by Lexi Ryan
There’s a sharp crack—like an open palm across a cheek. “Fuck, Trish.” Brogan groans. “That hurt.”
“Good. Do you understand that if I walk out that door, I’m not coming back? When she breaks your heart, you’re on your own.”
“I love her.”
The bedroom door swings open, and Trish storms through. She spots me and pauses only briefly before charging out the main door and slamming it behind her.
When Brogan steps into the common area, he has a damning case of bedhead and is buttoning his jeans. He doesn’t notice me at first, his eyes on his fingers, but I just stare at him with everything I feel—anger, frustration. Hatred.
I swallow hard. I never thought I’d see the day that I’d feel anything like that toward Brogan. Not for a second. But I don’t know any other word for this blackness clawing at my gut.
As if he suddenly senses my presence, his fingers freeze on the last button and he slowly raises his head to meet my eyes. His jaw goes slack as mine tightens.
“How much of that did you hear?” he asks.
“Enough.”
He grimaces. “Listen, it’s not what it looks like.”
“Does Mia know you’re fucking Trish?”
“She probably wouldn’t care. It’s not like she’s doing it.”
I step forward and plant both hands against his chest, shoving him hard. He stumbles back, only stopping when his shoulder hits the doorjamb. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You have everything—everything—and you’re throwing it all away on some easy lay.”
He pushes me, and I stumble back. “I have everything? Look who’s talking! You have no idea what it’s like for us mere mortals. You have money for anything you need. You have fucking NFL scouts salivating for a chance to get you on their team.”
“I’m not talking about money or football.”
He takes a step closer and sneers at me. “Oh, you want to talk girls? You sit there judging me for not being the perfect boyfriend when you could have any girl you want.”
“That’s not true.” I’m not even sure why I said it out loud. Maybe because I’m sick of pretending. Maybe because after years of feeling guilty for having so much more than my best friend in every single way, I want him to understand that he has more in the only thing that matters. He has Mia.
His lips curl into a smirk. “Right,” he says slowly. “It’s not. Because she chose me. Even when you fucked my girlfriend the first chance you got, she didn’t want you. She chose me.”
I swallow hard. “She told you?”
His nostrils flare and his face contorts in a grimace. “No. You just did.” He points to his chest. “But I knew. You two think I’m stupid or something, but I knew the second I saw you in her doorway with those flowers. I saw it all over your face and all over hers.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t touch her until after she broke up with you.”
“But you sure didn’t miss a beat when the opportunity presented itself, did you?” He puts both palms flat against my chest and shoves me.
“You don’t fucking deserve her.” I catch myself as I stumble back and charge at him, shoving him into the wall. “She doesn’t deserve someone who’s going to fuck around on her.”
“I am her fucking boyfriend, Arrow. She chose me, and she gets to decide what she does and doesn’t deserve.”
“Fine. I’ll tell her what I heard between you and Trish today, and then you can see what she thinks she deserves.”
“She chose me. And you won’t tell her, because your fucking ego couldn’t handle knowing that you’re her second choice. You want her so goddamned much, but you don’t want to be the guy you were that night. You don’t want to be the one who picks up the pieces. And if you tell her, that’s all you’ll ever be.”
I clench my fist and back up a step and then another before grabbing my keys off the end table. “Fuck you, Brogan.”
I leave the dorms and operate on autopilot. Before I have a chance to clear my head enough to think about what I’m doing, I find myself at Mia and Bailey’s apartment, my hand poised and ready to knock on the door.
I drop my hand and step away before I can knock.
The door swings open, and Bailey stands there, her coat zipped to her chin, her purse thrown over her shoulder. She startles when she sees me, then cocks her head and frowns. “Can I help you?”
“I . . . um . . .”
Bailey rolls her eyes before turning into the apartment. “Mia! Someone’s here for you.” When she turns back to me, she studies my face. “You decide what you want,” she says quietly, “and then you fight for it.”
I wonder how much she knows about what happened in October, but before I can ask or respond in any way, she pushes past me down the hall and to the stairwell.
Mia appears at the door in front of me. “Arrow? Are you okay?”
I open my mouth then close it again. “Your fucking ego couldn’t handle knowing that you’re her second choice.”
He’s right. Fuck him. But he’s right. I don’t want to be the guy she’s with because the one she wanted screwed up one too many times.
I swallow hard. “I have to help out at the high school for a few hours, but after . . .”
Her forehead furrows as she studies me, waiting for me to spit it out.
“Do you have plans for tonight?” I’m so lame. So fucking lame I want to stab myself in the eye with the nearest sharp object. And I can tell just by looking at her that she has plans.
She looks gorgeous. She always looks gorgeous, but tonight she looks like an angel. She’s dressed in white, a little dress that shows more leg than it covers, with a tiny sweater on top that covers her shoulders and her freckles. She’s wearing makeup and her hair is down around her shoulders. My stomach knots. She’s definitely going out tonight, and of course she has plans. Brogan would make sure they had plans for New Year’s Eve.
“Okay, so you obviously already have plans.” I lick my lips, not sure how to go about this.
“I do.”
