Everything is so silent in our apartment at that moment, I swear, I could probably hear a pin drop from the first floor.
Brody ducks his head and runs his hand back and forth over the nape of his neck. He lifts his head fractionally and his gaze meets mine for just a second before he turns to look at Michele. “Yeah, I do.” He smiles. “I don’t know her all that well, and I only just met her. But if I had to pick any girl to take to prom, it’d be Sabrina.” His cheeks turn a bright pink and he beams at me. “And to answer your question, Sabrina is Nic’s coworker. And she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”
Michele purses her lips before she faces me. “Nickayla, could I speak to you in private for a moment?”
I nod. “Of course.”
I pat Colin’s knee, and he looks up from his soup wide-eyed, like he’s afraid for me.
I give him a reassuring smile, because there’s honestly nothing for him to worry about. This time, at least.
I lead Michele to my girl cave, and the minute that we’re inside, she slams the door. She looks furious, and for the life of me, I can’t understand why. Sure, Brody was her first love, and Michie was his, but their relationship was so damn toxic, I’m surprised it didn’t obliterate more people than just the two of them and Brody’s little sister, Dalis.
“Yes, Michele?” I ask, when Michele continues to stare at me with her lips pursed and her hands on her hips.
“How could you introduce Brody to someone at your job? How could you do that to me? She’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen? What the Hell does she even look like? Goddamn it, Nickayla!”
She looks so furious and for no good reason at all. It makes me want to laugh, but I know that if I do, I’ll never hear the end of it. I really want to be upfront and honest with her, no sugarcoating, just like she’s always been with me. And as she’s standing there looking like she’s about to murder me for having female coworkers who are hot—oh, the horror—I decide that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
“Here’s the deal, Mich. I didn’t introduce him to anyone. He showed up on my first day at a new job drunker than Courtney Love and bitching and whining about you. Sabrina threw water on him and basically told him to grow some balls, sober up, and come back another day. He’s fascinated with her. And to be honest, she’s a fucking bombshell. It’s about damn time that he shows interest in someone other than you and Blow Job Belinda. You are not going to fuck this up for him or be mad at him for moving on when you’ve already done the same thing yourself. And while we’re at it, you’re not allowed to be mad at me for having hot coworkers that he happened to meet because he needed someone. Why did he need someone? Because he’s had a rough eighteen years and you chose another guy over him and now he’s heartbroken. It would have been fucked up if he got mad at me because you met Hayden on a trip I invited you on. So stop being fucking immature. Apologize to me, and then go in there and tell Brody you’re happy for him.” I narrow my eyes at her and she winces a little. “And if you’re not happy for him, well fucking act like it. Fake it til you make it. You’ve put each other through HELL, Mich. You’re happy with Hayden? Fine. Now it’s his turn to be happy, whether it’s with Sabrina or Belinda Whore-reno, or fucking Manuela. It doesn’t matter. He deserves happiness. He deserves it more than you do. Got it?”
She averts her eyes before she clears her throat.
“That’s not fair. He’s not the only one who got hurt last summer! Hayden was hurt, I was hurt. Brody wasn’t the only victim,” she argues.
“Yeah, but listen to what you just said. Hayden was hurt. You were hurt. Am I discounting what you went through? No. But I’m saying that when I look down the list of the people who are still hurt after what happened last summer, Brody’s the only one on it. You need to let him go, Mich. All you’re doing is making shit worse because you want to have your cake and eat it, too. And to be honest, you’re fucking up the entire dynamic of this friendship. Fix it!”
Michele glares at me like I’ve just kicked her cat, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s actually mad at me, or if all this hostility is leftover from her feelings toward Madilyn. Either way, she’s wrong, and whether she knows it or not right now, I’m going to make sure she figures it out.
With a friendship like mine and Michie’s, it’s no surprise that we’re clashing. We’ve been friends so long that it happens more often than not lately, because she feels like I’m taking Brody’s side. In a way, I am, because he’s the one who’s still suffering right now. Besides that, he’s always been the most fragile of the three of us.
