I didn’t agree with Dad completely, though, especially when it came to Grayson.
He wouldn’t be realizing how wonderful I was and come rushing back.
I saw how Gray looked at me once he knew who I was.
Stunned.
Disgusted.
Outraged.
He wasn’t changing his mind any time soon.
However, I had a friend I cared deeply for and who loved me unconditionally, so I decided it was time I checked to see if anything was wrong with her.
Time to eat lunch, dress quickly and head to my friend’s house to bang down the door if I had to.
And for the first time in my life, when I left my house, I forgot to check through the windows to see if Grayson was out there.
So consumed with thoughts about Millie and taking one step after another, I didn’t think about how Gray was still staying next door. I think a part of my brain had already decided he might have found someone else. Reconnected with an old high school flame or something.
I can’t work out if I was lucky or unlucky that at the exact same time I finally decided to drag myself out of the pool of swirling emotion I had been caught in, Grayson decided to leave his mom’s house.
I wish I could say that he saw me across the manicured lawns and his heart shone through his eyes. Communicating to me that he was in as much pain as I was.
Except he wasn’t. He paused momentarily when he caught sight of me. But there was nothing. No heat. No sadness. No anger. It was as if he saw through me. As if I had gone back to being invisible. Which I think hurt more than anything else I could have seen.
I had gone back to being a nobody.
Almost as quickly as he stopped, he dismissed me and jumped into his Jeep. It took me much longer. I stood on my dad’s porch, imagining what I should have done. I should have called out. I should have apologized.
I should have made him see me again.
It isn’t until the sound of a distant car backfiring that I am jolted out of my trance and back into reality. I needed to focus on getting to Millie.
Nothing else.
Otherwise, I knew there was a strong possibility I would run back inside and hide beneath my covers. I wouldn’t be able to leave again until someone moved me into a home for the elderly, where I took tablets to stay lucid and spent my free time talking to strangers about how, for a short period of my life, I dated the star football player. Explaining how he was the love of my life.
Until he realized I wasn’t his.
GRAYSON
I was about to leave to go back to school, back to training. I just had to get through two more days. Two was too fucking many. It left me no choice.
I needed back-up.
I didn’t give a shit if it made me a pussy. I figured if there was any point in which calling back-up was necessary, it was when you learned the girl you fell in love with had been creeping on you for years without saying so much as a fucking hello.
“Thanks for coming,” I tell Maris as she jumps into my car at the airport pick-up.
“You call, I come. Not to mention the small fact that you mentioned the mouse happens to live next door to you. Has done so for the last thirteen years, secretly pining after you, before she followed you to school. You couldn’t keep me away. Missing this drama would be more cray-cray than saying that story out loud,” she tells me on a chuckle. A small smile tugs at my lips for the first time since Dr. Elliot placed his hand on Parker’s shoulder. Fuck, I knew she would entertain me. I would have called Andy as well, had I not known he was busy deal with his crazy family trust issues. The more I spent laughing with them, the less I spent thinking about her.
“Maris, I honestly just need a distraction,” I tell her, hoping she understands that I was after minimizing the drama, not offering a performance for her to witness and weigh in on. “I don’t want to think about anyone, or anything, regarding this fucked-up situation any longer than I already have.”
“Babe, like I told you on the phone, Lucky’s is basically dead since everyone left for the holidays. I was bored out of my brain hanging around, so visiting your neck of the woods was definitely a good idea.”
She reaches in her handbag for gum.
“Plus, I just bought the best little black dress and killer heels. My guess is maybe if the mouse sees me done up and traipsing around town with you, we might even make her jealous. And maybe the bitch deserves a little payback,” she tells me, reclining in her seat with a little attitude and her inner diva shining through.
However, the thought of making Parker jealous doesn’t appeal to me. The idea that she might move on too or try to make me jealous makes my stomach roll. Consequently pissing me off even more. Fuck, even now, knowing the shit she pulled, my heart still beats as if it belongs to her.
I’d fix it, of course. Knew I just needed to go back. Focus on the game. Pretend she didn’t exist, even if it hurt at first.
Just like how I handled my father. When my dad’s latest scam got in the way, I had to learn the best way to deal was to move on. Look forward. The problem ceases to be in my mind. Then I get my heart pumping, beating for the game, and reconditioning it to forget the crap that it used to beat for in the past.
This is why I tell her, “Maris, thanks for the thought, but seriously I just want to lay low. Maybe have a few drinks. Hang and discuss random shit that won’t make me tear Ma’s place apart. Then we get back to school and I can focus on training.”
“If that’s what you want, that I can do. So, if you want a distraction, did I tell you what my charming-ass mother told me when she dropped me off at the airport?”
“No, what was that?”
“‘You really need to think about investing some of your bar earnings into implants, Rissie. Sooner or later, those titties are just gonna look like additional rolls on the shar pei figure you’re rocking these days,’” she says in a deep, tobacco-affected rasp, imitating her mother’s tone perfectly. “With implants, men might find me attractive, apparently, which is the only way I’ll be able to keep the bar afloat in her mind.”
