Save Me Chapter 15
Ruby
"What's wrong with you?" Ember asks, and I jump violently.
I was so lost in thought while stirring that I didn't notice her sneaking up behind me and peering over my shoulder into the pot of jam.
"Nothing," I say a moment too late.
Dad points at me with an unopened packet of pectin. "Something's off, I agree with your sister."
I roll my eyes. "You're bothering me, that's what's wrong." I stir with a bit too much force, and the hot apple jelly splatters onto my hand. I inhale sharply.
"Immediately under cold water," Mum says, taking the spoon from me. She hands it to Ember and then guides me to the sink, where she turns on the cold water.
"Just let me vegetate in peace," I grumble.
"As you wish," Dad says. "But you've been like this since your mysterious outing on Saturday, and I'd like to know why."
I just grumble. I don't even have peace at home.
I've never understood why people always complain about Mondays. For me, every Monday symbolizes a fresh start, a chance to set the stage for a great week.
Usually, I love Mondays. But today, everything just irritates me. The people at school, the memory of Saturday, Ember's curious glances. Even the small splash on my hand that burns like hell. Stupid apple jam.
I'd love to lock myself in my room and stubbornly memorize the material for the next three months, but my family forced me to help with the canning. I'm sure the jam is just an excuse to finally get me to talk.
"Why don't you just tell us what happened?" Ember confirms my suspicion the next moment.
"Because you don't really want to know how I'm feeling," I retort. "You're only asking me because you want to pry about Beaufort."
"That's not true!"
"No?" I ask provocatively. "So you're not interested in how it was there?"
Now she shifts uneasily from one foot to the other. "Well, yes, I am. But one doesn't exclude the other. I can be interested in one of the top men's outfitters in England and at the same time care about your well-being. There's room for both in my heart, sister dear."
"How sweet," Dad says, rolling past us in his wheelchair to the stove. He takes a fresh spoon and dips it into the simmering jam. Watching him taste test is always fascinating. When I taste a dish, I look... normal. With Dad, you can tell right away that he's a pro. His expression changes as if he's mentally dissecting all the ingredients and considering if anything's missing and if so, what it could be.
Like now. He tilts his head, and we watch him eagerly. In the next moment, his face lights up, and he rolls back to the small metal cart where all his spices are kept. He grabs a cinnamon blend and adds a few pinches to the cast-iron pot. The smell reminds me of Christmas - my favorite holiday.
"There's nothing to tell, Ember," I reply belatedly, and my sister groans in frustration. "You already know everything about Beaufort."
"I'd like to see the tailor's shop too," she sighs, resting her chin on her palm.
"Wouldn't that be boring for you? You want to specialize in women's clothing," Dad admits.
The doorbell rings, and we look at each other in surprise.
"Who could that be?" Mum asks, leaving the kitchen towards the hallway.
" It's about the atmosphere, Dad. To see how people work there, with what materials and designs. It would have been totally interesting anyway," Ember's longing expression stabs me. I can understand that she finds it unfair that I just got the opportunity to visit the headquarters of a big designer - something she probably won't get the chance to do so quickly. On the other hand, I also think about how the trip ended for me. And I definitely don't want my sister to ever feel as humiliated as I did in that moment.
"I have an idea. Can't you ask your friend if he can give me a tour too?" Ember asks, and the thought that it's only half meant as a joke worries me.
"You can ask him yourself, Ember," Mum interjects abruptly.
I turn to her with a furrowed brow. "What?"
"The boy is standing outside our door," she explains, gesturing with her thumb over her shoulder. "You didn't tell us how handsome he is."
I stare at her, my protective instinct shooting from zero to a hundred. "You didn't let him in, did you?"
"Of course not. You can do that - or not, if you prefer," Mum comes over to me and plants a kiss on my head.
I can feel my family's curious stares at my back as I cross the kitchen and step into the hallway. Feeling numb, I walk to the front door.
James is standing on the steps leading to our house. It's the first time I've seen him in casual clothes. The dark jeans and white shirt make him look like just an ordinary boy. If I had met him like this on the street, I might not have recognized him at all.
A large black case hangs over his arm, emblazoned with the Beaufort logo. I stare at the curved 'B' for a moment and suddenly feel overwhelmed with unspeakable anger.
He has no business being here. I don't want him anywhere near my family. My life here has nothing to do with my life at Maxton Hall, and him standing in front of me now, blurring the boundary I drew years ago, is something I cannot accept - especially not after last Saturday.
" It's about the atmosphere, Dad. To see how people work there, with what materials and designs. It would have been totally interesting anyway," Ember's longing expression stabs me. I can understand that she finds it unfair that I just got the opportunity to visit the headquarters of a big designer - something she probably won't get the chance to do so quickly. On the other hand, I also think about how the trip ended for me. And I definitely don't want my sister to ever feel as humiliated as I did in that moment.
"I have an idea. Can't you ask your friend if he can give me a tour too?" Ember asks, and the thought that it's only half meant as a joke worries me.
"You can ask him yourself, Ember," Mum interjects abruptly.
I turn to her with a furrowed brow. "What?"
"The boy is standing outside our door," she explains, gesturing with her thumb over her shoulder. "You didn't tell us how handsome he is."
I stare at her, my protective instinct shooting from zero to a hundred. "You didn't let him in, did you?"
"Of course not. You can do that - or not, if you prefer," Mum comes over to me and plants a kiss on my head.
I can feel my family's curious stares at my back as I cross the kitchen and step into the hallway. Feeling numb, I walk to the front door.
James is standing on the steps leading to our house. It's the first time I've seen him in casual clothes. The dark jeans and white shirt make him look like just an ordinary boy. If I had met him like this on the street, I might not have recognized him at all.
