Chapter 32 Getting answers

Chapter 32 Getting answers
Maya's POV

The car was cold. Not from the temperature but the silence. Neither of us seemed able to fill the silence between us.

Justin's hands were still on the steering wheel and his knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel too tightly.

What is he thinking? Does he regret coming here? Does he regret ever getting involved with me?

Fuck.

My hands were in my lap, clenched into fists I didn't remember making. My nails were digging into my palms. I should have felt the pain but I didn't feel anything.

Mr. Dean's voice was still in my head.

"I'd hate to see his position compromised."

He's going to fire Papa because of me.

I should have just kept my mouth shut, took the humiliation and moved on. Instead…

"Maya."

Justin's voice.

I didn't turn.

"Maya, look at me."

I turned.

His eyes were tired. The bags underneath them were darker than I remembered.

"We need to find Chloe," he said. "She was at the sleepover and she saw everything."

"Chloe won't talk," I said.

"She might."

"She's terrified of Sarah."

"Then we make her less terrified."

I laughed but it came out bitter and broken. "Make her less terrified? How, Justin? What are you going to do? Threaten her? Bribe her? You're a hockey coach, not a…"

"I know what I am."

The words hung in the air.

What the hell is he anyway?

He's just a coach, a temporary coach and I'm just a girl with a ruined reputation and a father in the hospital.

What are we doing? What are we even trying to do?

"Maybe we should stop." The words came out before I could stop them.

Justin's eyes narrowed. "Stop?"

"This. All of it. Maybe we should just…stop."

"Maya…"

"Look at what's happened. My father is in the hospital and Mr. Dean threatened his job while Sarah walked out of that station like she'd won an award." My voice was shaking. "Every time we fight back, she hits harder. Every time we get close, she's already ten steps ahead."

"So what's your plan? Give up? Let her win?"

"I don't have a plan."

"Then let me help you make one."

"Why?" The word came out sharper than I intended. "Why do you care so much? You don't owe me anything, Justin. I'm not your…"

I'm not your anything.

I'm not your girlfriend, I'm not your sister. I'm just a project. Just someone to fix, just another person you're trying to save because you couldn't save your own sister.

I couldn't finish the sentence, because if I said it out loud, I might break completely.

Justin was quiet for a long moment and when he spoke again, his voice was different. It was softer, like he was choosing every word carefully.

"I care because someone should have cared about Emma and no one did. Not even me."

"So this is about her," I said. "Not me."

"It's about both of you."

"You don't even know me."

"I know you're still sitting here, still fighting and breathing." He looked at me. "That's enough."

That's enough?

He doesn't need to know my favorite color or my middle name or the way I take my coffee.

He just needs to know I'm still here.

That's enough for him.

But why isn't it enough for me?

"Where does Chloe live?" he asked.

I blinked. "What?"

"Chloe. You said she was at the sleepover. You must know something about where she lives."

I thought about it. Chloe and I were never close, she was Sarah's friend first. I was just adjacent, just the girl who got invited because Sarah felt sorry for me.

"She mentioned once that she lives with her grandmother," I said. "That's all I remember."

Justin pulled out his phone and started scrolling.

"What are you doing?"

"Most of you guys tag locations sometimes, coffee shops or even parks."

He's right.

People do that. People post their lives online for everyone to see.

Justin stopped scrolling and turned the phone toward me. It was a photo of Chloe in a coffee shop. The location tag read Eastside Brew, Maple Street.

"That's her," Justin said. "And if she goes to that coffee shop, she probably lives nearby."

"Maple Street," I repeated. "That's on the east side."

"Know anything about it?"

I shook my head. "Just that it's not like the rest of Westbrook. Smaller houses, older buildings. The kind of place where…"

Where people like me live.

Where people like Chloe's grandmother live. Where people who work for people like Mr. Dean live.

"Let's go," Justin said.

He started the car.

I didn't argue.

The drive was quiet. I kept stealing glances at him. The way his hands moved on the steering wheel and the way his eyes softened when he looked at the road.

Stop it, Maya.

Stop looking at him like that.

He's not yours and he's never going to be yours. The earlier you realize that you have no chance with him, the better.

Focus.

Get your life back together.

That's what you need to do. Not sit here like a lovesick teenager cataloging the way his jaw moves when he's thinking.

"You're quiet," Justin said.

"So are you."

"I asked first."

I almost smiled. It got caught somewhere in my chest and died.

"I'm thinking," I said.

"About?"

About you. About the way your hand felt on my arm, the way you said "younger sister" like it was supposed to make everything better, about the way it broke something inside me and you didn't even notice.

"About my father," I said. About how this is all my fault and how Mr. Dean is going to fire him now."

"Maya…"

"He's going to lose his job because of me. Because I couldn't just… because I had to…"

"Stop."

Justin's voice was firm.

"Your father is not going to lose his job."

"You don't know that."

"I know that Mr. Dean is a bully and bullies make threats to scare people. That's what they do. They make you think you have no options so you stop fighting."

"And if he's not bluffing?"

"Then we figure it out."

Like it's that simple. Like we're not talking about my father's livelihood. Like we're not talking about our rent and our food and our…

"Maya."

I looked at him.

"I'm not going to let him hurt your family. I don't care how long I've been here or how long I'm staying. I don't care how much money he has or how many people he owns but he's not going to hurt you."

Why does that make my heart race when I know it shouldn't?

"You can't promise that," I said.

"I just did."

"That's not how promises work."

"It is when I'm the one making them."

God, he's impossible.

He's impossible and stupid and stubborn and…And he's still here.

I turned back to the window. The buildings were changing and becoming smaller and older. More like the neighborhood where I lived.

We're close.

After going around the neighborhood and asking questions, we finally got to her building. Three stories with a cracked sidewalk leading to a door that didn't close all the way, laundry on a balcony and a bicycle chained to a railing.

Justin killed the engine.

"You ready?"

Ready?

I'm not ready for any of this. I'm not ready to see her face or hear her stupid voice. I'm not ready to remember that night.

I'm not ready.

"No," I said. "But let's go anyway."

We walked to the door and Justin knocked.

The sound echoed through the hallway. Loud in the silence.

Please be home. Please open the door. Please…

The door creaked open and an older woman stood there. Gray hair pulled back in a bun, wrinkled hands gripping the frame and her eyes were sharp.

"Can I help you?"

"Ma'am," Justin said, his voice soft and respectful. "We're looking for Chloe. We go to school with her."

The woman's eyes moved to me. Narrowed.

"What's this about?"

I stepped forward. "I'm Maya. Chloe and I…we used to be friends." The words felt like ash in my mouth. "I just need to talk to her. Please."

Please.

The woman studied me for a long moment, then she stepped aside.

"She's in her room. Don't take long."

"Thank you, ma'am."

We entered and she pointed to her door. Then Justin knocked.

"Chloe? It's Maya. I need to talk to you."

There was silence. Then… footsteps. It was slow and reluctant.

The door cracked open and Chloe's face appeared. Her hair was messy and her eyes were red. When she saw me, her face crumpled.

"Fuck."

She tried to close the door but I shoved it open.

"We need to talk."

Chloe's face drained of color, fear flashed across her eyes, then her expression hardened.

"What the hell are you doing in my house, you slut?”