“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Come on, Ange. I know you don’t mean that. I know you love him.”
I glare at him, putting all my hurt, anger, and frustration behind it, even though it’s unfair to take it out on the wrong Morgan brother. “I don’t want anything to do with your brother, and that includes discussing him. Please, drop it.”
“You haven’t denied it. Go on, just admit it. You still love him.”
His lips curve up, and except for the fact he’s fourteen and clueless, I’d probably swing for him. Instead, I lose it, throwing my hands into the air. “What the hell do you want me to say, Lucas? Did I love him? Yes,” I hiss, blood flowing angrily through my veins. “I loved him, and he rejected me and humiliated me and threw our entire history in my face, and it fucking killed me. You have no idea how much he hurt me, and not just for Becky. Imagine you had to watch the boy you love screw his way around town while barely giving you the time of day. Imagine you had to watch while he got into fights, got high and drunk, barely even knowing his own name. Imagine how many nights you stayed up sick with worry in case he drove his truck into a ditch. Then imagine you go to school and have to listen to every skank relay in minute detail what he’s like in bed knowing you’ll never get to experience it because he just doesn’t think of you like that! That’s what I’ve had to endure, and I can’t take it anymore.”
A strangled sob erupts from the very core of my soul, and I double over, clutching my stomach as hot tears slide down my cheeks. Damn Lucas for dragging all this to the surface again. I’m so sick of feeling like this, and I want it to stop.
He takes a step toward me, compassion and sorrow etched across his face. I hold up a hand to stall him. “I think you should go now, Lucas. I need to be alone.”
“I’m sorry, Ange. I really am. He’s an idiot, but if it’s any consolation, he’s miserable too.”
“It isn’t, and I meant what I said. I don’t want to talk about your brother, and if you can’t abide by my wishes, then we’ll have to stop hanging out.”
He nods his head sadly. “I hear you loud and clear. I won’t bring him up again.”
And, mercifully, he doesn’t.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It’s week three post-Devin, and the pain is still like a constant, knotty, twisty ache in my chest. My appetite has all but vanished, and I’ve actually lost weight. Madisyn is disgusted at how effortlessly I’ve shed the pounds, but I can’t summon the energy to banter with her about it. Ayden and I spend practically every spare minute together. His dad is still frothing at the mouth over his arm and Devin, so he’s avoiding his house like the plague and he spends most nights at mine. Mom gave me a stern talking to before leaving for work this evening. She has somehow found out he’s sleeping in my bed most nights she’s away, and she made it abundantly clear it’s not to continue.
“Was she pissed?” Ayden asks, while we are sprawled on the couch watching Gossip Girl—I’ve converted him to the dark side as well. He keeps his injured arm propped on the arm of the couch as I snuggle into his other side.
“Mom doesn’t get pissed, and she rarely raises her voice. You know that—she’s the epitome of cool, calm, and collected.” And I know it’s because of the abuse she was subjected to while married to my dad. She doesn’t ever want to lose control and lash out with her tongue or her fists, because then, in her mind, she’s no better than him. “She just doesn’t think it’s a good idea with my emotions all over the place. I think she thinks we’re going to screw each other’s brains out and regret it or something.”
Ayden stiffens imperceptibly underneath me, and I worry that I’ve just offended him.
“Anyone home?” Mariah calls out, staging an unplanned timely intervention.
“In here,” I shout back and she comes bounding into the living room.
“Am I interrupting?” she asks with a saucy grin on her face.
“Don’t be silly.” I lift my head off Ayden’s chest, pulling myself into a more respectable upright position. “We were just watching TV.”
“Cody’s out in the truck,” she tells Ayden. “They’re going over to Zach’s to watch the game if you want to join them? He can drive you back and pick me up at the same time.”
Ayden swings his muscular legs around, planting them on the floor. “I know when I’m not wanted,” he grins, pushing to his feet.
