Gardenia by Kelsey Sutton

Author:Kelsey Sutton [Sutton, Kelsey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781682305904
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2017-01-10T16:00:00+00:00

• • •

I leave while he’s sleeping.

The house watches me slip into the hallway, creak down the stairs, and slip out the front door. The cold sinks eagerly into my bones as soon as I step onto the porch and my ragged breath swirls through the air. My glasses go cloudy. On the sidewalk I glance up at that window. It looks unreal through the frost, as if it isn’t part of this world. I close my eyes and imagine the sleeping boy there, remember how it felt to kiss his soft lips, how dark his eyelashes were as he dreamed. A distant part of me knows I should be happy it happened. But all I feel now is pain.

Because I know it won’t happen again.

Ice begins to coat my skin. I hurry to my car and start the engine, which rolls over reluctantly. The clock on the dashboard reads 2:21—I can make it to the depot before the train pulls out of Kennedy, leaving me with a string of thoughts and an undocumented ache of what is and what will never be.

I drive. My grip is tight on the steering wheel, too tight, as if I might shatter without it. A tear trembles on my cheek. It splatters on my thigh. Hot. Tiny. Impossible to ignore. As the night rushes past I relive every moment: his heady sigh, his fingertips trailing up the dip in my back, his mouth against my throat. The pattern of shadows over us. Moonlight. The tangle of sheets and covers. The explosion of heat and realization and stars.

Then, without warning, another image shoves its way into my head.

Myers. Standing in front of a gravestone. One with my name on it. He’s alone, in the cold, and his eyes are so hard. As if he’s forgotten how to smile.

This is what I’m doing to him. To all of them.

A sob claws up, but I don’t set it free. I glare at the white lines of the road as they fly toward me. In three minutes and twenty-two seconds, the sign for the trailer park appears on the right. I park next to Mom’s car and cut the engine. Idiot goes wild. Snow crunches beneath my shoes as I start for the depot.

Amanda is not here. Relieved, I retrieve my cans from the office and pause by the door on my way out. There’s a long window in front of the counter, with benches beneath it where people used to sit and wait for their train. My reflection stares back, but I don’t even see it—I see those numbers. The shrinking days and seconds.

Uttering a loud cry, I strike out without thinking. My fist smashes through the glass, and pain blooms across my knuckles. Glass sprinkles to the cement. My chest heaves, and fire licks through my fingers and up my wrist.

At least the numbers are gone. I cradle my hand and hurry out; the train will be leaving soon. I step over the tracks, plastic

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