Tumble (Dogwood Lane 1)

He opens his mouth when someone pounds on the door.

“Hey, Dane. You in there?” Matt asks.

Dane doesn’t look away from me. “What do you want?”

“Haley needs you.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I don’t need a ride home, huh?” I shake my head, knowing he’s going to go with her.

He does. He heads to the door but stops short of opening it. Looking at me over his shoulder, he flips me a look of pity. “Glad you got everything you wanted out of life, Neely.”

The door squeals open, and I take a step toward him. “Dane . . .”

But he’s gone.

CHAPTER TEN

NEELY

The sound of air whirling above my head lures me awake. My eyes open and expect to see the bulletin board across my childhood room that holds some of my gymnastics medals. Instead, there’s a yellow-and-white-striped chair and a window overlooking a tobacco field.

My head pounding, I pop up on my elbows and try to remember where I am. Memories from last night filter through my mind. Matt and Penn singing karaoke. Mr. Mucker telling us it was time to go. Claire helping me to her car.

Dane’s face in the bathroom.

I wince.

A soft knock raps on the white painted door, and it opens with a gentle push. Claire’s head pokes around the corner. “Good morning,” she says. She steps into the room. She’s dressed for the day, her hair and makeup done.

“What time is it?” I ask, stretching my arms overhead.

“Noon. You’re more than welcome to stay here, but I need to head to the café in about twenty.”

“No,” I say, coughing as the words get tangled in my throat. “I’m supposed to go to Aerial’s today, and I don’t want to be a pain in the butt.” I throw the blankets off me and notice I’m in the same clothes as last night. “Do you mind if I ask how I got here? And maybe what happened last night? Because I don’t think I’ve ever woken up in someone else’s bed before. Except this one night in Boston, but that’s a long story.”

She laughs and sits on the edge of the bed. “We had fun at Mucker’s. You sang some karaoke with Matt.”

“I did?” I groan. “I apologize.”

“You were terrible,” she agrees. “But it was fun.”

“What else?”

“Just normal Friday-night stuff. Penn found some sidewalk chalk and decorated the patio. Mr. Mucker isn’t going to be thrilled when he sees that this morning.”

“I bet not.” I laugh.

“We ordered pizza and told stories and Patrick ended up coming by to see Brittney, and Matt . . .” She blows out a breath. “Let’s just say Patrick will be avoiding Matt for a while.”

I sit up. The pounding in my temples eases a bit as I prop myself up on some pillows. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened. It was what Matt threatened to make happen if Patrick didn’t back off Britt. He’s such an ass—Patrick, not Matt.” She pats my leg. “Bet you missed the drama of Dogwood Lane, huh?”

“Right.” I slide my legs off the bed and stretch my arms over my head. My joints crack as I work some life into them. “You should see the drama in the city. There are wars over parking spots and sidewalk space.”

“For real?”

I nod.

“I couldn’t live like that. No offense.” She gets to her feet. “I’ll be out of here, but if you want to stay, there’s a key under the aloe vera plant on the porch.”

I stand and my phone clatters from my pocket onto the floor. I retrieve it, no worse for the wear. “That’s the most obvious place in the world to hide a key, you know,” I say, giving my phone a final inspection.

She shrugs. “At least if they want to break in, they won’t bust my windows or something.”

“That’s such a terrible way to look at it.”

“It’s a warped outlook, I know. I blame it on my mother.” She heads to the doorway. “I’ll let you know before I leave.”

“I’ll be ready in a second. Just need to wake up and find . . . Where’s my car?”

“Mucker’s,” she tells me. “I can drop you off if you want.”

“Please?”

“No problem. Be ready in ten.”

Once she’s gone, I sit back on the bed. The mattress bends under my weight, and I would have absolutely no issues with lying back and going to sleep. That is, until the room is quiet long enough for me to feel the niggle in my chest. It’s a trigger that sends me right back to Dane.

Guilt sinks me deeper into the mattress. I shouldn’t have been so hateful last night, even if I did want to hurt his feelings. Retaliating isn’t my style, and the more I think about it, the worse I feel. I can’t hold on to this and keep fanning flames that should’ve died out years ago. It is pointless and makes me feel nasty.