One Day Soon (One Day Soon, #1)(30)

Yoss barked out a laugh. “Touché.”

Yoss’s eyes twinkled for just a moment before the light fizzled out and died.

We sat in silence. One minute.

Two minutes.

Three…

“What happened, Yoss?” I asked him again. “Did one of your…” I swallowed, not sure how to say the words. Yoss narrowed his eyes and waited as I fumbled and stuttered. “Did one of your cust—um—johns—do this to you?”

Yoss stared at me long and hard and I felt myself withering under his gaze. It wasn’t a friendly look. Nor was it an openly communicative one either.

He didn’t answer me. He was locked up tight and I no longer had the key. His eyes drifted up to the television mounted on the wall. An old movie was playing silently. I didn’t recognize what it was, but it reminded me of other things.

Things that I knew Yoss would remember as well. Things that if mentioned, may make him open up to me again.

“Do you remember that time we snuck in the back door of the old Meyers movie theater? They were playing Fiddler on the Roof and you snagged us some popcorn and we hid out in the back for both showings?” I grinned, remembering the two of us huddled down in our seats, hoping we wouldn’t get caught. Yoss’s hand holding mine as we kissed quietly in the dark.

It had been our first “date.”

The best I had ever had. Even to this day.

Things had been innocent. Simple. For those few hours we could be kids lost in each other. In a movie. And forget everything else.

Yoss’s jaw tensed. “Don’t do that, Imi.”

He was still staring at the mute television. “Don’t do what? Talk about old times? When you didn’t look at me as if you hated me?” I asked, my voice cracking.

Yoss closed his eyes. “Don’t use our history to manipulate me. To get me to talk to you about shit I don’t want to talk about. What we had shouldn’t be treated like a pawn on a battlefield.”

My mouth gaped in shock. I hadn’t realized that’s what I was doing. I wasn’t trying to manipulate him by recalling our shared memories.

Was I?

I just wanted to reconnect with him.

I clenched my teeth and found myself getting angry, in spite of my vow to contain my emotions.

“I wouldn’t use us like that, Yoss.”

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he looked at me again. Something changed in his expression and for the first time he relaxed. Just slightly.

“I remember that you hogged all the popcorn and then felt bad about it.” He smiled faintly. “You felt so bad that you waited until the guy at the concessions stand went to the bathroom snuck behind the counter so you could snatch my favorite candy.”

“Hershey’s Kisses,” I added.

“Yeah. Hershey’s Kisses. Then you fell asleep on my shoulder halfway through the second showing. I didn’t want to wake you up because you were so peaceful. You so rarely looked like that.” His eyes were bright with fever, but they were more alert. More alive.

“I wanted to take you on a real date,” Yoss mused. “Though instead of taking you to dinner and a movie, we had to settle for stolen snacks and hiding in the back of a rundown theater.”

“Hey,” I said, reaching out to touch him, then stopping myself. “It was a great afternoon. One of the best I ever had,” I argued.

“That’s more than a little sad, Imi. I think you need to get out more.” Yoss laughed.

“Maybe. But it’s the truth.” I grinned back and it felt good. “I hate that they closed that theater down. It was the only place in town that still showed old movies.”

“I haven’t seen a movie in years,” Yoss admitted, fiddling with the hem of his blanket. “Haven’t had a lot of time or inclination for stuff like that.”

I watched his fingers fold the sheet over and over again.

“Have you been in Lupton all this time?” I couldn’t help asking.

Yoss’s hands stopped moving and he became very, very still.

“Not the whole time. Give or take a few months here and there,” he admitted quietly.

My face flushed hot. “You were here all this time.”

His fingers were long and thin. I noticed a bunching of shiny scar tissue on the back of his left hand. It hadn’t been there when he was eighteen.

“Yes. I was here.” He didn’t sound sorry or contrite. He didn’t sound guilty for disappearing from my life with no explanation. He sounded flat.

I looked down at the assessment I had yet to complete. I clicked my pen a few times.

I needed to conclude this trip down memory lane. It hurt. Too much.

“Well, let me fill out this paperwork and we can start going through your service plan,” I said in a clipped, even tone. I hurt. So much.

He had been in the city for years.

He had never come to find me.

The pain was almost overwhelming.

So I fell back on my job. On my professionalism.

It was the only thing I could do.

“Date of birth?” I asked, dull and listless.

“You know my birthday, Imogen,” he answered.

“Date of birth?” I repeated. Professional. Keep this professional.

Yoss sighed. “December 24th, 1982.”