“Don’t act all high and mighty because you’re in the perfect relationship, Nickayla,” Michie says, seething.
“So are you! All you do is walk around talking about how Hayden is perfect and Skylar is perfect and you have the ‘instant family’ waiting for you back in Big Springs.”
“So?”
I roll my eyes. “So, if you’re so damned happy with Hayden, why are you worried about what Brody is or isn’t doing with Sabrina? Why is it your problem?”
I watch as she winces like I’ve just slapped her, and then she folds her arms across her chest and lowers her head. I know instantly that I’ve either struck a chord and she’s going to get even more pissed than she already is, or I’ve finally gotten through to her.
“I just don’t want him to be with the first person to pay attention to him,” she admits.
“Well, trust me, that’s not Sabrina. She’s not like Belinda, or even like you. I saw them together once, and I know she’ll be good for him. She challenges him. She stands up to him. And she doesn’t make him feel stupid. She makes him want to be better. I can see it. You need to leave it alone. If he’s meant to be with her, he will be. And you’re not going to fuck it up.”
Michele leans against the wall and then sighs as she stares up at the ceiling. She keeps this stance for a while, not looking at me, moving, or saying anything. I’m a little weirded out, because this isn’t like her at all. She’s not…quiet.
“Fine,” she says, finally. “Fine, fine, fine. You’re right. I just…I want him to be happy.”
I grin, clapping my hand on her shoulder as we make our way out toward the living room once more. “Trust me, Mich. He will be.”
Eleven.
There’s someone new in support group today.
I notice instantly because Lea, the girl who replaced Elizabeth three months ago, has asked me to make sure everyone got pizza and soda, and the first thing I notice is that there’s a blond-haired, brown-eyed boy sitting where Marissa usually sits. He looks up at me through long lashes and gives a hundred-watt smile before taking the can of Coke I have outstretched to him. When I take a second look at him, I realize that I know his face. I just can’t place it.
We don’t get very many boys here in the Heart of a Warrior group. In months since I’ve joined, we’ve only had maybe four boys join us, and they rotate every few weeks or so. None of them ever stay very long.
I learned, after Support Day—the day where I told all my family and friends that I was raped, and the effects it had on me—that this isn’t just a support group for rape victims. It’s just that. A support group. We provide support to anyone who needs it, and we let them know that no matter what they’ve been through, they’re still here. They’re survivors, and they’re warriors. That’s what our group is all about.
I think that the boys are a bit turned off by our group, so now that there’s a new one—the first in over three months—I’m overly excited about it. Instead of continuing on my rounds to give refreshments to all our members, I take a seat beside the boy and set the box of pizza atop the cooler of soda I’ve been dragging arouund.
“Hi!” I exclaim, giving him a smile of my own. “You’re new, right?”
He nods, looking a bit shocked that I’m talking to him. “Yeah. I am. My doctor told me about this place, and I figured I’d check it out. I mean, judging by the refreshments and the fact that we’re
not listening to some guy talk about his ball cancer in the Literal Heart of Jesus, I’d say it’s not so bad.”
Oh, goodness. “You just referenced The Fault in Our Stars. I love that book!” I pause, extending my hand. “I’m Nickayla. Nickayla Quinn.”
“Dixon Morrow.”
Oh. That’s where I know him from! He works with me at Le Chateau D’If. This could either be really cool, or really awkward.
He shakes my hand and leans back in his chair. I take the initiative to get comfortable as well, so I cross my legs, resting my hands atop my knee.
He seems a bit tense from the way he’s sitting, and I hope that by me being nice to him, he loosens up a bit. I want everyone here to be as comfortable as I am. As soon as we settle, Lea walks into the room, taking her seat in the center and waving “Hello” to all of us. She crosses her legs at the ankles, and then pulls a clipboard out from underneath her chair.
“Afternoon everyone. Welcome to Support Group. Ready for the motto?” Lea asks.
