Long Hair Don't Care Page 3

  Not that my mother was currently acting like a preschooler, but her frantic energy had the same effect. After weeks of feeling as though I were tottering on the edge and losing my grasp of control thanks to this incessant waiting, I reveled in the feeling of calm even as my mom moved like a whirling dervish around me.

  “Are you sure you’ll be all right while we’re gone?” my mom asked.

  “Of course,” I said. Like always.

  She was putting an earring in while also hopping on one leg trying to put on her airplane heels. And yes, my mom had heels that she specifically wore for travel. Just like she had a second set of her favorite toiletries, brush, and underwear permanently stashed in her overnight bag. My dad was the same. Why unpack and repack the essentials when you’d only have to do it again the next week, right?

  But even as prepared as they were, the last hour before they left for a trip was always hectic. I was used to it and watched passively from where I sat at the kitchen table. Flynn was not yet used to the flurry of commotion that happened whenever my parents left or arrived. He pressed himself flat against the doorframe as my dad barreled down the hallway to join my mother in a last-minute checklist routine they’d perfected years ago.

  My parents were a team in every sense of the word. At home, and at work, they worked in tandem. They’d met while working together in sales, and now they were a force to be reckoned with. When they’d had me, I became a member of that team, and I was expected to pull my weight.

  These days that meant being self-sufficient, which suited me just fine. It was the least I could do after disrupting their lives for so long when I was little. For nearly a year, they’d taken turns staying at the hospital with me. I’d made sure I didn’t disrupt their lives any more than necessary ever since.

  Which was why I hadn’t told my parents that I was waiting on a test result.

  I was eighteen. They didn’t legally need to know, and why worry them unless it was necessary, right?

  Right.

  My dad patted my bun as he passed by. “Be safe. No strangers. No drinking. No—”

  “Got it, Dad,” I said. The list never changed, nor did my response. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  He paused in his rushing around to give me a smile. “I know I don’t, sweetheart.” He turned to Flynn. “You’ll be okay without us?”

  I could practically see Flynn swallowing a laugh as he answered. “Yes, sir. We’ll be just fine. You have nothing to worry about.”

  Flynn looked at me and I smiled, acknowledging the way he’d mimicked my words.

  He was catching on. He hadn’t been staying with us for long, but he already knew the drill. And he also knew that he and I actually functioned better when my parents were gone. We’d fallen into a nice rhythm as roommates these past few weeks and my parents’ brief stints at home messed with the calm quiet that worked for us both.

  Flynn had been taking care of himself and his little brothers for years now, and I’d been taking care of myself even longer. But how to tell your own parents that they weren’t needed? I didn’t have the heart.

  “Flynn,” my mom said as she went over to grip his face between her hands like he was eight and not eighteen. “Are we horrible hosts for abandoning you like this?”

  She looked pained, but the question was rhetorical. It wasn’t like they were going to cancel this latest trip just to babysit an eighteen-year-old guy who was months away from graduating and striking out on his own.

  They would have canceled if I told them that I was worried about my health, however. For half a second, the urge to spill my problems was real, and it was insistent. But I smothered it and still wore a smile when my mom walked over to give my face the same cheek-squeezing treatment.

  “We love you, you know that, yes?” She kissed my forehead.

  “Yes,” I said. “And I love you too.”

  “Don’t forget to lock up after us, and the emergency contact numbers are on the fridge, and…” My dad was still talking as they walked out the door.

  The slamming of the front door behind him cut off the last of his words, and Flynn and I were left in the aftermath of a hurricane.

  “Are they always like that?” Flynn asked.

  I laughed as I cleaned up after their breakfast so we could head to school. “Always.”

  A pleasant silence followed as I tackled the dishes and Flynn put away food behind me.

  “Hey, Willow?” His tone was just awkward enough that I spun to face him instead of loading the dishwasher.

  “Yes?”

  He opened his mouth and shut it. “Are you...I mean...Are you really okay with them taking off all the time?”

  I blinked. No one had asked me that in so long I forgot the answer. “Of course.”

  He nodded slowly. “Okay.”

  Was it my imagination or did he seem disappointed? Did he know that I was lying? The thought flooded me with guilt. Flynn had been good to me since moving in. We’d always been sorta friends in the way I’m sorta friends with all my co-workers, but he’d been making an attempt to be more. Whether that was because he felt obligated since I’d offered him a home here in Lindale or just because he was kind, I couldn’t say for certain. But he keeps coming home around dinnertime so we can eat together if neither of us is working. And if he doesn’t have plans, we hang out and watch TV before bed. It was comfortable. And nice.

  It was really nice.

  I didn’t want him to think I was lying, so I blurted out, “But I’m glad you’re here.”

  His expression softened with a grin. “I’m glad I’m here too.”

  A moment of awkward silence passed. I shifted from one foot to the other as he scrubbed the back of his head.

  “Okay, well—” I gestured toward the dishwasher meaningfully.

  He smiled. Like Callie, he seemed to find my awkwardness entertaining rather than off-putting. “You’re working the party next party, right? The Barons’ dinner party?”

