Finding Abel (Rebel Hearts Book 1)

by Stephanie Hoffman McManus

  “You don’t even want to be married to me, do you?” she wailed. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this. You’re going to leave me, and I’m going to have no career left and end up like those pathetic celebrities everyone feels sorry for.”

  I clenched my jaw and raked a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly through my nose. “Kat, calm down.” I grabbed her hand and laced my fingers with hers. “I’m not leaving you. I’m committed to you. I’m committed to us. But you’re suffocating me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whimpered.

  I thought about the text my mom sent earlier. “Kat, I think maybe we could both use a time out.”

  “What?” she shrieked and ripped her hand from mine. “I thought you said you weren’t leaving me!”

  I put my hands on her pointy shoulders. “Not like that, relax. I just meant, we could both use some space. We’ve been fighting so much, it’s stressing both of us out. I need out of the city and to clear my head. Shit with the band isn’t good, and I haven’t been able to write with everything going on. I’m going to go up and see my parents. You can have the place to yourself for the weekend. Invite the girls over, arrange a spa day, go shopping, whatever you want.”

  She blinked rapidly. “You’re going to see her, aren’t you?”

  I sighed and withdrew my hands. “Kat, don’t. Please not tonight.”

  “You are, aren’t you?” she repeated more hysterically, raising her voice. “Your precious fucking Abbi!” She slammed her palm against my chest. “Your whore on the side!” She smacked me again and I caught her wrist.

  “Enough,” I barked. Just hearing Abbi’s name on her lips was like a knife in the gut. It was wrong in every way.

  “No,” she screamed in my face, tugging her wrist until I let go.

  Camera flashes were going off around us, and I just prayed the music would cover the audio if anyone was recording.

  “You want to know why I don’t trust you?” she continued yelling, “Because I’m not stupid! What’d you do with the picture that used to be by your bed when I moved in, huh? Or the one in your guitar case? And who do you write all those songs about? Because we both know it isn’t me!”

  “What do you want from me? I can’t make her not exist, but you’re here, not her.”

  “But you wish she was, don’t you?” she accused.

  I couldn’t do this. Not with her. Not again, not when every time it destroyed something else inside of me. I reached for her arm, but she smacked it aside. “Don’t! Just admit it! She’s the reason you never let me in, the reason you don’t want to give us a real chance. Just admit she’s the reason you don’t love me!”

  I set my mouth in a hard line and said nothing.

  Some of the fury drained from her and she visibly deflated. “You’re supposed to put me first. I’m your wife.”

  “What the hell do you think I’ve been doing?” I yelled.

  She flinched. I tipped my head down and pinched the bridge of my nose.

  Get it together before you make it worse.

  I held my hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I don’t want to fight Kat. I’m just going to go.” I took one step past her and was jerked backwards. She had her fist curled in my shirt and her other hand groping my pockets.

  “What are you doing?” I pushed her off, but she grabbed me again.

  “Where’s your phone? Let me see it? I want to see if you’ve been texting her.”

  “Dammit Katya!” I grabbed her shoulders and set her back a ways, careful not to knock her on her ass, and dragged my phone from my pocket. “I haven’t talked to Abbi since I put that damn ring on your finger! I chose you! Why can’t you see that? You want my phone so damn badly?” I held it up and then launched it across the room at the back wall. It crashed against the brick and clattered to the floor in pieces.

  “Woah, woah, woah,” Gabe came running over and stepped between us. My chest and shoulders heaved with every breath. “Guys you gotta stop this.”

  “No problem. I’m out of here.” I locked eyes with Kat. “I’ll be back on Monday.”

  I spun on my heels, ignoring the stares and wide-eyed looks. I nearly plowed over the waitress who scurried toward me, holding the bottle of Jameson I requested. She held it up, her face stuck in a wince. “I already charged the bottle if you still want it?”

  I snatched it from her hand and proceeded toward the staircase.

