by Anna B. Doe
It’s no one’s fault but mine.
Seeing Luke again returned me back to the place I was before. When I found him with my best friend.
I remembered how I was when we were together. How dependable and in love. How it broke me when he crushed my heart and took everything from me. How cheated, dirty, and betrayed I felt. It doesn’t matter that it wasn’t his intention to do it. What matters are the results of his actions.
I don’t trust men, but what I also realized is I don’t trust myself.
Being with J.D. is like being with Luke, only hundred times worse. The way he makes me feel, the way he looks at me and how his touch affects me.
It’s intense.
It’s overwhelming.
And I’m afraid I’ll lose myself in him.
What will happen to me if I let myself go, but there is no one to catch me when I fall?
I’m not sure I could survive another heartbreak.
My fingers grip the steering wheel tighter.
I have to go. That’s my best game plan.
Run.
As fast and as far as I can.
Until I can see him without all these things wandering through my body, mind, and soul.
It makes me a hypocrite because a while ago I said to Anabel to go and face the love of her life. She was planning on leaving The States without telling William anything and I couldn’t let her do that. To either of them.
So, I made her see reason. They are so in love with each other it’s painful to watch sometimes, but no one said the actual words out loud. Both of them are being silly. Wasting their time without a reason.
I made peace with myself. Love is not in the cards for me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t believe it exists.
Hopefully one of us will find happiness.
The doorbell rings breaking me out of my dazed state.
Although I haven’t been able to fall asleep for hours, I made myself lie down in bed. Partly it’s because Bel still hasn’t come home and I haven’t heard from her since I left her at Will’s place, but mostly it’s because my mind is thinking about J.D. Playing every possible scenario in my head.
I get out of the warmth of my bed and put on a long robe. Barefoot, I walk to the door and open it.
“Anabel, what …”
As soon as I see her I know something’s wrong. Really, really wrong.
She is completely wet and her makeup is smeared all over her face. Mascara is running down her cheeks, and I’m not sure is it from rain or crying or maybe both.
Dark blue eyes look at me but I may as well be a ghost. There is not a trace of recognition. They are dull and lifeless.
Without a soul. Because it has been shattered.
Hurt and pain radiate off of her body. They are so strong I can feel them in my bones. Her pain is my pain.
What the hell happened?
I want to ask her. I want to ask her so badly, but I know it’s better not to.
She’s still in shock, and the last thing I would want if I was in her place is to go over what happened once again. Like the first time wasn’t enough.
My fingers lace with hers, and I pull her in, wrapping my arms tightly around her.
Bel doesn’t respond and my own clothes are getting wet but I’m not letting her go. She’s hurting and breaking down and if the only thing I can do to make it better is hold her tight to hold the pieces that are left I’m going to do so.
“Come here, Bel,” I whisper softly, pulling her after me. “We have to get you out of those clothes or you’ll get sick.”
I don’t wait for her answer, I know I’m not getting it. A wet trail follows behind us, but I leave it like it is because taking care of my friend comes first.
Once we come to my bathroom I open the water to fill in the tub and help Bel get out of her wet clothes. She enters the bath without flinching at the heat and for a second there I wonder if this was a wise choice but decide to give her some space.
Before leaving I take her wet clothes to put them in the dryer.
It’s late night—or early morning, depending on how you look at it—and in a few short hours we’ll have to leave for the airport.
With the dryer on, I go to the kitchen and heat water on the stove. Most people do it in the microwave nowadays but I still enjoy the whole process of making tea.
My body shivers from cold, and I fold my arms around me.
While I wait for the water to boil I go to Bel’s room to grab something she can change into and change my own wet shirt for something dry.
I still can’t believe this whole thing is happening. Not once did I think Bel will come back crying from Will’s place. I can only assume he didn’t take kindly to Bel keeping secrets until the end, but nobody can blame her.
From the stories she told me about her county I know she doesn’t have it easy. Another problem is that she’s prideful and won’t take help from anyone. Including William and me. Returning home was a touchy subject for a while, and not once did Bel hint on returning back, but I know that if they try they can make it work somehow.
I don’t understand how he could let her go like that.
Why didn’t he fight for her?
I’m angry for her and disappointed. Maybe I was wrong all along. Maybe love isn’t as strong as we’d like to think. Maybe it’s all an illusion to make people believe there is something better out there in the world. To give them hope.
My decision to break it off with J.D. looks even better now. I’ve known for a while I’ve been getting attached to him. Not only him, but the whole package.
J.D., Grace, their home, the way we are when we are together.
Looking at Bel, wet and broken on my doorstep, brought back the memories of eight years ago.
I’m stronger than I was before, but I’m not an idiot to think I can escape heartbreak.
There are some things in the life you can’t run away from.
Some things you can’t fight.
Some things you can’t survive.
No matter how strong.
The door closes softly behind me, and I turn away to look at Bel. Her face is even paler then before, dark bags under her eyes. All traces of black smudges are gone, and she would look almost normal if she wasn’t dead inside.
