“No, Aaron. I mean you need psychological help. Like rehab. For gambling addicts. Do they have that? I mean, I think I’ve heard of Gambler’s Anonymous.” Her eyes had wandered away from him, looking over his head while she thought out loud, but zeroed in on him again. “Start there. I’ll find you their number.”
But he was shaking his head. “No, I just need some cash to get these guys off my back.”
“That’s what you said before. It’s been a month. A month! What happens if you do con someone into giving you money? In another month you’ll need more again? Or will it be less this time? Two weeks? Two days?”
He scoffed. “It wouldn’t be two days. I’m trying to become a professional poker player. You have to—“
“With my money! With my boyfriend’s money! Get a job and gamble with your own money, jackass! No! I told you I wouldn’t give you anything after last time, and I meant it! I can’t believe you! I can’t believe I—“ Not even finishing her sentence she whirled around, yanking her car door open.
Aaron’s hand reached over her shoulder, slamming it shut. “Come on, Abby. Please? I just need a couple thousand this time. Your boyfriend won’t even miss it. Hasn’t he put you on his bank accounts already? I saw the way he looked at you. That guy’s totally whipped. You have him wrapped around your little finger.”
She spun to face him once more, shoving him back. He stumbled, more because she’d caught him off guard than any real ability on her part to overpower him. “Oh my God, Aaron. Seriously? Do you hear yourself? You want me to ask him for money, or, if I won’t do that, just steal it for you? And, not that it’s your business, but I don’t have access to his accounts. Because I didn’t feel right about sharing a bank account with him. I don’t take advantage of the people who care about me. I don’t use them so I can get whatever the fuck I want, everyone else be damned.”
He shook his head. “Your loss, Abs. With your looks, you could get a lot of cash from pathetic dudes.”
“Fuck you, Aaron. I’m not a whore. Leave. Go back to wherever you came from, and leave us alone. We’ve all got enough problems as it is. None of us need you to add to them. Con some sap into giving you enough money to get out of here. And don’t bother calling again.”
She jerked her car door open again and got in before Aaron could stop her. Once behind the wheel, she noticed that he hadn’t even tried. He stood there, frozen, his hands in his pockets once more, only his eyes moving to follow her progress as she backed up and turned around before heading out onto the street. After checking to be sure no cars were coming, she watched him in her rearview mirror as she pulled away. Wondering—hoping this might be the last time she saw him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
"Fuck! I can't believe him. I can't even—"
Abby's voice carried from the kitchen, her uncharacteristic cursing combined with the sound of things banging together Lance's clue that something was wrong. "Abby?"
Silence greeted him. He closed the door behind him and set his keys on the table by the door before moving to the kitchen. He found Abby in front of the sink, arms braced on the counter, head down and back bowed. She had her hair pulled up into a messy bun, chunks of it falling down to shield her face.
He stepped closer and ran a hand up her back. "Abby? What's wrong?"
She sniffed and lifted her head, running the back of her wrist across her nose, a wet sponge still clenched in her fingers. When she looked at him, her eyes were red and swollen, tear tracks fresh on her cheeks. His gut clenched, worry coursing through him. "What happened? Are you okay?"
Her lips parted and something between a laugh and a sob came out. "No. Yeah. I don't—"
"Come here." He gathered her into his arms, fitting her against his chest and rubbing her back. She clutched his shirt and sobbed against him, the wet patch on his shirt growing. While he held her, he glanced around the kitchen. A glass pan sat in the sink, the one that she'd been annoyed still had gunk around the edges after she'd made lasagna in it last week.
He waited until she quieted down. When she pulled back enough to wipe at her face, he pulled the sponge out of her hand and tossed it in the sink, leading her to the living room so they could talk.
Grabbing the box of tissues from the entertainment center, he settled next to her. She stared at her hands, which lay limp in her lap. He sat next to her sideways so he could face her, running the back of his hand down her arm in a gesture of comfort. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, mute.
“Sick?”
Another head shake.
“Is it one of our friends? Anyone we know hurt or sick?”
“No. No one’s hurt or sick.” It came out a hoarse whisper that he almost didn’t catch. But at least she was talking.
He took a deep breath and let it out. “Your mom?”
Her eyes flicked to his and away. She shook her head again. “My mom’s fine.”
Unable to watch her staring at her limp hands, he reached out and covered one of them with his, bringing it over to his leg, wrapping both his hands around her smaller one, still damp from either washing dishes or wiping at her tears. Or both.
He opened his mouth to ask about her brother, but closed it. Should he ask? Was now the time to push this? He studied her profile, her head still tilted down, her eyes trained on her lap. If not now, then when?
“What about your brother?”
She looked away again. It was almost funny how she’d clam up when faced with a question she didn’t want to answer. He’d heard her complain over the last few months about her brother doing that and how infuriating she found it. Didn’t she realize she did it too?
“Abby? Did something happen with your brother? Is that why you’re upset?”
This time when she met his eyes, cold fire blazed in hers. “I’m not upset, I’m fucking pissed.”
“What’d he do?”
