The Love Series Complete Box Set

by Melissa Collins

  I take a step out of our embrace and look into her shining blue eyes. “Thank you so much, Momma. I feel like a huge weight has been lifted.” Momma smiles warmly at me and goes back to the stove to stir something before it begins burning.

  Dinner passes quickly and we chat endlessly. It feels like we’re finally moving past the accident and all of its aftermath. I’ve been so lost in my own heartache that I didn’t even realize that Mel was dealing with her own. Bryan had to fly home while I was in the hospital. She didn’t even get to say goodbye to him, but she’s hoping that she might be able to fly out to see him around the New Year. There was definitely some tension around the conversation, but Mel was quick to gloss over all of the details, so I got the distinct feeling that she just didn’t want to talk about it.

  Later that night, after cleaning up and watching some TV, I shower and lay in my bed thinking about how hopeful I am. I’ve worked out so many of my problems, but I’d be lying to myself if I said I am truly happy. I miss Reid. I miss him so much that my heart actually feels empty in his absence.

  I long to feel his arms wrap around me and pull me close to his chest, to hear his tenderly whispered words in my ear as I drift to sleep, to feel his warm and solid body up against mine.

  I fall asleep remembering the last time we made love and dream of the possibility of having him in my arms again someday soon.

  Chapter 5

  Wednesday, December 12, 2012

  I’m crammed in the corner of a local—and by local I mean the SUNY New Paltz campus—Starbucks, nervously tapping my fingers on the table and shaking my leg up and down. The whole room is vibrating with my anxiety. I slide the cardboard cup holder up and down on my coffee and twist it around the paper cup. I’m not really paying attention to what I’m doing. My eyes are glued to the door waiting for her to enter.

  Katelyn and I spoke on the phone yesterday when I arrived in town. She gave me a brief description of what she looks like so I’ll know it’s her when she walks in. We didn’t get into all of the details about how she knows my mom and me; that was too deep for a quick phone call, so I’m extremely anxious to hear what she has to say.

  I pull my phone out of my pocket and check the time. She was supposed to be here five minutes ago. What if she’s not coming? There aren’t any texts or missed calls and lord knows she has my number. As I’m lost in my anxiety, I faintly hear the bell above the door clang and I suddenly feel a gust of cold air burst through the small café.

  It’s her. She’s just like she described herself- average height and petite frame, medium length straight blond hair, brown eyes. She’s dressed like a typical college student in jeans and a hoodie with the college logo emblazoned across the front. She looks vaguely familiar, but it could just be that she looks like the stereotypical girl next door.

  She scans the room and her eyes land on me. That’s odd. I didn’t tell her what I look like. I guess seeing as she knows my mom and already has my phone number, she didn’t need a description of me. Walking cautiously towards me, she pulls off her mittens and unwinds her scarf from around her neck. She’s less than a few feet from my table and I still don’t know what to say. I want to be angry, but I’m tired of that. My sole desire is to get to the bottom of all of this so that I can go home to and fight to get Maddy back.

  She stretches out her small, delicate hand to shake mine. “Hi. You must be Reid. I’m Katelyn Donovan.” Considering how I ignored her calls for weeks and chewed her out when I finally did speak to her, it’s not surprising that her voice is small and nervous.

  The sound of my chair screeching across the tile floor as I stand to greet her mirrors the tension that’s been building since she started walking towards me. I extend my hand to hers and shake it. She’s cold. Her hands are like ice.

  As much as I want to hate her, my manners take over. “Hi, Katelyn. It’s . . . uh . . . it’s good to meet you, I guess.” Well, it’s better than, “who the fuck are you and what the fuck do you want?” I somehow don’t think that is appropriate, nor is it going to get me the information that I need.

  She takes her seat and places her jacket on the back of her chair. I return to my seat and we sit in silence for a few uncomfortable moments. I gulp back the rest of my coffee and wonder if I should do the nice thing and offer to get her something. Shaking her hand did feel like holding an ice cube.

