Page 15 of Save You (Maxton Hall #2)

Lydia

James and I have to go back to school on the first Monday of term after the Christmas holidays.

Dad says that after nearly a month, it’s time to get back to normal.

But the situation at home is anything but normal.

Without Mum, who used to keep building bridges between us, dinners with Dad are absolute torture.

And things are still tense between James and me.

We’re hardly talking and avoid each other most of the time.

When normally, he’s the person I feel most comfortable with.

Now we’re both staring silently out the window as Percy drives us to Maxton Hall. Having to go back there feels like a massive waste of time to me. After all, I already know I’m not going to get to uni, even if I’m still able to do my A levels. So what’s the point?

Once Percy’s pulled up outside the entrance, he rolls down the screen and turns toward us. “Is everything OK?”

I nod without a word and try to smile. I sometimes wonder if my smile still looks the same as before. Before all this happened.

“If you need anything,” he says in his deep, calm voice, “you only have to give me a call. And if any journalists turn up, let the head know about them. He’s well aware of the situation and will make sure they don’t bother you.”

His words sound almost like he’d learned them by heart.

I’ve long suspected that Percy is finding Mum dying harder than he’s letting on.

After all, they’d known each other for more than twenty years.

He rarely makes jokes now, and sometimes, when he doesn’t think anyone’s looking, there’s such a sad, forlorn expression on his face that my own heart aches for him.

“All right,” I say, tapping two fingers to my forehead in salute.

At least that makes Percy give me a weary smile before he turns to James. “You take care of your sister, Mr. Beaufort.”

James blinks and looks around. His face turns to stone the moment he realizes we’re outside the school already.

Without a word, he picks up his bag and opens the door.

I glance apologetically at Percy before following James out.

He’s halfway across the parking lot before I catch up with him.

Cyril, Alistair, Kesh, and Wren are waiting on the front steps.

“Beaufort!” Wren grins broadly, holding out his fist. “About time you put in an appearance around here.”

James pulls the corners of his lips up a fraction and bumps his fist against Wren’s.

“It’s not the same without you,” Kesh adds, taking James’s face in both hands. He gives him a friendly slap on the cheek.

Meanwhile, Cyril comes to give me a hug. “Lydia,” he murmurs into my hair. I gulp. He smells so familiar that I wish I could spend the whole school day standing like this with him. But that’s not an option, so I cautiously pull away.

“Good morning,” I say tiredly.

Cyril’s ice-blue gaze roams inquiringly over my face. Then he puts an arm around my shoulders and we go up the stairs with the others and through the huge double doors into Maxton Hall.

Our friends have lined up around us in an odd formation, presumably to shield us from people’s questions, but there’s no need.

Nobody will speak to us. James looks back at me over his shoulder and we both respond the same way.

We straighten our backs and stride through the school the way we’ve always done.

Assembly drags on forever, same as ever, and eventually, my neck starts to ache from staring fixedly straight ahead.

We’re sitting in the back row, and not a minute goes past without someone turning round to us and then whispering to the person sitting next to them.

I ignore them all. I can’t breathe properly until Lexie declares the assembly over and we can file out of Boyd Hall.

“Did you hear?” Alistair asks as we go up the stairs in the main block. “George crashed his car the day after his eighteenth.”

“George who?” I ask.

“Evans,” Wren and Alistair answer at the same time. “You know, the football captain?”

“Oh. Is he OK?”

“Just a scratch on his forehead. More luck than brains, that guy.”

“Oh, and Jessalyn got off with Henry at Cyril’s party. Apparently, he fell asleep mid-shag,” Wren says, determined to fill us in on all the gossip.

“Can’t have been exactly amazing sex, then,” James says drily.

Everyone looks at him in surprise. That was exactly his old tone—bored, with a touch of arrogance. Almost the old James.

“Well, to be honest,” Cyril breaks the silence. “I nearly fell asleep once myself.”

“Cyril.” I pull a face. I might have ended up in bed with him more than once in the past, but I really don’t want to think about that. “Too much information.”

“I hope for your sake you were drunk,” says James.

Cyril grins. “Not just drunk.”

“Guys, we’re at school. Can we keep the conversation a bit less X-rated?” I suggest.

Alistair turns toward me, eyebrows raised. He shakes his golden curls out of his face and walks backward for a couple of steps. “Lydia Beaufort, is that really you? You’re worse than the rest of us put together.”

“Hmm. Not worse than James, if you ask me,” Kesh muses.

“Or me.” Wren raises an eyebrow.

“You two come in joint second place.” Alistair digs him in the ribs and Wren laughs out loud.

I shake my head with a grin. I love the boys for acting totally normal.

It almost makes me feel like nothing’s changed.

And it’s taking my mind off things, which is exactly what I need right now.

My first lesson of term is about to start, and it’s with Graham—the thought of how things will be between us is making me edgy.

I haven’t spoken to him since that horrible phone call just after Mum died.

I hoped that my longing for him would fade over time, but the opposite seems to be true. It hurts more with every day and my only consolation in the last few weeks has been not having to see Graham on top of everything else. But the grace period is over.

Before we say goodbye outside the classroom door, James gives me a hard stare. It’s as difficult as ever to tell what he’s thinking, but I can’t help noticing a trace of worry in his eyes. We might not have spoken for days, but he knows how scared I am of being face-to-face with Graham again.

“I’ll be OK,” I croak.

James eyes me a moment longer, then nods. “Message me if you need anything,” Cyril murmurs, giving me another hug. “See you at lunch.”

