You Make Me (Blurred Lines #1)(12)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“What? Where did you see him?”

“At the fraternity Homecoming dance.” I debriefed her, skipping the whole marriage proposal thing for the moment. That was a whole different topic.

“That’s totally random. He said he’s been in the Marines?”

“Yes. I’m meeting him later.”

There was a pause. “You sure you want to do that?”

No. “Yes. Why, you don’t think I should?”

“All I know is that I was only living with you for three weeks while he was still there and in that three weeks the two of you didn’t even know anyone else existed. You were obsessed with each other. Like it probably wasn’t even healthy.”

I frowned. “I wouldn’t say that. We were friends. We had a connection.”

“It was a little cray cray, you have to admit.”

I was offended. “I’m not admitting that. And you spend too much time on Tumblr. Lose the shorthand speech.”

“Whatev.”

“So can you do some poking around and see what you can find out about Heath now that we now he was in the Marines?” Tiffany was a computer savant. She could pick her way through the maze of social media and public records and find anything out about anyone.

“I could. Or you could just ask him. I mean, you’re going to see him, aren’t you? I know you.”

“Yes, I’m seeing me. But I don’t want to pry.”

“You’d rather stalk?”

Why was she making this so difficult? “Look, you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I said in a bratty tone I immediately regretted.

She sighed. “I don’t want to, because I don’t want you to mess up your relationship with Ethan. But I will, because I know you want me to.”

“Thanks, Tiff. Don’t worry, okay? I just need closure. I never got that.” That’s why I was meeting Heath. To get the answers, and to say goodbye. To have the chance to say what he had denied me four years earlier.

“Okay. I get it. I will dig up whatever I can find.”

“When are you coming to Orono to visit me?” I asked, like I always did when we talked.

“Never,” she responded, like she always did. “You know I’m going to live and die in Vinalhaven.”

“You don’t have to. Only if you want to.”

“I want to.”

I wasn’t sure I believed her, but she was stubborn. “How is your grandma?”

Tiffany was responsible for taking care of the house and her grandmother, who had emphysema. I always thought it was a little suspicious that for years Tiffany had been shuffled around in foster care and her grandmother had never asked for custody, but when Tiff was fourteen and capable and her grandmother was on oxygen, suddenly she wanted her around. It seemed super selfish and shitty to me, but Tiffany chose to believe her grandmother had had a change of heart and had missed her, and I wasn’t about to take that away from her.

But it annoyed me that her life choices were limited because she felt chained to that hunk of rock we’d grown up on.

“My grandma’s okay. You know.”

“Yeah. I know.” That was about all I could say about my mother. She was okay. “So any cute guys that you’re interested in?”

“I may be interested, but it is not returned. Dudes aren’t dying to talk to me, Cat, and if they are, they’re creepers. I look like I’m twelve.”

She did. There was no real denying it. Tiff had been underfed most of her life and whether it was that or just genetics, she wasn’t even five feet tall and she had a pixie-like look to her. “The magic is in the makeup,” I told her. “It’s taken me from crazy Cat to reliable Caitlyn.”

“If I wear makeup I look like a middle school hooker. Or a kid who got into her mom’s makeup.” She didn’t sound particularly upset though. “I’m waiting for a massive growth spurt. I still think it will happen.”

“I’m sure it will. Drink your milk. It’s full of growth hormones.”

She laughed. “True. Okay, call me after you meet up with tall, dark, and disappearing.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re funny, you know that? Cute and funny. Love you, talk to you later.”

“Bye, Cat. Keep it off the streets.”

Tiffany could never say she loved me. It was her personal belief that if she said it to someone, they would disappear. Which, given what happened to me, should be my personal belief as well. But I was more optimistic that there was an explanation for everything. That people weren’t as selfish as they seemed to be.

I took a shower and checked my phone a hundred times. I didn’t want to be the one to contact Heath first. He should text me first to confirm our meeting. I didn’t want to text and have to do the whole what’s your address thing. It just seemed like then I was eager. Which was ridiculous. But that’s the way it felt, rational or not.

Fortunately he texted me with his address as I was drying my hair. I knew that it was risky to meet him alone, at his place. But I didn’t want to have a private, potentially emotional conversation with him in front of a bunch of random people at the coffee shop or wherever. We would get interrupted if I ran into anyone I knew and it was entirely possible someone would say something to Ethan.

But most of all, I didn’t want to cry in public.

Because I was pretty sure I was going to at some point.

As I walked up to the place Heath was living in, I was sick to my stomach from nerves. I hadn’t been able to eat anything because I was so tense, and the coffee felt like it was curdling in my gut. I had messed around with my hair for half an hour and had put on makeup, only to wipe the eyeshadow off. I wasn’t trying to impress him. I threw my hair up in a messy bun and wore jeans, a basic sweater, and fuzzy boots. It was Sunday. Effort on a Sunday looked like you were trying too hard.

My palms were clammy in my gloves and I wasn’t sure what was going to come out of my mouth, but the second Heath opened the door and gave me a small smile, I forgot to be nervous.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey.” He opened the door wide and gave me a searching, sincere look. “Thanks for coming, Cat. Seriously.”

I moved past him, curious to see where he was living. It was a studio in an old house and he had almost no furniture. Just a futon couch that had blankets on it like he slept there, and a rickety chair in the corner. No TV. A suitcase propped open, clothes spilling out. The kitchenette was mostly bare. It was cold. Sad. There was nothing homey about it, but I figured he had just moved in. He wasn’t going to bust out the framed photos on day one.