She pulled her hand from his and stood, pushing the hair back from her face with jerky movements, moving to the other side of the coffee table where she paced like a caged animal, not looking at him. Taking a deep breath, she stopped and opened her mouth, then deflated, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. He waited. She squared her shoulders and faced him, her arms crossed over her chest. “He asked me for money.”
He raised an eyebrow. Again? Or was she talking about the first time? “Today?”
A jerky nod.
“How much?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t let him get that far. I told him that—“ She cut herself off, rolling her lips between her teeth.
He studied her and waited. She wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t say anything. “What did you tell him?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Abby. Look at me.” He waited until her eyes found his again, that fire gone, now replaced by wariness. He hated seeing that look directed at him. “What did you tell him?”
Her breath hitched while she stared at him, but she didn’t look away, her hand rising to roll her lower lip between her thumb and first finger. When her answer came out, it was the same hoarse whisper as before. “I told him I wouldn’t give him any more money. That he needed to leave and not come back this time.”
She watched him stand from the couch, a pair of tears spilling from her eyes. “You told him you wouldn’t give him more money? Meaning you gave him money before?”
She nodded, more tears coming now, her shoulders hunched like she was trying to shrink into herself.
The fact that he was pretty sure of her answer made it easy to stay calm. “So your mom didn’t need money for medical tests last month?”
She shook her head, burying her face in her hands.
He pulled her to him again, but she didn’t cling to him like she had before. She held herself stiffly, unwilling to accept his comfort. “Why didn’t you tell me before? Why tell me your mom needed it for medical stuff?”
She shook her head, her voice coming out muffled from her hands. “I pa
nicked.”
He pulled back so he could look down at her, but she kept her face down so all he could see was the knot of hair on the back of her head. “Why?”
She shook her head again, but didn’t say anything.
Rubbing his hands up her arms, he gripped her shoulders and gave her a shake. Not hard, just enough to get her attention, get her to look at him. “Talk to me, Abby. Why did you lie? Why does your brother need money?”
Her eyes were pained when they met his. “Gambling debts. He came to me at school like I told you and told me he needed four thousand dollars or some guys that he owed money to were going to hurt him. I—“ She looked away and swallowed. “He said that’s why he came back. That he owed money to people in Arizona, and he came here to get away. But then he got in over his head here, too.” Her eyes flicked to him and away again, like she couldn’t bear to look at him while she spilled the truth that she’d been holding in for weeks. “When you gave him that cash the day he came here, he figured I could get the money from you. But I couldn’t ask you for money for him. Not for that. Not for him. But I couldn’t let him get hurt, either. Not when I knew I could help him, that I had the money he needed in my account.”
“So you decided to give him the money and let me pay for the rent.”
She nodded, misery lining her features. “You’ve wanted to since we got this place. I could help my brother and give you what you wanted. I told him that was it. I wouldn’t give him anything else after that, and that he needed to stop gambling and get a job and move out of Mom’s house.” She lifted one shoulder, wiped her cheek on it, and sniffed. “I thought—well, I hoped that he would take the money and leave again. Like he did before. And like he did in Arizona, you know? Just bail.” She shook her head. “He didn’t, though.”
Lance grunted, his hands still rubbing her arms. She kept talking as long as he did that. Every time he stopped, she paused, and resumed when he did.
“What did he need today?” He kept his voice low, just above a whisper, not wanting to shock her out of whatever state of mind she was in that allowed her to tell him everything by speaking too loud.
Her mouth twisted. “More. He only paid them part of the money and used the rest to gamble more. Now he’s in even deeper.” Shaking her head, she met his eyes again. “I told him to leave and not come back. Not to even call. That we all had enough problems without him adding to them.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she leaned into him, allowing him to hug her, like the confession had wrung out the strength that had kept her on her own feet this whole time. He waited, letting her settle into him again, before he asked again the question that had been gnawing at him since he figured out she was lying. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me, Abby? Why lie?”
Her head moved against him. “It’s embarrassing. Don’t you see that? I was mortified. My whole family is embarrassing, my whole history. You have the picture-perfect family. And mine is a mess—a non-functioning mom, a deadbeat dad, and a gambling addict brother. How could I tell you that?”
“Just like that, Abby. You just tell me.” He managed to keep his voice low, but it came out tight and angry. She stiffened and pulled away, but he wouldn’t let her go, his hand tipping her face up so she would look him in the eye. “Dammit, Abby, I’m in this with you. I’m here. We’re together.”
But she shook her head, dislodging his hand. “We’re not married, Lance. We’re not even engaged. My problems aren’t your problems.”
“Like hell they aren’t!” His fingers tightened on her shoulders. She squirmed in his grip, and he let her go. “Like hell they aren’t. Your problems are my problems. I don’t care about your family. I care about you. I love you. I want to help you. But how can I when you won’t let me in? When you won’t tell me the truth about what’s going on?”