I help him into his jacket, draping one side over his injured arm. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I kiss his cheek. “Have fun.”
He messes up my hair. “With those guys? Hardly.” He caresses my cheek. “Try to stay out of trouble.”
I give him a gentle push, following him out to the door. “Idiot. Go! I’ll see you later.”
I grab a couple of sodas on my way through the kitchen, tossing one to Mariah as I throw myself back down on the couch.
“You two seem cozy.” She toes off her shoes, bringing her feet up underneath her.
I shrug. “We’ve always been like that. You know Ayden’s the touchy-feely type.”
“Not according to Cassie. She said they barely even got to second base.”
“They didn’t date for that long, and Ayden’s a gentleman so that doesn’t surprise me.”
“You know what I think?” Her warm hazel eyes glimmer with excitement.
I groan. “I don’t think I want to know.”
“He’s in love with you, and he’s just waiting for you to give him a signal, and then he’ll make his move.”
My mouth pulls in a grimace. “I don’t see it. I mean, we’ve slept in the same bed at least three or four nights a week for the last few weeks, and he hasn’t acted in any way inappropriately.” His obvious daily morning stiffy doesn’t count.
She rolls her eyes. “How are you this clueless? I’m seriously getting worried about you. Duh!” She slaps her palm into her forehead. “He’s hardly going to move in for the kill when you’re still all upset over Devin. Give the guy some credit.”
I twist around on my side so I’m facing her. “Do you really think he’s in love with me?”
She puts her soda down on the coffee table, pinning me with an earnest look. “Yes, I do. He worships you, Ange. He’d do anything for you, and he’s been jumping to your defense constantly in school.”
I flop down on my back, sighing. “I wish he wouldn’t do that. I can fight my own battles.” And I’ve been putting out plenty of fires on my lonesome, although the cutting remarks and titters seem to be dying down.
“I know that, and he knows that, but Ayden loves you, and he wants to protect you, and it’s so romantic,” she swoons with a dreamy look on her face. “But the million-dollar question is do you love him?”
Her question drives several emotions to the surface as I contemplate how to reply. Of course, I love Ayden. That’s never been in any doubt, but do I love, love, him? Is Mom right? Can you love more than one person at the same time? And have I been in love with him, too, but just didn’t know it? Did my fixation with Devin obscure my true feelings for Ayden? All I know with certainty is that I brighten up when he arrives, and he’s the one person who is guaranteed to bring a smile to my face on even the darkest of days. I’ve come to rely on the warmth of his arms and the safety of his embrace and the tender way he cares for me. He is loyal and protective, and he never lets me down. Yes, my heart doesn’t spike to coronary-inducing proportions when he touches me or looks at me adoringly like it does with Devin, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love him.
“I—”
“Ange.” Devin cuts me off before I can finish my sentence, and I jump up, startled, my heart beating ninety miles an hour.
Mariah spits her soda all over the carpet. “Holy fuck, Devin. Don’t creep up on people like that!” she splutters, hastily wiping her wet mouth. Devin is standing awkwardly in the doorframe, holding a hand-wrapped packag
e in his hand. “I’ll get a towel to clean the floor.” She hastily brushes past him, shooting me a “what the hell” look as she goes.
I stand up, facing him, my heart skipping. “Why are you here, and how long were you standing there?”
His tongue darts out, moistening his lips, and I hate how my eyes involuntarily follow the movement. “I have something for you, and, eh, not long.” He scratches the back of his head, quickly averting his eyes.
Liar. He heard what Mariah asked me, and he interrupted before I could respond. “I don’t want anything from you, and you need to leave.”
He takes a step toward me, his eyes radiating pain. A fresh bruise darkens the skin on his cheek, and a blanket of sadness envelops me. I don’t know if he had an official fight or if he got into it with some douche. I know nothing about his life now, and that thought upsets me so much. I hate that it’s come to this but not enough to let him back in. That’s only asking for trouble, and I’m in a world of pain as it is.