“What the fuck?”
“I know, right? I’m a size two, thank you very much, but even if I wasn’t I wouldn’t fucking need implants to attract anyone. And I definitely won’t need a man to keep my bar running smoothly.”
“Does she have sight issues?” I ask, not exactly surprised if all of the chemicals Getting Lucky’s inhaled has caused her to go prematurely blind.
“Dude, she’s the same as she always is, looking like she’s ten years older than she is and acting ten years younger. Every once in a while, though, she just needs to beat me down to make herself feel a little better.”
“How far down, exactly?”
“To the grave, I believe.”
“Hell. Wait until you meet my mom. She thinks anyone under a size eight needs to eat more. You’ll love her.”
“I don’t doubt it,” she tells me. Smiling, she knows that while I was concerned about her and plotting ways to tell Ma the shit hers had said, the sadness that had been lurking in my eyes was replaced with determination.
Exactly what she thought I needed.
PARKER
I wait outside Millie’s parents’ house for what probably equates to my thousandth visit.
Her family was always my second family, my home away from home. Their ranch house, with its peeling paint and cracked pathway, gave insight into the fact that sometimes Millie’s family had their struggles, but they had an open-door policy when it came to me. I loved their house. I feel like I’ve missed it almost as much as I’ve missed my dad’s house and Mimi’s cottage.
This time, however, was different than all my other visits because the door didn’t open before I knocked. Millie didn’t cheerfully jump up and down to greet me and complain about waiting all day for me to arrive. I was suddenly nervous that she wasn’t here at all.
Have I been so enraptured with my own life that I had forgotten that she had moved?
I know I had struggled to listen to some of her ramblings over the past few months, consumed with my own concerns, but I’m pretty sure I would have picked up on relocation discussions. I keep my knock brief when I make it to the door. Twice. Short, quick and with the hope that if it is a new family they won’t be too enraged that a total stranger is disturbing them. When Millie opens the door, I’m not sure if I’m relieved or even more worried than I was before. She looks worse than when I last saw her. And this clearly doesn’t seem like a late party sort of disheveled. It’s like seeing the physical manifestation of my internal battle. Dark circles make her light blue eyes seem grey. Her usually glowing dancer’s figure appears dull and colorless.
“Hey, this is a surprise. I guess you’re visiting your dad for Thanksgiving. You okay? How come you aren’t dragging him to shopping centers like you usually do?” she asks me. She sounds exactly the same. Her question seems completely normal.
I don’t know why, but this causes me to worry even more.
She isn’t opening the door further, she isn’t jumping up to hug me and she’s asking me these questions on her porch like I’ve come by to sell Girl Scout cookies.
She isn’t my best friend.
And I really needed my best friend.
*****
Unlike the lackluster exterior of the Monroe house, each room inside their home was decorated with warmth and an abundance of love. Millie’s room had a single black wrought-iron bed with several blankets and pillows in varying tones of pink. Her small white side table had three different-sized white vases filled with silk hot pink sunflowers.
We’re sitting cross-legged on her bed. I had just stared at her until she invited me in earlier, and then I walked directly into her room and shut the door.
I wasn’t going to waste time. I needed to fix her. Then maybe she could help fix me.
“I’ll wait all day,” I tell her clearly. No fuss. No miscommunication. I fully intend on sitting on her bed until she gives in. I had spent days in bed; I saw no problem having a few more. I could always catch another plane, but I couldn’t necessarily catch a new best friend.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she tells me, her gaze shifting to every item in her room other than me.
“Mill, cut the bullshit,” I say before reaching for her hand and squeezing. “Or if you’re going to lie, at least try and make eye contact.”
She finally looks me in the eyes, hers gradually filling with tears, and softly whispers, “I’m pregnant.”
I don’t know what to say at first. Congratulations? I’ll support whatever you choose to do? Holy fuck?
Instead, I just squeeze her hand again, letting her know I’m there, and wait quietly for her tears—and the fear I see is causing her body to shake—to subside.
When she finally smiles at me, wiping the last tear away, I hesitantly ask, “Is it Nate’s?”
I knew that while Millie talked some good talk about men, she rarely slept with the guys she dated.
And only a few months ago, we were sitting across from each other, like we are now, laughing about Nate’s sexual performance.
So I’m not surprised when she nods and squeezes my hand until I feel like I might not have any bones left in it when I leave.
Almost instantaneously, my phone starts buzzing. The song “I’m Sexy and I Know It” starts to play at an obnoxiously loud volume.
“Shit, it’s Nate,” I gasp.
Millie’s eyes grow wide before she jumps up and runs to the bathroom to rid herself of her lunch.
“Hey,” I answer, my eyes locked on the bathroom door.
“Why the fuck didn’t you call me? Did we stop being friends and I didn’t notice?”
I had no idea what to say. I had just found out. Although, I guess if Nate just found out, he would probably have thought Millie would have told me earlier.
