The Rebound

by Winter Renshaw

  Eden found me some nineteen-year-old babysitter and I’ve used her the last couple of days, but she doesn’t seem to be vested in the girls, and several times I’ve caught her on her phone when she didn’t think I was looking.

  As soon as I can line up someone better, I’ll cut her loose.

  Leaving the hospital’s rehabilitation unit, I head home, passing The Sew Shop on the way and doing a cursory search for Yardley’s Volvo.

  That’s two days in a row it hasn’t been there.

  Creeping to a stop at the red light ahead. I grab my phone and call her, getting her voicemail after a half dozen rings.

  “I need you right now, okay?” I say, exhaling into the phone. “There. I said it. I need you. Please call me so we can … figure this out. I know I’m an ass, but I’m an ass that really wants to talk to you. Call me, Yardley. Please.”

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  About the Other Night

  Yardley

  Greta’s cardiologist is amazing.

  She took the time to explain her congestive heart failure, even going so far as to draw pictures, circling atriums and ventricles and chambers.

  Her nephrologist, on the other hand, is a giant douche. Her normal doctor is in Tahiti or something until next week, so this jackass is filling in.

  Thank God Greta’s been drifting in and out of a deep sleep the last few days or she’d be giving this ass a piece of her mind.

  Taking a seat beside her, I slip my hand into hers and listen to the steady tones of the heart monitor. I’ve been here since the day I got a call from the administrator of Park Woods Independent Living Center telling me Greta was just rushed to the hospital with shortness of breath, and I only leave at night.

  A stack of books and magazines rests on a table in the corner, and I flip through the TV stations for the millionth time. Daytime TV is so not my thing, but I know Greta loves all these talk shows, so I like to have them playing in the background in case she wakes up for a while.

  For as long as I’ve known this woman, I’ve seen her get knocked down by this illness or that disease only to come back swinging. Her heart and kidneys seem to be her biggest issues, but I kind of think they keep hanging on because Greta’s not ready to let go just yet.

  I have no doubt she’ll pull through after this. Her body just needs to rest for a while. Things will be back to normal soon, I just know it.

  At half-past five, I whisper goodbye to my friend, draw a smiley face with heart eyes on her whiteboard along with a short message, and quietly pad out of her hospital room to head home.

  I’m halfway home when my phone rings and Nev’s name lights up the screen.

  “Not now.” I sigh, placing my phone in an empty cup holder and letting his call go to voicemail.

  Five minutes later, I’m pulling into my driveway. My body aches from sitting in hard chairs for the past couple of days, and all I want is a hot bath, a good book, and a glass of wine. Heading in, I take Dex for a short walk before executing my evening plans, but the second I’m lighting the peony-and-freesia candle in the corner of my bathtub, there’s a hard knock at the door.

  Exhaling, I slip my robe off. I’m going to ignore it.

  Whoever it is can wait.

  Dipping my left leg into the steamy, bubbly water, I carefully lower myself until the water ripples around me and my body is fully submerged.

  Closing my eyes, I drag a humid breath in through my nostrils and let the heat warm my chest.

  And then the doorbell rings.

  Groaning, I continue to ignore it.

  But then they knock.

  And ring.

  And knock.

  And ring.

  Cursing under my breath, I climb out of the tub, spilling water all over the tile floor, cover up with a fluffy gray robe, and pad down the hall to the front door, leaving a path of wet footprints in my wake.

  Rising on my toes, I peer through the peephole.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Clasping my lapels, I pull the door wide and stare Nevada directly in his honey eyes. “This better be important.”

  “I’ve been trying to reach you all week.”

  My brows lift. “I’ve been busy.”

  “I called you earlier.”

  “Yeah. I know.” I shrug.

  “Did you get my voicemail?” he asks.

  “Haven’t had time to listen to it.”

  Nevada scoffs, like he doesn’t believe me, but that’s on him. I speak the truth.

  “How’d you get my address anyway?” I cock my head.

  “It’s public information,” he says. “Lambs Grove tax assessor page.”

  “Who’s watching the girls?”

  “Hunter. Can I come in now?”

  I stand out of the way and he strides into my house. It’s almost surreal, him being here … a piece of my past planted smack dab in the middle of my present. For years, I never thought in a million years that he’d ever set foot in here.

  “What do you need, Nev?” I close the door and place my hands on my hips. The faint scent of my vanilla honeysuckle bubble bath wafts from my warm, damp skin.

  “About the other night,” he begins, eyes holding mine. “I’ve got some issues I need to work through.”

  “Clearly.”

  “I don’t think you realize how much it destroyed me, losing you,” he continues. “I was just some kid living in a trailer, playing ball. And then you came along, and you were the best thing that had ever happened to me. You gave me hope. And more love than I could’ve ever imagined. But when I lost you …”

  His voice dissipates into nothing and he pauses.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I wish things could’ve been different.”

  “Do you have any idea what it’s like to love and resent someone at the same time? Do you get what that does to a person?” he asks.

  I bite my trembling lip, thinking of Griffin. “Yes. I know the feeling.”

