Part 92 (1/2)

Jennifer's sharp glare didn't interrupt her sister.

”I mean it. You're only twenty-six, Jenn. Lots of people your age haven't even gotten married yet. You can start over, but you're not going to do it living in that s.h.i.+tty house, staring at Franklin's picture. I don't care if you want to hear it or not, I have to say it. Do you really think it would make him happy to know that you ended up like this, eating cheese sandwiches for every meal, and letting Elliot torment you all the time?”

Jennifer's jaw clenched. ”I am not leaving my home.”

”It's not your home anymore. It was, but it isn't now. You have to accept that. Stop beating yourself up. It's not your fault that Franklin died. It was an accident. Things happen. I know what it's like.”

”Do you?” Jennifer snapped. ”How do you know, Katie?”

Katie wilted and drew her hand back. ”Dad,” she said, ”and you know, I liked Franklin, too. I liked having a big brother.”

Jennifer's head drooped, and a sob wrenched itself free. ”I'm sorry, Katie. I didn't mean it.”

Her sister's ragged breathing and choked her voice. ”I know. Come on. Get a bag, grab some stuff, and come with me.”

”No,” Jennifer said. ”Don't ask me again. I'm not going. I'm not. I want to go home.”

Katie wiped away her tears with the back of her sleeve. ”Fine,” she said with resignation. ”Let's go back to your house.”

Katie focused on the road and didn't speak again until they pulled up to the duplex.

Chipped white paint covered the house, revealing the silvery old wood beneath. The porch sagged to the left, pulling away from the structure. The warped overhang beneath the second floor windows gave the front of the house a drunken grin. The half-abandoned appearance matched the rest of the street, where some of the houses were abandoned.

Jennifer got out of the car and fished some cash out of her purse. Katie declined the offer with a wave of her hand.

”Call me if you need anything,” Katie said. ”I mean anything. If he comes back, get somewhere safe and call me and I'll come get you. I mean it.”

Jennifer nodded even though Katie would be over an hour away and probably wouldn't get to her in time to affect anything Elliot attempted. The handle swayed loose on the bent storm door, and chips of paint scattered to the ground. She started to step out of the car.

Katie grabbed her arm. ”Jennifer, please. Don't stay here. Come with me. I'm scared. I haven't talked to Mom in over a year. I can't lose you.”

”You're not going to lose me,” Jennifer said, absently. ”This is my house.”

She would be safe in her house.

Katie sighed, willing the tears back. Jennifer hugged her sister, and Katie squeezed her back.

”Call me if anything happens. Even if you just need to talk. I mean it.”

Jennifer nodded.

”You're supposed to be the big sister,” Katie said softly. ”You're supposed to be taking care of me.”

Tears slid hot down Jennifer's cheeks. ”I'm sorry. I'll call you in the morning, Kat.”

”Okay,” she said. ”I'll be waiting. I'm not leaving until you're in the house.”

Jennifer's stomach twisted into a queasy knot as she watched the goofy little car pull away. The fish sandwich wanted to come back up. A hard swallow banished it back to her stomach, but it wasn't giving up yet.

She took an old piece of wood and wedged it against the baseboard, between the front door and the wall behind it. When they first moved in, Franklin rea.s.sured her by putting the board in place and kicking the door. Even unlocked, it wouldn't budge. The back door was locked up tight with a heavy deadbolt, a chain and a little wire hook.

After checking every window twice, she went upstairs and got in the shower. Just being around Elliot made her feel like she was covered in a fine layer of grease, and the warm water swept it away as well as settled her stomach. She just hoped Mrs. Carmody wasn't trying to do her dishes.

Jennifer unwound her hair and counted each stroke as she brushed it out. Her mother would do this for her when she was very young, but when Jennifer hurt her ankle and had to quit gymnastics, her mother stopped and Katie took over. Working the bristles through the tangles only reminded her how terribly empty the house was.

As much as she hated doing it, she took out one of Franklin's old sport s.h.i.+rts and put it on, b.u.t.toning it up to her neck. She liked to imagine she could still smell him on it, but time and mothb.a.l.l.s had stolen the scent from the cloth. Trying to remember his voice brought only white noise.

The bedsprings creaked under as she curled up on her side and tucked the pillow under her head and breathed into it to warm it up. The air conditioner rattled like mad. The room around her was dark. The baseboards were scuffed and the paint peeled. The hardwood floor was worn, its s.h.i.+ne lost. The walls were warped and uneven and the crown molding was cracked and the corners didn't meet up.

”And he built a crooked house,” Jennifer sighed.

Katie was right. Why was she doing this to herself? She could barely remember his voice or his touch no matter how she obsessed over it and living in this awful place didn't help. The ceiling had a long spidery crack in it.

Jennifer was surprised Elliot hadn't sent county inspectors just for spite.

Katie's offer floated back into her head. The money was in her bank account. She kept more than half of her last three years' salary. While the yearly pay for a Paradise Falls high school teacher was well below the state average, her savings were robust.

The sun had set. Jennifer left the light off and played with her tablet, looking at computers. She wanted to have something nice for once, something that wasn't a hand-me-down. The tablet chimed. The little envelope icon was blinking. There was an email in her school inbox from Jacob.

Jennifer, I'm sorry. We never exchanged numbers. You left your helmet behind at my place. I'll bring it to you on Monday.

The question was left unsaid. Unless you'd like me to bring it over tomorrow. She bit her lip.

If she moved in with Katie, that probably meant no Jacob. Then again, Philadelphia was not that far. She could still see him if she managed to fix the mess she made. Thinking about that morning made her so angry with herself that her hands started trembling.

What did she get for running out on him like that? Elliot, that's what. She should still be there. Jacob was never anything but polite, kind, and even chivalrous, and her stupid brain twisted him into something he wasn't. He probably was just in a bad accident and studied martial arts as a hobby, like other people she knew. Howard Unger and Brock Edwards gave after-school jiujitsu cla.s.ses. Rachel had a scar on her leg from a motorcycle accident. They were just regular people. So was he.

Except Jacob was more than that. He was kind and he saved her.

Just like...

No. No, no, no. Stop it!

Her ring itched. She bit her lip and looked at it. Her sister was right.

She made up her mind. Call Katie tomorrow, and then call Jacob. Maybe invite him over just to talk. The fridge needed to be restocked first, so she turned on the alarm clock. The Bi-Lo opened at ten, but she could get in a relaxing ride first, stretch herself out and work out the storm in her mind, then talk to Jacob like an adult, not a flighty teenager. The guy with the mansion could probably deal with a long distance... she didn't want to think the word relations.h.i.+p.

It's been three days, Jennifer.

Leaving school was the only thing bothering her. Rachel would be happy for her and Krystal... well, Krystal would get over it. She would graduate at the end of the year, move on, move away, and Jennifer would fade into the background of the girl's life. A happy memory.

”I'm not just going to be someone else's happy memory,” she said, settling into the bed.

Saying goodbye to them would be like cutting off her arm, but if she stayed here, then what? How long would it be until Elliot got fed up and took what he wanted?

Katie is right. I don't have to do this anymore.

Twisting up into a coc.o.o.n of blankets, she fell asleep.

The house groaned as the old wood s.h.i.+fted. The groaning grew louder and louder, followed by the crash of gla.s.s shattering and skidding across the kitchen floor.