Page 60 of The Love Interest
I know, Juliet. Oh boy, do I know.
“Let’s go,” she says. “It’s freezing up here.”
I jump down off the railing. She follows behind me.
She screams. I spin around in time to see her smash into the ground. She’s on her back, holding her thigh. Her knee is red and bloody.
Take off your shirt and give it to her.
On the ground, Juliet is whimpering.
You did this to her, Kaylee.My voice sounds angry.
I did. Show her you’ll make her feel better when she hurts herself. You’ll thank me for this later, Caden.
I pull my shirt off and crouch in front of her.
“Caden, what are you doing? It’s freezing.”
I look into her eyes, and scrunch my shirt up so it’s like a cloth. “I need to stop the bleeding.”
She nods, giving me permission, and I press the shirt to her bloody knee. She winces and lets out a hiss. I tie the shirt around her wound, and then place my arm under her knees.
“Grab my neck,” I say. “I need to get you out of here.”
She loops her arms around my neck. I bend my knees and rise. She’s actually quite light.
“I don’t know what happened,” she says quietly as I begin our descent. “I was fine and then it was like the ground shifted. It was weird, Caden.” She leans her head against my bare shoulder. “I’m so lucky you were here.”
They did this. They hurt her.
Kiss the top of her head and tell her everything will be okay.
I ignore the voice in my head.
***
A hard knock sounds on my window. I slide out of bed and open it. Dyl lingers there, staring at me. It’s been a few hours since I last thought about him, as my anger at Kaylee has been brewing within me, consuming all other thoughts. I’ve punched my pillow so many times it’s now limp and lumpy.
“We need to talk,” I say as I open the window. “They went too far today. They…”
I look at his face.
His eyes are puffy and red. His bottom lip is wobbling. “Caden.”
My anger melts away. “Dyl, what’s wrong?”
He sniffs and wipes his nose on his jacket sleeve. “Can I come in?”
I look around at my bedroom and realize that no one I care about has ever been in it. I’m suddenly conscious of the smell, which is like me before I go to bed: sweat mixed with my deodorant, and it’s tinged with the slightly sour smell of unwashed clothes. What will he think about that? Will he think I’m dirty?
“Yeah, man,” I say. “Sure.”
He clambers inside. As soon as he’s in I pull the window shut. That makes the room seem even smaller, and the air feels warm and cramped, reminding me of the cabin where we kissed. I shove that memory away and push the window open again.
He looks around. “So this is your room.”
“It sure is.”
