us, but because her skin
was too warm. A red flush covered her cheeks and nose.

“You look like shit,” I muttered.

She pulled her chin away. “Thanks for
that.”

I didn’t apologize. “With that sunburn,
you’re going to feel like hell tomorrow.”

“I was gardening.”

My eyes fell to her clothes. “Explains the
dirt.”

Moving away from me, she sat on the edge of
the slope, her arms wrapping around her knees, her gaze on the
valley. “I’m not crazy,” she said, her chin falling to her legs. “I
know it probably seems like it, right?” She didn’t wait for an
answer. “I kind of feel like it sometimes.”

I didn’t know what to do so I joined her,
sitting a comfortable distance apart, one leg kicked out in front
of me. Lifting the cigarette I’d been holding between my lips, I
tugged out a lighter and lit it. “I don’t think you’re crazy,” I
remarked around the butt.

She sighed. “You probably should.” Lifting
her head, she pointed at the valley. “I bet when you look at that
you don’t see the same thing I do.” Her gaze flicked to my face.
“It looks like someone spilled glitter from a plane, like there
should be riches in gold down there. Like the sun had little
jeweled babies and told them, ‘Hey, why don’t you go out into the
world and poop prettiness’.”

A laugh flew out of me. “I definitely don’t
see shitting sun babies.”

She smiled, and it transformed her face,
making her look both younger and older. “There’s definitely
shitting sun babies down there, and,” a wink, “you just proved my
point. No one sees things the same way. Which kind of makes you
wonder if we really see the world at all, or if we see some
predestined messed up version of it? Maybe we’re all just part of
some madman’s concoction.”

My brows rose. “I’ve changed my mind. Your
head’s all broken.”

“Yours, too.” Her smile grew. “I mean, I’m
sure people don’t wake up and think, ‘Oh, my God, I’m so broken.’
You know? I think we’re all broken. Just a little. Like life starts
off that way, and then the rest of your life is spent mending the
broken path. Makes sense, right? Because otherwise, we’d all be
sitting around with our thumbs up our asses. Nothing to do. No
messes to clean up.”

Something about her words
caught me off guard, made me peer a little closer at her. It was
like she was trying to convince
herself
of something.

“You’re not okay, are you?” I asked
quietly.

Her gaze shot to me. “What?”

“You,” I continued. “You aren’t okay.” My
thoughts flew to the day we met. “If I hadn’t been on the hospital
roof that morning, what would you have done?”

Her eyes widened. “Are you asking me if I’m
suicidal?”

I didn’t ease up. “Are you?”

She swallowed, her throat working. One hand
fell to the ground, lit by a ray of setting sun. The black polish
on her nails had chipped, leaving short, jagged edges that drew
attention to the dirt caked beneath them.

“I don’t know,” she finally whispered. “I
don’t want to die if that’s what you mean.”

I’d never known anyone who could say so much
without ever having said anything. “I don’t think people who take
their lives really want to die.”

She let her head fall back. “You know that
how?”

“I don’t.” My gaze slid to
the valley. “I just don’t see how anyone could ever really
want
to die. I think it’s
deeper than that.” I looked at her again. “I think there are other
reasons.”

Her eyes brightened, her lips turning down.
“Why am I here?” she asked, redirecting the conversation. “You
don’t even like women. You hate them.”

I wasn’t about to tell her different. I’d be
lying if I did. “I haven’t had a lot of good examples to go by, but
that doesn’t mean I hate you. I love my sister. She’s a woman. I’m
just not looking for a relationship with them. Fucking isn’t a
relationship.”

A snorted laugh escaped her. “I shouldn’t
find that comforting, but I do.” Her fingers curled into the
ground. “What my sister said at the boxing club … she’s right, you
know. I helped him die.” She glanced at me, her eyes full of
paralyzing turmoil. “I helped my father die.”

I wasn’t equipped for something like this,
for the overwhelming guilt and condemnation I saw in her.

Shifting, I pulled my leg up and reached for
my pocket. I’d barely finished one cigarette, and I already needed
another. My hand came up empty.

Shit.

“Tansy—”

“This was wrong.” She started to get up.

“Stop.” I gestured at the ground. “Quit
trying to leave, okay? My head just needs a minute. I don’t really
do the whole deep thing.”

Standing anyway, she came to me, her eyes
darkening.

I knew that look. “Oh, hell—”

Placing a hand gently over my mouth, she
climbed over me, sinking into my lap, her legs straddling me. “Less
talk, okay.”

My dick agreed with her, rising to
attention.

The smell of wet soil kept my head clear,
even if my body didn’t give a shit. Pushing her hand away, I let my
palms drop to her hips, gripping her. “As interested as I am …
really—”

She wiggled her bottom.

“Holy hell,” I swore. “Are you trying to
seduce me, roof girl?”

Her gaze met mine, her face so close I could
see the different layers of green in her eyes. Like a field of pine
trees full of emeralds and flowing water.

“Seems like it’s working,” she breathed.

She brought her arms up, snaking them around
my neck.

My grip tightened on her
hips, drawing her closer against me, grinding my arousal against
her despite all of the alarms going off in my head. It felt
good.
Way
too
good.

“Shit,” I cursed, my teeth clenched. It took
everything I had to push her away, but I did. Keeping her near my
lap, I picked her up gently and moved her back so that she was
sitting on the ground just inside my legs, her arms falling. My
thighs caged her in. “God, I’m going to get some kind of monk award
for this someday, I know it,” I gritted, staring at her. “We
can’t.”

Tansy exhaled, her face
falling. No tears or embarrassment, just acquiescence. She didn’t
say anything. She didn’t have to. As much as I hated to admit it,
she wasn’t the type of person who would use someone. I could deal
with the using kind of people because I
was
one of them. I wasn’t sure how to
deal with her.