Chaos and Control(76)

When I crawl into bed, I stare at the wall separating Preston and me and wonder what he is doing at this very moment. It is unusually quiet on his side, and I miss hearing his muffled songs playing. I wait and wait for it, but the music never comes.

Tuesday, I sleep later than I intended, but make it downstairs by ten a.m. In the store, I greet Bennie with a kiss on the forehead and take a seat on the front counter.

“Good morning, Wren.”

“Morning, Ben.” I glance around the store and find it empty.

“He’s not here.”

“I wasn’t looking for him,” I lie.

Bennie glances over her magazine, giving me that look that calls me on my bullshit.

“In the two and a half years that Preston has worked for me, he has never called in sick or been late to one day of work.”

“Is he sick?” I ask.

She shakes her head and lowers her eyes, speaking to me from behind the glossy pages of her celebrity gossip.

“He said he overslept.”

Preston bursts through the swinging door, looking more disheveled than I’ve ever seen him. He freezes when he sees me and smooths his hands down his blue T-shirt. I grin when I spot the large image of Papa Smurf covering his chest. Preston drops his gaze from mine and approaches the counter.

“Speak of the devil, and he shall appear,” Bennie says, giving him a bright smile.

“I’m sorry, Bennie.” Preston pushes one hand through his hair and grips the back of his neck. The muscles in that arm bulge and flex as he fights to find his calm. He brings his other wrist up to his eyes and stares at his watch.

“No worries, Preston. It happens. From the looks of it, I’d say you could use some more sleep. Are you okay?”

He drops both arms and glances at me, even though I remain silent.

“I’m fine,” he says.

The lie told in those two words kills me. I pull my bottom lip into my mouth and chew on it. When I look up, Preston is watching me, his gaze trained on my mouth. I immediately release my lip and give him an apologetic shrug.

“Wren,” he says softly.

“Preston.”

When I offer nothing more, he turns and busies himself on aisle three.

“Well, that was awkward. But at least you’re acknowledging each other now. What happened?” Bennie asks, folding her magazine closed and laying it on the counter next to me.

“Huh?”

“Don’t play innocent, Wren. What happened between you two?”

I blow out a breath toward the ceiling and tap my heels against the display case beneath me.

“You know what happened. He lied.”

Bennie shakes her head. “You’re so hardheaded.”

“Hello? Pot? This is kettle. You’re black.” I stick my tongue out at her, because it will always be okay to do that to my big sister.

“We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. You are being unreasonable, Wren.”

“What I’m being is tired of having this conversation.”

“Then listen to me. Blame me. Be mad at me. Not the one guy on earth who would never knowingly hurt you.” Bennie’s hands ball into fists in her lap. She takes a deep breath and cuts me with a glare.

“I trusted him, Ben.”

She huffs and stands before me. “Stop being such a brat! You need him. Don’t take for granted that he’ll be around when you realize that.” Bennie stomps off and disappears into the storage closet.

I hate upsetting her, but I just can’t deal with the whole Preston situation right now. All of my time and energy should be focused on her and cherishing every moment. I wish she could understand that. Instead, here we are fighting over a boy.

By the afternoon, Bennie has abandoned trying to remain strong. She’s gone upstairs to lay down, and I can feel her slipping away from me. The bright light that shines from her is growing dimmer every day. It’s like watching the sun implode, knowing it’s going to kill you, too. I push away the pity I have for myself and concentrate on enjoying what time we have left. I vow to continue spending my days with Bennie and three nights a week at The Haystack. I’m saving most of my money from there and figure it will be a nice cushion when I leave this place again.

Preston and I continue to exchange awkward greetings, but nothing more. Though our conversations are muted, we spend a lot of time watching each other. His nervous tics are much worse these days, and it pains me that I may have something to do with that. I’m not sure what he gets up to on Mondays, but Tuesdays always seem to be the roughest day for him. My desire for Preston doesn’t waver. I want him now, more than ever, but I feel held in place by the promises I made to myself. Spend time with Bennie and focus on her.

Though Dylan hasn’t appeared, I’m not stupid. I don’t think he’s just going to leave me alone. If he shows up, I’ll do whatever is necessary to keep Bennie safe.

In the morning, Bennie and I sit at her table eating breakfast. She looks exhausted and twenty years older than she should. She catches me staring and gives me a smile, but it’s frail.

“I think we should have a summer sale. What do you think?” she asks.

“Sounds good.”

“Preston has been working nonstop in that workshop. He’s got so much done that I’m thinking of expanding the furniture and vintage collectibles section.”