Rescue (Ransom Book 5) Page 20

  “Nothing,” I say. “I just like you.”

  “Haylee!” Paige calls, running over to us. “The boys all want to go backstage, so we’re gonna take off and start our party early. Sound good?”

  Shit. I totally forgot about the damn sleepover. Who has sleepovers at this age anyhow? Lennon squeezes my waist. “Sorry, babe. Guess you better go get your nails painted and stuff.”

  “Have fun with the band. I’m going to tell the girls all about your performance in bed.”

  He kisses the tip of my nose. “Just make sure you make me sound good. I have a reputation to uphold.”

  I snort. “Oh, yeah, you’re definitely the one with a reputation.”

  As Paige ushers all of the girls into the car, I can’t help feeling disappointed. I like the girls, particularly Daisy, but I would much rather stay here and meet the band.

  “Oh, you have that look on your face,” Karen says, laughing as she points at me.

  “What look?”

  “That lovesick, brand-new-relationship, can’t-stand-to-spend-a-minute-apart look.”

  I make a face, but Daisy responds before I can. “Don’t worry, it will fade with time. And then you’ll spend half your day putting up with all the boring crap they want to do and wish you could spend several dozen minutes apart.”

  Paige gasps. “When do you ever feel like that?”

  “All the time,” Daisy says. “It doesn’t mean I’m not crazy about the boy. It just means that I’m sick and tired of watching extreme fishing shows on cable.”

  “Am I the only single girl in this car?” Layla asks.

  “Yes,” Karen says. “And that means we all have to live vicariously through you. So spill. Who was that cute guy you were talking to at the Prada store this morning?”

  As Layla launches into the story of one of her many conquests, I let my mind wander to what Karen said. Was it just a stage, feeling this way about Lennon? Can’t stand to be apart for a minute. That pretty much summed it up. Was it too early for those kinds of feelings? Or were they harmless because it was so early—was it merely the first days of relationship flush that Karen predicted?

  Back at the hotel, we all gather in Paige’s room. Lennon wasn’t too far from the truth when he predicted nail painting. It’s your basic, girly sleepover from middle school—everyone in their PJs, lots of food, silly rom-coms on TV, and boy talk. So much boy talk.

  “It’s so nice to see Lennon with someone,” Paige says from behind me as she attempts a complicated French braid in my hair. “I can’t even tell you.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because he always seems so lonely!”

  “Nice, Paige,” Karen says. “Tell his new girlfriend that the guy is a loner.”

  “I didn’t say loner!” Paige cries, horrified. “You make it sound like he’s all creepy or something—”

  “It’s okay,” I say, hoping she’ll stop shouting and spare my hearing. “I knew what you meant.”

  “Of course you did.” She sighs happily. “Because you get him.”

  “She’s a little overdramatic with the romance stuff,” Karen says. “Sorry.”

  “Anyhow,” Daisy says firmly when it’s obvious that Paige is about to argue. “We’re all very happy to see Lennon happy. But we mean that in a totally non-pressuring kind of way.”

  “It is strange,” Karen muses. “To think about all of the Ransome boys being taken.”

  “It was weird when it was Cash,” Paige says drily. “Nothing will ever be as weird as that.” She shoots a look at Sam. “Sorry.”

  Sam laughs. “It was weird for me too, believe me.”

  “How’d you guys get together?” Layla asks, and Sam recounts the story of her meeting Cash, infused with lots of happy sighs from Paige at the romance of it all. As they talk, I let my mind wander. Would I be in their shoes someday? Telling the story of how I fell for Lennon Ransome? And what would I say? We got drunk and slept together, but we didn’t start dating until he told me about his suicide attempt and I told him about my abduction by a stalker.

  I cover my mouth so no one will hear me snicker. It certainly doesn’t sound very romantic. But I find that I don’t really care. Lennon and I understand each other. And all of that crap—from getting drunk in the middle of the afternoon and sleeping with a near stranger to the terrible things we shared in that museum—that’s part of us. Maybe that makes us broken, and maybe it makes us different from the other people on this tour. But it’s real, and it’s honest, and it’s who we are.