“Lance, you don’t—“
“Yes I do.” He pointed a finger at her. “You get to listen to me this time. I’ve seen through all your distancing techniques from the beginning, let you have your walls, hoping you’d let me in. I got past the initial barriers, and you threw more up. You keep putting them up, and I’ll keep tearing them down. Even if we’re not engaged, don’t try to tell me that we haven’t made each other promises. I’ve made promises. I promised to take care of you, to love you, to give you what you need. The rest of it is just paperwork. I’m in this. I’m here. Are you?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lance’s words seemed to reverberate in the silence, each one slamming into her chest. I’m in this. I’m here. Are you?
She shook her head, not in answer, but in confusion. He hadn’t been surprised when he found out the truth. “Did you know?”
He blinked, crossing his arms. “Did I know what?”
“That I was lying. How? You weren’t surprised when I said Aaron had asked me for money. Like you knew all along. How? How did you know?”
He sighed, looking at her like she was slow. “Abby, you’re not a very good liar. I believed you at first because you were so upset. But the more I thought about it and the more I asked about it, the more obvious it became that you weren’t giving the money to your mom. That meant it had to be your brother. I didn’t know why, though.”
Looking away, she ran over all their conversations about it in her head. Yeah, okay. Maybe he had a point. “Why didn’t you say something sooner, then?” Why let me carry on with the lies?
He shook his head and collapsed back down on the couch, tossing his hands up in a gesture of frustration and helplessness. “What was I supposed to do? Say, ‘Abby, I know you’re lying to me’? That would’ve gone over real well, I’m sure.”
“Well, no, but—“
“No buts. You would’ve gotten pissed that I said you were lying, even though you were, and everything would be shit. And I wanted you to choose to tell me. I wanted you to trust me. That’s all I’ve wanted all along.”
“I do trust you.”
He gave her a long, pointed look.
“I do. I trust you more than I’ve trusted anyone. Even Megan. I moved in with you. I let you in. I’ve brought you to my mom’s house. A bunch. Do you know how many other people I’ve willingly brought there? One. Megan.” He opened his mouth to say something, looking like he was going to point out a flaw in her argument, but she spoke louder, cutting him off before he could speak. “I don’t do that.” She jammed her finger into her chest to emphasize her point. “I don’t let people in.”
Watching her, he nodded once. “That’s true. You don’t.”
“And I’ve let you in.”
“Not all the way, though.”
Now she threw up her hands in that same gesture. “I don’t know how to do anything else!”
“You could try.”
“I am trying. I’m doing the best I can!”
He arched one eyebrow. “Really, Abby?”
She reached a hand toward him, but let it drop. “I let you pay for my plane ticket to visit your family.”
“Because you couldn’t afford it.”
She narrowed her eyes. “True. But at one point I would’ve refused to go at all. And I accepted the iPad that you gave me for Christmas. And the expensive earrings for my birthday. I’m trying, Lance. Can’t you see that?”
He stared at her for a moment before nodding slowly, standing and taking her hands that she’d held out as though in supplication. “I do. I know. But I—“ He looked around the room, taking a deep breath and gathering his thoughts before meeting her eyes again. His brown eyes looked almost pleading. “I want to take care of you. I want you to trust me to take care of you. To let me pay the rent because I can and I want to, not because you gave all your money to your brother.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he kept going, not letting her get a word in. “I want you to let me go grocery shopping with you more than once a month or so if I’m around, because you’ll let me pay when we’re together.” He shook his head. “No, what I really want is for you to let me add you to my cr
edit card and use that to pay for groceries.”
“But what about my job? What will I pay for?”
“School!” His fingers squeezed hers. “Don’t take out as much in loans. You don’t have to, and then you won’t have as much to pay back after you graduate. I’m lucky enough not to have any loans and to have a great job right out of college. I can cover our expenses and still have some left over. You don’t have to pay for everything fifty-fifty like you did with Megan.”
“But—“
“No buts.”
She shook her head. “No. I need to say it. If you want me to trust you, then you have to listen to me and not just shut me down because you don’t like what I’m saying.”
He let out a sigh, but it was a sound of acquiescence, not annoyance. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I know I railroad you. Go ahead. I’m listening.”
Swallowing, she looked into his eyes, taking in the sincerity and love radiating from them. That look gave her strength. “I feel like I’m taking advantage. That I’m just mooching off you by letting you pay for everything. And my brother’s the kind of person who does that, who wants me to do it for him, and I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want you to ever feel like I’m using you or that I’m only with you for money.”
“Abby.” Her name on his lips was a combination of admonition and request. His hands came up to cup her face, holding her still so that she couldn’t look away from him even if she wanted to. “Abby, I love you. And you love me, right?”
She nodded, warmth spreading through the cold dread that had settled in her chest.
“Do you believe me when I tell you that I want to take care of you? That you can’t take advantage of me, because I know everything now, and I choose to do it? That I want to share everything I have with you?” His heavy gaze held her in place, impressing on her his seriousness.
She nodded again. “Yes.”
“Good.” He brought his mouth to hers, sealing their understanding with his lips on hers, firm but not punishing.
Pulling back, his eyes roamed her face. She was sure she looked a mess, having cried off all her makeup hours ago, her face all puffy.
Unsaid Things (Players of Marycliff University #4) Page 18