The Rebound

by Winter Renshaw

  Griffin says goodbye to my family before disappearing toward the back door. A minute later, he’s climbing into his truck and pulling out of our driveway.

  Nevada exhales, like he’s relieved to have him out of our hair, and he takes me into the hall by the front door.

  “Where do you want to go?” he asks as we slip into our boots and hats and gloves and coats.

  “Anywhere. Take me away,” I say, slinking my arms around his shoulders as I rise on my toes. I smile and I kiss him, my fingers raking through his dark hair.

  Pulling away, I can’t help but notice the way he looks at me now … like I’m someone else, someone he’s struggling to recognize. Or maybe when he looks at me, he doesn’t recognize himself? Either way, he doesn’t look at me the way he used to.

  Have I lost him?

  “What?” I ask, heart thumping in my chest.

  He bites his lip before turning toward the door. “Nothing.”

  I follow him outside and we load into the freezing cab of his old truck that still smells like the vanilla car fresheners he’s used for years.

  “You don’t like him, do you?” I ask, buckling my seatbelt and staring ahead at the garage doors.

  The truck roars to life. “What gave it away?”

  “He’s a really nice person,” I say. “If you’d just get to know him. Give him a chance, he’s an acquired taste but—”

  Nev chuffs. “I gave him a chance. I let him take you to homecoming and he fucking kissed you. Twice.”

  My jaw drops. “What do you mean, you let him take me? What am I, your property?”

  “You know what I meant.” His words are sharp and cutting and he won’t look at me. A moment later, he backs out of my parents’ drive and heads north. I have no idea where we’re going and I don’t think he knows either. I think we’re going to drive and fight and make up and everything’s going to be back to normal by the stroke of twelve tonight.

  “He hasn’t tried anything since,” I say. “I told him I could never be with him. He knows I love you and only you. Trust me, we discussed this.”

  Unbuckling my seatbelt, I slide to the middle and hook my arm into his. His body is rigid and stiff. Maybe it’s the two-day drive? And finals week? And the holidays? And he’s just stressed and irritable? All of that coupled with having to eat dinner across from the guy who tried to kiss your girlfriend would be enough to put anyone in a foul mood.

  I don’t fault him for his sour mood, but our time together is limited, and I don’t want to spend it fighting.

  “You don’t have to hang out with him if you don’t want to,” I say.

  I plan to spend every waking moment with Nev while he’s home, which means Griff is going to be temporarily placed on the back burner. He won’t like it, but he’s my best friend and I know he’ll understand.

  Leaning closer, I breathe him in and kiss his cheek. “I love you, Nevada. I’m yours. No one else’s. That’s how it’ll always be. Please, let’s just enjoy each other, okay?”

  His hand slips into mine and he exhales. “I’m sorry. I just …”

  I shush him. “You don’t have to apologize, Nev. I get it.”

  We crawl to a stop at the last stoplight just outside of town. He’s taking me to our spot, which by now is probably a snow-covered parking lot, but his truck will get us through and the dark, starless sky will hide us enough.

  Glancing up at him, all I see is love.

  All I feel is love.

  But his hand is cold and there’s a distance in his eyes, one I’ve never seen before.

  Am I losing him?

  Or is he pushing me away because he thinks he’s losing me?

  Nev parks in the back corner of the abandoned parking lot outside of town and kills his headlights. Unbuckling his seatbelt for him, I waste no time climbing into his lap and resting my hands on his broad shoulders.

  “Look at me,” I say, cupping his handsome face. My breath catches when his golden gaze anchors onto mine. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, if you’re worried about something …” I place a hand over my beating heart. “If it’s me you’re worried about, please, Nev. Believe me. I’m the last thing—”

  He silences my words with a kiss, and I liquefy against him, my mind quieting and my body surrendering. His hands tug at the hem of my shirt and I reach for his belt.

  I’ll kiss away his fears.

  I’ll show him how hard I love him.

  And everything will be all right.

  It’s that simple.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Keep Telling Yourself That

  Yardley

  One Week Later

  “I’m sorry, do I know you?” Griffin answers his door in his Sooners hat, fuzzy pajama bottoms covered in the Batman logo, and a gray t-shirt.

  “Stop.” I roll my eyes and pretend to be annoyed.

  “Haven’t seen you in, like, a month.”

  “It hasn’t even been a week,” I correct him with chattering teeth. It’s freezing out here and he’s going to make me stand outside because he probably thinks it’s hilarious.

  “I take it The Boyfriend left town?” he asks.

  “Yesterday,” I say. “You going to let me in or what?”

  “I guess.” Griff steps aside and I kick my snowy shoes off by the front door. His little brother, Gideon, is lying on his stomach in front of the TV, eyes glued, and a half-eaten bowl of soggy Froot Loops rests beside him.

  “Missed you,” I say, giving him a side eye. “Believe it or not.”

  “Oh, I fully believe it.” He rests his hands behind his head, wearing a stupid smirk as he takes me in.

  “You know, but in a friendly kind of way,” I clarify.

