Page 157 of Leave Me Broken

I push open the door, looking at him. “It’s possible Principal Erikson might not even see us. We only have two hours left of—”

“And what is the reason you two are not in uniform and sneaking from the gym, alone?” The deep baritone of Principal Erikson’s voice booms behind us. My shoulders jump to my ears, even Clay cringes. It’s slight but still there.

His footsteps are equally intimidating as he stomps forward and around us. His piercing brown eyes bore into me, then Clay. “Well?”

I open my mouth, close it, and look at Clay for help.

“Payson is on her cycle and bled through her skirt. It got on me and neither of us have extra uniforms.”

I elbow him and he shoots me a scowl. Clay has never heard of a lie, ever. I should not have trusted him to say something. I would have said anything other than that. The last thing I want is Principal Erikson’s eyes drop to my shorts but to my surprise, he doesn’t cringe like you would expect. At least what I would expect. Collins was always so grossed out by periods. Figures. Principal Erikson has like six daughters or something crazy like that with the youngest being a year younger than me, so he is probably used to it. But still, I don’t want him knowing when I’m on mine.

“I see. Well, then, because this is the first time I’ve ever had to speak to either of you, I will let you off with a warning. But bring in spare uniforms to keep in your locker. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

He stomps down the hall the rest of the way and Clay flashes me a lopsided grin. “Your cycle saved us from detention, Payson.”

“Yay. I wonder what else it will save us from.”

“Pregnancy,” he deadpans.

Something inside me twists up at the mention of pregnancy. I am in no way, shape, or form ready for a child. I know that for sure. Ash might be with his several comments about it, but this is when our ages come into play. If he wants to be with me like he says, he will just have to be patient.

I sigh and catch up with Clay to head for the library. “True. Wouldn’t want that.”

“No. Definitely not while you are taking drugs.”

I stumble over my feet and gasp. “W-what?”

We’re in the library now so he drops his voice, but continues the walk to the tables in the far back. “Your eyes are dilated. You are drinking more water than normal, which might not be an issue if I couldn’t tell you were doing it because your mouth is dry and not because you were thirsty. You’ve also not had a real conversation with me since you got back from California. Not to mention your knee is twice the size of your other and yet you have not complained about the pain once. So, Payson.” He flicks a look to me. Not a judgmental one, more or less curious. “What is it you are taking?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The lie sounds pathetic, even to me.

He spins and pins me with a hard stare. “What did we talk about you being a shit liar, Payson?”

He cussed. Clay Kjelberg never cusses. “You swore.”

He pushes a hand through his hair and sighs. “I did. Janelle is not here to put you in your place and apparently no one else knows the signs—but I do, and I know when someone is taking medication they should not be. Unless your doctor prescribed it for your knee, which if they did, then you should not be driving because they would have warned you that driving while on . . . Morphine? Fentanyl?”

“Hydrocodone,” I mutter and drop my eyes so I don’t have to see the disappointment I hear in his voice.

“Ah, yes. Well, you should know misuse of that particular drug can cause many issues. Including death.”

There is a long pause filled with so much tension. This isn’t a feeling I’ve felt with Clay before. He’s not one to bullshit, obviously, but usually he says what he wants and the conversation is over.

“Unless you already know that.”

I lift my gaze and he releases a breath. He shakes his head slightly. “You are really disappointing me, Payson.”

Tears threaten to burn my eyes. I should have taken two pills today because it feels like I didn’t even take one this morning right now. “My grandpa has cancer.”

He says nothing, just continues staring at me with an expressionless face and those bright blue eyes.

“My relationship is fine, kind of, but also not. Janelle moved—” I hiccup. “My mom is dead.” I don’t know if that affects me or not. I still haven’t decided.

Then he does something I never would have expected from Clay Kjelberg. He hugs me. Both his arms around my shoulders. I’m so shocked, it takes me a second to hug him back around the waist. He smells like clean linen and men’s body wash. A pleasant smell.

“You’re hugging me.”

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