Image: A Love Story

Chapter Twenty Six - High And Dry

I didn't say a word as I stepped aside and gestured for her to come in. Not because I was "salty" though I surely was. It was because I was stunned. She was literally stunning. She looked the healthiest I'd ever seen her, fresh-faced, and full of vivid colors. Her hair was like liquid gold streaming to her waist, and her flushed cheeks were as vibrant as the bouquet of roses she had balanced in the crook of her arm.

"Oh my God." Her mouth dropped and her horrified eyes flitted across my body, clocking my every bruise. "What happened to you?"

And then there's me. I crossed my arms self-consciously. "We got in a bad car accident the other day."

"We?" She clutched at her necklace, rolling it back and forth between her fingers. "Is Landon hurt too?"

My eyes fixated on it for a moment—what a strange shape, like a vial—but then I forced them back up to her face. "He's bruised up too. He dislocated his shoulder, cut his eyebrow.... and lost a tooth."

Her hand rose to her mouth, and I noticed her nails looked like they'd been professionally done. Usually it was just some pastel color she put on herself, but this time it looked like French tips on smooth acrylic. "Oh my God. You look like you're in a lot of pain. Is there anything I can do for you?" Her eyes scanned around the house again as if she was trying to get ideas.

It took me a moment to answer as I was a little thrown by such eager hospitality, but I recalled her being that way in the past. Very helpful and empathic. It was hard to reconcile that with the person who had more recently made my life hell. "No, I'm okay."

A few seconds of awkward silence passed as I stared down at my toes, furtively sizing her up through my peripherals.

So beautiful. Damn her.

"These are for you," she suddenly declared and thrust the flowers into my hand.

So she came here knowing I was here. I guess it wasn't really surprising.

"Oh...thanks," I said, giving them a polite sniff. Didn't red roses represent passion?

What is she....courting me? I thought, fighting back a sneer twitching at the corners of my lips. Well, Meadow was certainly passionate. That was for sure.

"EEEEKK, what is that?!" She jabbed her pointer finger toward her feet. I looked down to see Whiskers slithering around her ankles and then rubbing his head against mine.

"Um, a cat?"

Meadow covered her nose. "I'm allergic to cats!"

"Oh, sorry. I'll put him in my room." I bent over, and he let out a startled yelp when I scooped him up. I ignored the tight sting of my stitches as I hurried over to my room and dropped him inside. He stared at me, cocking his head and wagging his tail sharply. His signature sign he was irritated.

"Sorry, buddy. I'll be right back," I said through the crack of the door just before I closed it.

When I turned around, Meadow was standing in the hallway, taking anxious, tiny steps like she'd just wandered into a haunted house. I hobbled back to the living room and grabbed her by the upper arm—maybe a little rougher than I meant to—leading her into the kitchen.

"Do you want something to drink?" I asked, placing the bouquet on the counter and opening the fridge. There weren't too many options. Some expired milk, beer, and half a carton of orange juice.

"That's okay," she said, still looking around the house. For what, I wasn't sure, though I was sure she didn't leave something here. I threw everything away.