The Games We Play

25. Twenty-Four - Tess

Twenty-Four - Tess

Dinner was quiet and once the football talk was over, there wasn’t much left to discuss.

Laying the dish towel over the edge of the sink, I finish washing the dishes. Through the window, the moon reflects off the calm lake and I debate a midnight walk down the dock.

Has X found out I’m not home yet ? I can’t fathom the kind of trouble I’ll be in when I get back. I smirk and glance down before raising my gaze.

My breath gets caught in my throat and I grip the vanity. Through the window staring at me are neon blue X’s.

He found me . But after the stunt he pulled at Haunted Nights, I put nothing past him. Meanwhile, do I just wait around every night to see if I’m worth visiting?

Is there more to this? Or is this the way it’ll always be?

I kiss my lips together and wave a hand at him, then stride through the house back to the fire pit.

No wonder it’s so quiet—Ryan and his dad are gone .

I get the sense of someone standing behind me and I spin, my hand pressing firmly over my mouth to keep me from screaming.

“Jumpy,” Ryan teases. He’s wearing swimming trunks and has a towel tossed over his shoulder.

“You scared me.” I push my hair out of my face. “Why are you being so hard on your dad?” My voice is harsher than I planned, but I’m tired of pretending the way he is acting is okay.

“I’m not. But smore’s? We’re adults who like to drink and party. Not sit around a fire with their old man and roast marshmallows. And there’s a hot-tub outside—”

“I would,” I say, cutting him off.

“Why?”

“I’d love nothing more than for my dad to give a damn about me and to spend time with me. But mine can’t even look at me. Fuck, he couldn’t stand to be on the same continent as me. He—” I take a deep breath and lower my voice. Ryan doesn’t know what happened. The only person who does is X. My skin itches, the overwhelming sense to get relief. I grip the towel in my hand and bite on the inside of my cheek. “Eat the smores, Ryan.”

His features fall, and he steps up to the doorway beside me. “I’m sorry, Tess. I didn’t realize.”

“Don’t. I’m fine. I’m going to go change and I’ll meet you outside. The hot water sounds nice.”

I don’t turn to look at Ryan as I rush through the house and up the stairs. I’m panting by the time I close the door and rip the clothes from my overnight bag until I find what I’m looking for.

The grip the handle in my hand and jerk my leggings down with my free one. I tease the blade along old scars of different sizes and shapes along my inner thigh. This isn’t what I want. Not anymore. It doesn’t take the edge off.

X is here . I saw him . Didn’t I ?

Or did I just imagine he found me? Wishing he was here to get my fix. My skin itches and I tug at my roots. A storm brews inside of me with nowhere for it to go.

A voice tsks behind me and I spin, but there’s nobody there. I stare at myself in the mirror. The urge to crack the glass to match how I feel inside nearly takes over. I can’t hide up here all night. Like Mr. Collins said, being out here is like hitting reset—that’s what I need.

My phone lights up on my comforter and I walk over to check it. A text from an unknown number displays on my screen.

Did you think you could hide from me? That quaint little house on the lake was easy to find. I expect you to remember what happens if anyone touches you.

My chest warms and the gnawing feeling I had downstairs dissipates.

What if I touch myself?

I smirk at my response and slip my T-shirt and bra off and pull on my bikini top. I’m adjusting my bottoms when a soft knock sounds on the door.

Mr. Collins leans against the wall, but his demeanor has changed. He looks sad, staring at his feet with his arms flexed across his chest.

I stop short. “Mr. Collins,” I say with shock. “Is something wrong?”

Slowly, his gaze travels from my toes up to my eyes. A trail of heat covers my body with his perusal. I shift, and wrap my arms over my abdomen as if that will dampen the fire building in my center.

What is wrong with me ? I should not be having these feelings .

“I was looking for Ryan. Is he--? ”

I shake my head. “No, he’s waiting for me downstairs. We were going to get in the hot tub.”

His phone chimes and checks it, his brows furrowing, then his clear blue eyes glance up at me. “Do you think he hates me?”

I’m taken aback by his question. “Why would he hate you?”