  Standing again, to make my way over to the counter, I ask, “I’m going to grab another coffee. Can I get you anything?” If she can tell that I’m just trying to avoid the conversation, she’s hiding it well. But the small smile that curls the corners of her lips tells me that she’s fully aware of my plan. It also helps to put me at ease a little.

  Sweeping her bangs to the side, she angles her head towards the specials board. “Sure, I’ll have a grande, soy vanilla latte, skinny with a shot of caramel syrup.”

  “Um, okay, but can you write that down.” Seriously? All of those words for one drink? It sounds like she just ordered a meal.

  She chuckles at me and rolls her eyes. “I’m kidding. I’ll have a regular coffee; milk and sugar is just fine.”

  I want to laugh. I should laugh, but instead I just walk away.

  I walk over to order our drinks and my gaze drifts back to her sitting at the table. She’s got her phone in her hands and the furious pace at which her thumbs are moving suggests that she must be texting someone. I didn’t realize that a person’s thumbs could even move that quickly!

  She puts her phone away as I sit back down. I slide her coffee across to her and the tension returns.

  “So,” I say.

  “So,” she responds.

  At this pace, we’ll be sitting here until tomorrow. I take a deep breath and dive right in.

  “I don’t want to be rude, well actually I do, but I won’t. You’re the one who’s been calling me, who’s got something to say to me, so if you don’t start talking, then there’s really no point in me being here.” I take a sip of my still too hot coffee and lean back in my chair. Folding my arms across my chest, I wait for her to respond.

  It takes a few seconds, but finally she starts talking. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I am the one who wanted to talk and here I am all clammed up. I actually sat in the parking lot for about fifteen minutes before I came in. I just don’t know where to start.” She rubs her hands over her thighs in a nervous gesture.

  She sips her coffee and leans forward on her elbows. “Can I ask you something first?” I arch an eyebrow at her. She stalks me for months—okay, stalks might be a bit strong, but I’m sticking with it—causes all sorts of a fall out with Maddy—fine, it’s not entirely her fault, but, like a tantrum ridden two year old, I’m sticking to that one too—and now she wants me to answer her questions.

  She looks at me pleadingly and says, “It’ll help me figure out where to start.” She’s nervously fidgeting with the string on her hoodie, twisting it around her finger until it turns white under the pressure. I decide to cut her some slack. Besides, my interested is piqued now. What does she mean “where to start?” What the hell does she know?

  I don’t say anything. I just look at her and nod, indicating that she can continue.

  Her eyes meet mine and I see a deep swirl of emotions—sadness, concern, unease. Her voice cracks, but she clears her throat and finally asks her question. “When is the last time you spoke with your mom?”

  I work hard to suppress the rage I feel at her question. For all intents and purposes, this girl sitting across from me is a perfect stranger and she wants to delve into my dark past. Fuck no!

  She must see my jaw clench and my neck bulge at swallowing back my anger. Steeling herself against my reaction, her spine stiffens and she sits up straight in her chair.

  “It’s been four years since I left.” I spit my words venomously at her.

  I can see her working out what to say now that she knows how long it’s been. What the hell could she have to tell me? It’s taking her way too long and
my frustration is definitely getting the best of me. I lean forward across the small table and angrily whisper through a clenched jaw, “Tell me what the fuck is going on, Katelyn, or else I’m going to walk out of here and never talk to you again. She can die and you can go on your merry way knowing that you had me here and you blew it.” I guess I couldn’t keep my inner asshole buried for too long.

  I retreat to my side of the table and look at her expectantly. She’s got one minute to start making sense.

  She steadies herself and says, “Your mom is married to my dad.” What? There’s no way on earth I just heard her correctly.

  With a tone of mocking disbelief, I say, “I’m sorry, but did you just say that our parents are married? You’re going to have to explain that one, Katelyn.” My words drip sarcasm and she actually recoils from them.

