Amanda Vs The Universe

by Patricia B Tighe

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author makes no claims to, but instead acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.

  Copyright © 2018 by Patricia B. Tighe

  AMANDA VS. THE UNIVERSE by Patricia B. Tighe

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by Swoon Romance. Swoon Romance and its related logo are registered trademarks of Georgia McBride Media Group, LLC.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Trade Paperback ISBN: 978-1-948671-31-6

  Mobipocket ISBN: 978-1-948671-30-9

  Published by Swoon Romance, Raleigh, NC 27609

  Cover by Danielle Doolittle

  For Claire and Leila: Thanks for all the fun book talks! You win for Best Book Club.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Other Swoon Romance Titles You Might Like

  One

  It was strange how something so familiar could seem so different.

  At the end of the long gravel drive, the vacation house waited, glowing pink and orange in the setting sun. The SUV’s tires rumbled along, causing me to straighten in my seat. Time to psych myself up. Because despite the house being a place of happy memories, things had changed. For me, anyway.

  “Ah,” Dad said, stretching his arms forward while holding one wrist. “It’s so good to be back.”

  Mom slowed the car as we neared the garage. “It really is.”

  Glad they were happy about it. I couldn’t shake the heaviness that had settled in my chest. For the first time in two years, my best friend, Haley, couldn’t come with me to Ruidoso for summer vacation. She had to go to stupid band camp. Though she was probably looking forward to getting away from me. No one wanted to hang with someone who couldn’t get her crap together after being dumped two months earlier.

  Dad hit the button on the garage door, and it pulled upward like a giant mouth opening to swallow us up. Okay, that settled it. I’d become seriously weird. Mom drove us in, the brakes squeaking slightly as she stopped.

  She killed the engine and ran a hand through her chin-length auburn hair. “Okay, Amanda, don’t forget. You need to help us unload the car and put things away before you go hibernate in your room.”

  I was too tired to argue with her. The drive from San Antonio had taken ten hours, and all I wanted was a shower and bed. But helping my parents would free me up faster than if I gave them crap about it. How I wished Gamma was here to help run interference for me. Sudden worry made me tense. My great-grandmother had a cold, and I really hadn’t wanted to leave her for vacation, but my parents insisted we could fly back if there was an emergency.

  “We need to call Gamma,” I said. “She wanted to know when we got here.”

  Dad looked back and smiled, the lines near his eyes deepening. “Go ahead, honey. But keep it short. It’s an hour later there and she’s probably getting ready for bed.”

  “’Kay.” I left my stuff in the car and walked out to the driveway, my flip-flops scuffling across the gravel. I pressed Gamma’s number on my phone and waited. The evergreens at the edge of our property were slowly turning darker with dusk. Despite all the years we’d been coming here, that transition always creeped me out. The forest resembled a dark army of monstrous giants.

  Six rings jangled in my ear before Gamma picked up. “Greetings,” she said in a husky voice.

  I laughed. “Gamma, you know I hate it when you answer the phone like that.”

  “Well, hello, Amanda. Why do you think I do it?”

  “Good point.” Man, I wished she’d been well enough to come with us. “Just wanted you to know we got here okay. Mom and Dad are busy taking things into the house.”

  “Ah, so you’re calling me to avoid helping them.”

  “Of course not.”

  “But a little bit.”

  “Okay, maybe a little.”

  Gamma laughed, but it turned into a harsh cough.

  I squeezed my phone harder. “That sounds bad. Are you going to the doctor?”

  She cleared her throat. “Theresa just went to get the cough syrup. I’ll be fine.”

  “You promised all of us that you’d go to the doctor if you got worse.”

  “And I haven’t gotten worse. Don’t worry, sweetie. Theresa is taking good care of me.” She muffled the phone from what sounded like more coughing.

  Theresa was just a caregiver at the retirement home—not a nurse or anything. I still had doubts about her. I really should’ve been the one to stay and take care of Gamma, but my parents wouldn’t allow it. My mother hadn’t said so specifically, but I knew she was worried about my sloth-like behavior. She wanted me out of the house doing things with my friends. I wanted me in my room watching YouTube videos or looking at room designs on Pinterest. My bedroom could use an update. Besides, it beat going out and possibly seeing Alex with some new girl. My throat burned, just like it always did when I thought of him and the way he’d ditched me.

  Gamma’s voice came out a little weaker. “Amanda, my cough relief has arrived, so I must go. Keep me updated on all your adventures.”

  What adventures? I was destined to be Mom’s slave for the next few days until Geoff and his friends showed up. “Sure thing, Gamma. Talk to you later. Love you.”

  “Love you too, dear.”

  My phone beeped twice as the call ended. We’d better not be making a big mistake by not being there for Gamma. The high-pitched buzzing whine of a mosquito sounded beside my ear. I jumped backward, waving a hand through the air. Besides jerky boys, mosquitoes were right up there with things I hated.