  “When I look at you,” he says, fingers at his temples. “I think … there’s the woman I love. And then a second later, I’m reliving everything all over again, and then I can’t even look at you.”

  Heading to the living room, I sink into one of the arm chairs, hunched forward and resting my arms on my thighs. I glance down at the thick rug beneath my toes.

  “I don’t know what to say, Nev,” I say, voice fragmented.

  He’s quiet.

  “What do you want?” I glance up at him. His broad shoulders rise and fall as he watches me. “Do you want me? Or do you want to keep hating me? Because you can’t have both. Just … pick one. Because I’d really love to get on with my life if you’re not going to pick me.”

  Nev pushes a sharp breath between his lips, running his hand through his dark hair.

  “I want you,” he says, after what feels like forever. “You’re what I want. You’re what I’ve always wanted.”

  Standing, I go to him, lifting my hand to cup his chiseled jaw.

  “You can have me,” I say, voice gentle as I lose myself in his golden gaze. “But you can’t keep hurting me. And one of these days, you’re going to have to let me tell you everything. Even if you don’t want to hear it, even if you think it doesn’t matter.”

  Nev’s hands anchor my waist, pulling my body against his. A moment later, his full lips are pressed against mine, his tongue slipping between the seam until it dances with mine. He breathes me in, his fingers unthreading the belt of my robe as he kisses me harder, hungrier.

  When his palms glide across my naked flesh, he lifts me into his arms and I point down the hall. He carries me to my room, kicking the door shut, and as soon as he places me on my bed, I let my robe slip off my shoulders.

  Sitting up, legs spread, I reach for Nev’s belt and pull him toward me, working the buckle before heading for the zipper.

  Our eyes meet, and my heart pounds so hard, I can hardly make sense of my own thoughts.

  He smiles. I smile.

  Everyth
ing about this feels right this time.

  Sliding his black boxers down his muscled thighs, I slide off the bed and onto my knees, kneeling before him and taking his throbbing cock in my left hand. Bringing the tip to my lips, I smirk when he gathers my hair in his fist and releases the slightest anticipatory groan.

  My tongue swirls his tip before dragging the length of him, and when I sense his impatience moments later, I take him in my mouth. His fist squeezes harder, pulling at my strands, and he guides me, controlling our rhythm as he gently pumps his girth into my mouth.

  Nevada stops after a few minutes, pulling himself out from my lips. “Lie on the bed.”

  I crawl to the middle, grabbing a pillow to shove beneath my head, and Nev visually feasts on every bare inch of me. Yanking off his shirt, he takes the spot between my thighs, dragging his rough palm up my inner thigh before slipping a finger between my folds and plunging it inside of me. Another finger follows, then his tongue swirling and circling my clit.

  My hands work my breasts as I try not to squirm too much, but my body’s on fire and I’m somewhere between wanting this to last forever and wanting him inside of me, like, yesterday.

  Biting my lip, my legs begin to shake. I’m getting close already.

  Reaching below, I trace my fingertip along his shoulder until he glances up at me, my arousal on his full lips. The last time I saw this very same image, he was just a young man, eighteen years old, not a forehead crease or laugh line. But adulthood has been kind to him, blessing him with broad shoulders, rippled abs, and just enough of a crinkle around his eyes to make him look wise beyond his years.

  Nevada crawls over me, teasing my entrance with the tip of his cock as I settle beneath him, my hands running up and down his muscled torso as I gaze up into his eyes.

  “I love you, Yardley,” he whispers, his lips grazing mine before he claims my mouth. I taste myself on his tongue as he plunges inside of me. “I never stopped.”

  My mind, body, and soul are aglow with those three little words …

  I never stopped.

  For ten years, it was the kind of question that kept me up at night. I’d toss and turn some evenings, staring at the ceiling and wondering if he ever thought of me, and if by some insane chance, he still loved me the way I loved him.

  I kiss him.

  I kiss him with everything I have and everything I am.

  When we’re finished, he lies beside me on my bed, the two of us silent and lost in thought. Curling into his arms, we wait for our heartbeats to steady. My eyes grow heavy, my entire body drifting to sleep atom by atom.

  I shut my eyes for only a moment, and when I open them again, it’s dark. The bed is moving. The next thing I know, I’m listening to the sound of clothes rustling and his belt clinking.

  I didn’t expect him to stay, but he’s not even gone and already I miss him.

  When he’s finished, he returns to my side, leaning over me and pressing his lips into the top of my forehead.

  “I love you,” he whispers. “I love you.”

  He says it twice, like once isn’t nearly enough, but to me, a million times would barely put a dent in the way I feel about him.

  In the dark, I smile, and I watch as the door opens and closes. When he’s gone, I steal his pillow, squeezing it tight as sleep washes over me again.

  Something tells me this was worth the wait, that everything might actually work out for us.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  I Thought You Knew

  Nev

  I excuse myself when Mom’s doctor comes in for an examination, and I head to the hospital cafeteria to grab a bite to eat. The food smells the way our old school lunches used to smell.