  I nodded. “Yes. They’ve requested Savannah and me for babysitting duty.”

  Babysitting duty was what we called the events that weren’t kids’ parties and, therefore, we weren’t the main entertainment. At these functions, we were expected to keep the hosts’ and guests’ children occupied in a separate space, so they didn’t interrupt the adult fun.

  It had become all the rage in our town once the rich folks realized that they didn’t have to hire sitters if the Princess Troupe was available to watch the little ones en masse.

  “Are you working it too?” I asked.

  Flynn worked for a local restaurant that provided catering for these events. “Yeah.”

  “Just, uh…” I fidgeted. “Just you?”

  I couldn’t quite bring myself to mention Roman’s name. I’d seen him since the mishap the other weekend, but I still didn’t like the reminder of my loss of control. It was embarrassing, and I could only hope that I could continue to avoid any further one-on-one interactions with him until I graduated and left town. Considering I’d successfully gone an entire decade without a single conversation with the guy—barring last weekend’s episode, of course—this was not an unreasonable expectation.

  “Yeah,” he said. “It’s a small enough gig that it’s just me tonight. I think Roman’s working in the kitchen at the restaurant.”

  I let out a breath of relief. I didn’t care where Roman was working tonight, just so long as it wasn’t at the same event.

  “I’ll give you a ride to the party after school,” he said.

  “Wait,” I said quickly. He turned back, and I had a moment of panic. Crap. This was the one part of having someone in my life that I’d forgotten about. It had been so long since I’d ever had to make an excuse to someone or hide my whereabouts, I didn’t know where to begin. “Um, thanks, but I won’t need a ride. I have an errand I have to run first. I already told Mrs. Messner I might be a little late.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  The pounding of my heart righ
t now? Total overreaction. An errand could mean anything. He didn’t need to know the fate of my future life would be revealed, right?

  Right.

  The pounding in my chest moved to my head as he kept talking.

  “We still on for an after-work party?” he asked.

  I forced a smile. “Of course.”

  The party would either be a good distraction or a celebration. I could do that. By the time the afterparty came around, I’d have my answer one way or the other.

  And maybe then I could have my sanity back.

  I paced in front of the high school later that day as I waited. And waited. And then waited some more. “Seriously, no cars available? How is that possible?”

  I was talking to an app this time, not the heavens.

  I really should have gotten my license at some point. I understood this. But never in my life had I meant it so much as I did now.

  I lived within walking distance of the school and my workmates were always great about giving me rides, and my parents left me with enough cash and credit cards that when all else failed, I just hired a car.

  Except…

  “Where are all the cars?” I wasn’t asking anyone in particular, obviously. Muttering out loud was something of a habit since I was alone so often.

  I didn’t expect a response. But I got one nonetheless.

  “They’re probably all at the airport,” a low voice said. A low familiar voice.

  My head snapped up, and my lips parted in horror. No. No, no, no.

  Roman swaggered toward me. Seriously, swaggered. Who swaggers in front of a high school? Swaggering should be saved for special occasions. Like the catwalk. Or maybe a red carpet.

  His gaze was fixed on me and his lips were curved up in a smile, like always. “A few flights arrive right about now, and the local guys always go there to pick up the tourists.”

  I stared at Roman in confusion. Not over the airport thing. That made a lot of sense. I guess I’d just never needed a lift at this time of day before or I would have figured that out. No, the confusion was over what he was doing here. He’d graduated, for one. And also, why he was speaking to me after I screamed at him like a crazy person?

  It was a memory I’d been trying to forget. I knew I couldn’t go long without seeing him since we worked the same parties, but I really could have done without a one-on-one run in.

  Especially today of all days. And now, of all times? I glanced upward. Really? Was this really necessary?

  He looked from my phone to my face, and for some reason I was blushing. I couldn’t for the life of me explain why. Another mystery for my therapist, I guess. I mentally added it to the list.

  “Do you need a ride?” he asked.

  I was a smart girl. Very smart. This question should not have stumped me. But it did. My brain went in three directions at once. Was he honestly asking or was it rhetorical? I assumed the former as he saw me trying to get a ride.

  Was he offering me a ride? No, that couldn’t be.

  He leaned in slightly, tilting his head down so he was closer to eye level, and I was acutely aware of those laugh lines at the edges of his eyes. “Was that a difficult question to answer or are you giving me the cold shoulder?”

  I blinked. “Oh, um…”

  Yes. Very well said, Willow. So very eloquent.

  His lips curved up in that slow devilish grin, and my belly did an inexplicable backflip.

  “Why are you talking to me?” I asked.

  His brows shot up and that laughter died. “Wow. I didn’t realize you hated me that much.”

  “I don’t hate you.” I was frowning now. I hated being confused and this guy was confusing. “Our last interaction was far from pleasant, so I assumed you wouldn’t want to have a repeat incident.”

  “A repeat incident.” He laughed as he said it. “I like that.”

  My forehead was starting to hurt from all the confused furrowing going on. “Yes, well…”

  I tried to step away.

