Page 30 of Catch You

As I descend the stairs, the familiar sizzle of frying bacon hits my ears seconds before the smell surrounds me. My mouth waters and I pick up my pace a little.

“Hungry?” Brooke asks when I join her in the kitchen and pull out a carton of orange juice from the fridge.

“Starved.”

“That would be all the exercise you had.” My cheeks heat despite the fact that she’s not looking at me.

“Hmm …” I mumble, pouring us both a drink and taking a seat at our table.

Brooke finishes up our sandwiches before placing a plate down in front of me.

“You do know that you’re not getting away with it, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I say with a mouthful of delicious salty, smoked bacon.

“I want all the details from last night.”

“I already told you, it was good. Fun … while it lasted.”

“Oh, come on, you need to give me more than that.”

“He was …” I pause to think of the right word. “Mind-blowing.”

She stares at me for a beat, and I can almost see the excitement building behind her eyes.

“You rode him all night long, didn’t you?”

My face flames red. “Might have.”

“Yes, get in there, girl!”

“What about you?” I ask, turning this on her, not wanting to give her a play by play of my regretful evening. “You’ve only just got in; how was your night?”

“It was fine.” I narrow my eyes at her. It’s so unlike her to withhold any details about her conquests.

“It was fine? Wow, he must have really rocked your world. Was it the guy you were dancing with?”

“No, he disappeared not long after you left. It was just some guy. There won’t be a repeat.”

“When is there?” I ask, pushing my empty plate away from me.

She shrugs, totally unfazed.

“So, have you decided if you’re going to call him?”

I open my mouth to respond but soon discover that I don’t have the answer—at least, not the one she wants to hear.

“I’m going to lie down. Leave the washing up; I’ll do it later.”

“That’s it?” she calls as I leave the room. “Fine, run away.” Her voice is light, but I can’t help wondering how true her words are.

She ignores my parting comment, because by the time I get to the top of the stairs, she’s crashing around in the kitchen, tidying up.

I don’t make it to my bed. Instead, I come to a stop at my dressing table and fall onto my stool as I stare at the photograph of me standing with my parents and little sister when I was a kid.

Reaching out, I run my fingertip over each of them. I desperately try to remember what it was actually like to touch them, how warm their skin was, how they smelled, what their voices sounded like. Some days it feels like only yesterday they were taken from me, but others, I almost feel like I’ve lived my entire life without them.

My eyes drift to the frame slightly behind them of my aunt and me the day I graduated college—something I never thought I’d be able achieve during my last few years at high school. She was the only one who was able to break through the dark hazeI was drowning in and make me look forward. I’ll forever be grateful for what she gave me.

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