Since the day I met Mia, she’s had my heart in her hands, and every day that I deny that, it just hurts me more. “Cancel them. Whatever you were going to do with Brogan tonight, don’t do it. Be with me instead.”
Her brow wrinkles with concern. “What’s wrong, Arrow? You look upset.”
I drag my fingers through my hair and tug on it. You deserve so much better than this. “Mia, I’m in love with you.”
Mia
My heart. Oh God, my heart. “Don’t say that.”
“What do you want, Mia?” He lifts his arms, palms up. Anguish pulls at his mouth, contorting his attempted smile into a frown. “Do you not see it? Have you really been oblivious all this time to how much you mean to me? How special you are to me?”
“You’re important to me, too.” The understatement is a betrayal to how I really feel. I fell for Arrow that first day. He smoothed that shiny purple leaf in his fingers and offered it to me as a gift, and I was never the same. “Arrow, I want us to be friends.”
He drags a hand through his hair and spins away, as if he can’t handle the sight of my face anymore. “I don’t.”
The night goes quiet. Maybe the frogs and owls are as shocked by his words as I am. “What?”
When he turns back to me, grief twists his features. “I’ve tried, Mia. For over a year now, I’ve tried to be your friend and nothing more. But I don’t want to be your friend. That’s not what you are to me. It’s not enough.”
“Don’t do this,” I whisper. “Don’t look at me like I’m something to you.”
“I’m sick of ignoring this ache in my chest when I see him with you. I’m sick of pretending I don’t need to be more than that guy you fucked up with once. You’re not something to me. You’re everything.”
“Don’t.” My voice cracks to match my heart. “You don’t understand. We can’t be together.”
“Why not?”
“Because our parents—”
; “I don’t care if your dad hates me. We’ll work it out. I’ll win him over. Can’t we just—”
“We can’t.”
“Then look me in the eye and tell me you don’t have feelings for me. Tell me our night together didn’t mean something to you.”
I hold his gaze and open my mouth, but I can’t force the lie out.
“Why?” he whispers. “What is it that’s keeping you away from me? I’ll leave you alone. I won’t bring it up again. I just want to know why.”
I want to lie to him, but the only way past this is with the truth. “Because my mother had an affair with your father. She left when my dad found out and started making threats.”
His face goes blank—whitening. I did that—I pulled the drain on all his hope. “What? When?”
I swallow hard. “Nic says it went on for at least a year before she left town.” His lips move slowly as he mentally positions the timeline, and I can’t stand here at the edge of this cliff and wait for the end of anything he and I could be, so I help. I push. “It would have been your freshman year in high school, and the summer before your sophomore year.”
His face contorts as he clings to confusion to dodge the pain. “But my mom . . .”
His mom was at home dying that year. The cancer was taking over her body and his father was screwing my mother.
His nostrils flare and his eyes narrow in on me. “How long have you known this?”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Fuck it, Mia, you knew?”
I stumble backward. I’ve seen Arrow angry, but he’s never looked at me with anything short of kindness and affection. Until this moment. “I know what your mother means to you. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
He lets out a puff of air that might have been a laugh if it weren’t filled with so much disgust. “That ship’s sailed, Mia. All you’ve ever done is hurt me.” He shakes his head and backs away. “From day one.”
Arrow
I drive too fast to Coach’s house. I let my car fly over the hills on the back roads, my stomach pitching into my chest when I go airborne at the crest of each hill. Up and around Deadman’s Curve, I race toward the setting sun, wishing I could disappear into it.
I take the turn onto Coach’s road, my back wheels spinning in the gravel as I over-correct and fly through the dust down the county road to his house.
I tear into his driveway, skid to a stop, and press my forehead against the steering wheel. I open my mouth and make myself breathe as I count the lashes to my heart.
I told her I loved her, and she said she wanted to be my friend.
My father was fucking her mother while my mother was dying, and she knew. She knew.
Throwing my head back against the seat, I smack the steering wheel, and the horn blares into the country silence.
Coach wanders out of his garage, one hand on his hip, the other wrapped around his hunting rifle.
I climb out of the car, and he arches a brow. I know that look. It’s the look he gives players who show up to practice late. It’s the look he gave the QB when he fumbled the ball on the five-yard line. It’s the look that says, “Calm down, figure out what’s wrong, and fix it.”
“He was having an affair,” I whisper. “While Mom was dying, Dad was having an affair.”
“Shit,” he mutters. He leans the gun against the side of the garage and wraps his arms around me. He’s a big guy, taller than me and broader, and I tuck my head into his chest and let myself hide from the world for the count of three ragged breaths before backing out of his arms.
“My world is fucked.” I press my palms against my eyes and wipe away the moisture. I’m not going to cry like a fucking child over my father. He doesn’t deserve it. But Mia . . .
“It’s not,” Coach says. “I know it feels like it, but it’s not. Now who told you this?”
“Mia Mendez.” I draw in a long, slow breath, steadying myself against the pain saying her name brings. I just want to be fucking numb. “Dad was fucking her mom. And Mia knew. She knew, and she didn’t tell me.”
