Put Me Back Together(44)

I wondered when it had started snowing.

“Are you okay?” Lucas said. Apparently he’d decided to follow me, even though I was walking squarely down the middle of the sidewalk—a sure sign that a girl doesn’t want company. “Katie, are you okay?” My silence didn’t seem to be getting through to him, either.

“Lucas, leave me alone,” I said. I would have picked up my pace, but I was beginning to realize that my run in my sister’s very un-sneaker-like boots had possible destroyed my feet. I felt at least four blisters. Going faster wasn’t an option.

“Is your hand okay?” Lucas persisted, reaching for my arm, which I yanked away.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” I snapped. The snow was really coming down now, making it harder to see, which only added to my mounting irritation. I also still didn’t quite know where I was going.

“Because you just punched a guy in the face, that’s why,” Lucas said.

We came to a side street and I paused, trying to get a look at the street sign, and Lucas took his opportunity to scoop up my right hand.

“Hey!” I cried. I wanted to pull my arm away again, but he had it in a firm grip and I didn’t want to hurt my hand worse by yanking it free. Not that I minded the pain. I barely felt it. The throbbing was similar to the way my hands had felt after a full day of the trial, when I’d been twisting my fingers for hours on end. There was something sickeningly comforting about that kind of pain.

We always welcome the hurt we think we deserve.

“Doesn’t look like you broke anything,” Lucas said, after turning my hand over a bunch of times and bending all the fingers. Loosening his hold, he let me slip from his grasp, but his eyes lingered on my face, full of concern.

I couldn’t stand that look.

“Thanks a bunch, doc,” I said coldly, then turned away and crossed the street. I thought he might leave me then, but I sensed him jogging beside me. When I reached the curb he was already there.

Damn his athlete’s body.

He walked backwards ahead of me, so he could keep me in his line of sight. “Katie, what the hell happened back there?” he said. “How did you get into a fight with Buck Mullard?”

“He’s an a*shole,” I responded, pulling the cords on my hood so my face was nearly obscured.

“I’m aware of that,” Lucas said, “but what were you doing in that room in the first place? I turned around and you were gone. Jen said you went to the bathroom, and the next thing I knew Tim was dragging me over, telling me my girl was about to beat up four guys at once.”

I stopped in my tracks. Lucas kept going a few steps, putting some space between us. “I’m not your girl,” I said angrily.

“What?” Lucas said, shaking his head in confusion. “I was just repeating—”

I found myself panting hard, though I didn’t know why. We weren’t running anymore. “I don’t need you to rescue me, Lucas,” I said. “I can fight my own battles.”

“Clearly,” he said.

“I’m not some damsel in distress who needs your help. I’m not some stupid—”

“I know you’re not,” he said in a low voice.

But that wasn’t helping. All of his compassion, his caring, his kind eyes, and his concerned looks were making me crazy. I didn’t want his worry. I didn’t want his pity. Not now, not ever.

Balling my hands into fists—even the wounded one—I faced him like a prizefighter. “Stop it,” I said. “I don’t need this. I don’t need you. I just want to be left alone. I can take care of myself.” Ignoring his bewildered expression, I turned on my heel and kept walking.


I’d gone about ten steps when he called after me. “You’re still going the wrong way,” he said.

He was right. I’d missed the turn that would take me south toward my building. Grudgingly, I turned back. And as I passed him the stupid boy started talking. Again.

“I’m not trying to baby you,” he said. “I’m not here because I think you need me. That’s not why I went into that room. That’s not why I threw Buck Mullard on the floor.”

I looked him right in the face for the first time since we’d left the party, and I made myself hold his gaze, just for a moment, just to be sure. Then I felt my lips begin to tremble, because it was just as I’d feared. When I looked at him I didn’t see Lucas. I saw eyes of stone, that expression of revulsion on his face, that desire to tear someone apart. I saw the animal. I saw the rage. And nothing else.

“Why, then, Lucas?” I said. “Tell me why you did it.”

He threw his arms up, and for a second I thought he might lunge forward and strangle me.

“Jesus Christ, Katie, why do you think?” he said, giving me an exasperated look.

My body shook at the sound of his raised voice, and I felt tears in the corners of my eyes, threatening to fall.

Not now. I couldn’t cry now. Not in front of him.

Then he stepped toward me and I braced myself for whatever was coming.

“All right, if you don’t know why, then I’ll just have to show you,” he said, and then his lips met mine.

At first I didn’t understand what was happening. I felt his lips, soft against my own, and the delicate pressure of his hands against my cheeks. For a second there was no movement, it was as though we’d become a statue sculpted of ice, our faces frozen together. But then his mouth opened, just a little, and I felt him suck at my bottom lip, and suddenly I found myself melting. His lips moved against mine, hot like embers, warming me to the core as he pushed his fingers into my hair. He explored my mouth with the accomplished movements of a seasoned lover while my face followed his clumsily, my lips betraying my inexperience. It occurred to me that only a moment ago I had been about to cry, but I pushed this thought away as an ache began to build in me, beginning just below my bellybutton and spreading through my stomach.