  I headed back to the car. Time to help before my parents started griping.

  ***

  The next morning at breakfast, all three of us ate while staring into the brightly lit space with no thought to the food we shoveled in our mouths. My dad liked to call this phenomenon our “travel hangover day.”

  “Listen to this,” Dad said, running a hand across the newspaper he’d picked up that morning. ‘“There have been five recent incidents of local businesses being targeted with graffiti.” He read the names of the gift shops and restaurants before pausing. “And get this, ‘widely known local potter Cady Sanders.’”

  “What?” I asked, half suspecting he was joking. I’d taken pottery lessons from Cady the summer I was twelve. I loved her. She’d always treated me like I could handle whatever challenge she gave me. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes,” he said, frowning. “The businesses have all been tagged with
profanity.”

  Mom set down her flowery “Thank God it’s Friday” coffee mug. “That’s awful.”

  “Do they know who did it?” I asked.

  “It says the police have a few leads, but that’s it.”

  “We all know what that means,” Mom muttered.

  We did? Was this a work thing? My parents were both lawyers, and they practically never talked about work when they were home.

  “Yup,” Dad said.

  I pushed aside my empty cereal bowl and gave my parents the stare-down. They ignored me. I’d have to be direct. “Explain, please.”

  Dad refolded the newspaper. “It means the police haven’t made much progress yet in their investigation.”

  “Oh. That sucks.”

  “It does,” he said, standing. “I’m going to check out the state of the yard.” He took his dishes to the sink.

  That was it? They weren’t going to do anything about Cady? She was our friend. “We need to go to Cady’s and see how she’s doing,” I said, the words coming out a little stronger than I meant them to.

  Both my parents stared at me with surprise. Geez. It hadn’t been that long since I’d wanted to do something.

  Mom sipped her coffee and considered me. “We can call her. I want your help today cleaning out the pantry.”

  Another good reason to get out of the house. “Mom,” I said, trying to sound reasonable and adult. “Y’all have always said we shouldn’t take on major projects on travel hangover day.”

  Dad laughed. “She’s got you there, honey.”

  Mom mock-glared at him.

  “And Cady is our friend,” I continued. “It’s our responsibility to check on her.” Okay, maybe that was laying it on a little thick. But still, the thought of warm, nurturing Cady having trouble like this made me want to fix it somehow.

  “Our responsibility, huh?” Mom asked with a wink. “All right. Call her. But if she’s busy, don’t try to wheedle your way into an invitation to visit. We can see her in a couple of days. I, for one, plan to putter around the rest of the day. Since no one wants to work,” she said, the words muffled by the cup she’d brought to her mouth.

  Perfect, but I should probably sweeten the deal. “I can even run by the grocery store if we need anything.”

  “Thanks,” Mom said, looking pleased. “I’ll put a short list together.”

  After a brief phone call in which Cady said she’d love to see me, I ran upstairs to get ready. I already had an outfit picked out—my denim shorts and a fluttery top with my newest sandals. I hadn’t taken the trouble to unpack the night before, so I flipped up the lid of my suitcase. My now empty suitcase. What the heck?

  I spun around like an idiot, wondering if I’d dumped my suitcase in the middle of the night or something. But there were no clothes anywhere.

  This had my mom written all over it. I stormed out to the landing at the top of the stairs. “Mom! Where are my clothes?”

  A thumping noise sounded from the kitchen, and my mother came into the hall. “I forgot. I put them in the wash.”

  “You what?”

  She waved a dish towel as though exasperated. “I saw how you packed the other day. You threw all the dirty clothes from your bedroom floor into your suitcase. It was disgusting.”

  “Mom!” I started down the steps. “How long till they’re done?”

  “They’ll be ready soon.”

  “Are they in the dryer, at least?”

  “No, not yet.”

  I clutched the railing and stood still. “When did you even do this?”

  “Before breakfast. When you were in the bathroom. I wanted to get a jump on the day.”

  “On travel hangover day.”

  Her eyebrows drew together. “Don’t be sarcastic. This isn’t such a big deal. They’ll be ready soon.”

  “But I told Cady I’d be there in twenty minutes!”

  “That was unrealistic.” She headed back toward the kitchen, but stopped. “Just call her back or wear something from your room. There has to something in your closet that you’ve left here before.”

  I held in the scream that was trying to escape. My family had been calling me a drama queen since forever, and I didn’t want to give them any more fuel. “Fine,” I bit out, and then forced myself to walk upstairs as if I had all the time in the world.

  Two

  I drove away from the house fifteen minutes later, trying to calm myself down. If the expression on my mother’s face could be trusted, I looked ridiculous. She didn’t say anything, though. She just handed me the grocery list with her lips pressed together as though trying not to smile.

  Nice. Real nice. This was all her fault. My bedroom closet held nothing but an old pink bathrobe. A search of the dresser drawers gave me a gray sweatshirt—and it was too warm for that—a purple spaghetti strap TCU top that I’d last worn when I was fourteen, and a pair of red flowery board shorts. Needless to say, the shirt did little to contain my breasts. So I snagged an old denim shirt from Geoff’s closet to cover up with, tugged on the board shorts, slipped into my flip-flops, and left.

  The only thing keeping me from looking like a homeless person was that my hair was clean and I’d put on a little mascara. I’d almost decided to wear my pajama pants, but then remembered I’d volunteered to go to the grocery store, so board shorts for the win!

  I probably could’ve just waited for my clothes to dry, but I didn’t trust my mother’s “putter around the house” plan. If I hung around any longer, she was sure to put me to work.

  I focused on slow, deep breaths as I drove. Haley and I always joked about the breathing exercises that Mrs. Guevara, one of our school counselors, made people do when they freaked out. But those exercises totally worked.

  The day after Alex broke up with me and I was flooded with fake sympathy from Lori Martin and her friends, Mrs. Guevara found me crying outside of school and quietly drew me into her office. She helped me calm down with deep breathing, and I spent the rest of lunch period there with her. We didn’t talk; we just ate. I thought I wasn’t hungry, but I became suddenly ravenous. When the bell rang, she looked at me steadily with her dark brown eyes. “Remember to breathe. And come talk to me whenever you need to.”

  I couldn’t speak, so I just nodded and left.

  And two months later, the thing I appreciated most was that she never once told me everything was going to be okay.

  I shook my thoughts away from the past. A warm, sunny day lay ahead, and when I turned off the gravel road, I opened my window to inhale the pine-scented air. Another fifteen minutes, and I was through Midtown Ruidoso and up Highway 48 to Cady’s house in the forest. I pulled up next to her white delivery van and a beat-up black Toyota Corolla. Huh. I’d never seen that car before. Hope she didn’t have another visitor.

  I rang the doorbell and knocked but didn’t get an answer. After about three minutes, I picked my way carefully through the carpet of pine needles and grass around the house to the studio in back. A separate building that looked like a small blue barn, it was where Cady gave lessons and worked on her creations. Squirrels darted away at my footsteps, and a bird cut off in mid-song. Sorry, dude, didn’t mean to interrupt.

  I ducked under a low-hanging pine branch and stopped short. Twenty feet ahead of me, a guy wearing a white face mask stood halfway up a ladder, shaking an aerosol can. A tagger in broad daylight? Hot anger spiked through me. Hadn’t Cady suffered enough of this?

  I snatched an old broom propped against the side of the house and spun it upside down. “Hey! Stop what you’re doing!”

  The boy jerked and twisted around, causing the ladder to wobble. His eyes went wide, and he leaped to the ground, swearing, the can flying from his hand. He bounded to his feet and ripped the mask off his face. Correction. His stupidly cute face. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Go tag someone else’s property. Cady doesn’t need any more of your crap.”

  “I’m not—” He looked down and shook
his head. Sunlight filtering through the trees lit up his dark blond hair like a halo. Right. This guy was such a saint. He picked up the can, turning it so the label showed. “It’s bug spray.” His deep voice oozed irritation. “There’s a wasp nest up there.”

  A sinking feeling slid down my torso. Uh-oh. Heat prickled across my cheeks. Not a tagger then. But who was he?

  He rested his weight on one leg and studied the can. “So you hate people who want to kill wasps?”

  I frowned. “What?” Embarrassment made me snap the word like I was cracking a whip.

  “You still look like you’re planning to hit me.”

  Was that laughter behind his words? His face held no expression. I wished I could hit him. Then I’d still have a reason for holding the broom like a baseball bat.

  “Ah, Amanda, of the gorgeous red hair.” Cady’s warm voice came from behind me.

  I whirled, lowering the broom with shaky hands. Cady stood in the back doorway of the house, a long, gray braid hanging over her shoulder and down her chest. She wore a smock with clay-colored stains over her torn jeans and faded pink T-shirt. And a walking boot. What had happened? I sucked in a loud breath to ask, but she spoke first, her pale blue eyes twinkling. “Good to see you. Try not to kill my nephew, please. Come on in when you’re finished out here. I’ll be in the kitchen.” With that, she limped back through the door.

  Her nephew? Crap. Could I ignore him and just follow Cady inside? No. I needed to apologize. Things would be even more awkward if I didn’t. I set the broom back against the house and shut my eyes for half a second before facing him. Along with his jeans and faded green long-sleeved shirt, he wore a smug expression. Great. My hands twitched to grab the broom again.

  I waved a hand through the air. “Sorry about the mistake.”

  He ran his gaze from my too-tight top all the way down to my flip-flops. My face heated again. It had been a long time since anyone had looked me over like that, but I didn’t think he was checking me out. More like he was judging me by what I wore. I pulled the edges of the denim shirt together.