  Soggy.

  Burnt.

  Bland.

  Smirking to myself, I think back to the day I first met Yardley.

  All I saw was this long dark hair and these big blue eyes and this hand frantically scribbling notes in a journal as she sat by herself beside an untouched lunch. She was so cute with her dark hair and her ocean blue eyes, those pointy, angled features and her shiny pink nails. And those neon orange cross trainers? The girl was wearing my favorite color. I couldn’t walk by and not introduce myself.

  Jumping into the deli line, I grab a roast beef sandwich and a bottled water and head to the cash register before finding an empty table. Grabbing my phone, I tap into the security system at home to check on the sitter. For once she’s not on her phone, thank God. And when I’m finished, I send Yardley a text asking if she’s free tonight.

  I don’t have a sitter, but I’m sure we could improvise once the girls go to bed for the night.

  Sliding my phone into my pocket, I finish my lunch and head back to Mom’s room, but as I round the corner just past the cardiopulmonary floor, I spot a familiar chocolate-haired beauty standing at the nurse’s station, elbows resting on the counter as she speaks with a young girl in powder pink scrubs.

  “Yardley,” I say her name as I approach her. When she glances my way, she seems just as shocked. “What are you doing here?”

  “One of my friends is here,” she says. “Congestive heart failure and a kidney infection.”

  “Jesus.” I frown. “Anyone I might know?”

  She shakes her head slowly, eyes on mine. “No. You wouldn’t know her.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Her name is Greta,” Yardley says. “She’s the grandmother of the man I married.”

  Married?

  For a second, I can’t breathe. My stomach knots. I take a step back. Yardley winces.

  “You were married?” I manage to ask.

  “I thought you knew?”

  The only thing I knew was that she started seeing someone else while I was away—that she fucking cheated on me. I didn’t know she went off and married the bastard.

  This changes things.

  This makes me second guess everything she’s ever told me, past and present, about the way she feels about me.

  These facts are a jagged little pill, painful if not impossible to swallow. Not only did she break her promise by cheating on me with her best friend … she loved him so much she went off and married him.

  The sting of betrayal consumes me all over again.

  I need a second.

  I need to be anywhere but here, staring at her.

  “Nevada,” she says, her hand reaching for my arm.

  I step away, hands in the air. Images of the girl I love walking down the aisle in a beautiful dress and exchanging vows with some smug-faced pencil prick fill my mind, and then I picture his hands on her body.

  It’s everything I have not to drive my fist into the stainless-steel elevator doors before me, but I take a deep breath, gather my composure, and head back to Mom’s room.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  He Doesn’t Get To Say No

  Yardley

  I thought he knew about the marriage. I really did.

  All these years, I’d assumed the only thing he didn’t know was why.

  Stunned speechless and trying to understand why he would react the way he did just now, I amble back to Greta’s room, taking the chair by her side and watching her sleep.

  The doctor says her condition isn’t improving. The nurses say she asks for me every time she wakes up, but they’re sure to let her know I was with her all day. If she doesn’t pull through this time, I don’t know what I’ll do.

  Her advice is second to none.

  I’m not sure I can make it through this thing with Nev without it.

  Resting my chin in my hands, I watch her chest rise and fall. She looks so peaceful, and I wish I could’ve known her in her younger days. I imagine she was a real spitfire, at least that’s the impression I get from the stories she always tells me.

  Thinking back to the other week when we were talking about regrets, I contemplate what she told me … about how looking back, the times when she spoke up ended up being her proudest moments.

  Speaking up i
s hard.

  Telling people things they don’t want to hear is even harder.

  All this time, I’d respected Nev’s wishes, never elaborating on things with Griffin, but seeing the way he reacted today when he found out about the marriage, I’m making an executive decision.

  I’m going to tell him everything, whether or not he wants to hear it.

  This time, he doesn’t get to say no.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  I’ll Do Anything

  Yardley

  Ten Years Ago

  I can’t stop staring at Griffin. And I can’t fully process the news he shared with me this morning. The image of him slowly removing the knit Sooner’s stocking cap he’s worn every day since I met him six months ago is burned into my mind.

  My funny, witty best friend has brain cancer.

  And not only that, but it’s spreading.

  His smooth head is covered in jagged scars from previous surgeries, and the chemo causes his hair to fall out in clumps so he keeps it shaved. I told him I barely noticed, and it was true, looking at Griff, I only see him for who he is on the inside. Funny, sweet, charismatic.

  We’re seated across from one another at one of the most romantic restaurants in town, and it happens to be Valentine’s Day—Nevada’s nineteenth birthday.

  But we’re not here because we’re on a date.

  We’re here because Griffin said he needed to ask me something—a favor.

  And for the first time since I’ve known him, he was actually serious. He said it was a huge favor. Something he couldn’t just ask over the phone or while we were hanging out in my basement watching movies.

  This was the only decent restaurant in town with an open table, so we ended up here, amongst kissing couples with love in their eyes, all of them probably daydreaming about their futures together, while Griffin sits here not even knowing if tomorrow is promised.