The officers were still milling around, making it impossible to talk to Syd. I didn’t think I could explain myself in any way that would make things better, but I needed to apologize for this mess, and to let her know I never meant for her to get hurt in any way.
I caught sight of her in the kitchen, walking side by side with a young cop. He had a hand on her shoulder and she was without the ice bag. I doubted she should’ve gotten rid of the ice that quickly.
“Sydney!”
Startled by the sound of her father’s voice, I whirled toward the living room. What was he doing here? A second later, a bear of a man came through the door. Syd’s father had scared me shitless as a kid. Mr. Bell was the kind of man who shopped at the Big-and-Tall section and could give someone a look that made most guys want to run for the hills. He drew up short, midway through yanking off his wool gloves, when he saw his daughter. A look of horror flashed across his face, and then his cheeks went red with anger.
His gaze moved from his daughter to me, and I wanted to crawl into a fucking hole. I was a big, motherfucking letdown. I’d let his daughter get hurt. I couldn’t be more of a fuck-up than that.
A second later, a smaller figure darted around Mr. Bell. Syd’s mom looked like a child standing next to her husband. Syd’s “vertical challenge” was all from her mom, as were the thick, dark hair and heart-shaped face. The startling blue eyes were her father’s, though.
“Baby,” Mrs. Bell cried out, nearly knocking an officer over in her rush to get to her daughter. “Oh, my God, what happened? Look at you. What happened?”
Syd broke away from the cop and met her mom halfway, throwing her arms around her.
“Kyler.”
The sound of my name was like dropping steel down my spine. I turned to her father and, in that short period of time, Sydney and her mother were gone.
Mr. Bell took a step forward, and he was one of the few men in this world who made me feel about an inch tall. “What in the hell happened to my daughter?”
Chapter 21
Sydney
Being home was a relief, standing in my heated old bedroom, surrounded by all my things from childhood straight up to my teen years. But I’d been in this funk since we’d arrived in Hagerstown three days ago.
I needed to get peppy or something. Christmas Eve was in two days, and it’d always been my favorite holiday—the food, the family, the presents—everything about it.
Meh.
My bedroom was weird in a way, like a time capsule. Never bothered me before, but right now? I wanted to take a sledgehammer to the room. I was embarrassed by the brown and white teddy bears stacked near the pillows. I picked one up, a red bear Kyler had given me for my eleventh birthday. Pain sliced my chest, and I placed the bear back down and turned away from my bed. I was bored with the overstocked bookcases. I couldn’t care less about the ribbons Mom had tacked on the wall above my desk, hanging in a line next to the academic awards I’d accumulated throughout high school. There were newspaper cuttings of the Dean’s List. I started to straighten one of the frames, but stopped and left it the way it was. Crooked. Unbalanced. Imperfect.
Turning away from the awards, ribbons, and clippings, I picked up my old cell phone off the bed and slipped it into my pocket. I headed downstairs, finding Mom in the kitchen. Dad was still at the office. Some things never changed, including his late nights.
The whole lower floor smelled like apple pie and cinnamon—usually my favorite. Mom looked up from the magazine she was poring over as I dropped into the seat in front of her. “Are you still going out with Andrea tonight?”
Dropping my elbows on the table, I put my chin in my hands. “Yeah, she’s driving up from Frederick and picking me up in a little bit. We’re going to grab dinner.” And I had a feeling she’d be visiting Tanner later, who was home in Smithsburg, about ten minutes away.
“Good.” Mom winked. “I didn’t put enough chicken in the oven to feed you and your father.”
“Nice.”
She laughed softly as she flipped a page. “Has your lip been bothering you?”
“No. It’s fine.” And it practically was. Just a little mark was on it, near the corner, and my jaw didn’t hurt anymore. “I hope you’re not worrying about it.”
“Of course I’m worrying about it. What you went through?” She took a deep breath and closed the magazine. Looking up, she fixed dark eyes on me. “Honey, I—”
“I really don’t want to talk about it.” I placed my hands on the kitchen table. “I’m fine. It’s over. In the past.”
“Until the case goes to court,” she reminded me gently.
“He might plead guilty, and then I won’t have to testify or anything.” And God, I really hoped that was the case. “Anyway, if I have to do it, I’ll do it.”
Mom didn’t say anything for a moment as she watched me. I sighed as I sat back, knowing she was about to say something I didn’t want to hear. She had that “Mom” look about her. “Honey,” she started, and my suspicions were confirmed. “I was talking to Mrs. Banks about what happened. You know, she’s the school counselor.”
Oh. Dear. God.
“And she suggested what I thought would be best,” she continued carefully. “I think you should talk to someone about what happened to you.”
“What?” My jaw hit my lap. “You’re kidding, right?”
Mom frowned. “Honey, you’re going to school to be a psychiatrist—”
“Psychologist,” I corrected.
Her frown deepened. “Anyway, you know how important it is for people to talk things out and not hold them in.”
I resisted my urge to roll my eyes. I did know how important that was. And while those moments with Zach had been the scariest in my life—and there were still moments where it haunted me—I didn’t need to talk about it and soak up a therapist’s time that could be better spent helping someone who needed it.
“Mom, I don’t need to talk to anyone. I’m okay. Really, I am. I promise.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Then why have you been moping around this house like someone kicked your puppy into the street?”
I made a face, but my stomach dropped. “That’s real nice, Mom.”
“You know what I mean.”
Tracing the grain in the wood of the tabletop, I shrugged.
“I haven’t been moping around.”
“Yes, you have.” She picked up her cup and stood, taking it over to the sink, where she washed it out before slipping it into the dishwasher. When she finished, she faced me and crossed her arms. “I have never seen you so listless and unhappy this close to Christmas before. So if it wasn’t what happened to you, then what is it?”
“It’s nothing. I’m just in a mood or something.”
Mom sighed. “Honey, you know you can talk to me, right? About anything. You’re not too old for that.”
“I know.” But what was bothering me was something I was so not talking to my mom about.
Her lips pursed. “Is it Kyler?”
Ah, there it was. That horrible sinking feeling expanded through me at the mention of his name. My entire body locked up, and a hollow feeling poured into my chest. It was like being punched and knocked down. Kyler. Kyler. Kyler. I’d tried not to think about him since I’d left Snowshoe. That was as easy and fun as playing Frogger on the interstate.
Kyler consumed my thoughts no matter what I did. And the worst part? Two out of the three nights I’d dreamt about him. God, it made me lamer than normal.
But I did know something I’d never really known before.
This was what a broken heart really felt like. Silly me, thinking I knew what it felt like every time I’d seen Kyler with a new chick. That had nothing on this.
I tucked my hair back and decided on, “Why do you think it has to do with Kyler?”