  And maybe that’s why I know, later that night, long after the girls have gone to sleep, that I’m in the wrong room. Something is keeping me from sleeping even though I know I need my rest. Tomorrow is a huge day for the band. But sleep doesn’t come, and finally, around three, I get up to go see how Lennon is.

  I find him sitting by the open window, shirtless, a glass of something dark and amber in his hand. He barely looks up as I enter, and I wonder if he was expecting me. I pull the blanket from the bed and climb into his lap, wrapping it around both of us.

  “Another nightmare?”

  He shakes his head. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

  “Me neither.”

  He rests his head on top of mine and sighs, the sound exhausted. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you too.”

  I might not know what’s keeping him from sleep, but I do know that what he needs right now isn’t the glass of booze in his hand. What he needs is exactly what we’re doing—for the two of us to sit together, keeping each other company, keeping each other warm. It’s like I said—I understand him.

  Is that such a good thing? A voice in my head wonders. For two people so fucked up to be relying on each other?

  I think back to what Daisy said, about me being good for him. Is that true? A little shudder of fear goes through me, and Lennon tightens his arms. Is it possible to help someone when I’m such a mess myself?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lennon

  I’m sitting at a little bistro table in London, lost in my thoughts, when Haylee appears in front of me. “Lennon? Hey, Len?”

  I shake my head to clear it, wondering how many times she called my name. “Sorry. Daydreaming. How’d it go?”

  She tries to hide a smile by ducking her head as she joins me. We had arranged to meet at this restaurant a half hour ago, but Haylee had to postpone slightly when Louis assigned her an interview with an entertainment website back home. When she looks up again, she’s still smiling.

  “That good, huh?”

  “It’s just weird,” she says, the smile turning to a grin. “I’m doing a phone interview. In London.”

  “You’re a hit. I knew you would be.”

  She shakes her head. “So weird.”

  “What does Louis say?”

  She rolls her eyes. “He says we need to pounce on our momentum.”

  “He’s not wrong.”

  “Yeah, but what else can we do, besides what we’re doing? I mean, we’re on tour.”

  “In Europe,” I point out. “And a lot of this interest is coming from back home.” Again, the attempts to hide the smile. It’s pretty cute. She’s been like this ever since the live Paris concert aired and Intrigue starting getting a lot more attention.

  From the first time I heard her sing, I knew that all it would take for her to make it big was a little exposure. And it looks like that concert, airing in a record-breaking number of households in North America, has had that exact effect. Suddenly Intrigue is getting a lot more interview requests and radio play back home. It’s pretty fun to watch. Especially if she’s going to keep smiling like that.

  “So what’s next on the agenda?” I ask, pouring some water from the carafe on the table and passing it to her. “You guys have time off before the next show?”

  “For now. I should probably get the hell out of London before Louis books us for something else.”

  “Don’t tempt me. I’d love to get out of here.�
��

  She sits up straight. “Yeah? Where would we go?”

  I think about that. “I’m still bummed we didn’t get to Italy on this trip.”

  “Ooh, Italy.” She sighs. “But that’s probably too far away for just a night. You know what we should have done?”

  “What?”

  “I was reading that book you got me, the one about the water lilies?” On our last day in Paris, Haylee and I spent an afternoon alone at the Orangery, a small museum that housed six of Monet’s famous water lily paintings. Each huge canvass took up an entire wall in the gallery. And since she also loved the Monet at d’Orsay so much, I bought her a souvenir book on the artist.

  “Yeah? Are there any paintings you want to see here in London?”

  She shakes her head. “Not that I saw. But it did talk about Monet’s house. Did you know you can visit it? And see the actual pond where he painted the water lilies? It’s in Giverny, which I guess is pretty close to Paris. We totally should have gone. I wish I’d read it sooner—Lennon? Hey, are you okay?”