“I’m gone more than I’m home and have no idea what he’s doing in school or sports because I’m not there. I can’t even have a conversation with him without him formulating an escape plan.”

My chest hurts from the pain and sadness in his voice. I want to reassure him in any way I can.

“He doesn’t hate you,” I say, resting my palm on his bicep. “You’re doing the best you can.”

His muscles flex under my touch and he lets out a hollow chuckle. “They don’t give parenting lessons in school and I swear I don’t know what I’m doing here half the time.”

“You’re here,” I say, my voice low and soft. “That’s more than some fathers.”

Mr. Collins places his hand over mine and gives it a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Tess. I don’t know how anyone could just up and leave you.”

His words crack open my bandaged and taped together heart. No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop the awful sound that bubbles up from my throat and the tears that well in my eyes. Clamping a hand over my mouth, I nod, and try to back away, but Mr. Collins keeps a firm hold on my hand and pulls me against his chest.

He smells clean and his touch is oddly comforting. I return his embrace, noting how his muscles ripple across his body. Swallowing the lump in my throat, X’s warning slams into the front of my mind .

I push back awkwardly and pull away from Mr. Collins. He appears to look everywhere but at me and clears his throat.

“Thank you,” I say with a tight smile and slip past him to go find Ryan and try to shove down whatever the fuck just happened.

***

“Mine,” a deep voice growls. I roll to my back and blink at the dark room. A moment of confusion washes over me.

Where am I ?

I quickly sit up and look around. Recollection of yesterday comes rushing back in and I breathe heavily. Roxy whines at the foot of my bed and does her tapping dance on her paws, telling me she needs to go outside.

I check my phone. “Seriously? It’s three a.m. Why?” I get out of the bed and wrap a silk robe around my body. Light filters in from the hallway through the cracked door and I pause. I never sleep with the door open. Not even a crack. As a kid, I did it to drown out the shouting and fighting coming from Mom and Dad’s room.

My brain is muddled as I try to navigate through that distant memory. The room spins and I brace myself on the wall. Screams fill my head and I squeeze my hands over my ears, hoping to drown them out. But they grow louder. Pain. There’s so much pain.

“No! Stop!” I whimper and fall to the ground on my knees.

Roxy licks my face and pushes her head to mine. Her whines tangle with the rush of…memories…the kind I have suppressed for years. Mom stands with mascara running down her cheeks, screaming at Dad in the kitchen. She throws a liquor bottle at him and it shatters against the wall. I grab her arm, begging her to stop, but she slaps me and I land on my hands and knees amongst the broken glass.

I throw myself into the wall and I’m snapped back into the dark room at the lake house.

My parents aren’t here. I’m not a little kid anymore and she doesn’t have control over me.

Roxy lies on my lap, and I run my hands over her fur. She whimpers and her ears perk up at me.

“Just a bad dream, girl.”

It’s been a while since I last thought about what life was like before mom passed away. I was barely thirteen when I took my life into my own hands.

Glancing at the cracked door, I anticipate the wave of screams to hit me again, but nothing happens. My mind is quiet.

“Puppet.”

I push to my feet and spin around the room, searching for X. He was the reason I woke up. I heard him.

He’s here.

My breath quickens and the room spins around me. I’m not moving, but everything else is. Like the tunnel at the clown house.

Roxy barks and I reach down to pet her head to tell her it’s okay, but I miss and everything is off kilter. Is this what being drugged feels like? The ground rushes up to my face, but there’s no pain. I’m suspended in inky blackness.

** *

The smell of bacon, eggs, and syrup pulls me from my dreamless sleep. My body hurts and I roll to my back on the floor.

The floor ? What the fuck?

I groan as I get up and make my way down the stairs. Mr. Collins hums a chipper tune while he flips a pancake perfectly in the pan.

“How’d you sleep?” he asks without turning around.

My head is full of things I’ve long since forgotten. Things I wish would have stayed buried.

“Tess?” Mr. Collins asks again, only now he’s turned around and facing me. “What the fuck happened to you?” I startle away from how quickly he’s standing in front of me.

