Chapter 38Piper“So, you’re brain-damaged?”
I huff a laugh at Frankie. “Something like that.”
“When did they cut you loose?”
“I got home late yesterday evening.”
It’s now ten in the morning, and I once again woke my sleeping best friend.
“How are things there?”
“Nope,” she snaps. “We’re not talking about me. I want to talk about you.”
There’s a hint of a secret in there somewhere, but I called because I wanted to tell her what was going on and get her advice.
“I really like him,” I confess.
“Dalton Payne?”
I chuckle at the confused tone in her voice. “Yes, Dalton Payne.”
“He’s very good-looking,” she muses, and if she were here, I bet she’d have a wide smile on her face. “But he tormented you for forever. Are you really going to just forget about all of that?”
“I won’t ever forget.” There isn’t a chance of that, but I don’t think holding it against him for the rest of our lives is the right thing to do either. “He’s different.”
“So you’ve said, but you’ve not given me much proof that it’s true. How is he different? He’s not treating you poorly, but that’s common decency. Have you fallen in love with the boy because he hasn’t made people laugh at you recently? Please, Piper, don’t be that girl.”
“I’m not that girl,” I mutter. “He looks at me like I’m the beginning and end of his day. Just the way he caresses my face—”
“Caresses your face? What have I missed?” Frankie interrupts.
“We’re together,” I whisper.
I don’t know why I lower my voice. My parents have left for work, my dad warning me against going to see Dalton.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that. It sounds like you said you and Dalton Payne were together.”
“I did,” I tell her with a stronger voice. “At least I thought we were.”
“You’re confused about it? If you were together, you’d know. Oh, Piper.” I’m getting really sick of hearing my name said that way. “If you’re not sure it’s because he’s messing with you. Please, don’t fall for this. It feels like Vaughn all over again.”
“You’re the one who pushed me to talk to Vaughn,” I remind her. “This isn’t like that. He’s probably embarrassed because he had to carry me into the ER with nothing but panties and a robe on.”
I slide that information in there, hoping she’ll ignore it and we can—
“In nothing but panties and a robe!” she shrieks. “You need to start at the beginning and tell me everything. Only giving me half of the info isn’t okay. If you want me to help you with this—and I know you called for that very reason—I need to know everything, so spill.”
I do just that. I start with the kiss in his backyard, and I tell her about the snow cone stand, and all of the making out. I even confess to what happened in the car at the park, and we spend way too much valuable time discussing that at length before she lets me continue, all the way up until I woke up in the hospital for the second time, and he wasn’t there.
I cry when I tell her how many times I’ve called and texted, only to be ignored. I even explain that Peyton isn’t answering her phone, and even though I can tell it agitates her, Frankie doesn’t say anything about being temporarily replaced by the younger Payne.
“How did he react when he saw the cuts?”
“He was zoned out, like I was the ugliest thing on the planet. He was disgusted by the sight of them.”
And then it hits me like an explosive strapped to my heart.
“That’s why he isn’t calling or answering texts, Frankie. He finds me disgusting.”
Silence fills the line between us for a long minute.
“Crap,” she mutters. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this.”
“Just say it,” I demand with a sigh. “It’s not like things could get any worse.”
Tears have been falling down my cheeks for the last half hour, and I’ve stopped brushing them away.
“He doesn’t hate you.” She makes a rude noise when I try to interrupt. “You’ve just spent the last half hour telling me what’s going on. It’s my turn to talk.”
“Fine,” I grumble.
“He doesn’t hate you,” she repeats. “From the sound of it, he hates himself right now. He hates what he caused you to do. Now I’m not saying I trust the man fully, but if I take a step back and only use the information you just gave me, not taking into account the crap I know he’s pulled in the past, I’d say he’s been genuine this summer. His reaction to your scars is about him, and when we get through all of this, we’re going to sit down and talk about that. I can’t believe you kept something like that from me.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumble.