Sweet Keeper (Sweet Talkers Book 1)

by Thalia Sanchez

  He shakes his head with disbelief.

  “There it is. You’re still a bitch,” he bites out, rolling his eyes.

  “And you’re still trash.”

  John tilts his head as if that fact doesn’t bother him. I doubt that it does. From what I know of him, the only time where he has acted to protect something, it was with his secret. He has no intention of changing that.

  “I never said that I was a good guy,” Carter retorts, taking out a box cigarette from his back pocket.

  He’s not Stanley or Ryder. His aspirations are different. I realize that I don’t have a single clue why I felt attracted to him in the first place. Aside from his physique, he has nothing else to provide. If I’m sincere, I don’t give a damn about him. This will be the last time that I have something to do with him.

  I’ve buried that chapter in the past. If I could burn it, I would, but I realize that it brought me to things, moments, and people that I don’t regret at all.

  Staring at the ceiling that crowns my head, I find the strength to leave the campus without knowing if I’ll ever come back.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  I rush to Bree’s apartment, knocking on her door without bothering to use the doorbell. The noise of my hand against the wood echoes inside my skull. Every blow reminds me of what I did wrong.

  What the hell did she do?

  A mix of anger and disbelief pools in my belly, making me nauseous as I wait for someone, anyone, to answer the door. I prepare myself to meet Bree. I have planned out what I want to say. I want to apologize, but also scold her for being so fucking reckless and impulsive. I’m not thinking straight. My breath smells like alcohol, but I’ve been sober since I received an email from the dean’s office.

  They apologized for holding my scholarship without enough proof and said that the responsible one had come forward. My first thought was that I was fucking ecstatic because I wouldn’t have to tell my parents about this whole thing.

  But then reality hit me.

  There’s no way that they would’ve exonerated me of this charade. Not unless Bree did something that she’s going to regret. Anger, frustration, and sadness bloomed in my chest, and I ended up just coming here before she makes the worst mistake of her life.

  I need to see her as much as I need to breathe. It aches to think about her, to remember our last meeting a couple of days ago, where I blamed her for what was happening to me. I know that I was an asshole, the selfish asshole that she always thought I was. Now I’m scared of losing her because I accepted that she took the blame for me.

  It wasn’t her choice to make.

  Bree was supposed to wait and stop being impulsive for once in her life. Of course, she couldn’t. It’s not her fault. I know that, but I can’t believe that she would sacrifice her whole career for me.

  I refuse to accept it.

  I knock on the door harder until it opens. An angry Karma appears in the frame; her figure keeps me outside. She scowls when she spots me as if she could barely stand my presence.

  “What the hell do you want, Stanley?” Karma asks in a blunt and icy tone that sets the tension in the hall.

  Ash and Cora stand behind her with crossed arms and deadly glares. They’re both looking at me like I’m the bad guy, like I’m the villain. I want to believe it’s not because of what I’m suspecting.

  “I’m here to see Bree,” I announce, a lump in my throat threatens to prevent me from talking in a higher range.

  “You’re a little late for that.” Cora snorts, shaking her head in disbelief.

  I’m taken aback by her words.

  I’m late to find Bree and fix things? To tell her to take it back?

  What am I missing here?

  “What?” I close my eyes, grabbing the bridge of my nose as I put together my thoughts. I wasn’t expecting them, their protective behavior. I made a mistake, I admit that, but I need to talk to Bree. “I get if you guys aren’t happy with me now, but—”

  “But nothing, Stanley,” Ash cuts me off.

  “Please, just let me see her,” I plead.

  Ash frowns.

  “We can’t. She’s not here, pendejo,” Karma states. “Bree left yesterday to her parent’s house, and she’s not coming back. Now leave. ”

  I gulp, feeling my heart contract painfully.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, completely lost with their words.

  Cora steps forward, getting closer to Karma.

  “Bree took the fall for you, and now she’s probably getting expelled for that. So, do whatever you want with that information,” Cora expresses, and slams the door in my face.

  I don’t blame her because if Bree indeed took the fall for me, that means that she gave up her future over mine. Bree chose me when everything was falling apart, and I was selfish to see that. I was so focused on myself that I didn’t realize that she was suffering too.

  Leaning my head against the wood of the door, I realize that I’m losing the only person that stayed with me when my world was shattering, the person that made every day a little better. I dared to say that I had nothing holding me here. I dared to think that I was left with nothing when I already had everything.

  Bree is everything.

  And I’m going to win her back.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  I feel like a stranger back at home. Home. Because it doesn’t matter if I’ve lived out of here for almost two years, this is still my safe haven. This is the place where I go to when the world feels too heavy for me. But I don’t feel like myself now. There’s a void in my chest, threatening to consume my soul as I grieve for my lost career. It’s been there since I got here, and I ended up crying in my mother’s arms as I told her what was going on.

  Mom didn’t reprimand me for my choice, and neither did my father. They just simply looked at me with empathy, wiped my tears dry, and comforted me. The worst thing is that I’m not lost in the future. I don’t feel bad about screwing up my degree. I don’t care that I’m going to become the first of the Wayne’s cousins to become a college dropout. Maybe I’m still in denial. I read in an article that there are five stages of grief and the first one is denial.

  I’m definitely in that one.

  I refuse to believe that this is my new reality. That I’m becoming one of those persons that gave up everything to save someone else. In my mind, I still think of this as a nightmare that I can’t escape from. That’s how it feels.

  Surreal, bizarre, and wrong.

  But I wasn’t wrong either. Maybe because, in reality, I’m not mourning for my future as a photographer. I can make that work; I can always pick up projects and gigs. There’s always an event, a wedding, graduation. Even if I refuse to accept that, I know that I can work for the restaurant in the promotional team. I could take photos of the plate, the events, and the countless things that go on in there.

  Deep down, I know that I’m actually mourning for Stanley, for our relationship that was barely starting. More than a boyfriend, I really thought that we had a connection, that he was my friend above everything. I know that he made me a priority when things got rough for me, but where is he now that I made him mine? Where is he when I feel like I’m broken inside because I ruined us?

  Why didn’t he answer my calls after I took the fall for him? I’m sure that he must know by now that he’s off the hook. So, where is he now that I need him?

  I’m hollow because I came back here, leaving my heart with him.

  “Do you guys know when James is coming to visit?” I ask my parents as we eat dinner at the table for the first time in forever.

  Mom exchanges a not-so-subtle look with dad. I think that they’re surprised that I’m making conversation after being silent for a whole day. The truth is that I haven’t dared to speak because I’ve screwed up so much that I’m ashamed that they will have to deal with Uncle Parker’s rant about me. I’m embarrassed that I will become something that they disapprove of.

  “I’m not sure. You sh
ould call him,” mom answers.

  I nod, gulping because I don’t want to face my brother. I know that he’s not going to judge me, but I’m not in the mental state to handle the kind of conversation he will want to have. Any in-depth talk is out of the question at the moment. At least until I get my shit together.

  “Yeah, maybe I should,” I mumble, falling into a pool of silence again.

  Things are awkward and tense. It’s my fault, I get that, but I don’t know how to make it different.

  “Bree—” Dad’s voice gets cut off by someone knocking on the front door.

  “I’ll get it,” I immediately offer as I stand up, running away from that conversation that was doomed to be a failure.

  I walk to the door, rushing my legs because I can’t wait to get away from my parents. Now that I’m calmer about the topic, I can sense that they want to sit down and tell me what they thought when I told them in the first place.

  Shaking my head, I turn the knob and open the door.

  My body freezes when I recognize the person on the other side. A gasp gets stuck in my throat, my eyes roaming over Stanley’s anatomy. His blond hair is wet, and so are his clothes. Scratch that. He’s soaking wet from his hair to his dirty white Converse, drops of water stream down his skin, getting lost in his coat.

  “Why are you here?” I blurt out as confusion scrapes over me.

  My thoughts are blocked. They flew away as soon as I laid my eyes on him. I don’t know how to react when all of my heart is yearning for him. This is what I’ve been waiting for days for him to show up at my doorstep and kiss me.

  But he’s not kissing me, and I have anger running in my veins.

  “What did you do, Bree?” Stan demands to know.

  I step back, and a frown appears on my forehead.

  “I did what I had to do. I told you that I would fix it,” I respond in an evident tone. “Now, why are you here?”

  Stanley closes his eyes as he shakes his head, cursing under his breath.

  “Dammit, Bree. You didn’t have to do that. You shouldn’t have done that,” he insists, raising his voice. “What about your—”

  “It’s done,” I interrupt him dryly, digging my teeth in my bottom lip. “Is that all?” I ask him, expecting him to say otherwise.

  Don’t let me go, please.

  My hand trembles against the wood of the door, itching to touch him, but I don’t move at all. He hasn’t said anything that makes me feel like I can come back to him, that there’s a place for me in his heart. No, I want him to pour his soul for me and give me an explanation. I need to know what took him so long.

  Stanley has his lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes are flaming, showing his anger. This is the first time that I’ve seen him this pissed at me. I hadn’t witnessed this before, not even when we didn’t get along.

  “Why would you do that?” Stan begs, moving his hands as if he wanted to touch me, but doesn’t. “That the most impulsive, stupid, and reckless thing that you’ve ever done.”

  I’m skeptical as I frown my forehead. His blunt words catch me off guard, and I’ll admit that. It wasn’t what I was expecting from him. Rage fuels the fire that triggers my words. The truth claws his way out to match his disbelief and discontent for what I did.

  “Stupid? You. Are. Unbelievable,” I pronounce, spitting the words, and he opens his mouth to reply. I lift a hand, shutting him up. “I saved your ass. You’re fucking welcome!”

  He passes his fingers through the wet strands of his hair.

  “Jesus Christ, Bree! Throwing your future out because of a boy?”

  I know that he has a valid point, but I’m livid. Anger blinds me, and I can feel it burning in my throat. I’m hurt that he didn’t appreciate what I did for him, that he can’t see that I sacrificed something essential to make him a priority.

  “You’re not just any boy for me.”

  He lifts his eyebrows.

  “Why?” Stanley presses instead.

  “Because I love you, you dumb insensitive asshole!” I exclaim and close the door behind me, running upstairs to my room as my parents call my name. I go to my room, hiding away from the world, and that’s when reality hits me, transforming into a wave of wild tears that threaten to run down my cheeks.

  I told Stanley that I loved him.

  Blinking the tears away, I’m paralyzed, standing in the middle of my room. I’m gasping for air, trying to control the adrenaline that rushes in my veins. The impulse sends a shiver down my spine. It was a fucking impulse, but I can’t say that it was a lie either.

  I do love him.

  Oh, God. What the hell did I just do?

  Giving in to my feelings, I come out of my room, running down the stairs. My parents are standing in front of the door with quizzical looks on their faces. I ignore them because I can’t end the discussion like this. I can’t let him go after telling him that I love him. I open the front door, ready to run behind him when I crash against his chest.

  I stagger back, processing the fact that he didn’t leave.

  He’s here.

  “Seriously, Bree?” Stanley asks, extending his hands like he can’t believe that I slammed the door in his face after I dropped the L-word on him. “You can’t just drop a bomb like that and run away!”

  I scratch the back of my neck.

  “I know, I panicked,” I mumble as I feel my face burning with embarrassment.

  Stanley lets out a sigh mixed with a husky laugh. The tension between us seems to ease, and I should be able to breathe, but I can’t. I’m so scared now. I just bared my soul to him, gave him my heart, and he laughed.

  “Did you mean it?”

  “That you’re a dumb insensitive asshole? Obviously,” I bite out.

  This time, he smiles brightly. I can swear that it’s illuminating the whole street.

  “No—well, yeah, that too, but it’s the other part that has my interest.”

  At least he’s able to acknowledge the flaws of his radiant personality.

  “Do I look like the kind of person that goes around telling people that I love them?” I quip, arching a brow as I cross my arms.

  Stanley tilts his head.

  “Only when you’re drunk.”

  I tense, knowing that my parents are listening to this conversation.

  “Well, I haven’t tasted a drop of alcohol in—”

  The sentence gets cut off because Stanley’s lips shut me up. He cups my face as his mouth moves over mine. Even when I’m mad at him, I kiss him back because my system goes into a short-circuit when I’m around him, and I can’t think straight. I welcome his cold lips that contrast against my warm ones. The kiss is tender, almost like a peck. It’s sweet and soft, exactly like I feel when I’m with him.

  “I’m still mad at you,” he says, tearing his mouth from mine.

  “That makes two of us because I’m more than angry at you,” I tell him in a sigh.

  He pecks my lips and backs away a couple of inches. His thumb fondly caresses my chin.

  “But I love you, Bree,” he whispers in a genuine and heartwarming tone. “I’m mad at you because it’s your future, your life.”

  I put a hand on his chest, feeling the dampness of his coat. The cold anchors me to our reality, to the discussion we’re having now that we’ve let out our tensions. My heart wants to jump out of my chest at the fact that he loves me too, but I need to let this out. I need to make him understand things from my perspective.

  “I have options, Stan. Lots of options, more than I can count. Options that you didn’t have, so I decided to give up one of mine, to give you one,” I explain, holding his glance. “I couldn’t have lived with myself, knowing that your future was affected when I could’ve done something about it.”

  Stanley closes his eyes, sighing, and wraps me with his arms, hugging me tightly.

  I do my best to ignore his wet clothes because Stan holding me in his arms, knowing that he loves me, that my risk worked, and that I’m
not going to lose him is more important than any shivers that may run through my body. His mere presence is enough to make me warm.

  That’s when I know that we’re not a match that burned too fast. No, the warmth that I feel when I’m with him doesn’t come from the tiny flame of a match. Together, he and I are the sun. We may go through eclipses, but we’re always going to shine again.

  “I don’t know what I would do without you,” he says in my ear.

  “Even when I screw up and do impulsive things?”

  “Especially when you screw up and do impulsive things,” he reassures, kissing me gently. “What are you going to do?”

  I smile widely, feeling happy for the first time in days.

  “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  On Saturday, I’m helping Luanna move to her new and small apartment on the border of the city. It’s not that far from mine—that I went back to—but I’m still bitter that Uncle Parker didn’t let her find an apartment with the girls and me. He thinks that I’m a disgrace to the family ever since he found out that I’m waiting for the official letter to get kicked out of college. In his weird mindset, he thinks that you need to have a degree to be successful. Which isn’t true at all.

  Everyone’s journeys are different. Some people are successful by going to college, like doctors and lawyers, and others who don’t go or are dropouts, like Steve Jobs and Bill Gates. Everything is relative, and I don’t need to be compared to my cousins or him. I’m my own person, and I will do with my life what I feel is right for me.

  He also believes that I’m a bad influence for his daughter and thinks that I’m going to screw her up if she’s living with me. The truth is that Luanna is more capable of fucking up things than I am. She has done it in the past. Not that I blame her for that.

  Plus, allowing her to have her apartment alone will give her freedom to do whatever she wants.