When Forever Changes

by Siobhan Davis

  “Night, Slater. Thanks for the ride,” I say the instant we step foot inside the house. I am halfway up the stairs when he stops me with his words.

  “Will you be okay?”

  I grip the handrail tight as the tenuous control on my emotions starts to slip.

  “If you need me, I’m here for you,” he adds.

  His obvious concern prods at the iron cage I’ve tried unsuccessfully to build around my heart. “No, Slate. I’m not okay, but I will be, and thank you, but I just want to be alone.”

  He comes up the stairs, tentatively wrapping his arms around me from behind. “He doesn’t deserve you, and you will be fine. Come get me if you need me during the night.”

  I sniffle and nod, twisting around to look up at him as a thought passes through my mind. “Please don’t say anything to Ryan.”

  He sighs heavily. “Don’t ask me to lie to him. I already feel like shit for concealing the other stuff from him in the first place.”

  My stomach sours at the reminder. “I’m not asking you to lie. Just let me explain to Ryan when he gets back in the morning. And I’d rather we didn’t mention any of the things Dylan was shouting as he was dragged out. I’m really not in the mood to repeat them.”

  A thunderous look creeps over Slater’s face. “He’s lucky I didn’t beat him senseless.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t. He’s not worth getting into trouble over. If he wants to fuck around, that’s his business.”

  “He’s a fool.”

  I really can’t go there now. “Night, Slater. Sleep tight.”

  “You too, Belle.”

  My resolve crumbles the instant I shut the door to the bedroom, and I sink to the floor, sobbing as I let myself feel everything I’ve been holding in all night.

  I want to get this all out.

  To purge it from my system so I can move on like Dylan so clearly has.

  I crawl from the floor, climbing up onto the bed and curling on my side. Burying my head in my pillow, I attempt to muffle my cries, grateful that Ryan and Austin are both away tonight. It’s humiliating enough without having multiple witnesses.

  The door creaks open and shut a few minutes later, and the bed dips behind me. Sobs continue to wrack my body, gut-wrenching and agonizing, and it’s as if someone died. To me, it feels like an actual death, and I’m not just mourning the loss of Dylan but the loss of a future I thought I had all mapped out. I cry harder when Slater pulls me against him with my back to his chest. His arms encircle me, and he holds me tight as I howl in torment. “Let it all out, Belle. I’ve got you.”

  I’m sure I’ll be really embarrassed over this in the morning, but right now, I don’t give a shit. I can’t control the expulsion, and it needs to happen to release me from this inner hell. Slater doesn’t say anything else. He just holds me close, and I cling to him as I slowly let go of my past.

  At some point, I cried myself to sleep. When I wake the next morning, Slater is softly snoring behind me. We are still in the same position. Fully clothed, on the outside of my bed, with him spooning me from behind. He’s like a furnace, and I’m sweating under my clothes, but I’m in no hurry to move, enjoying the security of his embrace.

  A throat clearing alerts me to my brother’s presence. My eyes fly to the door, and Ryan is there, lounging against the wall, gaze narrowed as he watches us.

  “Morning,” I croak, wincing at how hoarse my voice sounds.

  “What the hell’s going on, Gabby? And why is Slate in your bed?”

  “Technically, he’s not,” I say, unsuccessfully attempting to extricate myself from his grip. “He’s on top of my bed.”

  At that moment, Slater, very unhelpfully, decides to nuzzle into my neck. A satisfied moan slips from his lips, and he blatantly inhales, rubbing his nose in my hair. “Mmm, you smell good,” he murmurs in a sleep-laced tone, pressing his morning wood against my ass. I can’t stop the whimper that escapes my mouth in time, and Ryan turns a very unflattering shade of red. If his jaw clenches any tighter, he’ll give himself lockjaw.

  “This is not what it looks like,” I rush to assure him before he loses it. “And nothing happened, so there’s no need to go apeshit on Slate.”

  “Someone better start explaining,” Ryan grumbles, and Slater stills behind me, slowly coming to.