  Not a single waitress or bouncer said shit as I stormed out of the club, carrying the bottle with me. “Keys?” I growled at the valet attendant. I wasn’t about to stand around on the sidewalk for every paparazzi and tabloid junkie that hung outside the exclusive club while I waited for him to bring the Ferrari around. The guy didn’t protest, just tossed me the keys and pointed to the left.

  Wasn’t hard to spot the cherry red sports car, even among the other rides of the elite clientele the popular nightclub boasted. I tossed the bottle on the passenger seat and folded myself behind the wheel.

  Five minutes later I was winding my way through the streets of New York, headed north, out of the city.

  Home.

  The Ferrari growled, my foot heavy on the accelerator, eating up the miles between New York and Boston as I wove between lanes. The further away from New York I got, the more my white-knuckle grip on the wheel eased, but not my foot on the gas. A shitstorm of thoughts and emotions raged inside of me, knowing what I was heading toward, but it didn’t matter.

  It never had.

  I was like one of those storm junkies chasing after a tornado, not caring what they were heading into, because no matter how bad it was, you couldn’t resist. There was something that made you do it, something drove you headlong into the storm. For me, it was her. It was always her.

  I hadn’t lied to Kat. Abbi and I hadn’t spoken in two months. Not since the night I asked Kat to marry me. There was no way Abbi would have spoken to me even if I’d tried. I couldn’t explain why I did it over the phone or in a text message. I didn’t even know how I was going to look her in the face after breaking yet another promise and betraying her in the worst way. It was fucked up that even knowing how much she must hate me, how much I’d hurt her, how me showing up was going to hurt her even more, I still couldn’t bring myself to turn the car around or even slow down.

  I passed the exit for Brookline that would’ve taken me to my parents and continued to follow the ninety-five. I had to see her.

  Tonight.

  The thing pressing down on me, the weight that was suffocating me, it wasn’t going to let up until I did. I knew from experience, a fact that only made the guilt and regret worse.

  This wasn’t the first night like this.

  Kat was right.

  I was an asshole.

  This wasn’t the first time shit got so bad or I felt so lost I didn’t know which way was up anymore, and every time it happened, the compass always pointed to the same place.

  We always ended up right back in the same place.

  Where it all started.

  God, what had I let us become?

  Maybe I should’ve turned the car around and headed straight to my parents.

  I’d caused her enough pain in the last eight years, starting with the night I’d wished every single night for the last eight years that I could go back and change. Make a different choice.

  I eyed the next exit. I could take it and loop back around. Stay away from West Roxbury and the little yellow house.

  I could take the exit and leave her in peace.

  I could do a lot of shit.

  I passed the exit same as I had all the others. This wasn’t about what I should do. What was the right thing to do. What was between us wasn’t about that.

  Right and wrong stopped meaning shit a long damn time ago.

  But the speeding laws in Boston didn’t.

  Red and blue lights appeared in my rearview.

  “Shit,” I cursed and let off the gas. This was just what I needed to make the night perfect.
I pulled over to the side, knowing I was about to get fucked.

  Should’ve taken that exit, asshole.

  Two

  Abbi

  “Gosh, is that really the time?” Aunt Jax focused intensely on the grandfather clock across the room. “It’s past my bedtime,” she giggled, the wine in her glass nearly sloshing over the side. “And it must be past your bedtime, young lady,” she waggled a finger at me.

  “You’re right,” I chuckled.

  “Pffft,” my mother scoffed beside me and waved her hand through the air. “It can’t be that late. We just got back.”

  “Sweetheart,” my dad who sat on her other side on their sofa put his hand on her leg, “it’s almost midnight. We got home over an hour ago.”

  “No,” she gasped and then giggled, looking at the almost empty wine glass in her hand. “How many have I had?”

  Aunt Jax, who was sitting across Uncle Ky’s lap in the plush armchair, eyed her own glass. “I think this is our second.”

  Uncle Ky chuckled this time and swept her hair, which was escaping the elegant updo, from her flushed face and said with a smile, “Try third. You two finished off the bottle.” And that was just since we’d returned from the donors gala for the hospital where my dad worked. They were already tipsy when we walked in the door.