“Feeling better?” I put an effort into small smile I don’t feel.
“Yeah,” she murmurs as she goes to the bar and sits on a chair. I put a big mug of hot coffee in front of her, my fingers curling around my own mug. “Sorry for all of this, Si.”
“Sorry for what exactly, Anabel? I’m the one who is sorry. I’m the one who made you go to his house. If I hadn’t insisted, you wouldn’t have gone.”
“It’s not your fault.” She waves me off. “It’s no one’s fault. I guess we just weren’t meant to be.”
“Will you tell me what happened?”
Bel looks away from the moment and I know I’ve lost her. “Yeah … one day, maybe …”
I sit down next to her; my hand covers hers that’s on the table, and I give her squeeze. “When you are ready, I’ll be here to listen.”
She doesn’t answer me, just squeezes my hand back.
We finish our beverages—coffee for her, Earl Grey for me—in silence. I offer her something to eat, but she makes a face so I let it go and walk to my room to take a quick shower and change for my flight.
When I finish, I find her lying on the couch, legs pulled to her chest with arms around them, holding them in place.
“It’s time to go.”
In silence, we gather our things and leave.
Quiet continues all the way to the airport. We don’t even turn on the radio.
At the airport, before we have to part ways, I hug her small body strongly and stroke her hair like she’s one of my nieces.
“You’ll be fine, Bel,” I say certainly. My hands cup her cheeks so she can’t look away. “No matter what you feel now, you’ll get over it because you are the strongest person I know.”<
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Bel nods once and hugs me one more time. “I know.”
“Maybe not today or tomorrow, or even in a week or two, but it will get better.” I smile sadly and wipe one lone tear from her cheek. “Text me when you get home, okay?”
“I will, you too. We’ll talk soon, and when you get to Europe, come by.”
“Of course. I’ll see you soon, Bel.”
Anabel gives me a sad smile of her own and in a beat we both turn around, each one going her own way.
I close my eyes shut to stop the tears from gathering, but I don’t slow down a bit.
Sometimes you find your soulmate, and sometimes you have to let them go.
“Is Sienna coming soon?” I dart my eyes toward the doorway but return them soon in front of me, the pressure of weight looming over me. “She hasn’t been to a dance class in forever.”
This has become our daily thing.
Grace comes to the gym every day to talk. Sometimes she leans into the doorway, sometimes she sits on the floor and, as of lately, sometimes she changes into her workout clothes and goes through some of those classy moves she learned in the dance school holding onto the barre I had installed in the gym next to the mirror for her.
I like having her around. Her happy, carefree chatter almost always brightens my day. Grace reminds me there is life outside of the stadium and gym that’s waiting for me. A life that’s not all that bad even though I don’t have all I want. But I have her, and she’s reason enough for me to stay sane.
Her question takes me by surprise. I don’t know why; we all hung out together. Sienna was a regular guest in our house and she stayed over more often than not. The words were never said out loud, but Grace is old enough to understand that something is going on between us. Something was going on between us.
She isn’t blind, for Christ’s sake.
And now, suddenly, Sienna isn’t here at all anymore.
I can’t make her come here. I can’t make her change her mind. What I don’t understand and what makes me angry in all of this is Sienna ditching Grace because of me. Because of us. They were supposed to be friends, but the day I walked out on her, Sienna walked out on Grace too.
“She is not coming back, is she?”
Her tiny voice makes me want to strangle the woman responsible for it.
“She’ll come around soon, Gracie.”
She doesn’t believe me, I can see it in her eyes.
Although she joins me often to talk I can see those moments when she drifts away in her own mind. She worries at her lower lip, her eyes unfocused and lost as she thinks through whatever’s bothering her. I tried asking, but Grace keeps insisting everything’s fine. And even though I don’t believe her, I can’t pressure her to tell me anything. I can only hope that when she’s ready, she’ll come to me.
“Did you have a fight?”
“It’s …” I run my fingers through my sweat-damp hair. “… complicated.”
No truer words have been spoken.
A furrow appears between her brows. “How can it be complicated? You either did or did not have a fight. Or is it because of me?”
I get off the bench and take a few steps toward her. “What are you talking about? Whatever happens between Sienna and me has nothing to do with you.”
My hand cups her cheek, caressing her soft skin. It’s not Grace’s fault the two of us are fucked up.
“Maybe she doesn’t want to be with you because you have to take care of me.”
“Hey, it has nothing to do with you,” I repeat quietly. “Sienna loves you because you are kind and smart and pretty. I may not know a lot of things, but I’m sure of that. She was your friend way before she found out you were my sister.”
Grace nods her head to let me know she heard me. My arms wrap around her, pulling her to my chest.
She gives into my touch for a few short seconds, before pushing me away.
“You are all sweaty.”
I laugh when I see her frown in disgust.
“Being close to us athletes is like being in the barn.”
“Barn is too good for you smelly creatures.”