“What?” I ask, lifting a hand to the side of my face where he’s staring. I wince at the pain shooting across my skull. “Oh, um, I fell.”

“When? This is already bruised.” He gives me a disapproving dad look and I shrug. “Sit,” he orders, and I slide onto the barstool.

He pulls the emergency first aid kit from under the sink and I smirk at the memory of the time Ryan and I were climbing the huge tree out back and I fell from two limbs up. Mom was here then, and she bandaged my knee even though I told her it didn’t hurt. As soon as we were alone and away from Ryan’s parents, she yelled at me for even climbing the tree in the first place and said I’d ruined her and Dad’s weekend.

Some childhood memory.

Mr. Collins carefully pushes around my temple, and I hiss when he hits an extremely sensitive spot. He opens some antiseptic and cleans the area with small, gentle strokes. I’m acutely aware of how close he is. His chest brushes against my shoulder and he smells like cinnamon and citrus .

The hair on my nape rises as his exhaled breath blows across my cheek. Carefully, he cups my cheek and chin, angling my head to the side as he steps closer between my legs. I can’t breathe, not with him this close.

“Ryan said we’re leaving this morning?” I say, desperate to break up the electrified space between us, recalling last night’s conversation in the hot tub. Apparently, Mr. Collin’s work call couldn’t wait.

Mr. Collins clears his throat and reaches around me for the butterfly strips. “I’d assume he isn’t too happy with me,” he admits, and his voice sounds sad…in a way.

I shrug, because I can’t lie.

“That’s what I figured.” He pulls the adhesive bandage back and leans in closely, placing one on the end of my cut. His lips are at eye level and they’re parted slightly in his concentration. “Maybe I’ll quit,” he muses and leans back to grab a second bandage. “Then he’d get tired of me being around all the time.”

“I don’t believe that,” I say and Mr. Collins gives a half-hearted chuckle.

“You’re good for him, Tess. You’ve been a great friend.”

I smile softly and drop my gaze to fidget with my fingers. My heart rate picks up as he leans in again and places the second strip. “He’s my best friend,” I say quietly, and Mr. Collins stays close, long after finishing dressing my cut.

His blue eyes flick between mine. They’re piercing and like they captivate every detail, leaving nothing to get lost or forgotten. Heat radiates from his hand splayed on my thigh and his fingers twitch ever so slightly.

My chest rises and falls in shallow succession. He’s drawn me in like a hypnotist. I can’t move, can’t breathe, and as his fingers tighten on my leg, I glance down at his perfectly sculpted mouth and know that I’m going to kiss him.

“What’s going on?” Ryan asks, and I jump, causing Mr. Collins to hit the cut with his forehead. I hiss and bite my bottom lip as I lean back, putting distance between me and Ryan’s dad. “Tess? What the hell happened to you?”

“I fell,” I state lamely.

“Where? When?”

Mr. Collins steps away, and Ryan takes his spot, and I push him away.

“I don’t remember. I’m fine.” Hopping off the barstool, I sway slightly, but recover before anyone notices.

“Well, sit down and I’ll get you a plate,” Mr. Collins orders. “Ryan, can you get her some orange juice?”

I risk a glance at Mr. Collin’s back.

What would have happened if Ryan hadn’t stepped in ?

Did Mr. Collins feel what I did just now? Or am I some delusional girl who just made all of it up?

***

After Mr. Collins got a call that he couldn’t put off, we packed up at the lake house and left before supper. Ryan was quiet as he drove me home. He had been since his dad took that call.

“Are you okay?” I ask as I stand with the passenger door open, Roxy already racing around the yard from the two-hour drive.

“I was stupid to expect anything less,” Ryan states and sighs.

“Ryan,” I say, trying to think of a way to make him feel better .

“I’m fine, Tess. Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you around.” He waits for me to close the door, then backs out of my driveway.

I feel defeated as I walk inside my house and slump onto the couch. From hallucinating X, to getting extremely too close to Mr. Collins, to watching the light in my best friend’s eye get snuffed out with one phone call, I’m exhausted. I glance at my phone, reading the text I sent X.

I smile as excitement and anticipation blooms in my core of what he has in store for me when he shows up tonight.