The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories

by Brina Courtney

  As I walk away, I hear Holden get out of the vehicle and follow closely behind. Once inside, he walks off without a word in another direction, and one of the other young men shows me into a room. He instructs me to wait here for someone who will escort me to the holding area soon.

  The place is nothing like I imagined a police station would be. Of course, it’s not like I’ve spent a lot of time in my life wondering about such a thing. The building is old; there are cracks near the ceiling that are filled in and painted over. The patches are now crumbling, with pieces falling away. The room I’m sitting in is no bigger than a walk in closet and has chairs lining one wall.

  “Okay miss, right around here,” the boy who looks like he is barely twenty says as he leads the way.

  When I round the corner, I see Jack sitting on a bench inside of a cell. By the bruises on his face and his swollen eye, I realize I’d clearly underestimated Holden’s fighting skills.

  “I’ll be right outside if you need me,” the boy informs me before walking away.

  Jack doesn’t look up. I wonder if he knows I’m even here. I hear the door close behind the guard.

  “What are you doing here, Annabelle?” Okay, so he does know I’m here.

  “I thought we needed to talk.”

  “I tried to talk to you, until you had your boyfriend beat me up.”

  “Holden isn’t my boyfriend,” I say, wondering to myself what exactly he is. “And you got a few punches in yourself.”

  “Holden? What kind of name is that? And you two sure looked cozy to me.”

  “He’s a friend ...” I say the words, but I don’t even believe them. “I don’t know, maybe there could be something more one day, but for now he’s a friend.”

  Jack sits silent.

  “You never told me how you found me.” I try and jump-start a conversation.

  “Your mom ... she’s worried about you,” Jack explains, rising to his feet and walking over to the bars near me. Now I have a clear look at just how bad the beating was for him; one eye is swollen nearly shut.

  “Of course she did,” I moan.

  “She really is worried about you, Annabelle.” I hate it when he calls me by my full name. It is something my mother does, and it’s always rubbed me the wrong way. It feels condescending when he says it. “We all are.”

  “Well, I’m a grown woman, so there’s no need to worry about me.”

  “Fine, then can I worry about our child you’re carrying.”

  “Please Jack,” I begin, protectively rubbing my hand over my stomach. “Let’s not act like you give a damn about this child. You made it quite clear in Chicago that this kid is just another tool you can use to manipulate me into getting what you want.”

  “Is what I want really so bad?” Jack’s voice is tender, which throws me off my game, and I’m not sure how to react at first.

  “Yes, when I don’t love you, a future with you would be terrible.”

  “I don’t believe you. I still love you, and I miss you. You’re all I’ve thought about since you left.”

  “Don’t say it like that.”

  “Like what?”

  I shift and stare directly at him with narrowed eyes. “Like I ran out on you or something. You cheated on me; let’s not forget that. And let’s be real, you only want what you can’t have.”

  “Damn it, Anna!” I shiver. I don’t like the way he says Anna either apparently. “Why do you have to make everything so hard?”

  I stand quietly, choosing my next words with care.

  “Do you really want to have this talk?”

  “That’s why I flew all the way here,” he grumbles, annoyed with me.

  “Fine, I’ll have this talk with you, but only if you agree to be one hundred percent honest with me.”

  I see him roll his eyes, as if I should assume he’s naturally going to choose to be honest.

  “Well?” I press.

  “All right, I promise.”

  Looking him in the eyes and taking one step closer, I ask without fear or hesitation, “Was she the first?”

  He pauses; this is more than enough of an answer for me. “Yes!” he insists at last. “Of course she was.”

  “Look at us ... you can’t even be honest with me. Why would we ever be together?”

  “What do you want me to say?” he snaps.

  I sigh, then in a soft and calm tone I explain, “The truth. If you love me as much as you say you do, don’t you think I deserve that?”

