Spring Romance: NINE Happily Ever Afters

by Tessa Bailey

  “Had a meeting with the guidance counselor.”

  Olive nodded. “You walking to the bus stop? I’ll tag along.”

  “In a minute.” Leanne drummed her fingers on the table, ignoring the exasperated sigh from the librarian. “Tagged you in some pictures on Facebook and you haven’t even commented. Are we even friends if people don’t witness it virtually?”

  “Sorry, I…” Olive snatched up her phone and tapped the blue and white icon. “I haven’t been on. I haven’t—”

  “Been doing much of anything?” Her friend passed her a half-smile. “You’ve been behaving like a zombie. I was worried our professor was going to use you as a case study. Classic Incurable Heartbreak-itis, wouldn’t you agree, class?”

  She massaged her forehead with three fingers. “Ugh, we’ve only been friends for, like, a month, and I’ve swung between hormonally charged and despondent. No judgment for cutting your losses and running. Seriously.”

  “Shut up.” Leanne nodded at Olive’s phone. “Well. Comment, dammit. Get back in my good graces.”

  “Okay, okay.” Olive went to her notifications and saw that Leanne had tagged her in four photos. When she clicked on the first one, her heart went flying up into her mouth. Rory. There he was. Behind the bar in the Castle Gate. He looked…devastated. Crazed, even. Whatever he was looking at had upset him greatly. To the point that Jamie was restraining him. “When did you take this?”

  “The night we went out with those senior douches.” She shrugged. “I snapped it when we walked into the bar and I recognized Rory from the milkshake shop. That’s around the time he saw Zed’s arm around your shoulders.”

  “Oh,” Olive said, sounding small. Desperate to see more of the man she’d been missing like an amputated limb, she swiped to the next picture and her stomach took a dive. Taken the day he’d picked her up from school, the photo showed Rory leaning against his bike like the world’s most delicious bad boy, grinning as she approached. Olive’s pulse turned choppy, that familiar loneliness stealing over her. Shit. Oh shit. She missed him so badly. How had she not fully realized the way Rory looked at her? Like she was…walking on water or something.

  Urgency trickled into her bloodstream. As if she needed to get out of there. But she remained in the seat, needing to see another picture of Rory more than oxygen.

  It was them in the milkshake shop, sitting in the booth. That very first day.

  Olive didn’t even have the words to describe the shot. It was…

  Love at first sight. No arguments. No denying it.

  Rory’s jaw was flexed, his green eyes awed. Olive looked like she was trying to catch a mouthful of bees. And they both looked a little scared.

  “Wow.” Moisture ran down her cheeks. “Y-you take incredible pictures.”

  “That’s what I was talking to the guidance counselor about. I’m switching my major to photography.” Leanne smirked to let Olive know she was kidding. “Olive, that fucker is crazy about you. I don’t know what happened, but there has to be a solution.”

  Olive scrolled to the final picture and the breath clogged in her lungs. “When…”

  “That afternoon we studied at that outdoor café. Remember?”

  Barely. There were bits and pieces, but if she recalled correctly, the study date was the day after she and Rory broke up on the sidewalk across the street from her building. And yet there he was, in the background of the picture, watching her from a distance. He was getting ready to turn and leave, seeming almost exasperated with himself. But there was no denying the absolute yearning on his tired, unshaven face. It was stark and obvious and breathtaking.

  “Why didn’t you tell me he was there?”

  “Maybe I should have.” Leanne shrugged. “I’d only seen you guys together once before that day. I wasn’t sure if he was stalking you or just…fucking heartsick. Guess I wanted to be sure it was the latter before I encouraged you to get back in touch with him, but that happened all by itself.” She flung her arms out dramatically. “Now here we are again.”

  Olive stared at the picture until her vision blurred. He’d never really left her, had he? To a degree, she’d known that. Known that he’d escorted her bus to school, driven past her building. Having proof that he’d missed her, that he’d never checked out of their relationship…it was powerful knowledge. She’d never truly been abandoned by Rory. Not even for one single day.

