Growing Wildflowers | WLW

Tulip

Jamie's reaction makes everything in my body go still. I open my mouth to apologize but close it when I realize I don't know what I'm apologizing for. She's staring at me, biting the inside of her cheek while her eyes swim with tears.

"Um," I start and take a step toward her. "Are you—" My head spins. Something's off. My throat burns like I've come down with a case of strep throat. It's like the first day I met her all over again. Since I haven't seen her, or any human, in so long, I've lost my tolerance to the scent of their blood. My fingertips twitch and I shove them in my pockets. Every part of me wants to drain her, right here in the doorway of her own home. While I'm still lost in a daydream of draining the blood from her body, she slams into me and wraps her arms around my neck.

I suck in a sharp breath and hold it in my chest.

"I thought you fucking died, Gwen." She sniffles and the warmth of her hand leaves my back to swipe at her cheek before she pulls me in tighter.

I hug her back, push the thought of draining her to the back of my head and focus on what I've missed so much the past month—the familiar smell of coconut sunscreen and vanilla, the way her body fits against mine like a puzzle, the way she has to stand on her toes to hug me. I wrap my arms around her waist and don't realize I'm lifting her off the ground until I feel her kick her feet and giggle.

"Where have you been?" she asks, breathless when she pulls away from me.

I shrug. "Around."

She traces the bruise under my eye with her fingertips, her breath light on my cheek. She looks at me again, blinks the tears away from her bright eyes. "You look..." She presses her hand to her mouth to suppress a sob and motions to me, undoubtedly taking in the shocking presence of my ribs and sharp cheekbones. "I'm not trying to be a bitch, but God Gwen, who did this to you?"

When I shake my head, she steps closer. "Was it your family?" she whispers. "Is this because of what I told you?"

"No," I answer quickly. "No. John would never."

Jamie takes a deep breath and glances over her shoulder at the clock on the wall. "I'm going to be late. You can explain at the memorial. Come on." She nods for me to follow her and picks her shoes up from the floor.

"Jamie, I can't." I take her wrists in my hands, make her look at me. "You—" I swallow. This is going to sound so stupid. "You shouldn't be seen with me right now."

Her eyebrows pull together, and for a moment, I realize how close we are, how easy it would be to lean over and kiss her and how easy it would be to drain her right after. I'm so lost in thought, I don't notice the energy around Jamie shift, the way she crosses her arms over her chest.

"Whatever, Gwen." She pulls the front door closed and locks it. "If you don't want to hang out anymore. Just say it." She starts toward her car. "Like, honestly. You don't need to come up with some elaborate lie to cushion the blow. I know people don't like me."

"Jamie." I grab her wrist, so she faces me.

She shrugs. "What happened? Did you look into my family? Decide the Vanderbilts have too much sketchy history? Decide to ditch me for a month and then come back because you felt bad?" She pulls out of my grip. "But now you're..." she shakes her head, "you're doing it again?"

"Jamie, no. You're wrong." I say but she's too caught up in her monologue to stop now.

"Really? Am I? Because..." She digs in her purse for her key. "Last thing I remember is throwing myself at you on the beach, and you walked away and I didn't see you again for weeks."