Page 30 of Disorderly

I could only hope to be as gracious to them.

* * *

My foot was barely over the threshold when Peter yanked me into his arms. “I’m so sorry, Katy-bear. I just… I hated that the girls were causing you issues because of me.”

He held me so tight that my body shook with his. I awkwardly patted his back. Lately I found myself in this position too many times. I loved him. He’d been in my life for just as long as Jason by date, but growing up, until he went off to university, he’d spent the most time with me. But this had to stop. Him hurting me had to stop. Love wasn’t supposed to hurt. Not that he loved me the way I did, but I never doubted that he loved me… as a sister, as family.

“I understand.” It was the least and the most I could say without getting into some heavy discussions and I was all discussioned out.

He released me from the crushing hug. His normal smile plastered to his face, making him look like he wasn’t still affected, but I knew differently. It was slight, but there was a difference in its fullness and how his eyes weren’t as bright. But then this was how he’d looked since late August after my assault. And it made me feel horrible that I was responsible for his change.

He slid to my side, wrapping his arm around my shoulders as he led me towards the kitchen. “I need to stop acting first without thinking. It’s something I’m going to continue working on. I hate that my actions tend to hurt the ones I love.”

After another quick squeeze, he released me, taking the box of goodies from Jason. “Go. Sit. Relax. I’ll bring you something to drink.”

“See. I told you everything would be fine.” Jason’s lips brushed against my ear. A shiver went down my spine as his warm breath brushed across my skin, reminding me of the need he’d started in me with our earlier kiss. All I wanted to do was to grab him and kiss him. Maybe run my hands all over his body, mapping out each muscle while he did the same to me. I wanted him to touch me, to… Heat crawled along my veins, bringing a flush to my skin. “You need to stop thinking those things before I say screw it and drag you off to the bedroom,” he growled before nipping my ear lobe. “And now’s not the time.”

I watched him walk into the kitchen. The sight of his tight butt in his jeans did nothing to cool the burning in my veins. Instead of heading to the couch, I made my way to the bathroom. I needed a minute to myself, a minute to calm down if I didn’t want to give us away.

With the bathroom door closed behind me, I took a moment to take a couple of deep breaths. And when that didn’t work, I turned on the cold water and doused my face, praying that it would take away the throbbing. Wasn’t that why people took cold showers? To shock the body back into normal, to smoother those flames of passion under its coldness.

As I dried off my face, I couldn’t help but think about how Peter and Jason had apologized to me, but I’d yet to hear from Jarrod. Even though he stood at the stove, cooking bacon from the smell, he never even turned to look at me. And I didn’t know how to feel about that. We weren’t as close as I was to the others, but I thought we’d been growing closer. We’d been spending lots of time together talking. He’d been teaching me how to control the panic that would sometimes come out of nowhere to overwhelm me. If anything, I credited him with the success I was having at school. The techniques he showed me about routines and order gave me that consistency that helped me to focus when my thoughts spiraled. For the first time, all my notes were given headers that were underlined, topics were grouped together, and each binder contained the pens and other items I might need for that class. Whereas the previous year, I used one pencil case which I was always riffling through trying to find the correct pen that I needed or the geometry piece I needed. And while my notes were usually neat, they tended to flow into each other, making it difficult to find a specific topic. With this new system, I was already seeing the benefits as my initial test results were higher.

Yet even as I worried about his lack of acknowledgement, I remembered how Jason mentioned that Jarrod had been as surprised by the whole thing. He hadn’t had prior knowledge that Peter was going to kiss him in public. It might not have even been something he wanted to have happen then. And while the kiss might have been two sided, I didn’t blame him for falling under the spell of Peter’s kiss. I knew how powerful a kiss could be even if you didn’t want it to happen. So if it was from someone you already had a relationship with, someone who you’d kissed many times before, it was easy to understand how you’d automatically return it.

And with that understanding, I knew I needed to pull on my big girl panties and talk to him. If I wanted our friendship to work and grow into something more, I needed to take the first step. To let the misunderstanding, the hurt, and betrayal to stand without discussing it would get us nowhere. One thing my dad always said was that you should never go to bed angry. When I questioned him about it, asking how you could do that if the other person wasn’t nearby, he said that it meant that I should talk to the person as soon as I could. That I could still take time to deal with my initial feelings, but as soon as I could, I should try to discuss the issue with them. That open discussion with people, especially those who caused hurt, would lead to less hurt and less misunderstandings in the long run. It was obviously something my dad taught to Jason—and possibly Peter as well—considering Jason was supposed to be working this weekend. Yet he came into my bedroom shortly after seven meaning he didn’t wait before talking with me.

I opened the doorwith a plan in mind but didn’t need to execute it. Jarrod stood in front of me, resting against the far wall in a casual pose, but the wringing of his hands gave his nervousness away. “Can we talk?”

“Of course.” I tried to give him a reassuring smile, but with the speed he turned and walked into Peter’s old room, I doubted that he saw it. With a shrug, I followed, taking a seat on the guest bed that he motioned to.

He sat beside me, pressing his grey, track pant covered thigh against mine. “I’m really sorry that you were blindsided by what happened. We weren’t keeping it from you because we didn’t trust you. We just didn’t tell anyone. But we should have told you before everyone else.”

I pressed my hands together, palm-to-palm, squeezing them between my legs. “I’d imagine it was hard to tell before it happened when you didn’t know it was going to happen.”

“You heard about that, huh?” He nudged my shoulder, nearly knocking me over. “I’m glad Jason told you because, yeah, it came as a bit of a surprise. For what’s worth, I’m still sorry.”

I nudged him back, but the only thing that moved was his hand. He grasped my wrist and pulled my hands out, separating them so that he could entwined his fingers with my left hand. “I know.”

“Good.” He pressed his lips to the top of my head. “Now, let’s go have some breakfast. Those cinnamon buns are calling my name.” He stood, pulling me to my feet. “Although not as much as the treats you make for us.”

Like a good girl, I followed him back into the main rooms, happy they’d all apologized. I was ready to let the incident go, to be part of our past, but sometimes what we want doesn’t always come true. A lesson I knew all too well.

Chapter Twenty-One

Peter

I pulledmy lunch from the staff fridge with a sigh. It was a homemade sandwich using up some of the left-over grilled steak from the night before and any other time I would have welcomed it as the steak had been some of the best I’d ever grilled. But I was missing the little treats and the lunches that Katy would make for us.

Since that weekend two weeks ago when Jason rushed home to deal with the accidental mess I’d made while trying to make things better, Katy barely came over. Yes, I saw her daily at school in the hallways, but here I couldn’t talk to her the same way. Here I had to be in teacher mode or at most a disinterested family friend. I couldn’t treat her like one of my best friends.

And I missed that. Missed her.

And having to pack my own lunch every day was just a reminder of that fact.

“For someone who managed to stop the harassment from the senior girls in the best way possible, you look sad. Missing all their attention, are you?”

I glared at Greg as I took a seat beside him, dropping my reusable lunch bag—something Katy made for me for Christmas a couple of years ago—on the table. “Never will I miss that form of attention.”

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