Home > Providence (Providence #1)(48)

Providence (Providence #1)(48)
Author: Jamie McGuire

“Oh. Oh! Thanks. I don’t think I’l need it today, we’re preparing for a lab.” I rubbed my eyes, wondering when I had final y fal en asleep. It didn’t feel like I’d slept at al .

“Did I wake you?”

“Yeah, but that’s okay.” I looked at the clock. “The alarm goes off in ten minutes, anyway.”

“The nurse said that they may release me today or tomorrow,” he said.

“Excel ent! Let me know when and I’l ral y the troops to spring you.”

“Wil do,” he chirped, sounding extremely enthusiastic for the early hour.

Classes dragged, and I had to force myself to finish out the day. By the time I got to my room, exhaustion had set in, and I decided to cook something quick and then take a nap.

Finishing the mounds of homework scattered on my bed was impossible. I couldn’t concentrate knowing that every time I turned a page, every time my spoon scraped the bowl, every time I sighed, Jared was listening.

When that thought crossed my mind, anger pulsed through me. He had told me secrets—which he expected me to keep—he told me that he loved me, made promises, and then he just...left.

“Who does that?” I asked aloud. I shook my head, thinking of the show he’d put on when dropping me off at Andrews. He seemed so terrified of losing me, of my mother talking me into staying away from him. In the end, it was Jared that was evading me.

I dwel ed on that for a moment and wondered what had changed from the time he dropped me off until after I’d returned from the hospital. I had only focused on what I could have done wrong; I hadn’t stopped to think about other possible reasons for Jared to avoid me like the plague. Like my mother.

My hand flew to my mouth as the revelation sunk in. She had spoken to him. She had told him to stay away from me, and he had listened to her.

Grabbing my coat and keys, I shot out the door as if my room were on fire. I ran to my car and violated every traffic law between Brown University and my parents’ home. Once I pul ed into the drive my courage had somewhat waivered, but I had to know why Jared had changed his mind. I had to know it wasn’t that I didn’t live up to his expectations.

I burst into the door, cal ing for my mother. After the third time that I yel ed her name, she came hurrying down the staircase.

“Nina? What are you carrying on about?” She held onto the banister with one hand and clipped on an earring with another.

“What did you say to him?” I demanded.

“What did I say to whom?” A disgusted look immediately clouded her face.

“Mother, stop it!” I yel ed.

Cynthia raised an eyebrow and spoke slowly. “You wil watch your tone while in my house, young lady.”

I shook my head and took another step toward her. “What did you say to Jared?”

Cynthia deliberated for a moment. “I told him what he needed to hear, Nina. Of course you wouldn’t listen, so I had no choice.”

“Why? Why would you deliberately try to hurt me?”

Cynthia was stunned by my assumption. “Nina, I’m simply trying to save you from yourself. If you won’t have the sense to…wel , I’m glad that he did.”

“Mother, I’m begging you…don’t do this. I have been….” I couldn’t finish. I sat on the bottom step and covered my face with my hands.

Cynthia descended the remaining steps and sat next to me. “I know you think you understand, Darling, but you don’t. Whatever you think you know… you couldn’t truly grasp what it was that you were choosing. I’m glad that Jared loves you enough to let you go.”

I glared at her. “Do you even hear yourself? He loves me, Mom. He loves me and you….” I shook my head and walked to the door. “Do you even care how I feel?” I asked, standing with my back to her.

She didn’t answer.

I returned to my car, choking back a frustrated cry. There was only one way I could talk to him, now.

Chapter Eight

Purgatory

I searched under the desks, running my fingers along each of the twisted wires underneath. Jared would listen to me whether he liked it or not, and in my determination, I left nothing to chance. I meticulously inspected the edges of the mirror, the back of the microwave, the mini-fridge, under both beds and under the dorm’s standard-issue cord phone.

An hour had passed, and I found nothing. Jared was a professional. Of course I wouldn’t find the mic he’d planted. I tried to recal any spy movies I’d watched when revelation hit. My eyes slowly fol owed the wal up to the ceiling, and focused on a rectangular vent in the center.

I rol ed Beth’s desk chair directly underneath. There were two screws, and I had no tools. I rushed to the residential advisor’s room and tried to catch my breath while rapping on the door. She opened it with a bored look on her face.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, Dara. Listen, I’m having some trouble with the vent in my room….”

“I’l cal maintenance in the morning,” she deadpanned, closing the door.

I pushed it open. “I was wondering if you had a screwdriver. One of those cross-ones that I could use?”

“A Phil ips?” she asked, bored with the conversation.

My eyes lit up. “Yes! Do you have one?”

“What size do you need?” she asked, turning her back to me.

“I…don’t know.” I peered up at her vent, and she did the same.

   
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