Page 47 of The Darkest Parts of Me

She’s okay. She’s okay. I keep reciting it in my mind, revving the bike to go faster until the silhouette of the cabin comes into view. It’s completely dark—no light pooling through the windows—but Maven’s car is parked up front. I ease up the gravel driveway, now covered in dead leaves, and don’t stall for a single moment as I jog up to the front door and knock, praying she will let me in and that I’m not too late.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Maven

I’m startled awake by rapid knocking at the front door. Lifting my head off my pillow, I barely open my eyes as I feel for my phone on the nightstand. I tap it a few times, then realize the battery is dead. The clock on the wall reads 5:15 pm.

Is it already that late in the day?

The knocking sounds again, this time louder. There are no lights on in the cabin, so I hope whoever is here will just leave, and I pray it isn’t someone in particular.

“Maven? Are you in there?”

Shit. Out of all the people in this town—no, the entire world—Renn is the last person I want to see. I’m not a pretty sight, having worn the same oversized hoodie and sweatpants for a few days now. A comfy, “leave me alone” outfit donned with zero intention of seeing anyone, especially him. He knocks again, softer this time, like he knows I heard him but don’t want to come to the door.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.” I can hear in his voice that his sentiment is genuine, but I still want him to go.

Now you care if I’m okay? I think.

“Tash called. She’s been trying to reach you.”

He talked to Tasha about me? Great. What did she tell him? I wait a few more seconds, praying he will just leave, but an ache in my heart hopes he won’t.

“Maven?” he semi shouts now.

Is he really not going to leave? I sit up, ripping back the covers, surprised at myself for considering talking to him as my body keeps putting one foot in front of the other. I reach for the handle, letting my hand hover above it for a few seconds before I drop it back down to my side and lean against the door frame.

“You there?” His tone is heavy with concern—concern for me.

I take a deep breath. “Yes. I, uh . . . I’m fine. My phone died. I’ll call Tasha and let her know that I’m okay.” My voice is scratchy, having not actually uttered a word in days.

“You sure?” His voice sounds nearer, like he’s leaning close on his side of the door, causing my heart to thud loudly against my ribs. Even with a door between us, he does something to me. I wish it wasn’t true, but the reassurance I feel from him being here, that presence of calm radiating from the other side of the door, already makes me feel more alive than I have in days. But I didn’t ask him to come, and I don’t want him to see me like this. “Maven?” I would almost say he’s pleading now.

I whip the door open to the sight of him standing on the doorstep, wearing that damn jean jacket and black beanie, his motorbike helmet tucked under his arm. Even in the state I’m in, I still get a warm feeling in my belly. He looks at me with a shocked expression, which tells me he wasn’t expecting me to open the door, and in all honesty, I wasn’t either.

“See? I’m fine, okay?” I’m on the verge of shouting, and I want to slap myself for being so brash toward his act of kindness.

Renn surveys me for a long moment, taking me in, his gaze going up and down the length of my body. Not in a judgmental way, but making sure that I am indeed fine—at least physically.

“Thank you for opening the door,” he says with a small smile, and I swear I see a look of relief flash over his face.

“Yeah, well, I’m fine, so . . .” I say, trying to sound overly annoyed, when in reality, now that I see him face to face, my legs feel weak at the knees. Or maybe that’s the lack of food.

“So . . . do you need anything?” he asks slowly, like he’s hinting that he actually does mean anything. I give him a narrowed look.

“Nope.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

He stares at me with a crooked smile, putting his hands in his jacket pockets before leaning against the doorframe. I try to wait him out, but he looks pretty comfortable standing there.

“What?” I snap.

“Can I come in?” His demeanor is smooth, trying to make this painfully awkward situation less terrible by attempting that classic Renn charm on me, and the persuasion is working.

I purse my lips and look him straight in the eyes. “I. Am. Fine,” I say in the most condescending tone I can muster and move to shut the door, but Renn puts a hand on it, stopping me. “What are you doing?” I groan, straining to push it closed, but it doesn’t budge an inch.

---