Coach puts his hand on my shoulder. “Is this really about your dad, or is it about Mia?”
I lift my eyes to meet his. “Both.” I rub my palm against my chest. “It hurts so much.”
“Take a breath. You need the car still?” He holds my gaze, his eyes stern. “You take a breath and fulfill your commitments. You can wallow later.”
I swallow hard. “Right. Of course.”
He puts the keys to his SUV in my hand and nods. “Commitments first.”
“Right,” I whisper. “I’ll be back in an hour or so.”
“Take your time. And slow down on that road out there. Killing yourself isn’t going to solve a damn thing.”
Mia
“God, you’re beautiful.” Brogan grins, as he rakes his gaze down the length of my body.
“Thank you.” I’m still shaken from Arrow’s visit, and suddenly my choice of outfit feels slutty and inappropriate. I don’t want to show myself off for Brogan. I’m not his anymore. I haven’t been since that night at the lake. Brogan’s been trying so hard that I felt like it was my turn to try. But I can’t shake the look on Arrow’s face when he left.
“All you’ve ever done is hurt me.”
“Are you ready, then?” Brogan asks.
I shrug into my coat and grab my purse off the hook by the door. “Where are we going?” I ask, as I step into the corridor and close the door.
His lips quirk into a smile. “You’ll see.” He holds out his hand, and when I take it, he squeezes and pulls me close. He lowers his mouth to hover over mine and whispers, “Unless you don’t want to go anywhere. We’d have your apartment to ourselves. I could be persuaded to spend the night in.”
I can’t let my conversation with Arrow ruin tonight, so I force a smile. “I want to know what you’ve been planning.”
“Feel like singing tonight?”
I take a breath. “Yeah. That sounds great.”
* * *
I close my eyes as Brogan leads me around the dance floor. I want to be present in this moment, and I’m failing.
He put so much thought into tonight. He drove us to Indianapolis and we had dinner downtown, and then he took me to a bar down the street with an open mic and a busy dance floor. We ate, we danced, and I sang—pouring all my heartache from my earlier conversation with Arrow into my favorite ballads. Every detail was planned for my benefit, and I can’t stop thinking about Arrow. Should I call him? Text? Apologize?
What exactly would I be apologizing for? My mother’s decisions? My decision not to tell him when I first found out? Or would I be apologizing for letting him fall in love with me? For wanting it, despite myself?
Brogan pulls back and frowns. “What’s wrong? You’re upset about something.”
I swallow hard. “Arrow came to my apartment earlier. I’m sorry. I won’t—”
“Arrow?” His frown turns into a snarl. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
I step back. There’s so much anger in his voice and face. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this before. It scares me a little.
“Jesus, Mia. Nothing happened. Arrow’s overreacting.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know Trish. She likes to make a scene. Arrow had the wrong idea.”
I step out of his arms. “Trish?” I don’t have to add the one I caught sucking your dick, because that’s all right there in the way I say her name.
“What did he tell you? Jesus, I swear, I was ending it with her. Cutting it off. I love you, and I couldn’t—”
“I thought you said nothing happened.”
“Nothing that meant anything.” He grimaces. “I’m making a mess of this.”
I stare at him, but all I can think is that this should hurt more than it does. Finding out that my boyfriend cheated on me today should hurt more than Arrow’s anger about our parents. But the ache of this revelation feels a lot more like a bru
ised ego than a broken heart.
“Say something,” he whispers.
“I want to go home.”
“No, come on. Let’s stay and have a good time. I want to hear you sing again.”
I shake my head, grab my purse from the table, and head to the car. He takes so long to join me that I’m heading back toward the building when he finally emerges from the restaurant and hits the button for the automatic locks. I climb into the car the second the locks click.
“If you aren’t okay to drive, I will,” I say when he gets into the driver’s seat.
“I’m fine.” He jams the key into the ignition, and the silence between us is angry and tense as he drives back to Blackhawk Valley. At first, I think it’s gonna be okay. He’s hurt, and I’m mad, but he’s gonna take me home and this horrible night will be over. But then his driving becomes more erratic, and as we reach the hills at the edge of the city, he swerves every time a car comes toward us in the other lane.
The gray sky opens and sleet covers the windshield, and the next time he swerves, a tire slips off the side of the road, making us fishtail.
“Brogan, pull over,” I say, gripping the dash. “Jesus, are you drunk?” I look over and know it’s true. His cheeks are flushed, and his eyes are glassy. He only had a couple of glasses of wine at the restaurant. “Is that what you were doing while I was waiting for you to come out to the car?” I ask. “You were in there drinking? Do you want to kill me?”
He yanks the wheel and pulls off the shoulder before throwing the car in park. “No, I don’t want to kill you, Mia. I was having a couple of drinks and trying to calm down so I didn’t have to go back home and beat the shit out of my best friend.”
I want to smack him for putting this on Arrow. “It’s not Arrow’s fault you can’t keep it in your pants.”
He squeezes his eyes shut and smacks the steering wheel. “Can we just slow down and figure this out?”
“There’s nothing to figure out. I’m breaking up with you. This is over.”