  “So you don’t hate me then,” he said.

  He looked and sounded absurdly pleased, and whether it was warranted or not, I felt a little tug in my chest. He looked like a little kid who’d just gotten an early birthday present.

  And I was the jerk who’d yelled at him.

  “I don’t hate you,” I said. I bit my lower lip as I considered how exactly I did feel about him after that night. My anger had faded considerably, especially after Callie told me what he’d said and done on their date.

  “If you are even remotely responsible for Callie’s newfound happiness, then I’m grateful to you.”

  His lips quivered a bit like he was trying not to laugh. “I love the way you talk.”

  My brows shot up in surprise. “Are you being sarcastic?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.”

  “Why would you think that?” he asked.

  “Because most people don’t seem to like the way I talk. I’ve heard I sound...stilted.” I thought back to all the comments I’d overheard, even amongst my friends. “Sometimes it’s old-fashioned. Other times it’s clinical.” I tilted my head to the side as my mind sorted through memories to see if I could come up with other descriptors. Since none of the others were as kind, I didn’t mention them.

  “Well, I like it,” he said.

  “But that still doesn’t explain why you’re talking to me now,” I said.

  “Doesn’t it?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.”

  He smiled, and I got the impression I was amusing him. Which was all fine and good, except that I had places to be. Important places to be. Just the thought of it had my heart pounding, and I felt my spine zip up straight.

  I was bracing for the worst. Hoping for the best, of course, but expecting the worst. I already had a game plan in place. Who I would call, which specialists I would speak to. If I could beat this once, I could beat it again.

  That was what I kept telling myself, at least.

  Roman didn’t seem to be aware that I was giving myself a pep talk because he turned and nodded toward his car. “Come on, I’ll give you a lift.”

  “Wait, what? No. You can’t do that.”

  He stopped, standing in the middle of the parking lot, which I hated. What if someone backed up unexpectedly? I had enough worry going on for my own future. I didn’t have much bandwidth to be concerned for his safety.

  “I was in the area and swung by to see if Callie needed a lift. She mentioned last night that her car’s in the shop, but I guess Maverick has a day off of football practice so she’s getting a ride from him.” He held up his phone as if offering proof.

  Proof was unnecessary. I believed him. Callie’s car was almost always in the shop, and in true Callie form, she’d befriended her former crush, pulling him into her circle of friends along with the rest of us misfit toys. The longer we stood there in silence, the more his natural state of easygoingness seemed to fade. “Look, if you’re worried about being alone with me—”

  “I’m not.”

  He took a deep breath and looked around at the empty parking lot. I’d left early on purpose to avoid having to explain where I was going and why.

  “Are you waiting for someone else to give you a ride?” he asked.

  I could. There was still time to catch Flynn. But the thought of having to explain… I shook my head quickly. “No. Definitely not.”

  “Okay then.” He graced me with a half smile that threatened to melt the asphalt at my feet.

  It was so unfair that this guy got all the sex appeal, as well as the charisma and the talent. Some people were just so lucky.

  “Well, if you really don’t need a ride…” He started walking backwards. And seriously, had he never heard about parking lot safety? He was going to get himself hurt.

  “Wait.” The word burst out quickly, and he paused, one brow arching slightly.

  Nerves made my belly churn, but it was this pull of conflicting desires that held me
immobile. I didn’t want to go to the hospital. A cold sweat trickled down my neck at the thought of what could happen if it was back.

  I didn’t want this to be my life.

  But also, I needed answers, and I had to get this over with.

  I wanted a friend to go with me, but the thought of explaining why I had to go to the doctor made me want to scream. And as I went to war inside, torn between wants and needs, Roman stood there patiently. Just waiting to get run over by a car. “I just...Maybe I…” I sighed in resignation as I chased after him. “Wait for me.”

  He swung around to face forward, but not before I caught a triumphant grin. “Where to, Willow?”

  “Um, the hospital, please.”

  We rode in silence and it was tense. Well, on my end it was tense. I waited for questions, but the questions never came.

  He just turned on the radio and tapped his fingers to the beat.

  I was grateful for the lack of questions, but that gave my brain nothing to do but crunch the numbers. The odds, actually. I reminded myself of all the arguments my doctor had made to ensure I didn’t freak out while waiting on the results. Namely, there was no real reason to believe that anemia equaled leukemia. One was a potential symptom of the other, not a direct correlation.

  It was the fact that my ten-year mark was coming up soon. Ten years of remission. When I was a kid, ten years had seemed like an eternity but it had gone by in a flash. Ten years of living a normal, healthy life. This was good news, but there was some part of me that could never shake this feeling I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  Sometimes I felt like I’d spent the entire ten years just for this shoe to drop. I’d been preparing for it. Dreading it. Fearing it. And now, here it was.

  No, maybe it was here, I mentally amended. Maybe it wasn’t. I’d know soon enough.

  I glanced over at Roman who looked lost in the music. Not a care in the world, by the looks of it. He pulled up at the entrance I indicated and turned to me with a small smile.