“Umm, I really didn’t think—” I was going to say ‘it’s my place to say anything’ before Nate is interrupting me.
“If you’re about to tell me that I wouldn’t care then I’m pissed Parky. My best friend and dipshit brother break up and you think I don’t care?”
“Oh, that,” I say.
“Oh, that. You’re trying to convince me you’re over it? That something bigger is going on in your life? Don’t try and fool me, babe. I know how you felt. Feel. I know how hard this must be for you. You want me to fly to you?” he asks.
I watch as Millie walks into the room, looking worse for wear, and I can suddenly see why she’s no longer sporting her glowing energy. Morning sickness is a bitch.
“That’s nice of you to offer, but I’m good. I’m back tomorrow,” I tell him, trying to end the conversation that is clearly causing Mill distress. Her eyes are still wide and she is now chewing heavily on her top lip, staring at my phone. “I’ll call you as soon as I land.”
“You better. Okay, speak soon,” he tells me.
“See ya,” I reply before hanging up and looking at Millie.
“Um, what did he want?” she asks softly. A nervous shell of the girl I grew up with.
A girl who didn’t need to worry about my problems, especially now when she clearly was battling her own.
“He just wanted to know when I was coming back,” I tell her carefully.
“Will you tell him?” she whispers.
“I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”
“Um, maybe in a week?” she asks me pleadingly, clasping her hands together. “I know it’s cowardly of me, getting you to tell him. I should call. I should do it. I plan on having this baby, so I will have to learn how to talk to his or her father. I just… Right now, it seems too hard. I don’t want him to hate me. It was an accident, but what if he thinks—”
“Mill, there is no way he could hate you,” I tell her, walking over and wrapping her in my arms. “I don’t know much, but I do know the Waters boys are nothing if not compassionate.”
I just abstain from letting her know that their compassion has its limits.
Namely liars.
PARKER
I’m back at school.
It hasn’t changed anything. I thought maybe checking in with Millie regularly and helping her through her decision to leave college and put her current dreams on hold would be a big enough distraction.
Except the pain never really went away.
It hurts. Constantly. Like a gaping hole in the middle of my chest. I could cover it. Dress up, speak with Millie and Keeley. Attend classes. But it wasn’t gone. The deep pain was too great to be forgotten about.
It’s almost funny how I once thought that Grayson telling me to go away was painful.
I’ve since learned that hearing nothing is so much worse.
Going from small texts, pillow talk, telling him to stop distracting me with his questions and pay attention to the teacher.
To nothing.
It’s unbearable.
The quiet forces me to focus on the way my heart pulses in pain. My eyes often sting, causing me to close them and try to suck in all the emotion that wants to leak out. I sit still, in class and on my work breaks. I remain stiff while everything around me moves at a hundred miles an hour. I wonder if my smile is fooling anyone or if everyone can see that someone has clawed open my chest with a rusty pitchfork.
If they can tell from my forgotten hair and messy clothes that it was also all my fault.
Staring into the mirror each morning to brush my teeth, I have to close my eyes. Looking at my reflection, I realize every day that I also wouldn’t want to speak with me. I can’t blame him. I wouldn’t encourage a lunatic pretending to be something she isn’t.
I haven’t called Nate like I told him I would. In all my whirling emotions, the strongest is my belief that I don’t deserve empathy. The usual friend rules don’t apply. I would feel worse if Nate tried to make Gray the bad guy.
He wasn’t. I was.
I was a coward who couldn’t admit the truth. I knew how he felt about
liars. I let him share his fears, but I hid mine.
Each time I go into work, I keep wondering if Gray has told Marissa. But she hasn’t said anything, mostly avoids looking at me. However, she’s been doing that since Gray and I got together, so there seemed to be no change. I’ve decided I need to quit anyway. I can’t handle the pain I feel each time I see Gray’s football friends come through the doors of Lucky’s without him. Andy came by yesterday and when I placed his beer in front of him he barely acknowledged me.
I swear I even saw Nate and Grayson having coffee this morning when I drove to school.
Everyone is fine, and I don’t think I can handle watching any of it anymore.
Because I am the bad guy. I’m the villain who climbed on stage and interrupted the dancers.
I’m the one who tried to join in where I don’t belong.
And even if they resume dancing, I can no longer be in the audience.
GRAYSON
“She looks like shit at work,” Nate tells me as he takes a sip from his drink.
We were sitting at a local coffee place. I had practice in an hour, but since I returned we had slowly started meeting up. Getting to know each other. I figured if Ma and Tahnee could get over their issues to see who was really to blame for their disagreements, so could Nate and I. However, until now, we hadn’t touched the subject that we both knew was the elephant in the room each time we met.
Parker.
“Dude, she’s crazy. She liked to watch me through a window. She followed me here. You can’t say she isn’t a stalker. I know I’ve joked about stalking in the past, but jokes aside, I can’t date a genuine lunatic.”
Stars (Penmore #1) Page 16