Part 27 (1/2)
He looks away, and I can tell he's thinking it over. Maybe measuring my resolve. Finally, he nods and takes a half step back, needing the s.p.a.ce, I guess. ”She has Alzheimer's. My grandmother.”
”How long?”
Adam shrugs, plunging his hands into his pockets. ”Maybe three years. Do you know anything about the disease?”
”Enough to know I'm sorry she has it,” I say.
He doesn't respond to that, just goes on like he's talking about the weather or something. ”She gets confused a lot. She had a period where she flushed her medicine down the toilet all the time.”
”Why?”
He shrugs one shoulder. ”Sometimes she thought it was poison. Sometimes she thought they were mine-stolen or whatever.” He waves like none of this is very important or interesting. ”The doctors helped at first, but it happened too often. That month they refused. Said if she was having so much difficulty, we should consider an evaluation for a.s.sisted living.”
”What is that? Like a nursing home?”
He nods. ”Sort of. I told the caseworker I found the meds, and she'd been doing better. We didn't have money for more. I stupidly figured the pharmacy wouldn't notice a missing bottle of blood-pressure pills.”
”But you got hurt. Your arm.”
”I was going to slide in through the drive-through window. The pharmacy was closed, but the owner was there. He closed my arm in the window. Gla.s.s broke...” Adam trails off, gesturing vaguely at the white scar on the inside of his forearm.
”I'm sorry,” I say again.
That gets a laugh. A cold one. ”Don't be. It was stupid, and I'm d.a.m.n lucky he didn't shoot me.”
”Adam, everybody makes mistakes.”
”Yeah, but most of them don't rank up there with breaking and entering.”
I want to argue, but I know it won't work. For whatever reason, he needs to own what he's done. Pooh-poohing it isn't the answer. But h.e.l.l, neither is wallowing in it.
”So it was stupid,” I say, throwing up my hands. ”Fine. You were stupid. Now get over it. And maybe get some help for her. Have you looked into that at all?”
He scoffs, relaxing against his closed door. ”Look around you, Chlo. We're not exactly wading in cash and options.”
”But there are like twelve zillion social programs for senior citizens. So why not? Is she an illegal immigrant or something?”
”You don't get it, do you?” He c.o.c.ks his head and narrows his eyes. ”I don't have any other family.”
”I know you care about her-”
”Care about her?” Adam practically sneers at that. ”Yeah, Chloe, I do. But I'm not Mother Teresa, and this isn't just about family loyalty. If they find out how bad she's gotten, we'll both end up in the system.”
I shake my head, still not getting it.
He leans closer. ”Nursing home for her. Foster home for me. Good-bye, Ridgeview High and its reasonably decent academic program. h.e.l.lo, foster care and schools with metal detectors.”
I swallow hard against the lump in my throat, the one that's worked its way up from my chest. ”You stole the medicine because you didn't want to go into foster care.”
”Yeah. And because I didn't want my grandmother to die. She isn't perfect. But I'm all she's got.”
He must take my silence for something bad because he crosses his arms over his chest and hardens his expression. ”It's not pretty, Chlo. But it is what it is. And it's not right to drag you into it.”
”I don't give a d.a.m.n about what's right,” I say.
I tug him hard by the lapels of his coat because he's so tall that going up on tiptoes isn't going to be enough.
I kiss him, and at first his lips are hard and unrelenting. I know this is some token effort at resistance, and I totally ignore it. It's a good choice because after a few seconds, Adam's hands drop to my shoulders and then he's kissing me like he's absolutely starved for it. Before long, I feel like I'm the one who needs to steal some medication.
When we finally part, his eyes are closed. His breath is coming in little shuddery bursts, and I can't quite believe I'm the one able to reduce him to this. It's dizzying.
”I'm trying to tell you I'm not good for you,” he breathes, voice low and husky.
”Well, I've never been a good listener.”
His mouth curls up in a smirk. ”Cute. But, Chlo, there's more. There are things-”
”I don't care,” I say, shaking my head. ”Nothing you say is going to make me care. Not now.”
”I think you'd care about this,” he says.
”I wouldn't,” I say, pressing my fingers to his lips. I do it because it wouldn't matter. Or maybe because I'm not ready to hear him tell me anything else.
I can see the pain in his eyes, but eventually he relents. He kisses the tips of my fingers before taking my hand in his own. ”You really like to get your way, don't you?”
”Oh yeah,” I say, moving in to lean against him.
Adam's arms go around my middle, and I feel perfect. The stress and fear pours out of me, like sand through a strainer. I push my face against his chest, and his chin lands softly on my head.
”Anything else you want to get out of me?” he asks, his teasing voice rumbling against my cheek.
I sigh in his embrace, wis.h.i.+ng that this were enough. If I stayed right here in his arms, it just might be. But there's a whole world I have to deal with. School and parents and...
”Actually, there is one more thing I need.”
”Name it.”
”I need you to help me save Julien Miller.”
Chapter Twenty-Five.
I explain it all over an enormous cheese pizza. It's the place I remembered, the one with the red pop. In between greasy bites, I fill him in on everything. Maggie and me. Blake and his stalker phone call. I include everything about Julien, and even the stuff about our resident Wicked Witch, Dr. Kirkpatrick.
Finally, I stop for breath, grabbing another piece of pizza and waiting for Adam's response. I wait a while, but figure he's thinking it over. I still haven't processed it, and I've had two days.