Heartless Hero

by Mary Catherine Gebhard

  I briefly wondered what had happened when I was away to make Tansy say that.

  Abigail sat down, eyes on the girl next to Gray. Though she was vaguely familiar, she didn’t look like Gray’s usual conquests, with their professionally blown-out hair and even more blown-out lips. Nearly every inch of her cocoa skin was covered in fabric, from her wrists to her neck, like she’d stepped out of the Victorian era. Her curly hair was done up in a bun, but stray spirals fell in a halo across her face.

  For some reason, Abigail fumed.

  “Did she break your heart too?” I asked.

  Abigail flinched, then turned her attention to a huge round window. There were many like it on the plane, letting in bright-white light. I drummed my fingers along my knee. Sunlight was an ethereal line along her profile.

  I knew I should let it go. She was just trying to get under my skin the way I’d been getting under hers.

  “How exactly did I break your heart?” I prodded.

  Abigail stood abruptly, not bothering to look at me. I quickly followed. She walked past Gray playing his video game. Gray yelled when she blocked his view. She walked through the dining room, past Gemma on her phone and Horace picking something out of his nail, until she reached the bathroom.

  She held the door open, glare sharp. Behind her vanity lights were hot white and a marble countertop held every assorted accoutrement the rich could possibly need.

  I placed my hand on the doorframe. “What the hell do you think happened? What story have you been telling yourself?”

  “I have to pee.” She slammed the door in my face, forcing me to jump back.

  Abigail was in the bathroom for an hour, until Gemma knocked to be let in. I leaned against the opposite wall the entire fucking time, grinding my teeth.

  “What did you eat?” Gemma yelled, slamming her fist.

  The door flew open as Gemma was about to slam her fist again. Gemma fell forward, stumbling and almost falling on white marble just as Abigail walked out.

  “There are other bathrooms,” Abigail snapped.

  “This is my part of the plane,” Gemma huffed, fixing her blonde waves.

  Abigail walked by me like I was nothing more than a painting or the on-plane fireplace they lit during the winter.

  “Abigail—”

  “It’s in the past. It’s over. Stop bringing it up.”

  “God fucking dammit, just stay still.” I slammed my hands, bracketing her. Next to us, a vase of freshly cut flowers shook. Too hard. Too loud. Gray shot us a barely curious look, and the girl he was with did too, but she quickly averted her eyes.

  I lifted my hands.

  “I saw you with her,” she said. “After I kissed you, you told Gemma you loved her, just like everyone else.”

  She saw that?

  But I didn’t have time to dwell, because Abigail was on the move again, determined to walk all six thousand square feet of this fucking plane.

  I caught up to her, whispering low as we passed Gray, “It’s not what you think.”

  “I heard you say I love you!” she yelled, spinning on me. “You can’t trick me on this, Theo.”

  So fuck being private?

  Gray threw his remote to the side, crossing his arms overhead. “Okay, this is way more interesting than demolishing eleven-year-olds.”

  Abigail shot Gray a look, then kept walking, picking up the pace.

  “Stop, no, come back,” Gray said without any vehemence, grabbing the controller out of the girl’s lap.

  “I wasn’t saying that to her. I was saying that about you.”

  Abigail stopped in her tracks and I nearly ran into her shoulder. I thought I was about to get through to her, but then she steeled herself again, shooting me a glare.

  “How dumb do you think I am?”

  “Abigail—”

  “Tea?” A stewardess appeared with a plate of small, steaming cups and rolled white cotton. “Or towel?”

  Are you fucking kidding me? I nearly dragged my hands down my face.

  Abigail affected a smile. “Thank you.”

  She took a cup of tea and headed back over to the couch Gray was sitting on. Gray eyed Abigail before going back to his video game. There was an unwritten rule on the Crowne jet: all of the Crownes kept to their own section of the plane.

  I stood between the fully stocked bar and a couch, watching Abigail just a few feet away. I was at an impasse. All this time, all this trauma and trouble, was because she’d overheard that night I went to Gemma?

  There was a part of me, a very ugly, jagged, and calcified part, that said to ignore it, to continue on as I had. It didn’t erase the years of heartbreak. It didn’t erase what she’d done—she’d sent me away without bothering to ask my side of the story.

  But I also couldn’t ignore what it did do.

  It gave me a reason. All this time I thought she’d abandoned me for nothing.

  Abigail used Gray as a shield. It was already hard enough ripping my heart out of the concrete vines it grew. If there was one person in this world I didn’t want to watch, it was Gray fucking Crowne. The guy thought I was worse than gum beneath his shoe.