  “Keep telling yourself that, Devereaux.” He ambles down the hall toward his room, and I follow. A paused video game is frozen on his TV, and he plops into his beanbag before grabbing his controller.

  Typical Saturday at the Gaines house.

  I’m sure his parents are still in bed. They like to sleep in on the weekends, but I don’t blame them. They work second shift at Devereaux Wool and Cotton. Dad said he’d transfer them to first shift the next chance he gets, but he doesn’t see any of those first shifters leaving any time soon.

  Taking a seat on the edge of his unmade bed, I rest my elbows on my knees and watch him play … which is akin to watching paint dry, but it’s not like I have anything better to do today. And it’s true. I missed him these last several days. I missed his stupid jokes and goofy grin.

  “You have a good Christmas?” I ask.

  “I guess.” He shrugs, focused on his game for a few moments before pausing it. “Question.”

  “Yeah?”

  “So … what do you see in him?” His face is pinched and I don’t think he’s kidding around.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I get that he’s this big basketball player guy and he’s got the whole tall, dark, and handsome thing going on, but the dude is, like, intense. And he didn’t smile once. At least not when I was around.”

  I so wish Griff could’ve met the real Nevada, the sweet and charming one I fell in love with years ago.

  “He knows you kissed me. Of course he’s not going to want to be your best friend.” I shake my head. “And then you showed up at the family dinner. He was blindsided, Griff.”

  “Okay. Fair enough. But what else do you like about him? All you ever talk about is how much you love him … but you never say why.”

  I’m stumped, truly stumped, but then it comes to me. “Asking me why I love Nev is like asking me what oxygen looks like. I don’t know. I just know it’s there. I feel it. I need it. I can’t live without it.”

  “Please.” Griffin glances at the paused game before dragging his hand over his face and releasing a labored breath.

  I get it now.

  He simply wanted to know what Nev has that he doesn’t.

  “You’re lucky,” he says, finally glancing my way again. “I
wish … just once in my life … I could experience that crazy, stupid kind of love. That undying, makes-no-sense connection with someone else.”

  I slide off the bed and take a seat beside him, resting my hand on his thigh. “You’re only eighteen. There’s plenty of time for you to find someone to fall stupidly in love with.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think that’s in the cards for me,” he says, tucking his chin against his chest.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” I smack his arm. “You’re smart. And witty. You can draw better than anyone I know. You’ve got great taste in music. You’re one of the funniest people I’ve ever met. You can sing, you play guitar, you’re a good driver … need me to go on?”

  “If I’m so amazing …” he turns to me, his words dissipating into the tense air that separates us. He doesn’t need to finish his sentence anyway. I know what he is getting at. “Yardley …”

  His gaze drops to my lips, the very ones Nev claimed less than a day ago, before he climbed into his truck and hit the road. Our miniature winter break got off on a rocky start, but by the second night it was smooth sailing and we’d settled back into our old ways, like no time had passed at all.

  “Don’t do it, Griff.” I stand before he has a chance to try to kiss me.

  He rises, but it’s too late.

  “I have to go,” I say, leaving.

  He may be my best friend, but it’s not fair for him to put this on me, to guilt me because I don’t like him like that. And to do it over and over? It’s unfair. It’s unfair to him. To me. To Nev.

  “Yardley,” he says my name, standing in his doorway, his hands on the frame. But he doesn’t chase me. He knows better. “Yardley, I’m sorry.” I stop and turn toward him. “I’m an idiot. Seriously. Biggest fucking jackass.”

  “Yep.” My hand rests on my left hip.

  “I need to tell you something,” he says. The light in his eyes is gone and there’s a slight quiver in his voice. “Something I should’ve told you a long time ago.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  I Can’t Breathe

  Nevada

  One Month Later

  I didn’t want to go out tonight, but a bunch of the guys insisted they take me out for my birthday—even gifting me with a fake ID that looks nothing like me but somehow miraculously gets me anything I want thus far.

  Some bar in Campus Town is having a Valentine’s Singles Night, and despite the fact that I’m not single, the drinks are 2-for-1 and the whole team is here.

  I told them two drinks then I’m out. That was the deal.

  Tossing back my second Corona of the night, I settle into a booth with a couple of the guys and bide my time. I told Yardley I’d call her around ten. Earlier today she said she was going to some movie with Lexie and the girls.

  “Dude, Estella’s been eye fucking you all night.” Jense elbows me, nodding toward the group of Grove State dancers tearing up the dance floor, specifically to a spicy brunette with red lips and hair down to the middle of her back. “Tell me you’re going to tap that. Please. Do it for me. Do it for your country.”

  I chuckle. Estella’s beautiful, sure, but she’s not Yardley.

  “She’s all yours.” I take a swig. Jense looks like I just ran over his puppy dog.

  “Dude. Nev, she wants you.” He punches my arm. “Do you know how many of us have tried to get with her? We’re fucking dog meat to her. But you? Man, she hasn’t taken her eyes off you all night.”

  I shrug, shaking my head. “She’s not my type.”