  Rory’s name was highlighted, meaning he’d been tagged in the pictures. After only a moment’s hesitation, Olive tapped on it and was taken to his profile. Nothing had changed. He still had the same picture of them behind the school. They were still listed as In a Relationship. He probably hadn’t logged on once since she’d made the accounts. He’d never had any use for social media…

  No. Wait, he had been on Facebook. Olive’s hand slowly came up to cover her mouth.

  He’d checked in at the milkshake shop. Every day since she’d thrown him out.

  Oh God. She’d thrown him out of her apartment. Out of her life.

  How could she have done that? She was in love with this man. Fierce, unmovable love—and he felt the same for her. Not being in his arms at that very second was agonizing.

  While you’re out living that life, remember I’ll be out there somewhere. Living for you. And if you want me back for one day—one minute—I’m yours. And I’ll do it over and over again, no matter how many times you decide this is wrong afterward. I’ll wait around to worship you, sunbeam. Any time you want me. Do you understand?

  Olive stood fast enough to send her chair flying backward. She hadn’t lost him yet. She could fix this. God, please let me be able to fix this. When Rory told her he would wait indefinitely, she believed him. She trusted him. He would never hurt her again.

  She would never hurt him again, either.

  And she’d start by keeping her promise.

  Olive fumbled with her phone until she found the right contact and hit send. “Jiya?” A hum of reservation was her only greeting. Fair enough. Jiya was loyal to Rory, and Olive was grateful for that. He deserved to have people in his corner. Still, thank God they’d traded phone numbers the day Jiya had driven her home from Rory’s house. “Can you tell me the address for the birthday party?” Silence passed. “Please?”

  A moment later, Olive leapt up from her chair and drew Leanne into a hug. “Thank you for helping me pull my head out of my ass.” She squeezed her friend hard. “I owe you big time.”

  With that, she ran from the library, backpack in hand.

  “I still don’t see any comments,” Leanne called after her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Rory’s hands protested as he turned the bolt connecting the table to its base. He was beginning to strip the metal by twisting the screwdriver over and over, but he was enjoying the strain in his hands. It lessened the pressure in his chest by one percent—and for now, that was just enough to keep him from falling off the deep end.

  Finally, he dropped the screwdriver and sat back on the floor. He looked around at the overturned tables. Old ones that used to grace the dining room upstairs but had since been retired to storage downstairs. Every single one of them had been flipped over, the bases detached and refastened, the tops sanded down. He’d been in the basement of the Castle Gate since last night completing the task. The chair legs were next. That might prevent him for another couple hours from going to find Olive. Just to see her. Just to make sure she was all right. Was one glimpse so much to ask?

  He buried his head in his hands and felt stickiness oozing from his palms, blood mixed with grease that he quickly wiped on his jeans.

  Rory was in hell. How he’d managed to survive since Tuesday without seeing Olive was beyond him. Could he manage it for the rest of his life? No. No fucking way. He had to leave town. If he saw her with another guy, rationality wouldn’t be an option. Hell, he was bleeding and sweating in a dark basement—he wasn’t rational now.

  Just like he’d been doing for the last sev
enty-eight hours, he replayed the scene in Olive’s apartment. How she’d been white as a sheet when he’d come out of the bedroom. How she’d jumped when he spoke. He still had a suspicion that something happened before he woke up. That he was missing a piece of the puzzle. Still, there was no denying that he’d hurt her. She’d been harboring pain since the first time he’d left—and Jesus Christ, knowing that he’d hurt Olive in any way was like nails driving into his skull. He’d missed it. He’d missed how badly she’d been affected by their break-up. If he’d known, if he’d had a fucking inkling, he would have spent every second reassuring her. Now it was too late.

  He’d lost the girl of his dreams.

  No, that wasn’t right. She was the reason he’d started to dream again.