  He begins shifting nervously from one foot to the other, avoiding direct eye contact. “We had problems. I’m willing to admit I had a part in that. But I’m willing to work on us. Doesn’t our kid deserve that?”

  The answer comes easily. “Our kid deserves to grow up in a happy home, and we don’t make each other happy.”

  “But I think we can, if we just try.” His pleading doesn’t bring me the pleasure it did in my dreams.

  “No, we can’t.”

  “Were you ever happy with me?” He isn’t angry. I can see he wants to understand.

  “Sometimes.”

  “Then give me a chance, and I can do that again. I can be that for you.”

  “No, you can’t.”

  “Why? Why not?” There’s a sadness and desperation in him that I’ve rarely seen in our relationship.

  “Because I don’t love you anymore.” The words feel so brutal as I say them, but they’re the truth. I watch his expression change, like he’s being stabbed. I don’t want to feel bad for him—he was the one who hurt me—but I can’t help it. At one time I did love him, and now, to hurt him so deeply, it feels as though I am wounding myself.

  “So you love him, is that it?”

  I hesitate, thinking about the question. “I don’t know ... maybe, maybe not.”

  “What does he have that I don’t?” Jack demands.

  I shake my head. I want to make him understand, but it seems it’s not something I can do. “It’s not like that. It isn’t a him or you thing. Even if he weren’t in the picture, I still wouldn’t love you. I let you go a long time ago. Probably, if we’re both honest, we were over before I ever caught you cheating.”

  “You say that, but I can’t help thinking if I had never screwed up, we would be married today.”

  “You mean if you never got caught?” I twist the knife a little to make sure he knows my intentions are unwavering. “Maybe you’re right, but I doubt we’d be happy.”

  “How does he make you happy, and I can’t?”

  The answer seems too simple, but it’s all I have to offer him. “I guess it’s because I know he’d do anything in the world just to see me smile.”

  He doesn’t immediately respond to my statement, but instead he bows his head, a minute of silence passing before he asks in an almost whisper, “So where do we go from here?”

  “It seems to me, you have a couple choices,” I begin.

  “Really? Because it feels like I don’t have any.” Jacks tone is laced with resentment.

  “Hear me out,” I continue, determined to bring some sort of resolution to our lives. “I want you to have a life again, Jack. I may not be in love with you, but on some level I still care about you.”

  “Right.” I choose to ignore his muttering.

  “I know you have dreams. You’ve always had political goals, so if it’s what you want, I’m willing to leave you off the birth certificate. You’ll have no obligations, no support payments, and you can just move on with your life. I chose to have this baby, not you. I don’t expect anything from you.”

  “And if I don’t want to walk away?” His words hit me hard in the chest. I thought once I’d given him an out he would have jumped at it. I should have known better. He was always one to hold on to any power he thought he had in a relationship.

  “I’m going to have the baby in England.”

  “With him?” he growls.

  I sigh, frustrated he can’t seem to quit focusing on Holden. “I’m too f
ar along to fly, and the doctor I’ve been seeing is here. But, if you want to be in the baby’s life, we can work out some sort of arrangement for visitations. It’ll be hard, but I’d never say no if you want to be there.”

  “You know if I tell my parents, they’ll never be okay with that,” Jack reminds me.

  If I tell? I process his words. “What? You haven’t told them?”

  He laughs. “I know you think I’m a monster, but I really do care about you, even if you don’t believe I do.”

  “I never said that. I know you care about me, just not in the way I need you to.”

  He licks his lips. “I’m sorry I hurt you.” His words are genuine.

  “I know you are. You told me once it was pure hell growing up with parents who hated each other. All I want do is figure this out so our kid doesn’t have to grow up like you did.” I hope now he can understand where I’m coming from.

  I look in his eyes, and I can see the confusion, or perhaps it’s hurt. The hidden hurt of a little boy who hated his childhood.

  “Can I think about it?” he asks at last.

  I smile. “Yeah, of course.”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  “Oh,” I gasp as I remember. “I’m also trying to find out if they will just go ahead and release you.”

