“What was that?” I asked.
“I have to go,” she said, her face bright red.
She still had the book under her arm as she rushed toward the front of the bookstore.
“Hailey,” I called out, following her.
I caught up with her and grabbed her hand, but she yanked it away from me and kept walking with her head down, a bright red burn in her cheeks.
“Hailey, stop,” I said. “Please, just talk to me. What happened?”
She almost walked right out the door with the poetry book in hand, but then stopped, staring at it as if she couldn't decide what to do with it. She looked toward the counter and over to Mrs. Elwood.
“Can I come back for this later?” she asked, handing the book over to the older woman.
“Sure, darling,” Mrs. Elwood said with a polite smile. “I'll hold on to it for you.”
“Thank you,” she said.
Hailey quickly turned and pushed open the glass door, rushing out into the afternoon sunlight. I was on her heels though, and wasn't about to let her leave like that. I needed to apologize and get some answers from her. I'd thought I was getting some signals from her. But judging by her reaction, she'd either changed her mind or I'd read them all wrong from the start.
“Hailey, I'm really sorry,” I said. “I thought you liked me like that. I guess I misread the signals and –”
She stopped suddenly on the sidewalk, then turned to face me. “I do like you that way, Quinn,” she said, resignation and frustration in her town. “And that's the problem. I can't right now. I just can't.”
“Why not?”
“Because my life is too complicated as it is,” she said. “I came back to Black Oak because I need to be alone for a while to figure some shit out, and to get my head straight.”
“Let me help you, Hailey,” I said.
I reached for her hand again, and this time she didn't pull it away. Her eyes welled up with tears and her hands were shaking as she opened her mouth to speak, but then she closed it again without saying a word. She kept looking around her, almost like she expected to find somebody standing there watching her, and she curled her arms into herself protectively, holding them close to her body like she'd done last night at the bonfire.
The way she was standing there made me think she was scared of something. Or maybe somebody. It struck a nerve and ignited a protective instinct in my gut.
“Hailey, what's going on?” I asked, stepping closer and fighting the urge to wrap my arms around her, knowing that wouldn't go over very well.
She stepped back and pushed the sleeves of her sweatshirt up a bit, and that's when I saw the bruise on her wrist. Like someone had grabbed her too hard and restrained her. She caught me staring and pulled the sleeve back down, covering it once more. Hiding away what was obviously causing her a lot of emotional pain.
“Did someone do that to you?” I asked her, motioning toward her wrist. I felt a vein in my temple begin to throb.
She looked away, not answering. Her jaw was clenched and there was a strained tension in the air between us. She looked like she just wanted to run away. She looked so scared and so lost in that moment and I wanted nothing more than to comfort her – and throttle whoever it was who'd hurt her.
“Who did that to you, Hailey?”
My blood was boiling. Someone had hurt her, and regardless of who it was, that wasn't okay in my book. You didn't hurt women. “No one,” she muttered, turning away from me. “I really have to go.”
She bolted away, but I followed her, keeping up with her stride for stride. She refused to look at or even acknowledge me, but I walked beside her the entire time. “Hailey, someone obviously hurt you,” I said. “Will you talk to me, please?”
“There's nothing to talk about,” she said, a single tear falling down her cheek. “Just leave me alone, Quinn. And tell your brothers to leave me alone too, okay? I just want to be left alone.”
“I won't do that,” I said. “I won't just walk away,” I said. “Not when someone's hurting you, Hailey. I can't just pretend I didn't see it. I won't.”
She shook her head and stopped abruptly, which made me almost stumble. I looked up and saw that we were standing outside a two-story brick home – her parent's house. Both of their cars were out front, meaning they were home. Through the front windows overlooking the yard, I saw her mother moving around inside and awkwardly felt like a teenager doing something wrong all over again. Hailey reached for the gate, but I put my hand over hers and stopped her.
“Don't you get it, Quinn? No one is hurting me. Not anymore at least,” she said, wiping her nose. “And that's why I can't get involved with anyone or be part of whatever game you have going on with your brothers. I just can't handle being hurt again.”
“Hey,” I said softly. “I'm not going to hurt you, Hailey.”