  I try to make myself breathe normally, try to unclench my jaw. She has no way of knowing about Giverny. How could she possibly when my own brothers don’t know?

  “Lennon?”

  “I’m fine,” I say quickly. “You’re right, we should have gone down there. I should have thought of it.”

  From the look she’s giving me, I’m not doing a very good job of proving that I’m fine. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. I—”

  “Don’t give me that crap, Lennon.” Her face is getting red, her breathing rapid. She’s upset, I realize. Shit. I scared her.

  “I’m fine, Haylee.”

  “You’re not! You’re having nightmares all the time! I don’t think you’re sleeping much at all. Are you?”

  I sigh, rubbing my face. “I’m not sleeping well, no.”

  “Isn’t that… something to worry about?”

  My eyes snap up to her face, my stomach falling when she looks slightly guilty. “Who told you that?”

  “Daisy,” she whispers. “She just said that I should look out for it.” Her voice strengthens. “But that’s not all it is, Lennon. You’re spending half your day staring off into space. You’re obviously upset about something, and I want you to talk to me.”

  Well, shit. I thought I’d done such a good job of hiding it.

  “I don’t know,” I admit, resting my head in my hands. “I’ve been having dreams, and for some reason I can’t make them disappear during the day. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry!” She reaches across the table and takes my hands away from my face. “I just want you to talk to me about it.”

  I stare into her eyes, wondering what she would think if I told her. I’m dreaming about my mom. I always dream about my mom. And I don’t know why that’s so scary. I don’t know why it makes me feel like I’m failing someone.

  “Would you go with me now?” The words are out of my mouth before I even consciously decide to ask. We could take the Eurostar back to France and be there in a few hours. Plenty of time, if we left now.

  “Go with you where?”

  “To Giverny.”

  Her face clouds. “You want to go to Giverny now? Instead of talking to me about this?”

  “No,” I say quickly. “I want to go to Giverny because…” I breathe out, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “I want to go to Giverny because my mother is living there and I think it’s time I went to see her.”

  ***

  Four hours later, we’re back in Paris. It feels strange to be here, familiar and totally foreign at the same time, even though it’s only been a week since we left.

  “You doing okay?” she asks, taking my hand.

  “Yeah. Definitely. We need to get to platform five, I think.”

  As soon as I told her what I wanted to do, Haylee agreed. She didn’t even ask me any questions. “We’ll have to switch trains in Paris, but it shouldn’t be too hard,” she said, studying a travel app in the taxi on the way back to the hotel.

  “Are you sure about this?” I asked. “I know you were joking about Louis scheduling stuff, but he probably does have work for you.”

  “Then I’ll do it when we get back,” she said. “If this is something you need to do, we’re doing it. Besides”—she leaned across the seat to kiss me—“I’m looking forward to our first trip away together.”

  I laughed at that, feeling strangely free, considering the circumstances. “You do know we’ve been sleeping in hotel beds together since we met.”

  She stuck out her tongue at me before turning back to the window.

  And now here we are, back in France, boarding the train to Giverny. “Countryside is pretty,” Haylee says as the suburbs of Paris finally fade into the distance. She’s leaning on my shoulder, and I wonder if the armrest is hurting her in this position. But it’s the way she always sits when we’re close, I realize. She leans into me, like she’s taking strength from my presence. Or maybe she’s giving it to me. Either way, it makes me feel strong, when she leans like that. Makes me feel like I can handle shit after all.

  “What do you want to do first?” she asks. “The Monet House or—”

  I cut her off before she can say anything else. Like maybe, your mom’s house. “Monet. Definitely.”

  She watches me for a long moment, concern evident on her face. “You sure you’re okay with this, Lennon? Maybe you should have talked to your brothers first. Shouldn’t they be here instead of me?”