  Feeling that familiar constriction in his throat, Rory cleared it hard as he could and snatched up the screwdriver, walking on his knees toward the next defunct table. Before he could begin the exhaustive process of unscrewing the ancient, rusted bolts, the light in the basement came on. He squinted toward the stairs to find Jamie and Andrew at the top, identical expression of what the fuck on their faces. When they’d opened the door, sounds from the bar upstairs came flooding in and Rory realized it must be early evening. Jesus, how long had he been down there?

  “Hey, man,” Andrew said, descending the stairs, Jamie behind him. “We’re on the way to mom’s party. Stopped by to pick you up.”

  The party was today? Rory swiped the back of his wrist across his forehead, probably leaving a streak of filth behind. Olive was supposed to go with him to see his mother for the first time in years, but there wasn’t a hope in hell of that now. More than anything, he wanted to stay there on the floor, causing himself physical pain to distract from the destruction of his heart. He wouldn’t, though.

  Olive had woken something up inside of him. The need to be a better man. Not only for her, but himself. That was why he hadn’t immediately gotten shitfaced when Olive kicked him to the curb. He wouldn’t go back to that. He wouldn’t go back to being unworthy of her. Unworthy of respect. Even if he couldn’t have Olive anymore, he wouldn’t squander the spirit of hope and optimism she’d handed him like a selfless gift. If he squandered what she’d given him, he squandered Olive. And the difference she’d made in him was all he had left of her.

  Though it was difficult, Rory braced a hand on the wall and struggled to his feet, his legs half asleep from being in awkward positions on the hard concrete floor. “All right,” he said, sounding like his vocal cords had been severed. “Let’s go.”

  Jamie came forward and pried the screwdriver out of his hand, unable to hide his wince at the condition of Rory’s hand. “Let’s swing by the house first and grab you a shower. Maybe a change of clothes.”

  “I can’t. I have to just go like this. If I stop to think, I’ll just stop. I’ll just stop.”

  After a few seconds of silence, Andrew coughed into his fist. “I think I’ve got some extra shirts down here. They probably say Bud Light on them, but…”

  While his older brother rummaged through boxes, Jamie went into the small employee bathroom, emerging with a fist full of wet paper towels. “Don’t move.”

  Rory had been caring for himself out of necessity since he could remember. He’d been the last kid to come along, after the bright, shiny idea of a happy family had gone out the window for his parents. After their relationship had gone from occasionally volatile to strictly volatile. So he’d stayed out of the way, got himself ready for school. Fed himself when necessary. But hell if Rory didn’t stand there in the basement of the Castle Gate and let Jamie clean his face and hands while Andrew changed his soiled shirt. He just couldn’t do it himself today. Maybe tomorrow.

  On the way out of the bar, Andrew stole an order of French fries from the kitchen and ordered Rory to eat them. He sat in the back of Andrew’s car now—Jamie in the passenger seat—eating what tasted to him like cardboard out the Styrofoam container. The Revivalists drifted through the speakers, but the windows were down and the rush of the wind prevented Rory from making out the words. It was overcast outside, getting ready to rain and he was glad for it. He wouldn’t have been able to stand the sunshine and face his mother, his guilt, all in one day.

  Jamie made eye contact with him in the rearview mirror. “You good?”

  Rory managed a nod.

  “It’s going to be fine. You’ll wonder why you stayed away so long.”

  They drove without speaking for a while. “You want to talk about what happened with Olive?”

  Jamie sent their older brother a look. “Have I ever complimented your impeccable sense of timing?”

  “It’s fine.” Rory set the fries aside and massaged the bridge of his nose. When was the last time he’d slept? Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Olive backing away from him, so he’d flat out stopped trying. “She gave me the smart girl look.”

  “What’s that?” Andrew asked.

  He let his head fall back against the seat, way too exhausted and empty to have the conversation. “She’s focusing on school. She needs people around her who value the same things. I don’t blame her. I…don’t blame her.” He swallowed the knot in his throat. “She might have let me try to be what she needed, but…I don’t know. I wasn’t worth the risk when I’d already left and hurt her. Don’t blame her, okay? She’s fucking perfect,” he finished under his breath. “Just don’t let me go see her. I told her I’d let her live her life. If I see her, I’ll…”

  Jamie turned in the passenger seat. “What?”

