“Don’t say that.” He slid down in the seat a little more and wrapped his arms tighter around me. “You mustn’t say things like that.”
“Dad?” I lifted my head, speaking a little louder to project my voice over the heavy pounding of rain. “I’m so sorry—did she see? Did Mrs Rossi see?”
“Ara, honey. Mrs Rossi’s more worried about you, okay?”
“Oh no.” My head shook against my hands.
“Ara, please stop crying?” David asked softly, brushing my hair from my face.
He smelled so good and he was just so sweet. That rich, orange-chocolate scent, the scent that could only be David’s, matched his gorgeously gentle personality so well.
My sobbing stopped short for a second when a loud rumble emanated from the ogre within my belly.
“Ara? Did you eat breakfast?” Vicki asked in a high-pitched tone.
David’s chest sunk as he breathed out deeply, pressing his cheek against my forehead. “No, she didn’t. Silly girl.”
“Ara?” Dad sighed. “You know better than that. What were you—” He stopped, almost visibly biting his own tongue. “It doesn’t matter. When we get home, you need to go straight upstairs. Vicki and I will fix you some food and bring it up. Okay?” Dad looked in the rearview mirror.
I nodded, letting David pull me closer to his saturated shirt. We were almost home now. The sweet smell of the frangipani trees in Mr Herman’s garden scented the cold, wet air coming in through Dad’s window, and I breathed the last few minutes of David I would ever get.
Chapter Sixteen
Dad let David carry me upstairs, much to my disgust and against my very strongly worded protest. When we stepped into the warm, soft light of my room, a wave of relief washed away the tight feeling in my chest. David stood me on the ground, pulled the quilt back on my bed, then lowered me onto the mattress—smoothing the rain away from my legs before sliding my shoes off my feet.
“Thanks.” I smiled down at him.
“My pleasure.” He smiled back and, as he stood up, placed my shoes neatly, side-by-side, next to my bedroom door.
Something clicked then; the air stopped flowing to my lungs for a second and pieces of my life over the last few weeks started to fit together. My window—that night—I closed it. But it was open—in the morning.
“Lay back,” he said, and I did, very slowly, all the while moving pieces of the puzzle around in my head. He pulled the quilt up to my chin, sitting himself on the bed beside me.
“David?”
“Yes, Ar—” He frowned at my wide-eyed expression, then stood up, stiff and slow. I saw his throat move as he looked over at the shoes. I looked at them, too.
That was all the confirmation I needed.
“I can explain.”
“You snuck…into my room?” I said. “Why? I mean—how did you even get in here?”
“I—” He stopped and straightened up suddenly, keeping his eyes on me. “Come in.”
I looked at the door.
“Hey, honey.” Dad popped his head in, smiling widely at a plate in his hand. “Made you a salad sandwich.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I sat up. Though I was hungry and felt pretty sick because of it, all I wanted was for him to go away so I could figure out what the hell David was doing in my room that night and, more embarrassingly, how long he’d been watching me.
“Mrs Rossi called,” Dad said, sitting beside me, handing me the plate. “She asked me to tell you that she was overwhelmed with happiness to see you today and not to worry about fainting, because if you hadn’t done it first, she would have.” He laughed softly. “And then she added that she wouldn’t have had a handsome young man there to catch her.”
David’s shoulders lifted once with a chuckle.
“I told her I’d have caught her, but, apparently—” Dad looked a little solemn, “—I’m not a handsome young man.”
I smiled softly. “It was nice of her to call.”
“She was worried about you.”
“We all were,” David said, then moved away and leaned on the wall beside my door, his arms over his chest, a thousand thoughts dancing across his face. And all I read there, in his eyes and on his brow, was agony.
“Ara?” Dad waved a hand in front of my stare.
Clearing my throat, I looked at the smile badly masking his concern and almost laughed. “I’m okay, Dad. Really. I guess I just need to eat.”
He exhaled, relieved, I guess, and nodded. “Okay. Do you…need some time alone?”
One of David’s brows arched up slightly.
“Just give me a second to talk to David?”
“Sure thing, honey.” Dad stood up and patted David on the shoulder as he passed, shutting my door behind him.
The silence in the room hovered over the howling winds outside. David closed his eyes for a second, rolling his chin toward his chest. I wondered who should speak first; the prosecutor or the defendant.
“Eat,” he said, out of the blue.
My eyes narrowed and I bit my teeth together. “I think you have a few confessions to make before you go asking me to do anything.”
His arms dropped to his sides with a heavy sigh. “I’m not talking until you’ve eaten something.”
Keeping my eyes on him, I picked up the sandwich and tore a corner away with my teeth. “Happy?” I muttered with my mouth full, slamming the sandwich back down on the plate.
David nodded once, the frown he wore erasing the usual smile from his eyes. Everything about him seemed odd without that smile. Empty, almost.
“Okay,” I said after I swallowed, “I’ve eaten now. Fess up, for once.”
He walked slowly over and knelt by my bed, taking both my wrists and setting them gently beside my legs. “I love you. I would never do anything to hurt or dishonour you, and I would never intrude on you in a corrupt manner. But, I did come to your window and I did come in to your room.”
“Why?”
“I’ve been worried about you. Your dad said you were suicidal, and I wasn’t sure if he might be correct. After we—” he rocked his jaw, blinking a few times, “—after I kissed you and then took you home, I—I knew what you were thinking, Ara. I knew you just…wanted to stop the pain. I was really worried you might. So I—” he shrugged and jerked his head to my window. “I jumped through. Came to check on you.”