  She’s not reacting well to my disbelief. “Why would I lie? Don’t you think this is really difficult for me too? I’m just trying to do the right thing here and you’re being so mean to me.” Her voice is wobbling with emotion. I can hear it; she’s on the verge of tears. There’s something about her that reminds me so much of Maddy that almost instantly, I soften to her enough to let her carry on.

  “Okay, fine. I’m sorry, Katelyn. I just . . . well I just don’t know anything and I’m not a huge fan of my parents and this is all . . . well it’s all a trip down memory lane that I really don’t want to be on.” My words must help put her at ease because I see her shoulders relax and her eyes soften marginally.

  “Katie. You can call me Katie.” Her composure is back and she seems more comfortable now that I’m not being such an ass.

  “Now, can you please clarify how my mother, who, the last time I checked, was married to my father, is now married to your father?” I can be less of an ass, but I doubt I’ll ever be able to conceal my sarcastic disbelief.

  “I don’t know much about your dad actually. Your mom never talks about him, at least not to me. I’ve overheard some conversations between her and my dad about him, but I try not to eavesdrop. It’s none of my business really.” She lifts her coffee to her lips and I can see the cup shaking in her hand.

  I don’t really know how to feel about this. My parents are divorced and neither of them thought to let me know. That’s pretty shitty of them to say the least.

  Wait, I’m just assuming they’re divorced. What if something happened to him? I’m not sure how to feel about that either.

  My eyes widen a little at the thought of my dad being dead. Would that make me happy? His true colors really shone through when he kicked Shane out and how he reacted to his suicide.

  I’m just going to have to find out then. “So are they divorced then? My parents, I mean.”

  She seems confused by my seemingly ridiculous question. “Of course they are. They have been for the last three years. Your mom met my dad shortly after she left your dad and they’ve been together ever since. It took him a while to introduce her to me. I was only a sophomore in high school at the time and he hadn’t been with anyone since my mom died a few years before that. I think he was scared that their relationship would damage me in some way.”

  I wonder if my mom thought about how it would affect me, if she even wondered where I was or what my life was like.

  “You don’t remember me, do you?” Her question interrupts my pointless musings.

  My brow furrows and I take a closer look at her. I got nothing. “Am I supposed to know you?”

  She laughs—a silly little laugh. “No. I guess not. You were the hunky senior baseball star and I was just some bookworm freshman, but we did go to school together for a year.”

  “I’m sorry but I was really out of things during my senior year. I don’t remember much from that time.” I return to playing with my coffee cup.

  “That was right after Shane died, right?” Her voice is quiet and unsure.

  My anger boils over, not at her, but at this whole fucked up situation. The floodgates open and pure hatred colors my words. “Yeah, and did mommy dearest tell you what life was like for me after that? Did she tell you how they kicked him out and disowned him and how that made him slit his wrists? Did she tell you that I was the one who found him in a pool of his own blood? That I was ready to leave with him and get the fuck out of that small town so that he could be . . . well so that he could just be him and not be hated for it?” I can’t imagine what my face looks like. My heart is in my throat and I have to swallow past it to keep the tears at bay.

  Katie reaches across the table and squeezes my hand—a gesture of comfort and sympathy, not pity though.

  “She did actually. It’s not my place to apologize for her. She’d actually kill me if she knew I was here.” She pulls her hand back and takes another sip of her drink.

  “You mean she didn’t want you to come here? I’m confused then. What the hell is the point of this all then?” I don’t know whether to be hurt or reassured that she didn’t want to speak to me.

  Katie sees me trying to figure out how I feel about that last tidbit. She reaches for my hand again and shakes her head. “No, Reid. Don’t think for a minute that she doesn’t want to see you. She does. Please believe me. It’s just that she feels so guilty over everything that happened that she doesn’t feel like she deserves a second chance with you. She’s trying to make her peace with the fact that she’s lost you. When I overheard her and my dad talking about you, I heard the pain in her voice and I took it upon myself to get in touch with you.”