  I dragged my hand through my waves. “I knew we couldn’t be together.”

  At my voice, Abigail looked up from her tea, surprise written across her features.

  “A guy like me, with someone like you, Abigail? I was your dog. I was only good enough to sleep at the foot of your bed.”

  “Yup,” Gray said, without taking his eyes off his video game.

  “Theo—”

  I waved a hand, silencing her. I had to get this out.

  “You weren’t just my best friend, Abs. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I couldn’t lose you… but if I loved you, I would. Every day with you I got closer to telling you the truth and ruining everything. When you kissed me?”

  For a minute I’d let myself believe I was worthy of love.

  Let myself believe she might not abandon me.

  I exhaled, shaking my head at the memory. When I looked up, our eyes locked across the small space.

  “I just wanted to go back to being your friend—needed us to go back. I knew if I told Gemma what I felt, she’d give me the truth. She might stand a chance of fixing what I felt before it was too late.”

  “What did she say?” Her fingers clasped the porcelain cup, joints white.

  “That I wasn’t worthy of thinking those thoughts about you, let alone saying them aloud. She was right. She reminded me how lucky I was to just stand next to you.”

  Abigail opened her mouth, but it was my turn to leave. At least five miles in the air, I could be certain the man who wanted to harm her wasn’t aboard. In a plane bigger than most houses, I could keep my distance.

  Even still, I made sure she was always in my sights.

  Abigail was oddly quiet. Maybe thirty minutes passed, and she didn’t so much as grumble, even when Gray elbowed her as he played his game.

  When Gemma came in from the back of the plane, Abigail tracked her. I could see the tension rising in her neck. Gemma went to the cockpit, probably to ask on flight time. She had a bottle of wine in one hand and glass in the other, laughing at something the captain had said.

  “Why is Story with you?” Abigail sniped, eyes still on Gemma.

  “Who?” Gray asked.

  “My servant.”

  That’s when I realized why she was so familiar. When I lived at Crowne Hall, I’d seen her around, though five years had shaved some of the youth from her features, and she hadn’t been Abigail’s girl then.

  Gray glanced at the girl to his left like he’d just noticed her for the first time. At the attention, the girl’s eyes widened like a bug under a magnifying glass.

  “You took her from me. She doesn’t belong to you.”

  Gray shrugged, eyes back on his video game. “Tell me her favorite food, and you can have her back.”

  Abigail sputtered. “Are you kidding? Can you name any of you
r servants’ favorite food?”

  Gray shook his head, an amused smile on his face. The girl rolled her lips, watching Gray.

  “This is so. Fucking. Ridiculous,” Abigail practically screamed. She stood up, eyes still on Gemma, closing the distance between them.

  I knew before she’d reached her, Abigail was going to explode, so I was already standing up.

  “Bitch.” Abigail shoved Gemma. Gemma stumbled into the cockpit, hitting the back of the captain’s chair. The plane wobbled, the wine in Gemma’s hand miraculously unspilled.

  “Take this out of here or we’ll have to land,” the captain said.

  “What the fuck?” Gemma looked at Abigail.

  “You ruin everything.”

  The pilot said something again about taking it out of the cockpit, but Abigail was blind. She shoved Gemma again just as I reached her, grasping her by the elbow.

  “What did I do to make you hate me so much?” Abigail demanded, tears in her eyes.

  “Hi, stealing the words out of my mouth!” Gemma said.

  Abigail lunged with so much force she slipped out of my grasp. They were at each other, tearing at their hair. I put myself between them, but they still managed to get at each other.

  Only Abigail would start a catfight five miles in the sky.

  Abigail slapped Gemma, knocking the bottle of wine from her hand. It flew in a spiral arc toward the front of the cockpit. In retaliation, Gemma threw her glass at Abigail. I blocked the brunt of it, so it got in my hair, stained my shirt and jeans. The captain yelled as the bottle finished its trajectory against the front of the cockpit, shattering against the window and spilling onto the controls, some even splashing back onto us.

  “Abigail Genevieve!” Tansy yelled, and it all came to a stop.

  Tansy stood in the doorway to the cockpit. It was one of the rare times you saw Tansy Crowne not entirely made up. She had an emerald silk mask around her neck, matching silk pajamas, and her hair tied in a scarf.

  She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “Last year you threw a fit because a few of your things were forgotten…”

  “It was my entire wardrobe. I had nothing to wear. I had to go shop and replace everything—”

  She opened her eyes, pinning Abigail. “Hush. Are you incapable of going even one hour without making a scene?”