A large black case hangs over his arm, emblazoned with the Beaufort logo. I stare at the curved 'B' for a moment and suddenly feel overwhelmed with unspeakable anger.
He has no business being here. I don't want him anywhere near my family. My life here has nothing to do with my life at Maxton Hall, and him standing in front of me now, blurring the boundary I drew years ago, is something I cannot accept - especially not after last Saturday.
In that moment, as I open my mouth to confront him, he takes his gaze away from our rose bushes and spots me in the doorway. An emotion flickers in his eyes, one I can never quite decipher, and then he ascends a step, bringing us eye to eye. He clears his throat and ultimately holds out the protective cover to me.
"I wanted to bring you the dress. Tristan altered it. It should fit perfectly now," he says.
I make no move to take the dress from him. "And for that, you come to my house?"
He takes a deep, jerky breath, then exhales and rubs the back of his head with his hand. "I also wanted to talk to you about Saturday. I behaved like an asshole, and I'm sorry."
For a moment, all I can do is stare at him. It's the first time I've heard him say something like that, and I inevitably wonder how many times he's apologized in his life. Considering what he's gotten away with at school over the past few years alone, his moral bar must typically be set much lower than mine.
But now, he genuinely looks remorseful.
"I don't understand why you did it," I say softly. Especially after he held my hand and we clearly had a moment together. I distinctly saw how warm his gaze became, and I felt the crackle between us. That wasn't my imagination.
He swallows hard. For a solid minute, he says nothing, just gazes at me with inscrutable eyes. Then he murmurs so softly I almost don't hear it, "Sometimes I don't understand myself, Ruby Bell."
I open my mouth to respond, but then close it again. I feel like he's being honest with me for the first time, and I don't want to ruin that by rejecting his apology. So, I remain silent. I stay quiet for so long that with anyone else, it would surely have become uncomfortable, but James and I - I think we could look at each other silently for hours, just trying to glimpse behind each other's walls.
"Why did you really come here?" I ask finally.
"What you said at noon..." He hesitates. "What if I don't want to go back to before?"
I emit a soundless laugh. "You kicked me out. And before that, you embarrassed me in front of your parents. You acted like I wasn't good enough to meet them."
He shakes his head. "I didn't mean it like that."
I notice he's barely swaying on his feet, almost as if he's nervous. "I was having fun on Saturday. Until... my parents showed up." He clears his throat. "I would hate for us to suddenly pretend like we don't know each other now. You're not invisible to me anymore. And I don't want to pretend like you are."
Though the bitter taste of Saturday still lingers, his words stir something inside me, a nervous excitement. "I don't understand what you expect from me now, James," I say softly.
"I don't expect anything. I just don't want things to go back to how they were before. Can't we just... know each other from now on?"
I look at him speechlessly.
He can't be serious, I think to myself. He can't possibly be serious. I'm not stupid. I know James can't stand me – even though we really did have a nice time together last Saturday. I'm the reason he got kicked off the lacrosse team, and I know one of his sister's biggest secrets, which makes me a risk to him and his family. He definitely just wants to keep an eye on me.
"If this is some kind of scheme again..." I start skeptically, but James interrupts me.
"No," he says, climbing the last step of the stairs.
I shouldn't read too much into his words, I know that for sure. I can't figure him out – I doubt anyone can. But there's something in his gaze in this moment, something honest and regretful, that takes my breath away for a second.
How did this happen? How did we go from not knowing each other, to bribing and hating, to this point within a month?
The door behind me opens. "Ruby? Everything okay?"
I stiffen up. Before me stands James Beaufort with a 150-year-old dress draped over his arm and a gaze that makes my knees weak. Behind me is my sister, with whom I was fighting over Dad's jam just a few minutes ago. My two worlds collide with full force, and I feel both cold and hot at the same time. I don't know how to react, so I just nod at Ember with a forced smile and try to convey wordlessly that she should leave. She looks back and forth between me and James, curious and skeptical at the same time, but then she actually retreats and leans against the door.
Only after that can I turn back to James. It takes me two breaths to collect myself. Then I remember that I still owe him a response. "I don't know," I say honestly.
James nods slowly. "Okay. I actually just came here to apologize for Saturday."
"Just for Saturday?"
Now he smiles daringly. "I certainly won't apologize for giving you a lap dance."
I have no idea if I can accept his apology when he says things like that. I don't know if he means it seriously or if he just wants to smooth things over so I won't tell anyone about Lydia. Nevertheless, it would make my life easier if I didn't have to be angry with him all the time. Or maybe even talk about school stuff with him occasionally. I noticed on Saturday that he's not only quick-witted but also intelligent. It was fun talking to him. And then there was that something else that sparked something inside me and made me curious for more.
I know it's unreasonable and I shouldn't trust him an inch. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that I don't really want to go back to before either.
I look him squarely in the eyes to make him understand how serious I am when I say, "I won't let something like that happen again, not from you."
"Understood," he replies softly, finally holding out the dress to me.
In that moment, it starts to rain. Not heavily, but enough for me to worry about the dress despite the cover. Quickly, I take it from James and bring it to safety in our wardrobe.
When I return, countless raindrops have already collected in James' hair, making their way down his face. He wipes his cheek with the back of his hand and then runs his fingers through his hair, never taking his eyes off me.
My manners tell me I should invite him in before he gets soaked by the rain, but I just can't. It doesn't feel right. I can't introduce him to my parents and my sister. Maybe I never will.
"I accept your apology," I say finally.
His eyes light up. It's the first time I've seen such an expression on his face.
So there we stand in the rain, him on the steps of my family home, me in the doorway, not ready to invite him in.
But it's a start.
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