  “Oh.” She wore the look of a guilty child before she and my mother both broke into a fit of giggles. Aunt Jax’s turned to hiccups which only made her laugh harder.

  “I think we better get you home to bed,” Uncle Ky said with a smirk.

  “Noooo,” she pouted, and my mother echoed the sentiment.

  “We’re having fun, right Abbi?”

  “Yes, but any more fun and my students aren’t going to like their cranky history teacher in the morning.”

  “Oh, just give ‘em a test,” my mother drawled, “that’s what I would do.”

  “It’s only the second week of school,” I laughed. “I don’t want my students to hate me yet.”

  “Oh, I don’t think you have to worry about that, Aiden says your everyone’s favorite teacher,” Aunt Jax chimed in.

  “It’s true, she was voted best teacher last year, her first year teaching,” my mother bragged, not for the first or even the second time, but it still filled me with a sense of pride. This was only my second year teaching, and not just at any school, but at Darlington Academy, the most prestigious private high school in the state, one of the best on the entire East Coast.

  It still felt strange to be walking the halls as an authority figure, when it didn’t feel like all that long ago I’d been wandering them in my skirt and knee-highs just trying not to be late for class. Honestly, the number of times I was late for class, or should I say, the number of times he made me late for class, it was a miracle Darlington wanted me back to teach. I suppose the fact that Mom had been the music instructor until her retirement last year might have helped.

  She couldn’t have been any more thrilled that I chose to become a teacher, just as Dad beamed with pride every time he got to brag on Colton, away on the west coast at Veterinarian school, well on his way to becoming the third generation of doctor in our family. He just preferred animals to people.

  “Aiden was excited to get your class this year,” Aunt Jax added.

  I smiled warmly. “I’m glad I got him.” Even if every time I saw his face it was like a sucker punch to the gut. He looked so much like his big brother it wasn’t fair to the girls at Darlington. I had no doubt hearts were already breaking over Aiden McCabe.

  “If he gives you any trouble, or thinks he can get away with goofing off in your class, you have our permission to give him a smack upside the head,” Uncle Ky chimed in.

  Aunt Jax grinned and took a sip from her glass, “Just remind him you know where all the naked baby photos of him are.”

  “Aiden’s no trouble.” I adored the kid who was as much my little brother as Colton was, only sweeter and less obnoxious than Colt, but maybe that was the larger age gap. I was ten years old when Aiden was born, Aunt Jax and Uncle Ky’s miracle. I remembered holding him, all fair-haired and green-eyed, just like Abel, and thinking that’s what my babies would look like one day.

  Our two families were bonded by Aunt Jax’s lifelong friendship with my dad, but once upon a time, I’d believed that one day it would be official, that something more would make our two families one, that Aunt Jax and Uncle Ky wouldn’t just be like second parents.

  Foolish, naive dreams.

  “He’s a good student and a good kid,” I assured them.

  Aunt Jax sighed heavily, “I worry sometimes that we’ve spoiled them too much, given them too much. I remember what the spoiled rich kids were like when I was in school.”

  “So do I,” Uncle Ky said.

  Aunt Jax’s mouth split into an amused grin as she smacked his chest playfully. “Because you were one of them. I can only imagine the nightmare you were for your teachers, and the poor girls at your school. And that’s exactly what I never wanted our kids to be. And yet Abel is so much like you it’s not even funny.”

  “You don’t have to worry about Aiden,” I said before I had to hear Abel’s name anymore. Every time was a stab wound to the chest. “He stays out of trouble.” Unlike his big brother.

  “I only have to worry about him getting concussed or breaking something.”

  “I’m so glad Colton was never into football,” my mom commented. “Such a rough sport.”

  Uncle Ky kissed the side of Aunt Jax’s head. “He’ll be fine. You’re just a worrier, babe.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  Aunt Jax’s clutch started vibrating on the glass coffee table. She immediately sat up and grabbed for it. Uncle Ky snatched the glass of wine from her hand, stopping it from spilling all over. “It’s so late, I hope nothing happened at practice tonight.” She stood and dug her buzzing phone out, before taking the call just outside the family room.