  “Thank you.”

  I turn and walk out of the room, and as I pull open the door I hear a heavy sigh from Jack’s cell. Perhaps he has changed, become more of the man I always wanted him to be. But it remains that during our time apart, I’ve changed as well. Now there’s nothing left to do except wait for his decision.

  ***

  Over the past few days, the bruises on Holden’s face have nearly healed, but something much worse has emerged in their place. There’s a distance between us, and for the first time since I’ve come back to The Three Horseshoes, I think I’ve admitted to myself I was hoping for something more. I kept telling myself we should never be together, while my heart was falling a little more each day. Now it may not matter how I feel, and a disappointment has settled on my soul, which I can’t seem to shake.

  I haven’t heard a word from Jack since I left him in that cell. Even though he seemed to have lost the viciousness with which he was approaching our situation, you never know with him. On more than one occasion he’s manipulated situations to ultimately get what he wants. For all I know, he’s lulled me into a false sense of comfort while he is gathering an arsenal of lawyers to come at me full force.

  The baby presses what I assume is the heel of her foot into my side; I shift in my seat, pushing on her to move her into a more comfortable position.

  “Can I get you anything, dear?” I hear Bea’s voice behind me.

  Turning, I smile and shake my head. Being a month away from the due date has me moving around much slower. I press up on the arms of the chair and after a few seconds, when I’m fully upright, I turn and look at her. “No thanks, I’m good. I should get back to work anyway.”

  “Are you sure?” she questions. This has been another one of the changes over the past few days. Bea had begun to warm up to me again before Jack showed up, but since the day he came and confronted me, she has been different. She’s been incredibly sweet, but there’s a pity about it that I loathe.

  I insist, “I’m fine.”

  I jump when a glass slams into the counter. Glancing up, I see Holden darting out from around the bar. He’s moving so quickly I find myself frightened. My heart catches in my chest when I see his target. Jack is standing just inside the door, with Holden closing the distance between them in just a few leaps.

  Jack’s hands fly up in the air, covering his face. “I swear I’m just here to talk.”

  “She has nothing left to say to you. Now get out of here before I have you thrown in a cell again,” Holden barks, pointing toward the door, hovering only inches from Jack’s face.

  Jack isn’t afraid of a fight. There has never in his life been a fight he was afraid of, so why isn’t he swinging at Holden?

  “Look, man, I promise I’m not here to cause any trouble. I just need to talk to her for a second,” he pleads.

  “Didn’t you—”

  I don’t wait for Holden to finish his statement. I move a few steps away from the fireplace and announce, “I’ll speak with him.”

  Holden swiftly shifts his head to look in my direction. His face says it all—the enlarged eyes, the flared nostrils, red skin tone—he’s not happy about my decision. But this isn’t about him, or us. I run a hand across my stomach, and his face begins to soften. He sees what I’m thinking. He understands I have to do this. And with that, Holden takes a step back away from Jack.

  Jack snarls in Holden’s direction, which doesn’t surprise me. He isn’t one to take orders from someone, and for Holden to yell at him in the way he did, it must’ve taken all the restraint Jack had not to lose his temper. He crosses the room, coming to stand in front of me. I realize the place is silent, all eyes on us.

  “Maybe we should sit down,” I suggest in a quiet voice and motion toward the chairs in front of the fireplace. He follows my lead, and once we are in the chairs a small bustling of whispers erupts.

  “I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” I remark, examining Jack’s face for some hint of what he might be thinking. His eyes are bloodshot, and he looks tired. I recognize the clothes he’s wearing. They’re the same ones he had on the day he and Holden got into the altercation, and I wonder if he brought anything with him. Did he jump on a plane the moment he found out where I was? Not even taking the time to bring a change of clothes?

  “I had to see you before I left,” Jack begins.

  “Is everything all right?”