We both laugh at her words, but the doorbell interrupts us.
“I’ll get that.”
On my way to the front door, I grab a towel to wipe my head and chest.
“They are gone.”
William bursts through the front door as soon as I open them enough for him to pass through.
“Hello to you too, Price,” I say sarcastically as I close the door behind him. “Why don’t you come in?”
“You can give me shit later, Shelton. Now we have more urgent matters to discuss. Did you talk to her?”
“Her who?”
“Sienna, who else?”
Hearing her name said out loud brings a flash of pain.
Every day I wake up and promise myself I will stop thinking about her, and every night when I get back to bed I find myself thinking about her nevertheless.
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
I didn’t tell him anything about my little discussion with Sienna. Or that we didn’t talk since. Or that we maybe, technically broke up. If you can break up with somebody you didn’t officially date.
My head starts to hurt from all these obsessive thoughts. I rub my temples to ease the pain and run my fingers through my hair.
Why things can’t be easy like when we were younger?
“We kind of didn’t work out.”
The words settle in and he gives me the look.
That understanding, pitting look.
“It doesn’t matter.” I shrug and turn away to walk to the kitchen. Anything so that I don’t have to look at his face. I don’t need pity I don’t want pity. “We were too fucked up when we were on our own to have anything permanent together.”
“Jack …”
“I’m fine,” I cut him off. “Now, tell me … Who’s gone?”
“Bel and Sienna.”
His words make me stop in my track and turn around to look at him. “What?”
“They are gone. Neither answers the phone and when I stopped by Sienna’s apartment the guy that works there told me she is out of town for work.”
“Maybe she is.”
She wouldn’t go that far as to get out of town just to avoid me. Or would she?
“But where is Anabel then? She hasn’t been to the café she works at. And why aren’t they answering their phones?”
All valid questions, but …
“Maybe Sienna invited Anabel to tag along. It wouldn’t be the first time Sienna asked Anabel to do some photo shit.”
I try to reason with my friend, but it’s more for my own sake. Although I don’t show it, his words have me worried. I wouldn’t put it pass Sienna to run away. To pack her shit and skip town.
She’s just like your mother.
She’s nothing like Cassie, I brush off the voice inside my head.
Keep telling yourself that, maybe you’ll believe it.
“Yeah, maybe,” he agrees but I know he doesn’t believe me. I don’t believe myself, so I can’t blame him for doing the same.
How did we end up here? From skipping from one woman’s bed to another, to worrying about and overthinking one chick’s actions. How the mighty have fallen. If I had it in me I’d laugh at my own thoughts but I don’t. My minds to preoccupied worrying about Sienna.
“Hey, Will. I thought I heard your voice.”
Grace walks into the kitchen. I watch my friend smile at her and wrap her in his arms. “Hey, sweet thing. How’ya doing?”
Now that Will knows about my sister he stops by occasionally. He’s always nice to her, treating her like his own younger sister and Grace likes having more people around. She blushes when he asks her questions, which I find amusing. It’s like she has a crush on the guy.
“Fine, I was just about to go work on my homework.”
“Oh, please. You can do that later!” Will grins wickedly
at her. “Let’s order pizza and crash in front of the TV.”
“I don’t think …” Grace starts to protest, but Will is faster. We share a knowing look over the top of her head. We both need to lie down and relax. If only for a couple of hours.
“The first one to the living room chooses the channel!”
“Sienna, my darling! You look … well.”
I want to roll my eyes at her words, but somehow, I manage to pull myself together.
You’d think well is a compliment. Well, you’d be wrong. It’s anything but in Alice Keenstone’s vocabulary.
“You too.” I return her air kisses with a fake smile before we settle in our seats in her New York office.
It’s a stylish room with floor to ceiling windows that look at the Central Park.
Alice may be a bitch, but she is one rich bitch that knows what she’s doing when it comes to the business.
“I believe everything’s okay with you. You’ve been quite busy lately.”
This time my smile is a bit less forced.
“Everything’s fine. There has just been more work than usual.”
And I’m glad for it. Work kept me away from the city until now. There was always something to do and somewhere to be. Now with Thanksgiving only a few days away I couldn’t stay away much longer.
I miss my family.
I miss my apartment.
I miss him.
There were so many times when I was away that I was tempted to pick up the phone and call him.
Apologize.
Beg him to return to how things were.
But in the end, I couldn’t make myself make that move.
The memories of Bel’s tears and meeting Luke kept popping out in my head every time I simply extended my fingers toward the phone.
They aren’t strong enough to make me forget about him. My subconscious still yearns for him. I crave him like the addict that craves his next fix. He’s always there, engraved in my skin. In my thoughts. In my heart. But those memories, they are strong enough to pull my hand off the phone and turn it face down when the cravings become too much.
“That’s great,” Alice smiles at me, but it’s a strained smile. The woman is addicted to Botox so I’m never sure if I’m the culprit or is it just the way she smiles. Tense and fake. “Did you think about what I said last time?”