  “She’s always mothered Aiden a little more than Abel and Addie.” Uncle Ky watched her speaking into the phone. Who could blame her when Aiden might not have ever been born? Aunt Jax didn’t think she’d ever be able to get pregnant again after her intensive cancer treatment. And when she did get pregnant with Aiden, it was a hard pregnancy. She almost lost him several times and went into premature labor.

  You’d never know now, looking at Aiden, that he’d ever been anything but strong and healthy. And it appeared he was going to be following his brother’s and sister’s footsteps right into the spotlight. It wasn’t the stage or the runway for Aiden though. He was making a big name for himself on the football field. Only a sophomore, and he was Darlington’s star quarterback. College scouts were already taking notice.

  “He thinking about colleges yet?” My dad asked, obviously thinking along the same lines.

  “He’s looking at Florida State, USC, and Ohio State.”

  “They have great programs,” my dad said, impressed.

  Uncle Ky beamed with pride, until Aunt Jax staggered back into the room, her face drawn.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Our son,” she breathed out.

  Ky rose from his seat. “Is Aiden okay?”

  “Not that one.”

  My breath caught.

  “Abel?” Uncle Ky’s brow wrinkled.

  “He’s here. In Boston. And he needs us to pick him up. At the police station. He was arrested,” she heaved out.

  “What?” a collective cry rose up.

  My brain sort of short circuited after that.

  My parents walked Uncle Ky and Aunt Jax out in a hurry, while I remained glued to my seat.

  Abel was back. He was here.

  Why?

  Clearly his parents weren’t expecting him.

  What had he done to get arrested?

  My parents returned, and I jumped to my feet. “I—I’m going to go home. It’s late, and . . . school.”

  They looked at me closely. Too closely. I hurried out of
there before they could wonder anymore at my strange behavior. If they had any clue . . . I doubted I’d be able to look either of them in the eye.

  The drive from the suburbs to my place in West Roxbury was a bit of a blur. I pulled the car up front and shut it off. I eyed my little yellow house. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. I made the down payment a few weeks after receiving the offer to teach at Darlington. I’d built a life for myself in the last eight years. I went to college, graduated, got a good job, bought a house. Wasn’t that the dream?

  I rested my forehead on the steering wheel and squeezed my eyes shut, but it didn’t stop the moisture from leaking out. My dream had never been about the job or the house. My dream was always us. Him.

  And we’d come so close. Or maybe not.

  I always thought I was his dream too. That no matter what, somehow, we’d always find our way back to each other. That we were destined or fated to be together. Meant to be. That was my excuse anyway. It turned out I was incredibly stupid. And wrong.

  I’d loved him my whole life, even when I shouldn’t, even when I knew better, even when he wasn’t mine to love.

  And he traded it all away.

  Again.

  I picked my head up and wiped at my eyes.

  What are you doing, Abbi? You said you weren’t going to cry another tear for him.

  Two months ago I promised myself I’d cried my last over Abel McCabe. There wasn’t anything else he could do to hurt me. Because what could be worse than him marrying someone else?

  We were just kids when we promised forever, when we said there wouldn’t ever be anyone else. I’d just been silly enough to mean it.

  There was a chilled bottle of wine waiting for me when I got inside. I didn’t bother with a glass. It had turned into a whole bottle kind of night. I’d regret it come six a.m. when my alarm sounded, but I wasn’t thinking about school tomorrow.

  I was thinking about eight years ago and the start of the end.

  Abel was going to lose his mind, I thought as I twirled in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom. I bit my lip and suppressed a grin. The dress was perfect. I didn’t want to take it off. The dark teal bodice made my eyes seem brighter than usual, and the way it hugged my body before flaring out in a mermaid style was incredibly flattering. I cupped my breasts, wishing they were a bit larger, but Abel never seemed to mind, and he was going to love the way my butt looked.