“I miss you so much, Ange. I can’t bear this. Please, please give me another chance. I’m begging you. I’ll do whatever you want me to do, but please don’t shut me out.”
His green eyes glisten with so much emotion, and although he looks tired and strained, he still looks unbelievably beautiful, and the urge to touch him hasn’t dissipated in the slightest. My hands twitch involuntarily at my side. Pressure weighs on my chest like a ton of bricks. He may as well have a hand around my heart, squeezing it to nothing. “I miss you too, but it doesn’t change anything.”
It can’t.
I can’t continue to allow him to hurt me.
He hands me the package. It’s wrapped in pale pink wrapping with tiny little hearts on it. I look from the package to him. “What is it?”
“It’s a present for you.” Before I can protest, he has placed it in my hands, curling my fingers around the edges. Blissful tremors zip up and down my arms from his touch, confirming what I already know.
I’m still attracted to him, still in love with him—I think I always will be.
I open my mouth to speak, but he covers my mouth with his fingers. “Don’t say it. Just open the present and think about it, and if you still feel the same way, I’ll keep my distance. I promise.”
I nod, hating how tears are bubbling under the surface, just waiting for an opportunity to let loose. In an ultra-smooth movement, he reels me into his arms, resting his chin on my head. He sighs, and I close my eyes, tears trickling down my face. Why does it feel so natural to be in his arms like this? Like his body was sculpted to fit perfectly against mine? Like his arms were carved to hold me in the exact right way?
An image of Becky riding his cock surges to the forefront of my mind and I pull out of his embrace, confused, upset, and horrified all at once. “Why, Devin? Why her? Of all the girls, why did it have to be her?” I sob, and Mariah comes rushing into the room.
“You need to leave.” Her tone is ice-cold. “Right now, or I’m calling Ayden.”
His mouth pulls into a severe line. “I’m leaving.” His eyes pin me in place, and they burn fiercely. “I don’t know, and I wish I could undo it, but I can’t, so all I can promise is to make it up to you. Open the present and, when you’re ready, call me and we can talk.” He turns around, and walks away, stopping abruptly in the doorframe. I’m clinging to Mariah’s arm, tears streaming down my face. He looks over his shoulder, and his expression softens. “I know you probably don’t believe this, but I hate that I’ve hurt you, and I’d give anything for a do-over.” His chest visibly inflates, and tears pool in his eyes. He stares at me in that magnetic way of his, and the air changes, simmering with dark intensity. I lose the ability to breathe as our gazes remain locked on one another. Mariah and I are both momentarily frozen in place while we wait for him to speak. “Never forget, Ange.” His voice is soft, reverential, sincere. “You promised.”
Then he walks out, taking another piece of my heart with him.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Good God,” Mariah exclaims, holding a hand to her chest as I stand rooted to the spot. “That was crazy intense, and so freaking hot, and he wasn’t even speaking to me. I need a drink.”
“Excellent idea,” I hear myself saying, watching in a daze as she crosses to Mom’s liquor cabinet and swipes a bottle of vodka. I’m tempted to guzzle straight from the bottle, but waking up lovesick, heartbroken, and hungover holds zero appeal.
She pours two shots, handing one to me. I knock it back, relishing the burn as it coats the lining of my throat. “I think he means that,” she admits. “And he’s been telling everyone in school he was wasted at the party and he didn’t mean a word of what he said to you, that he cares about you.”
I just shrug, because actions speak louder than words, and Ayden was right; it is too little too late.
“And he beat Brandon to within an inch of his life for badmouthing you at Mona’s the other night.”
Guess I know how he got that bruise now. I should feel something hearing that, but I’m still numb. Numb over everything that’s happened. And numb over Devin’s words. I remember what he said. How I promised never to forget that we are in each other’s hearts. But I don’t want to be reminded of it now. Not when I’m broken, and we’re apart, and there’s no likely development that changes either of those scenarios.