  I shake my head. “You’re the only one I want with me if I decide to go through with this.” I kiss the top of her head, trying to calm myself with her now-familiar vanilla scent. “I just want to enjoy a nice afternoon with you first. That’s what I need right now. Okay?”

  “Okay.” She nestles into my chest a little before yawning. “How long is the ride?”

  “Another half an hour. Why don’t you take a nap?” She nods against my shoulder, closing her eyes, and I relax back into my chair.

  I haven’t slept in days.

  I know I should tell Levi, tell my dad. They know, better than anyone, what usually happens when I stop sleeping. But then I would have to tell them about the dreams. And I don’t think I can do that yet.

  I’m not entirely stupid, though. I did call Dr. Jacobs back in Tennessee a few days ago. I’ve been in contact with her since we left town, but I let the communication lapse since Haylee and I got together. Her advice was simple—tell your Dad. When I told her about the dreams, she got very quiet. “You definitely need to talk to your father, Lennon,” she said, her voice as serious as I’ve ever heard it. “You need to sit down and have a conversation about your mother.”

  “Why?”

  “Because there are obviously things there that you don’t want to remember.”

  I promised to think about it, but I have no intention of telling him. Not yet. I couldn’t explain why, but the thought of talking about those dreams filled me with a dread that made me lose my breath. I couldn’t tell my dad. Not until I knew what I was dreaming about.

  But maybe it was time to talk to someone else. Someone like my mother.

  “We’re getting close, Haylee,” I whisper into her ear. “Come on, babe, time to wake up.”

  She grumbles a little as she stretches, and I wonder if worrying about me has her losing sleep as well. Definitely not what she should be concentrating on right now, not with the band getting so much positive attention after the show. Just like she shouldn’t be running away from the tour to go tramping through the French countryside with me. This is a big break for her, and I’m not helping. You’re failing, I correct myself. You’re failing her.

  “You okay?” she asks when I don’t join her in the aisle. I give myself a mental shake. We’ve come too far to go back now.

  “Let’s do it.”

  We don’t have any luggage, just my backpack with our toothbrushes and a change of clothes for each of us. We called ahead
and booked a room at a small inn in Vernon, the town outside of Giverny where the train stops. The room is miniscule, with a rose-patterned bedspread and an antique writing desk. “This is totally you, Lennon,” Haylee says, smirking. “The flowers really go with that whole emo rock guy thing you have going.”

  “Me? It’s totally you. Look at how well your leather jacket matches the wallpaper.”

  “What’s this?” She picks up a color pamphlet from the desk. “It’s about Giverny.” I come to stand behind her to read the information over her shoulder. “Look at how pretty it is,” she says, pointing down at the fields of flowers.

  “It’s a lot colder now. Might not be many flowers.”

  “That’s fine. There’s still some color on the trees. It will be nice.” She reads silently for a moment. “It says there’s a shuttle bus right by the train station to get to Giverny. So that’s pretty easy. And we can go to his house with the garden, and then there’s the museum and…”

  Her voice fades in my mind as I look down at the pictures in the pamphlet. How close are we, right now? Will we pass her house on the bus? Will I know it when I see it?

  A wave of fear rushes through me, and I know this was a bad idea. It could change everything. What in the hell was I thinking?

  “Okay, I fully blame you for how dorky I’m becoming,” Haylee says, her voice cutting through my panic. “But I am totally excited about this.”

  I want to be excited. I want to go walk around the cute little town with my girlfriend and not worry about anything. I want to not be afraid.

  Haylee looks up at me, smiling, and I make myself a promise. I’m going to enjoy this, I think to myself fiercely. I’m going to have this day with Haylee. I’m going to have these memories. I’m going to have this one good day.

  And I try really hard not to recognize the feeling that’s growing in my chest—the one that says this might be the last good day for a long, long time.

  ***

  I try. I really do. I hold Haylee’s hand and laugh when it’s appropriate and kiss her on the bridge over the lily pond. But that horrible feeling just keeps growing in my chest, and I know there’s no way she can’t see it on my face.