  “Ryan, dude. Stop freaking out,” Slater says after a tense minute of silence, his voice drenched with sleep. “I was only consoling Belle. That’s it. No need to look at me like you want to rip my head from my body.”

  “That’s not the only part of your anatomy I’d like to dismantle right now,” my brother growls, slanting thunderous looks in Slater’s direction.

  “Seriously, chill, bro.” Slater scoots away from me, and I instantly feel cold. I lie flat on my back as he swings his legs out the other side of the bed. Resting his elbows on his knees, he yawns. Thank God, he’s wearing a tank and sweats and that he’s hiding the evidence of his arousal until he’s gotten himself under control. The last thing I need is Ryan jumping to conclusions.

  “Why did you need consoling?” Ryan asks, focusing on me again. “Has something happened?”

  Tears automatically pool in my eyes, and I hate that I’m so weak and how my tear ducts seem to have a direct hotline to my emotions.

  Ryan sits on the edge of the bed and takes my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. “I’ll kill Dylan. I fucking will. What’d he do now?”

  “I’ll let you two talk,” Slater says, getting up and moving around the bed. He lingers in the doorway, glancing over at me with a tender look on his face. “You’ll get over this, Belle, and you’ll see that it’s not the end of the world. You still have your whole life ahead of you.”

  He doesn’t wait for me to reply, leaving the room and pulling the door shut behind him.

  “Scoot over,” Ryan says, toeing off his shoes, and I move into the vacant, warm spot Slater just left behind. “Now tell me everything, and don’t even attempt to leave anything out.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  I told my brother everything, and now I’m trying to talk him off the ledge. He’s hellbent on going over to Dylan’s and knocking the shit out of him. It’s only when Myndi arrives that he finally calms down. “Go for a run with Slate, and work it out of your system,” she tells him, pushing him out of my room. “And don’t go near Dylan. You have to respect Gabby’s wishes.”

  “Promise me, little big bro.” My eyes narrow as I give him my “I mean business” look.

  He huffs out a defeated sigh. “Fine, but all bets are off if I happen to cross paths with the cheating slimeball.”

  “Ryan.”

  “Fine, fine.” He lifts his hands in surrender. “Have it your way. I’ll go run it off, and when I come back, Slate and I will come with you to get the rest of your stuff.”

  “Thank you.”

  Ryan bends down, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “He doesn’t deserve you, and Slate’s right—you’ll bounce back. It’s his loss, not yours.”

  Myndi shoves him out of the door, none too gently, pecking his lips briefly, before jumping on the bed and hugging me. “I was in the coffee place and heard some girls gossiping about what went down last night. I came straight here. You should’ve called me.”

  “It was late, and I doubt I could’ve composed myself long enough to call you.”

  “Oh, babe, I’m so sorry.”

  “I just can’t believe he cheated on me. After all the years we’ve been together and everything we had planned.”

  “I can relate a little. While my situation was different, it didn’t hurt any less. But I was only with Travis ten months, so I can only imagine how much pain you’re in.”

  “Fuck, it hurts like a bitch, Myndi. I’ve never hurt so badly before.”

  “The guys are right,” she says, smoothing my hair behind my ear
s. “It’ll get better, and you’ll move on, even if it doesn’t feel like it now.” She smiles at me. “Look how happy I am now, and I’m almost grateful to Travis because his actions have led me to Ryan, and he makes me so unbelievably happy.”

  “I’m really pleased for you, Myndi, genuinely I am, but I’m giving guys a wide berth. I’ve no interest in dating anyone.”

  We chat for a while longer, and I’m feeling slightly better as I head into the bathroom. I take a leisurely shower while Myndi waits downstairs.

  When I step into the kitchen, she’s busy at the stove cooking bacon and eggs. “Take a seat,” she suggests, talking over her shoulder, while waving a spatula around. “This is just ready.”

  My tummy rumbles appreciatively even if I don’t much feel like eating.

  She slides a plate to me, and we eat in silence. After forcing a few mouthfuls down, I push my food away, and get up to refill both our mugs.

