“Your brother isn’t home is he?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “No. He works late. He won’t be home for hours. Scared of him?”
He swallows. “No, not at all.” His voice squeaks.
Putting off the inevitable, I open the fridge and pull out two water bottles. I toss one at Ansel. He catches it easily.
He unscrews the top and takes a sip before facing me. I still haven’t left the kitchen, keeping the bar as a barrier between us. I’m not afraid of Ansel, but I am afraid of myself.
“What is it, Meadows? You’re acting funny and you seem really upset.”
I squeeze the water bottle a little too tight and the plastic protests, making an ungodly noise.
“You’re not pregnant, are you?”
My head shoots up and I let out a disbelieving laugh. “No, not pregnant.”
Ansel paces a bit, giving me time to gather my thoughts. I must be taking too long because after a bit he says, “You don’t have to tell me. Whatever it is … I wouldn’t force you to share anything with me that you don’t want to. Seriously, tell me to go and I will.”
His pale blue eyes ring with sincerity. I believe one hundred percent that he’d walk out this door right now if I asked him to.
Leaving the water bottle on the counter, I move into the living room and sit on the couch. I pat the space beside me and Ansel sits down.
Like earlier today, I rub my fingers against the sleeve of my shirt.
“You know I live with my brother…”
“Yeah?” He angles his head, wondering where I’m going with this.
“Our dad passed away from cancer when we were younger—”
“Fuck, I’m sorry, Meadows.”
I hold up a hand, shaking my head. “That’s not the worst of it.”
He quiets, sitting back slightly and squaring his shoulders like he’s preparing for some sort of battle. I wish I could use him as a shield, but no one and nothing can protect me from the memories. I have to fight them on my own.
“I moved here from the Portland area to live with Sage, because…” I close my eyes. I need to rip it off like a Band-Aid, put it all out there. “There … there was a shooting at my old school.”
His lips part and I see he’s racking his brain, probably remembering nearly a year ago when it was all over the news for a few days. He wets his lips with his tongue, his eyes sad and haunted, probably imagining what that day felt like for me.
“My mom worked at the school. She didn’t make it. A lot of people didn’t make it.” I lean against the side of the couch, my body suddenly too heavy to hold up.
He places his hand over mine.
“Dani—” I shake my head, quieting him.
“It was pure evil in its rawest form. I’ve … I’ve never known fear like that. I don’t want to go into details about that day or how I feel about it, but that’s … that’s why I do certain things the way I do. It’s why sometimes I act funny or get upset for no reason. I hate rooms with no windows and the cafeteria,” I swallow thickly, “I don’t want to be in there any longer than I have to.”
“Why?” As soon as the question leaves him he looks apologetic, but doesn’t take it back.
“Because that’s where I was when I was shot.”
Ansel flinches, his pallor paling a few shades. “Fuck, Meadows. I—”
I hold my hands up, silencing him once more. “Seriously, Ansel, I don’t want to hear apologies and I don’t want to talk about it any further than this right now. Maybe one day, but not now,” I plead quietly with him. I feel the tears beginning to sting my eyes, but I don’t want to cry. Crying has gotten me nowhere.
His lips thin like he’s holding himself back from saying something. Finally, he nods, his eyes soft and understanding.