“We are here not because we have to be, but because we want to be. We are here not because we’re weak, but because we’re strong. We are here not because we’re victims, but because we’re survivors. We are here because we are warriors,” we say in unison.
She gives us a smile as she grabs a pen and looks around the room, ticking us off as she sees us. She stops as soon as her gaze moves past me, and she gives a smile to Dixon. “Okay, you all know the drill. Stand up. Give your name, age, the reason you’re here, and how you feel on a scale of one to ten.”
Naturally, she starts at the head of the circle, where she’s sitting.
“Hi, I’m Carrie. I’m fifteen. I’m recently out of rehab. Um, I guess I’m about a five. It’s been a long week.” Carrie sits down and folds her arms over her chest.
I sit back in silence as the remainder of the room introduces themselves, and when it’s Dixon’s turn, I immediately sit forward, admittedly intrigued by this new creature.
“I’m Dixon Morrow. I’m eighteen. Um, I’m here because I figure it’s better to be around people who understand me than people who don’t. I attempted suicide about two months ago, and I just recently got released from College Hospital in L.A. I’m an eight,” he says.
He sits down and glances at me momentarily before he looks away. I stand immediately, and I smooth out my skirt.
“I’m Nickayla, but you can call me Nic. I’m seventeen. I’m a two year survivor of rape. Today I’m a five,” I say right before I take my seat once more.
Lea glances up at me, a curious expression on her face. She looks down at her chart with all of our names and our moods, and then back at me. “Nickayla, how are you doing? Just two weeks ago, you were a ten.”
I shrug, nonplussed.
“Just two weeks ago, things weren’t this bad,” I tell her.
“What’s wrong?”
Well, shit. Where do I start? Everything’s changed, and it seems like I’m the only one who’s noticed it. As much as that’s what I want to say, though, I decide not to. I’m not going to air all of my problems in front of this giant group of people. I can save it for therapy next week, and share them with only one person.
“My boyfriend’s father passed away two weeks ago, just after our last support group,” I say.
Lea gives me a solemn smile. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
I shrug. I don’t want her to be sorry.
“Don’t be. I didn’t really like him. But my boyfriend…he loved him. And it’s been a rough couple of weeks. Through the whole course of the time we’ve known each other, he’s had to be strong for me. Right now I’m struggling with whether or not I can be strong enough for him.”
Tears spring to my eyes, calling to surface all the inadequacies I’ve felt since the day we found out about Mr. Westwick, and more recently, the funeral. I can’t help but feel like I’ve fallen short, because Colin would have rather turned to alcohol than come to me. It’s hard to put into words how that made—and still makes—me feel.
I reach up and press my index finger and thumb to the bridge of my nose. Pinching, I try to force the tears away.
“Is there anyone who has any advice for Nickayla today?” Lea asks, addressing the group.
I lift my head just in time to see Dixon’s hand shoot up. I turn and stare at him, then raise an eyebrow, curious as to what it is he’s about to say.
“I think…the fact that you’re sitting here in a group of strangers, concerned about whether or not you’re strong enough for him means that you probably are. If you’re worried so much about it that it’s the first thing that comes to your mind when asked ‘what’s wrong’, it’s 99% likely that you’re doing everything right,” he says. “Just…keep doing what you’re doing. It’ll get better, I’m sure of it.”
I blink at him, stunned by his enlightened response. Hearing him say that makes every single one of my fears and inadequacies disappear. I smile at him, and he smiles back, and suddenly I get the feeling that Dixon is going to become rather important to my life.
…
After support group disperses, I drive home in Colin’s car, and I park in our allotted parking spot. Ascending the stairs, I attempt to mentally prepare myself for what I’m about to walk into when I set foot into our apartment.
Suze, about two days ago, officially packed up her things and decided to move in with Keaton and Carly. She told us that she didn’t want to impose on us anymore, and that she couldn’t handle being in her parents’ house. So moving away was the only option for her. It was sad to see her go, especially since I’d gotten so accustomed to having her around regularly. Despite all that, though, I wanted her to be safe and mentally stable more than I wanted to have her around. So I said goodbye to her, and so did Colin.
