Page 60 of Lost in You

“Officer Daniels was a bit out of line when he punched you. I’ve always treated you as if you were my own and I expect my department to do the same. Today they treated you like every other teenager we deal with when it probably wasn’t necessary. We should’ve re-evaluated and listened to what you were telling us. I’m sorry, Ryan.”

“Okay.” I say, not sure how to respond. I’ve never had an adult apologize to me before, but I’ve also never had an adult hit me either. Today was a whole slew of firsts for me. “Thank you,” I add for good measure.

“What happened to your neck?” he asks. My hand instantly goes to my neck and rubs it. My skin is raw and hurts to touch. I pull my hand away and shake my head. “What about your chin?” I look down at my empty brownie plate to avoid answering.

His chair scrapes the floor and before I know it, he’s on the side of me. He bends and kisses Mrs. Ross on the cheek and sets his hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me, I can figure it out by the look on your face. You’ll stay in the guest bedroom until you’re ready to go home.” He pats my shoulder one more time before walking away. I jump slightly when the front door slams shut.

“You know where everything is,” Mrs. Ross says as she gets up, but not before placing a kiss on my cheek. The way she treats me makes me realize how inept my mother is with her feelings, but then again, she did call Dylan and ask her to come pick me up, so maybe there is some hope.

The bed is a welcome comfort, much softer than the one I have at home. I helped paint this room last summer. Dylan calls it bleached green; her mom calls it sage.

I lean back, rolling over on my side to look out the window. The dark sky is settling in even though it’s not yet dinnertime. It’s only going to continue to get dark this early. I hate winter. The cold, dark nights leave so much to be desired. Thoughts of the last few days replay in my mind as I focus on the swaying tree outside the window. The pictures of Hadley, the way she told me she loved me, the car. It all seems like a blur, like a dream really. I close my eyes and wish that when I open them I’d be holding her, her skin pressed against me, my lips finding hers in the dark. I want to be back in the car, holding her and not saying no, not holding back from what we both wanted so desperately.

I pull out my phone and try Hadley again. My text sits there, not delivering, staring back at me. Her picture mocks me; she’s smiling, but I’m not. I don’t want to believe that I can’t reach her, that we can’t at least text. I don’t want to believe that she’s made it impossible for us to talk. Why would she do that? I close my eyes and fight the tears. I will not cry. I won’t. I’m not an emotional person and I’m definitely not starting now. I guess that’s a trait I’ve learned from my parents. No emotion so people don’t think any less of you.

I roll over and scream into the pillow, my fist pounding into the bed. I’m trying to be quiet, but know they can hear me. Why did she leave me? Tears stream down my face. I wipe them away angrily, unable to stop their flow. I’m not supposed to cry. Guys don’t cry. Yet here I am, crying like a damn baby because my girlfriend just dumped me.

She dumped me.

I say the words over and over in my head and don’t want to believe them. My body hurts. My hand rests on my chest, my fingers tugging at my shirt trying to ease the pain. She’s gone and there’s no saving our relationship. She left me. She left me behind after promising me so much.

I shouldn’t stay here. I should go as planned. Leave when I turn eighteen. I have enough saved for a bus ticket. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll go to New York and look for her. Age won’t matter then. We can be together.

The bedroom door squeaks open. I don’t have to turn around to know that it’s Dylan. She sets something on the table beside my bed and sits down. She’s so tiny the bed doesn’t even dip.

I startle when she reaches out and touches me. Her arm wraps around my waist and she rests her body along mine. She gets as close as humanly possible. We’ve never been like this and I’m not sure how I feel about it.

“Ryan,” she whispers my name so softly it reminds me of Hadley saying my name earlier. I try to block that imagine out of my mind, but I can’t. From the sound of her name to her leaving me at the police station, I can’t shake it.

“I know you’re hurting. I know it’s not the same, but I’ve been there. I’ve been in love and it hurts like hell when you’re not ready to quit and someone else is. Things get better, I promise you. And I also promise you that whatever happened this weekend and what’s going on now, no one will ever know about it from me. I’ll keep your secrets, Ryan.”

I roll over and pull Dylan’s hand into mine, not afraid to let her see how much I’m hurting.

“You’ll be okay,” she whispers. She rests her head on my chest and holds me while my heart shatters into a million pieces.

Chapter 32

Hadley

Waking up in my childhood bedroom isn’t anything like what you see on television. My room isn’t bubblegum pink with posters of boy bands adorning the walls. My prom queen tiara isn’t hanging from my vanity with my singing trophies. Nothing like that exists in this room. Now, this is where guests sleep. They crawl into a queen-sized bed with decorative pillows. They can watch TV on the flat screen mounted to the wall. They never know that this used to be a girl’s room.

The walls are yellow, it’s calming and inviting according to my mom. I have no problem sleeping here. In fact, I like it. It brings back memories. Sometimes I miss the safety of my parents' house. I bury myself deeper into the pillows. I don’t want to start the day. I don’t want to think about yesterday and what it means. I don’t want to constantly check my phone hoping he’ll call, knowing that he can’t. Maybe I shouldn’t have turned off his phone, but I had to. I’d be too tempted to contact him. The desire to hear his voice is already pounding in my head.

My parents took today off work to help me deal with Ian. I told them it wasn’t necessary, but they insisted. My dad said I’m still his baby girl and if he wants a day off to watch over me, no one is going to stop him. I didn’t want to show him how much his words had affected me, so I curled up on the couch and rested my head on his leg. My mom sat at the other end holding my legs, much like they do when I’m sick.

I finally drag myself out of bed and into the kitchen. Dad's cooking and Mom's sitting at the bar sipping her requisite cup of coffee and reading the paper. I sit on the stool next to her and steal a piece of her toast.

“What do you want for breakfast?” Dad smiles at me as I sit down.

I shrug. “Whatever you’re making is fine.”

He winks before turning back to the stove. Mom pushes the rest of her toast over to me as she closes the newspaper. “How’d you sleep?”

“Fine, actually. But anything is better than a hotel bed.”

“I don’t know why you insist on staying in a hotel when you’re in L.A. Why not just buy a place?”

“Because I don’t want to live there, Mom,” I say as I pick at the toast. My dad sets down a plate with eggs over easy, bacon and hash browns.

---