  He doesn’t speak at first, pulling an envelope from his pocket. He stares at it, flipping it end over end in his hands. I’m about to repeat the question when he reaches towards me, extending me the envelope, and cautiously I take it. I wait for him to explain, but still he remains quiet. I pull open the envelope, revealing a check inside. My breath catches in my throat when I see the amount.

  “What is this?” I gasp.

  He takes a deep breath, then looks at me. Pressing his lips together, he licks them at first, and I notice the still swollen split in his lower one. “I’ve been thinking a lot about the talk we had.”

  “I see.” Dropping the check into my lap, I stare back at him.

  “I think I had this idea in my head since college that I was going to marry you. I’ve been having trouble reconciling anything but that as reality, and then after we talked I realized you’re right, we’re too broken to just fix. Or maybe it’s me; I’m the one who’s too broken—I don’t know,” he mutters, a sadness draped around him like a wet towel.

  “You’re not a horrible guy, Jack,” I offer.

  “Just a horrible boyfriend.” He forces a smile.

  I laugh, then agree.

  He shakes his head, and I fall silent, listening as he continues. “I don’t know how to get over you. Most nights I hardly sleep. I lay there, thinking about all my regrets. But when I found out about the baby, something in me thought we could fix us for him. I could be a better man for the kid.”

  “Jack—” I start, but he lifts a finger to silence me.

  “Please, just let me get this out. I know you won’t believe me, and I can’t blame you, but I do love you. I did then, too. I’m messed up, Anna, and I know that. In more ways than I can probably ever figure out. But I know I love you because I’m willing to let you go.”

  There’s a pain in my chest. All of the air is knocked out of me, and I feel tears pooling in my eyes. There are pieces of the Jack I fell in love with sitting right in front of me. How can I possibly hate him? Some of the best moments of my life have been with him. I can’t ... I can’t hate him.

  “You were the steady in my life,” he says, his voice cracking. “A guiding—I don’t know. My compass. When my chaos became too much, you’d ground me. But somewhere over the years, I started t
o pull you into it and make you part of that pain.”

  “We just grew apart,” I offer, wanting his self-deprecation to stop.

  He scoffs, then continues, “You know that’s what my parents always said. I asked them once why they just didn’t get divorced. They told me you stick it out, no matter how miserable you are. Can you imagine that? Choosing to live in misery? When you and I talked, I realized that’s what I would be asking you to do—live a life vacant of happiness and love.”

  “So what’s this mean?” I ask softly.

  “This check is to help you with the birth expenses and keep you going for a while. We can work out payments for the future later,” he says, wiping his eyes and straightening in the chair.

  “So you don’t want to be in this child’s life?” I ask, but I don’t know what I want his answer to be.

  He shakes his head. “I didn’t say that. But I want to leave that up to you."

  "What you want to do shouldn’t be my decision,” I protest.

  “I’ve done so much wrong in my life, and I want to do this right. I’d love to stay in contact, and I want to know what’s happening with the kid. So it’s not that I don’t want to be in his life. I don’t want him growing up with screwed up parents like I did. Hell, I feel like my life is so messed up right now, this kid will hate me.”

  “I don’t have any magic answers either, but I do have one request. Don’t enter her life until you’re ready to be all in,” I explain. “I don’t want her getting to know you, and then you’re just gone one day.”

  He runs his fingers through his hair and closes his eyes for a moment; he shifts forward in his seat. He bites his top lip as he considers his words. “I know I’m not ready to be a dad right now, but I promise, if I ever believe I am, I’ll make sure I prove it to you first. I at least owe you two that.”

  “Jack ...” A tear rolls down my cheek. I see the pain in him as he speaks to me. The regret of all the things he’s done.

  He stands up and extends a hand. Instinctively, I grab it and once upright, I embrace him. I’m actually hugging him. Though I don’t love him, I no longer hate him either.

  We separate, and a thought pops into my mind. “How will you explain this to your parents?”