  Truth is, I don’t really have a type.

  And if I did, it’d only be one girl. My girl.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket and I half expect to see some mushy little message from Dove, only the text is from an old friend from Lambs Grove.

  SHAWN PETERS: Shit, Nevada. If you and Yardley can’t make it, the rest of us are fucked. Let me know if you need anything, k? Sorry, man.

  My heart quickens and the room begins to spin, the deafening bar music growing distant.

  This makes no sense. What the fuck is he talking about?

  Tapping out a bunch of question marks, I hit reply. Every second that ticks by as I wait for his response feels like an eternity.

  I just talked to her this morning.

  And I told her I’d saved up enough money to fly home for spring break. First thing tomorrow morning, I planned on buying the tickets.

  Why would Shawn be saying this?

  SHAWN PETERS: Heard you two broke up …

  I send him back a quick, “Nope.”

  SHAWN PETERS: I don’t know, man. I think you’re being played. Just saw her having dinner with some guy at Catalina’s … they had their arms around each other when they left. They were crying and laughing. Looked like he gave her a ring or some shit?

  I ask if he’s sure it was her.

  SHAWN PETERS: Positive.

  I can’t breathe.

  I can’t fucking breathe.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I Can Only Imagine

  Yardley

  One Day Later

  There’s no easy way to tell him this, but if he’d just answer his phone, at least I could try to explain.

  The line rings and his voicemail picks up, the way it has the last twenty times I’ve tried him. He hasn’t responded to a single text in the past twenty-four hours and I doubt he’s even listening to my voicemails. If he were, he’d know that this isn’t what it looks like.

  I can only imagine what people have told him.

  And I can only imagine the way he felt … but he needs to hear the truth and he needs to hear it from me.

  It’s the only way we can get through this.

  “Nev, please. Call me,” I beg via a voicemail that he’ll probably delete before he listens to it. “It’s not what you think. I can explain. Whatever you’ve been told … it’s not … just … it’s complicated and I want to tell you over the phone so it makes sense. I love you. Call me.”

  I end the call and perch on the edge of my bed, my face buried in my hands. I could cry, but I’m too numb. The last several days have been a cocktail of unexpected emotions, and I’ve been forced to make a decision I never thought I’d have to make in a million years.

  Grabbing a notebook and pen from my desk, I write him a letter.

  I’ll send this tomorrow, and if I still don’t hear back from him after all of my efforts, I’ll know I lost him.

  Chapter Twenty

  Please Let Me Explain

  Yardley

  Two Weeks Later

  He sent my letter back.

  I re-read my words, imagining the way they must have made him feel.

  Nevada,

  I’m writing because you haven’t been taking my calls or answering my texts. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors, so I thought you should hear it straight from me…

  I’ve broken my promise.

  But you should know that I never wanted to hurt you, none of this was planned, and I still love you more than anything I’ve ever loved in this world.

  This is something I had to do. And I think if you’ll let me, I can explain in a way that makes sense and doesn’t completely obliterate the beauty of what we had.

  Please don’t hate me, Nevada.

  Please let me explain.

  Please answer your phone.

  I love you,

  Yardley

  The paper is torn at the top, as if he was about to rip it to shreds but changed his mind, and on the back of my letter, in bold, black Sharpie, is a message of his own.

  NEVER CONTACT ME AGAIN.

  Part Two {The Present}

  Chapter Twenty-One

  A Benign Tumor on My Heart

  Yardley

  “Did you hear?” My sister pops her head into my office Monday morning shortly before we open for the day.

  “Hear what?” I sip my coffee, clicking through my spreadsheet and pretending to be busy. If she thinks I’m bored, she’ll stand in my doorway all mo
rning and gossip.

  “About Nevada?” Her eyes dance and her mouth twists into a smirk, which tells me whatever she’s about to share is going to be epic.

  He’s inescapable. I haven’t seen nor heard from Nevada Kane in ten years and yet he’s everywhere I go, memories of us clinging to street signs and movie theaters and ice cream parlors and empty shells of businesses that were booming ten years ago but have since withered away along with the thriving economy that once put Lambs Grove, Missouri on the map.

  “No,” I say, pretending not to care as I gather my long dark hair and sweep it over my shoulder. Squinting at my monitor, I focus on the numbers, despite the fact that Bryony has my full attention. “What about him?”

  “He announced his retirement this morning,” my sister says. “He’s moving home.”

  My breath catches in the hollow cavity where my flourishing heart once resided.

  Nevada hasn’t come home in almost a decade, not even to visit his family or to tour the beautiful home he purchased for his mother after he signed a five-year, multi-million-dollar contract with the Raleigh Warriors.

  His family visits him all the time in North Carolina—or so I hear—but he refuses to set foot in Lambs Grove.

  Everyone has their theories.

  But only I know the truth.

  Lambs Grove reminds him too much of me.

  What we had.

  And what we lost.

  “Maybe enough time has passed …” My sister’s voice is soft and gentle. She knows the condition of my soul even after all these years. “He might talk to you now?”