Reclaim - Aly Martinez Page 0,38

shutters hung crooked, each one leaning in a different direction, and the post beside the door was completely rotted out. Thankfully, her dad’s truck wasn’t in the driveway, but even if it had been, that wouldn’t have stopped me from getting to her.

Rocking from one foot to the other, I knocked on the door and then cleared my throat. I was nervous, and she was probably going to yell at me for worrying, but the last two days without her had been miserable. I was more than willing to take my tongue lashing if it got her to come back.

The door cracked open with a deafening creak, a single brown eye appearing in the one-inch gap.

I leaned to the side so she could see me and waved because what the hell else was I going to do with my sweaty palms? “Hi!”

“Camden?” she breathed, pulling the door wide, a mixture of surprise and embarrassment heating her cheeks. “What are you doing here?”

I thrust the Coke in front of me, saving the candy bar in my back pocket in case I needed a backup bribe. “I brought you this.”

Stepping outside, she attempted to shut the door behind her, but it jammed and she had to tug it three times to get it to close. I narrowed my eyes at her sweatpants and oversized hoodie. It had to have been a hundred degrees that day.

“Oh, thanks? That’s…nice of you.” She extended an arm to take the soda and the cuff on her wrist inched up a fraction from the movement. A huge black bruise peeked out from underneath.

“Holy hell,” I whispered as my stomach sank. “What is that?”

“Nothing. Just fell off my bike the other day.” She quickly covered her wrist and spun on a toe, ready to dart away. Luckily, the door didn’t open any more easily than it shut.

“Nora, come on. Don’t hide from me.”

“I’m not hiding. I haven’t been feeling great, but as soon as I get better, I’ll be back at the creek. Thanks for stopping by.” She finally got the door open, but if I let her escape, there was a good possibility I’d never get her back.

“Wait,” I said, grabbing the back of her hoodie.

Her whole body winced, and a cry she couldn’t muffle tore from her mouth.

Oh, God. How many other bruises was she hiding under that thing?

I immediately let her go and begged, “Please just talk to me.”

She looked down, a curtain of brown hair covering her pink cheeks. It was a dead giveaway that she was about to lie. “There’s nothing to talk about, Cam. Just drop it.”

“Did your dad do that to you? I know he puts his hands on you, Nora. You don’t have to lie to me.”

Tears hit her eyes, but then she laughed, loud and heartbreaking. “That’s bullshit! I have to lie to everyone. About everything. My entire fucking life is a lie. I’m not even sure I know how to tell the truth anymore.”

I stabbed a finger at my chest. “You don’t lie to me.”

She barked another sad laugh. “Are you sure about that?”

“Nora, you told me my shoes were stupid the first time we met, and once, you spent an entire afternoon talking about my ugly swim trunks. I’m pretty sure you don’t pull punches where I’m concerned. And if you have lied to me, I don’t care. We’re true friends, remember? That means having each other’s back no matter what. You can trust me.”

“I can’t trust anyone!” she screamed so loud her face vibrated, and the sheer act of that alone shifted her hoodie, revealing bruises on her neck, dark blue and purple with a hollow center as though she’d been bitten.

A wave of adrenaline flooded my veins. “Yes, you can!” I yelled right back. “I’m standing right here. I know about your dad. I saw him in action.”

Her chest heaved with unshed emotion, but her fire momentarily quelled. “What?”

“I followed you home one day after we first met. He was screaming and cussing. He pushed you down before punching your brother. Then that piece of shit said it was your fault your mom left, and you know what, Nora, I never mentioned one single word of that to anyone, but only because you never showed up with bruises. And trust me, I didn’t even like swimming in the creek that much, but there’s not much you can hide in a bathing suit.” I swung a finger at her wrist. “This is different.” I pointed at