Page 11 of Always Mine

After thirty seconds of therapeutic breathing, which doesn’t really do shit, I retrieve my sling and begin to pick up the scattered items. When I successfully have everything back on the shelf, I do a quick eye sweep, noting everything is back in order. I really need a shower and some sleep.

I go to my bag to grab some clothes when the picture thumbtacked to the wall above my desk catches my attention. How I hadn’t noticed it before, I don’t know, but my hand is moving before I even register. I snag it from the wall, ripping it away from the thumbtack. I would care about damage if it wasn’t already taped back together from where I previously tore it to shreds.

It’s a selfie picture of Wyatt and me after the homecoming football game our senior year. I’m sweaty with black smudged lines on my cheeks and my braces-lined teeth on full display. Wyatt’s face is painted with our school colors, my jersey number proudly exhibited on each cheek, and his lips are parted as he makes a funny face to the camera.

The night I tore it all to shreds hits me hard, and I double over, all the emotions I was feeling at that time resurfacing. That whole last week with Wyatt was hard. I was going through a lot and struggling with the idea of being so far away from him. It led me to make a rash, stupid decision.

I run my thumb over the taped edge, remembering what it felt like to destroy something so delicate, the way the photo paper gave way as I tried to rid the memory from existence. Well, I thought I did anyway. I look at the imperfect, pieced-together image and try to figure out who would have taken so much time to put it back together.

When tears flood my eyes, clouding my vision, I realize it’s time to stop torturing myself.I stuff the photo in my desk drawer, not having the heart to throw it out. Not yet. I’ll deal with it once my mind is clear—whenever that may be. Then I grab some clothes from my bag and head to the bathroom, hoping the shower will get Wyatt off my mind.

Breaking news: it doesn’t.

FIVE

Paxton

The bed shifting has my eyes snapping open and I blink hard, trying to clear the blurriness away. The calmness from sleep shifts to confusion as I look around my childhood bedroom.

Damn, I’m really here.

“You plan on getting up anytime soon? Or are you gonna sleep today away, too?”

I groan, grabbing my pillow to cover my face. “I’ll choose the sleep option, thanks.” The pillow is torn off and thrown across the room, and I blink up at my baby sister in annoyance. “Well, that was rude.”

Rolling her eyes, she shifts, laying down on the mattress beside me. “Be glad I let you sleep as long as I have. I’ve been ready to bust in here since yesterday, but Ma wouldn’t let me.”

“I appreciate your efforts,” I mutter sarcastically. Frowning, I sit up slowly as her words hit me. “Yesterday?”

Twirling a curl around her bony finger, she eyes me like I’ve lost it. “Yep. You’ve slept for like eighteen hours or something.”

“Are you serious?” No wonder I’m starving and have to pee this bad. “What time is it?”

“Nine. Ma has breakfast waiting. She told me not to wake you, but I was beginning to worry that you slipped into a coma. I mean, I’ve been poking you for a solid five minutes.”

“Aren’t you the sweetest.” I wince at the throbbing in my arm, and realize I haven’t taken my pain medication since my shower earlier—yesterday—and it shows.

Looking me over with concern, Lily slides off the bed, coming around to my side. “You okay?”

“I missed a few doses of my meds. Feeling sore.” Reaching up, I rub the spot between her brows. “You shouldn’t frown like that. It’ll cause wrinkles.”

Her hand snaps out, colliding with my good shoulder, and my eyes widen at her response time.

“Asshole.”

“Hey, you’re too young to curse.” My words don’t match my internal happiness, though. In my head, I’m pumping my fist enthusiastically and screaming, ‘That’s my girl. Don’t take no one’s shit!’

“Oh, please. You and Bryan said way worse at my age… And did worse, I’m sure.”

My face pinches with amusement at her words. “What do you mean? I behaved.”

She snorts, folding her arms over her chest. “Yeah, right. When was the first time you had sex?”

I don’t say anything, her words short-circuiting my brain, then I’m up and off the bed, pacing the length of my room. I’m not prepared to have this conversation with my sixteen-year-old sister. “You better not be having sex,” I say in warning. “Do you even have a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Fuck, you’re too young. I mean, I was young when I— But that was different, and, fuck, Lily. Please tell me you’re not having sex.” I’m rambling, all the words falling from my lips in rapid succession as I try to rid the thought of anyone touching my baby sister. Lily will forever be a kid in my mind. The innocent girl with ringlet curls, toting around her stuffed penguin that she refused to name because nothing was right.

“You’re really freaking out over this?”

Her voice brings me back to the present, and I stop my pacing, snapping my gaze to hers. “That was not a no, Lily Marie Prescott. You better not be having sex!”

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