I shut my eyes and allow myself to enjoy the sensation of being held, of not being alone, for a moment or two. He lets go of me and steps to one side.

And then I see Graham.

He’s standing right behind the lads, who are blocking the corridor outside his classroom.

His hair has a slight wave and it’s a bit longer than in my memory.

He’s wearing a checked shirt under a cardigan, and he has a huge pile of papers in his hand.

He looks between Cyril’s and James’s heads, and his golden-brown eyes, which always fascinated me, stare straight into mine.

A shudder runs through my body. The moment seems frozen in time, and I don’t dare to move for fear of losing control.

But suddenly, Graham tears his eyes away from me and looks at Cyril instead.

The expression on his face is one I’ve never seen before.

It’s a mixture of relief and coldness, something I don’t understand and can’t make sense of.

“Come on,” says James, who’s been looking from me to Graham and back again. He nods down the hallway to where he and the others are heading for class. The boys wave, then walk away.

Now I’m alone in the corridor with Graham. He shifts the pile of papers in his arms, fiddles about as if to straighten them up, but they’re already as tidy as can be. Our eyes meet again.

“Lydia…” he says hoarsely, sounding so sad that my throat constricts.

I shake my head. “Don’t.”

Then I turn away, walk into the classroom, and sit in my seat. I spend the whole ninety minutes staring at the wood grain in the desk in front of me, just so as not to have to face the front.

James

School is just dragging on and on today.

If I weren’t so worried about Lydia, I’d have skipped off by now.

Lessons go at a snail’s pace, and I couldn’t care less what the teachers are saying.

At break and lunch, people are practically queuing up to offer me their condolences, which I’m sure are kindly meant, but after a while, it starts pissing me off so much that I tell poor Roger Cree to shut the fuck up and leave me alone.

After that, word gets round that it’s safer not to get too close to me just yet.

The worst point of the day comes at the start, though, when I bump into Ruby before first period. We both freeze—her on one side of the corridor and me on the other—and look at each other.

I hate you for that. But I love you too, and that’s making the whole thing way harder. I remember what she told me.

She’s the first to look away. Without a word, she walks past and disappears into her classroom. The whole encounter lasts ten seconds max, but it feels like a lifetime.

From then on, all I can think of is Ruby and what she said on New Year’s Eve.

She loves me.

She fucking loves me.

It feels like there’s a gaping wound in my chest that just won’t close up. I want to respect her decision, but seeing her and knowing that I’ve lost her is killing me.

After school, I can’t get out of the building fast enough. Hands in pockets, I hurry outside, eyes fixed straight ahead.

Percy opens the car door for me and I mumble “thanks” as I get in.

Lydia is already there, looking exactly how I feel.

I let myself sink back, shut my eyes, and lean my head against the seat.

“Tiring, huh?” I hear Lydia say quietly.

I hate how cautious her voice is. Like she’s afraid even to speak to me.

I know that that’s my own fault, but at the same time, I’m aware of how screwed up it is that my own sister no longer dares talk to me.

I eye the minibar. I’ve gone a long time without a drink, but after that shit day, the need to numb my senses—no matter how—is taking hold.

I don’t answer, just reach forward and open the little door. But before I can reach for the bottle, Lydia grabs my wrist.

“You’re not getting off your face now just because you’ve had a crappy day,” she says, keeping her voice deliberately calm.

She’s right; I know that. But I ignore her and try, gently but firmly, to prize her hand away. No such luck. She’s got her fingers dug into my arm. I jerk it away from her. Lydia slips forward, catapulting her bag onto the floor of the car.

“Idiot,” she snarls, immediately starting to pick up her stuff, which is now all over the place.

I sigh and bend down to help. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

Lydia presses her lips together as she gathers her belongings, her movements jittery.

I pick up a couple of pens and hold them out to her.

She takes them without looking at me. Then I pick up her planner, a few tampons, and a round white plastic tub that looks like it’s got chewing gum in it.

The lid has come loose and I’m about to close it properly when I catch sight of the label.

Prenatal Vitamin Supplements: Folic Acid, Omega-3 DHA, Calcium, and Vitamin D

Lemon, raspberry, and orange flavor

It also features a picture of a woman’s silhouette as she holds her rounded bump.

It feels like Percy’s just driven straight over a pothole, but we’re still in the parking lot. Blood roars in my ears.

“What’s this?” I croak, looking up from the tub to Lydia, then back again.

All the blood drains from my sister’s cheeks and she stares at me, wide-eyed.

“What is this, Lydia?” I repeat, my voice firmer this time.

“I…” Lydia just shakes her head.

I read the label again and again. I understand all the words, but they don’t make sense. I look back at Lydia and open my mouth to ask the same question again when…

“They’re not mine,” she blurts.

I breathe out fitfully. “Whose are they, then?”

Now she presses her bloodless lips together. She just shakes her head; the shock in her eyes is enormous. I really don’t want to pressure her, but I need her to know that she can trust me.

“Whatever’s happened—you know you can tell me anything, Lydia. I’m there for you,” I say insistently.

Tears pool in her eyes. She claps her hands to her face and starts sobbing. At that moment, I know. I sense the truth without Lydia having to say a word. Deep inside me, I feel shock, panic, and fear rising up all at once, but I push them down again and breathe in deeply.

Then I come to sit closer to Lydia. “They’re your vitamins, aren’t they?” I murmur.

Her shoulders shake so hard that I can hardly make out her stammered “yes.” And then I do the only thing that makes any sense to me in this situation. I take her in my arms and just hold her tight.