  “I didn’t have much of an appetite those first few days either,” Myndi supplies. “But you need to try and keep your strength up.”

  I hand her a fresh cup of coffee, plonking my butt in the seat again. “I’ll try. I don’t want to let this derail me. It’s killing me inside, but no amount of tears will change the situation. I just have to put it behind me, chalk it up to experience, and move forward on my own.”

  The front door opens, and the boys come into the kitchen a few seconds later. They are both in running shorts and tops, sweat coating their faces and clinging to their hair.

  “Ugh!” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You guys stink to the high heavens.”

  “Giz a hug, little sis,” Ryan says, approaching me with his arms wide-open and a stupid grin on his face.

  “You couldn’t pay me to hug you, either of you, right now,” I semi-joke.

  “What about you, babe?” Ryan says, diverting his attention to my bestie. “Any hugs for your man?”

  “I’m with your sister,” Myndi deadpans, swatting him away with her hands. “There is nothing you could bribe me with that would make me touch you right now.”

  A mischievous twinkle glints in Ryan’s eye. “Not even a repeat of this morning?” He winks, and Myndi’s cheeks turn fire-engine red. “You fucking loved what I did with my—”

  I clamp my hand over his mouth, stalling his sentence. “Oh God, I just threw up in my mouth. Do not go there. Like ever. Unless you want me to return the favor someday, if I ever decide I’m brave enough to let another man into my life.”

  Myndi shoots me a sympathetic look. “Gabby, you’ll be back in the saddle before you know it.”

  “There’s no rush,” Ryan cuts in. “Gabby hasn’t been single since the dark ages. Some time alone is just what she needs.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Phil, but the only one making decisions about my life around here from now on will be me.”

  “Go shower, babe,” Myndi says, pushing Ryan toward the door. “Please, before we puke.”

  Slater is guzzling a bottle of water while smirking at the conversation. “That goes for you too,” I say, eyeballing him. “Go, before you permanently contaminate the air supply.”

  “I thought girls liked their men all sweaty.” He waggles his brows suggestively.

  “Sex-induced sweat is different,” I agree, and now it’s Ryan’s turn to look ill. I can’t help pushing it. “And such a fucking turn-on.” I deliberately lick my lips, and Slater’s grin cracks wide.

  “Don’t even attempt to add to that,” Ryan says, pointing his finger at me. “I do not need to hear about my sister’s sex life.”

  “Well, I don’t have one anymore, so I guess that’s lucky for you.” I gulp back the hot coffee as a sharp ache stabs me in the heart.

  I see Myndi mouth “Just go” to my brother, and both guys leave the room. She slides her hand across the table, squeezing mine. “You’re doing great, Gabs. And you’re going to be fine. You have all of us and we’ll get you through this.”

  An hour later, the four of us pull up outside Dylan’s building. Wiping my sweaty palms down the front of my jeans, I give myself a silent pep talk, telling myself I can do this. With a bit of luck, he won’t even be in and we can get in and out quickly.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Ryan says, poking his head through the gap from the backseat. “The three of us can go in there and do a snatch and grab.”

  I curl my fingers around the door handle. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m not going to hide in the car like a coward. I’m not going to let him see how much this hurts.” I open the door. “C’mon. Let’s get this over and done with.”

  Slater locks his SUV and moves to my side, slinging his arm around my shoulders in a show of solidarity. Ryan and Myndi are holding hands, and Ryan is narrowing his eyes in Slater’s direction again. Just as we reach the entrance to the building, a tall, leggy brunette steps outside, twisting my insides into knots.

  “Ignore her,” Slater says through gritted teeth. Myndi hisses and glares at Bianca. It takes every ounce of self-control to walk past the bitch without commenting, but I won’t give her the satisfaction of knowing how devastated I truly am.