So now Suze is gone…but Madilyn’s still here. Yay.
I grab my keys from my purse and then I unlock the door. Once inside, I plop my purse down on the couch and close the door behind me. Taking a deep breath, I step further inside the apartment.
“Babe?” I called. “Colin?”
I’m looking around the apartment when Colin emerges from the bedroom, looking incredibly desirable in a fitted black t-shirt and a pair of jeans. His hair is long and floppy, and falls in front of his eyes, but what I notice even more than that is the fact that he’s speed-walking toward me with the biggest grin on his face. It feels almost as if an eternity has passed since the last time I saw him smile this way.
“Hey, you,” he says, as he continues toward me. When he closes the gap between us, he wastes no time in wrapping his arms around me and lifting me into the air. I’m flush against him and holding onto him for dear life as he showers me with kisses. “I.” He kisses me on the lips. “Missed.” He kisses me again. “You.” He tilts his head forward and deepens the kiss, his tongue making its way past my lips. “So much.”
Letting my arms reach around his neck, I close my eyes. Our kiss breaks, and he sets me down on the ground, but he doesn’t let go of me for a single second. Grinning, I pull him closer and press my cheek to his chest. “Well, hello to you, too.”
He kisses the top of my head, and then, he pulls away. He stares down at me in a way that only he can, in a way that makes every inch of me feel like it’s on fire. And suddenly, I can’t help but feel like this is a once in a lifetime opportunity.
“Where’s Madilyn?” I ask, looking around the apartment.
Colin’s left eyebrow raises at the same time as his smile quirks to one side. “She’s not here.”
Suddenly, he gets this mischievous look on his face, and he storms toward me. For some reason, I’m not sure what this look means, so cautiously, I back away. He advances on me, and I make my way behind the couch. He starts running, and so do I, standing behind the coffee table and watching him. He’s eyeing me like a predator eyes its prey, and for some reason, I’m as scared as I am thrilled by this dance we’re doing.
“Colin. What are you doing?” I ask, going into th
e kitchen and standing behind our table.
He follows me and stands on the opposite side of it. He places his hands palm down atop the table and gives me a smirk. “Madilyn isn’t here.”
“So?”
I make to move to the left, and Colin intercepts me, leaning forward and hoisting me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
“Colin! Oh, my God!” I exclaim, laughing uncontrollably as he strolls toward our bedroom.
I can see the living room and the kitchen disappearing from view, and as soon as we’re inside the room, Colin shuts the door with his foot. He strolls further into the room, and then he drops me rather unceremoniously on the bed. He props himself up on his palms and hovers above me for a moment. Closing his eyes, he leans down and kisses me softly, slowly.
“I just love you,” he whispers. With a smile, he pulls away from me.
“I just love you.”
Colin rolls over to the side and I climb atop him. I position myself so that I’m straddling him, and I lean forward, running my hands through his hair.
This is the first time since our getaway that he’s allowed me to even get this close to him. He’s been keeping me at arm’s length since then, and the fact that we’re in this position right now…I don’t know. It feels right. It feels like it’s meant to be. Like we’re meant to be.
He sits up and yanks his shirt off, tossing it on the floor beside the bed. I smile at him, reaching for his chin as I guide his lips toward mine. He kisses me once, twice, three times, before he grabs the hem of my shirt. He only lifts it marginally, because he stops and his eyes meet mine. He’s waiting for my permission. My heartbeat accelerates as I nod, lifting my hands into the air and letting him pull it off my body. I should feel exposed, dirty, but I don’t. I feel free. This is meant to happen. I reach for him at the same time that he places his hands on either side of my hips and tosses me off of him. Giggling, I bring my hands up to my face.
God, he’s incredibly sexy.
Almost Everything (Nickayla Quinn Trilogy Book 2) Page 10