  “Beg. I’ll fucking beg to have her back.” He blew out a breath. “She doesn’t need that.”

  It took another fifteen minutes to reach Queens and they eventually turned down the block to their aunt’s house where Molly Prince had been living for the past four years. Rory couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been there. Probably for Thanksgiving or one of the other holidays they only celebrated casually now. The street had been cleaned up, repaved. Trees lined either side, the same bodega sat on the corner, but it had gotten a new awning. Rain had started falling lightly from the sky now and the windshield wipers squeaked as Andrew parallel parked along the curb.

  Andrew shut off the engine and met Rory’s eyes in the rearview. “She doesn’t know you’re coming, so why don’t you get your head on straight and come in when you’re ready?”

  Jaw tight, Rory nodded, grateful for the silence that descended when the car was empty. He’d been dreading the moment he would see his mother again for so long. Now that it was here, though? It wasn’t as daunting. Maybe because he’d unburdened himself to Olive about how he’d left his mother to face the abuse alone…and she’d still wanted him. For a little while, only. But that still counted for something. No, it counted for everything.

  He could do this. He might be at his weakest today, but overall, he was stronger from his time with Olive. He was a better version of himself. She’d made him take a look at himself in the mirror and realize he didn’t want to be lacking anymore. Made him realize he was in control of the future and could move on from the past, little by little.

  God, he wished she was there.

  Rain started to come down heavier on the roof of the car, signaling an imminent downpour. He already looked like shit and didn’t need to resemble a drowned rat on top of his three-day beard and sunken eyes. Better get inside now. After several bracing breaths through his nose, Rory pushed out of the car, not bothering to shield himself from the rain as his long strides ate up the sidewalk. He made it to the end of the walkway leading to the house…and that’s where his head of steam started to evaporate. Everything inside him felt so fucking unsteady. Could he really go in there and come face to face with his mother in this weakened state? What if she resented him? Would he be able to handle that when he’d already been cut off at the knees by Olive not wanting him anymore?

  The rain started to pick up while he hesitated at the end of the path. Make a decision.

  His breath
ing turned choppy, his feet inching backward—

  “Rory!”

  His head whipped to the right. And there was Olive, running toward him down the sidewalk, soaked. Soaked head to toe in sandals and a blue and white flowery dress, looking more beautiful than anything he’d ever witnessed in his entire life. He turned on a dime, his skin screaming for contact with hers—but he stopped short, his hands dropping back to his sides. Why was she there? Don’t hope. Don’t you dare fucking hope she came to be with you. It would burn him at the stake if that wasn’t the case.

  “Olive,” he rasped, feeling like a leashed animal being held back by sheer willpower instead of a harness. “What are you doing here?”

  “I…” She took a step closer, pushing wet hair out of her face. “I told you I’d go with you. To the party.”

  His mind raced, trying to read between the lines. “You came because you didn’t want to break a promise?” He shook his head. “That’s sweet. That’s just like you, sunbeam. But please go home. Don’t you know it’s killing me to look at you?”

  “I’m sorry.” She covered her face with her hands, then let them drop. “I’m sorry for what I said, Rory. For making you leave. I was wrong. I-I…” A big hiccup left her mouth. “I miss you so much, I can’t think or eat or sleep or read. Why are you looking at me like I’m a bomb that might go off at any second? I know I deserve it, but…”

  The words I miss you so much were winging around Rory’s brain like boomerangs. She missed him. She missed him. He opened his mouth to ask her what that meant, but it occurred to him in one fell swoop that she was getting more drenched by the second. What if she got sick? No, he wouldn’t let that happen. Praying the car door hadn’t locked behind him, Rory guided her to Andrew’s vehicle and pulled the back seat door handle, breathing a sigh of relief when it opened. “Let’s talk in here. I can’t concentrate when you’re getting wet.”