“I see it every time I close my eyes at night,” I admit, staring off into space. My voice is devoid of any emotion. “Her riding him. I don’t think I’ll be able to forget.”
Mariah sighs, leaning her head on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Ange. I should’ve stopped you from going into that room.”
“You tried, and I wouldn’t listen, and you were right. I can’t un-see it. I can’t forget it. And I can’t forgive him.”
We’re both silent as Mariah pours two more shots, and we drain them in one go. “I don’t know if this makes any difference, but Cody knows Becky’s older brother, and he said she’s practically spewing blood because Devin’s ignoring her and rejecting her advances.”
That should make me happy, but it only reinforces my view that she’s planning something. Becky is not the type to give up until she gets what she wants, and she wants Devin. She has this figured out, and, whatever is going down, I doubt it’s anything I’ll benefit from.
I don’t know how long I sit on my bed staring at the pretty pink wrapping while I rotate Devin’s package over and over in my hands. Ayden stayed for a few minutes after Mariah left, and I told him about Devin showing up and giving me the present. A funny expression came over his face, but he wouldn’t elaborate when I questioned him, and he went home just after that.
The house feels desolate without him, although it suits my mood perfectly.
I toss the package on the bed and take a steaming-hot shower, trying to empty my mind of all thoughts of boys, but it’s a pretty futile exercise.
When I’m in my pajamas and snuggled up under the covers, I run my finger under the edge of the pink paper, slowly peeling it back. My heart is jackhammering in my chest, and I’m almost too afraid to look. I remove the wrapping and stare at the black rectangular object in my hand. When I flip it over, I gasp, and my stomach is tied in knots.
It’s a framed drawing of me sitting under Old Man Willow. I’m wearing jean shorts and a white tank top with my purple hoodie knotted at my waist. My Converse are neatly placed at my side, and there’s a soda can and a half-eaten apple on a plate in front of me. I’m engrossed in a book, and there’s the biggest smile on my face. My hair is brushed to one side, resting on my left shoulder, with strands falling softly across my forehead. The detail in the drawing is exquisite, and Devin hasn’t missed a single thing. The edge of the infinity tattoo on my wrist is visible, and he’s even colored the bright blue nail polish I was wearing. The tiny smattering of freckles across my nose seem more pronounced under the rays of sunlight washing over me. The
likeness is incredible, and I’d challenge anyone to look at this and not instantly recognize it as me. He’s even drawn the right tones in my hair and the faint blush on my cheeks.
I don’t know when he drew me like this, only that it was one day this past summer, most likely early July because my Converse still look shiny and new.
I had no idea he was watching me, let alone sketching me. He’s so talented, and it’s a damn shame he isn’t planning on doing anything with it.
A messy ball of emotion lodges in my throat, and tears spill out of my eyes unbidden. Squinting through damp, blurry eyes, I read the inscription at the bottom, sobbing openly as the familiar words imprint indelibly on my heart.
“You’re the most important person in my world, Ange. For all time. Even when you think you aren’t, know that you are. Even when I can’t show you or say all I want to say, know that you are. Even if I leave, I’m still with you. I’m a part of you, just like you’re a part of me, and you’ll always be in my heart. Never forget. You promised.”
He’s signed off in his messy scrawl, adding the infinity symbol beside it.
I clutch it to my chest, sobbing profusely, as I lie down on the bed, my heart physically paining me. Turmoil and confusion are like my two new best friends, but they offer no words of wisdom. No solid advice. I want Devin. I want him so badly. Miss him like crazy, but how can I give in after what he’s done?
After hours of torment, I finally succumb to sleep, and the darkness is a welcome relief.
Lucille calls first thing the next morning to ask if I want to work an extra shift at the diner. Two of her full-time waitresses have come down with some bug, and she’s desperate. I readily agree, knowing it will be busy—all Saturdays are—and I need respite from my muddled head.
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