  I guess the similarities between her and Maddy go even further than I thought. I’m a complete mess of emotions, and now, thinking about Maddy, and how much I need her right now, I’m just too far gone to really say much of anything.

  Part of me wants to see what my mom has to say for herself. The other part of me doesn’t want to give a fuck, but I do. All of a sudden, I realize that I do care, not just because of Maddy, but because I really do want to put it all behind me. I want to heal. I want to be the best damn version of myself that I possibly can—for me, for Maddy, for my baby.

  I glance over at Katie and she seems lost in thought. It’s time for me to ask the question that I’m most afraid to ask. In this moment, I realize that Maddy was right. I can’t ignore the fact that my mother is dying. Seeing Katie and hearing about mom all over again has opened up old, scabbed over wounds that need to be healed.

  “So, you say she’s dying? I’m assuming that wasn’t some lame ploy just to get me to meet you?” I chuckle a small laugh to try and disguise my discomfort.

  She shuffles nervously in her chair, and for a second, I think maybe she did lie to me. That would be a good thing right?

  “I wish I was lying, Reid. I really do, but I’m not. She’s been sick for a while. It’s AML, a type of Leukemia. She’s been to all of the specialists and been on chemo for months now, but she’s running out of options. She’s getting worse, so that’s why I called you. I thought you should know what was going on in case . . .” Her words fade off into the uncomfortable silence. I see a tear trickle down her cheek and she tries to swipe it away without me noticing it.

  She’s really dying. Reality sets in—thick, heavy, black and dense. I’m not saying that I instantly forgive her for everything, or that I’ll ever be able to forgive her, but so much has changed in the last few years, maybe, just maybe, she’s changed too.

  “So where do we go from here, Katie?” I look at her inquisitively as if she’s got all the answers.

  She swallows past the lump of emotion that’s just newly formed and her words are choked and almost strangled. “I’m not sure, Reid. I guess that’s up to you. I just took my last final today and my dad is coming to pick me up tomorrow.” She pauses for a few moments to think something over. Her uncertainty is written on her face, but she asks anyway. “Do you . . . no forget it. Never mind.”

  I know what she wants to ask me and, call me crazy, but yes, I do want to go home with her.

  “Yes.” I reach for her hand this t
ime and shake my head in disbelief. Her blank stare indicates her shock so I start talking again, just to reassure her. “What I mean is, if you were just going to ask me to go home with you, to clear the air with my mom, then yes, I’ll do that.”

  Her face lights up like a Christmas tree and I can see the pressure and ugliness that’s been looming over our conversation visibly lift from her shoulders. “You will? Really? Reid, that’s fantastic. I . . . I don’t know what to say.”

  Shaking my head again, I say “Me either, Katie, me either. I never in a million years thought I would be here.”

  “Me too, Reid. I just know your mom is going to be so happy to see you again.” Her megawatt smile disarms me. Katie’s genuinely trying to make things better for me and my family—what’s left of it anyway. And then it hits me like a ton of bricks, she’s my step-sister. I have a step-sister and a step-father; my father is out of the picture; my mother is dying and the love of my life, who is pregnant with my child, won’t even speak to me. The entire landscape of my family changed over the course of this conversation.

  I can’t believe what I’m about to offer, but something about it just feels right. I’ve been listening to my head for so damn long, maybe it’s about time to listen to my heart. “Would it be alright with you and your dad if I drove you home tomorrow? It’ll save him the trip and we could catch up some more.”

  She stares at me all wide-eyed and disbelieving. The shock in her face suggests that a unicorn just passed behind me or something.

  “Uh, yeah. That would be great actually. Things have been really tight money wise since your mom’s been sick. Dad has had to take a lot of time off from work already, so you driving me back would actually be a huge help.”

  Well now I feel like a real shit. “Wow, I had no idea. I’m . . . I’m sorry, but obviously I didn’t know.”