The Misadventures of Chloe Saunders
Chapter 20
Wind
She wasn't sure where they were going but she didn't care. All she wanted to do was to be away from her crazy aunt and right now, being next to him was sending her into a delicious catatonic crush-induced state.
"Are you okay?" His rumbling voice broke the silence and she started, craning her head to gape at him.
"Y-yeah," she squeaked and hated how her voice broke. More silence. She fiddled with anything she could reach, the fabric of her jeans, her curls, her necklace.
His fingers drummed on the steering wheel.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, sniffling slightly.
He must've been looking somewhere other than the road—maybe her?—because the car behind them laid on the horn and he hit the gas, lurching the truck forward. "You have nothing to be sorry about, Chloe." When he shifted gears, his knee hit her thigh and it sent chills up her spine.
"I dragged you into all th-this mess," she whispered, pulling her legs up into the seat to hug them and press her knees into her eye sockets. Hot tears filled and fell down her cheeks.
"Chloe, I'm being serious. Everything's fine."
"My aunt is pissed beyond belief, Derek! She hates you." She couldn't have stopped crying if she tried. Thick, hot sobs built in her chest, in her throat.
"Chloe…" His voice trailed and his hand rested on her head, stroking the hair. He didn't say anything else, just kept one hand in her hair as he drove.
For some reason, she preferred this quiet bliss.
He took them to a tiny, run-down park, for little kids with a chipped slide, broken swings, and a dingy sandbox.
She could hear loud, angry barking and panicked slightly, but Derek rolled his eyes and kept moving forward, his hand in hers.
His palms were sweaty and his fingers were thick, calluses rubbing against hers.
She smiled softly, elated at his hand in hers as he led them into the brush.
"This is a place I found a while back," he explained, like it was obvious but she could hear the muffled pride in his voice. "I tinker a little."
"Like an inventor?" Chloe asked, struggling to keep up with his huge stride.
As she jogged—more or less—he continued. "I guess." He stopped abruptly and she nearly ran into him, stumbling back. He dropped her hand and she wanted to take his again but she stuffed her hands in her pockets. He pushed back the vines and headed inside, holding a hand up for her to wait.
She could hear muttering and banging and blinked curiously, leaning close.
Somehow, the park seemed creepy and broody without Derek by her side, shadows creeping across the ground. The swings creaked slowly and eerily.
Chloe's heart thumped in her chest as she rubbed her arms, ignoring the goose-bumps.
Chains rattled noisily, clacking together with metallic sounds, and she jumped when something cold touched her back.
A dog howled somewhere.
She spun around and blinked, staring at the empty air. Nothing was there, no woman, no man, no one. The park was still empty and eerie.
As she sucked down lungfuls of air, she noticed a familiar smell.
Vanilla extract, just like Mom. A soft breeze pushed back her curls as she squinted up into the cloudy sky, sun blocked out.
The funny thing was that nothing else swayed, not the swings, not the trees, no sand swirling up from the sandbox, and, even funnier, the wind only caressed one side of her face.
She should've been freaked out or should've ignored it but she leaned into that familiar swirl of vanilla.
A memory rose.
Mom leaning over her when she was sick, curls tickling her face, smiling at something funny she'd said. A wet washcloth had touched her forehead, rubbing something onto her chest to help the congestion, smelly and icky.
A hand touched her back, burning through her t-shirt, and she wheeled around, ready to scream for Derek or at lest throw a few punches but relaxed when she saw him, a bit red-faced.
"What? Why are you crying?"
She touched her cheeks and stared at her wet fingertips. "I don't know," she answered, wiping her hand on her leg as he led the way, pausing slightly in pace when he realized her legs weren't as long as his.
"I want to show you my, well, I guess you can it my sanctuary."
She watched the slope of his broad back, huge shoulders spanning out and filling the width of his shirt, as he walked ahead of her.
"Derek?"
Why was she doing this? Every nerve in her body with common sense was screaming at her, telling her it was a very, very bad idea, but she stomped it down into the soles of her ratty sneakers. He stopped mid-step, turning his head to look at her. For a minute, she was speechless.
He was all angles, sharp cheekbones and a strong nose, squared off jaw and full, lush lips. His hair was tangled and sticking up in awkward ways, brown in the gold light of the setting sun; his eyes looked more brown, like a honey color, too. Beads of sweat clung to the hair follicles on his face and dampened his shirt around the neck and armpits, darkening his hair at the temples.
"What?" He was looking at her now, facing her and she gave him a smile.
"Thank you." If she were braver, she would've given him a kiss, making him turn red; if she were sweeter, she would've given him a hug.
All Chloe could manage was a smile, still trembling from being reminded of her mother.
"Are you—"
"I'm fine, Derek." He squinted at her with those eyes of his, seeing right through her, and he looked like he was going to say more, maybe berate her, maybe try to push her to tell him what was wrong but quickly decided against it.
She wanted him to look her in the eyes and say, "I know you aren't fine."
After a long, painful pause, she said, "Show me."
He looked kind of like an excited puppy, although he tried with all his might to hide it, but the twinkle in his eyes was still there. He turned on his heel and practically skipped down the path, pretending to be irritated at her speed but she could see his glowing cheeks.
"Okay."