  “I already cleared out the closet and the en suite to make room for my stuff,” Bianca hollers from behind me. “Your crap is in boxes in the hall. Don’t forget to leave your key before you go.” The gloating smugness in her tone irritates the hell out of me, and I want to claw my fingernails down her face and punch her in her lady parts, but I choose the moral high ground and ignore her instead. She’s clearly trying to get a reaction out of me, and I won’t sink to her level.

  “Ignore the slut,” Ryan says, shooting daggers at her. “I know her face from the frat scene. She’s done the rounds, and she won’t last long. She doesn’t have it in her to sleep exclusively with one guy.”

  Despite how much I hate Bianca, I can’t let my brother’s sexist comment go without commenting. “Knock it off, Randy. You and Slater pulled this shit all the time.”

  He slants me an incredulous look. “Now you’re fucking defending her?”

  “No,” I say, punching the code into the keypad on the wall. “She is a fucking skank for going after my boyfriend, but she’s free to sleep with whomever she likes, and she shouldn’t get labeled a whore when men get to do it all the time and they give each other pats on the back. I hate double standards.”

  Slater’s jaw is tense as he storms through the door to the elevator bank, jabbing the button like it’s done him a personal injury. “What’s up with him?” I murmur to Ryan.

  He shrugs. “Fucked if I know. He’s moodier than you with PMS.” I thump my brother hard in the upper arm. “Holy hell, Tornado. That fucking hurt.”

  “Good. You deserve it for that comment. You know damn well the torture I go through every month.”

  He tugs on my elbow, holding me back. Myndi decides to give us some privacy, moving to stand beside Slater as they wait for the elevator to descend. “What do you mean? You still go through that?”

  I’d kinda forgotten that my brother hadn’t been around a couple years. I nod. “Yep. I thought it’d get better after I had the laparoscopy and they removed the lesions on my ovaries, but it’s gotten bad again the past few months. I’ve seen my Ob-Gyn, and she says I might need to have the procedure again. She’s put me on a different type of pill, but it’s not working; my cycle’s as erratic as ever, and I’m still experiencing bouts of pain.”

  “You should’ve said.”

  I swallow over the lump in my throat. “Dylan looked after me, and it’s not something I like to publicize or dwell on.”

  I’ve had painful periods since I was fifteen, but I was only diagnosed with endometriosis when I was eighteen. After the op to remove a cluster of chocolate cysts that had formed on my ovaries, I had a few pain-free months before mild symptoms started again.

  My periods have always been errat
ic, and it’s only when I collapse, feeling nauseous, sweaty, and crippled with cramps that I know Mother Nature is about to make an unwelcome visit.

  My last period was so bad I collapsed in a toilet cubicle in the bathroom of McDowell Hall for at least an hour. It was our first day back, and I was crippled. Doubled over in the worst pain imaginable, and I couldn’t move an inch. I had to message Myndi from my position on the floor—the cold tile was a balm to my heated skin—and ask her to call Dylan. He scooped me up off the floor and carried me out to his truck, and then I spent the next three days in a heap in bed, alternating between throwing up and the worst case of diarrhea known to mankind. And let’s not forget the ten-day-long heavy bleeding or the extreme fatigue that knocked me off my feet.

  I’ve been meaning to go back for an appointment, but I’ve been busy with coursework, and I haven’t had any symptoms since, so I’m kinda hoping there’s been some divine intervention and the problem has miraculously resolved itself.

  Talk about wishful thinking.

  The elevator arrives, and I loop my arm through Ryan’s, steering him forward. Once we are inside, Slater punches the button, and the doors close. Ryan pulls me into his side, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Promise you’ll call me if you need help with that in future.”

  “I will.” I look up at him. “I won’t have any choice.” When I get a bad attack, it’s debilitating, and I can’t cope without help. Dylan was always so compassionate and caring, fussing over me and helping me through it.

  Maybe that’s why, when we step into the condo, I rush to his side the minute I see him on his knees in the living area, rocking back and forth with his head in his hands. I crouch over him. “How bad is it?”

  “Bad,” he whimpers, still clutching his head. Screw that fucking bitch for just walking out of here and leaving him like this.

  “Have you taken your medication?”