Hold on to Him
Chapter Thirteen
I was expecting to be able to sleep in that weekend, but a loud knock on the door sent my Labrador Retriever on a rampage and aroused me from my bed no later than 7:30.
I got dressed, not knowing who I was going to be greeting at the front door.
“Shut up, Jake,” I snapped at the dog as he howled, going crazy for some reason. Ashley, Joey, Mom and Dad were all out of the house, so I assumed they were at one of Joey’s basketball games.
I glanced quickly through a window in my front door to find Justin on the porch. He wore a rugged hoodie and had dark circles under his eyes. His hair was always tousled, but before, it seemed to look almost smoothly out of place. Today, he just looked messy.
I answered it, rubbing my eyes, being blinded by the reflection of the sun off the snow. “Justin?” I hummed.
His eyes widened at the sight of me. “Hey.”
“Come in, it’s cold.”
“No,” he denied. “No, I just, I can’t sleep.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I didn’t sleep at all last night. Not at all. There was just too much on my mind.”
“Like what?”
He shrugged. “Mostly you.”
A sensation of butterflies was sent up through my throat. The cold was beginning to get to me, so I asked him again, “Are you sure you don’t want to come in?”
“Can I take you out?” he blurted, without warning.
“What?”
“I mean, there’s someplace I want to take you.”
I nodded slightly. “Yeah, okay. Let me get a jacket.”
After properly clothing myself for the February weather, I met him outside, and we walked to his house and jumped into his car.
He drove around Salem for a while, not speaking, completely focusing on the road. His knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel so tight. His body was so stiff, like he was afraid to breathe. I didn’t say anything, and he didn’t, either.
We finally pulled into a cemetery. The car shook as he stopped it. He aggressively took the key out of the ignition and slammed the door shut as he jumped out. I was quick to follow.
He sped through the cemetery, hands shoved in his pockets, not bothering to wait for me. He took sharp corners, almost like his mind was programmed on a destination, like he’d walked this path a million times. I struggled to keep up.
He finally stopped in front of a plaque. I read it quickly.
Hunter Harris
1982-1994
Always missed, never forgotten.
“Justin?” I breathed, looking up to him, confused. “What is this?”
He didn’t look up to me, rather kept his eyes fixed on the plaque.
“Megan, meet Hunter,” he hummed to me, “my brother.”
Merry Christmas Eve!
Today, we made Shrimp Scampi, watched Polar Express, and had a reindeer food fight. I hope you all had a good Christmas Eve too!
I hope Santa will be good to you! (:
*I don't notify, please don't ask.*
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