  Ever calm and collected Tansy Crowne looked on the verge of explosion. Her cream hands in tight, white fists, her jaw clenched.

  “We’ll need to make a landing, Mrs. Crowne,” the pilot said. “There’s wine on the dash. We’ll take you back to Crowne Point.”

  “Landing?” Tansy asked, a frown making what little lines she had on her face pop.

  “But we’ve barely been in the air,” Gemma said, then turned to Abigail. “I hope you’re fucking happy.”

  “I won’t be happy until you’re dead,” Abigail yelled.

  The fighting nearly started up again, so I pulled Abigail away from her family, away from everything, all the way into a secluded bedroom.

  The pounding of my heart was louder than the engines and wheels of the plane as the pilot began the descent.

  “It’s her fault,” Abigail said, staring at the door.

  “What’s her fault, Abigail?” My words were quiet. It felt like a secret, one we’d been holding in for far too long.

  She kept staring at the door, so I cupped her neck and cheek, turning her to me. Her eyes settled on mine.

  “All of it,” she finally said, but like there was more she’d wanted to say. “What do you mean I abandoned you?”

  My grasp on her neck and cheek tightened, my thumb fanning to encase her entire jaw.

  “You sent me away to California, Abigail,” I replied, the memory still stinging. I stroked her jaw with my thumb, kept my grip on her neck possessive. “You left me. You took me in and then abandoned me just like my fucking mother. At the time, I didn’t know why, but now I do. You saw me with Gemma—”

  “I didn’t send you away,” she cut me off, eyes wide. “You were my best friend. You were all I had. I loved you… even if you didn’t love me.”

  A weighted pause followed her words, our eyes locked. I didn’t know if I could believe her, if I wanted to believe her.

  If Abigail didn’t send me away, then who did?

  Before I could think too long on who had actually sent me away, turbulence jostled the plane. Both Abigail and I lost our footing. I fell backward into a black leather chair, catching Abigail in my lap. The plane steadied, but neither of us moved.

  She pulled the bracelet she’d given me out of her pocket.

  I thought she would’ve thrown it away.

  “I always assumed you left me,” she said, fiddling with the beads. “Because you wanted my sister and were tired of pretending to like me.”

  Her quiet confession cut through me. All this time she’d been hurting just like I had.

  I stroked my thumb across her cheek. “Sweet girl, I would never leave you, not willingly, not unless I had to.”

  Her eyes found mine, lips parted. Warmth radiated from her clay eyes, affection a luminous glow. My eyes landed on her lips, when all at once she jumped off me. She took two quick steps back until she was almost at the door.

  “I-I don’t believe you, Theo.”

  There wasn’t determination in her voice; if anything, she sounded afraid. She tugged on the bracelet, pulling the beads apart, the white twine shiny.

  I tilted my head. “Yes, you do.”

  She mashed her lips together, eyes darting around the room. I stood up, walking to her leisurely, grasping her wrist and anchoring her attention on me.

  “This could all be another elaborate trick,” she said, allowing me to drag her into my embrace.

  I don’t know if I was ready to completely forget five years of resentment and pain. When your view of someone is stained in heartbreak, it’s hard to completely wash that away, even if that view is wrong.

  But love or hate, I couldn’t go another minute without Abigail.

  “Could be,” I admitted.

  I rubbed my nose along her cheek slowly, her sharp inhales spiking my heart rate.

  “You say you… care… about me, and you don’t actually like my sister, and you even tattoo me, yet you wear someone else’s bracelet—”

  I crushed my lips against hers, quick and harsh, shutting her up. Enough to bruise and leave her breathless.

  When I pulled back, her eyes were hooded, locked on mine.

  I thumbed her bitten-red lower lip. “You gave me that bracelet.”

  Sixteen

  ABIGAIL

  Theo was in my room.

  A nervous laugh bubbled out of me. I quickly smothered it with the back of my hand, trying to pretend it was a cough.

  Theo shot me a curious look, the one that said he saw right through me, then turned from me, busying himself with something I couldn’t see on my nightstand. Grateful for the momentary respite from him, I breathed.

  Mother was furious we had to reschedule the flight. It appeared no serious damage was done, yet a full top-to-bottom inspection had to be done before we could fly out, which meant a night back at Crowne Hall. A night alone with Theo…

  I fiddled with the bracelet on my wrist. All these years I’d wondered who gave him the bracelet. Making up ridiculous stories like he had a girlfriend he pined for, or a long-lost soul mate, and all this time it was me?

  My heart cracked open.

  For all his bluster, Theo hurt the most.

  Another laugh threatened to burst.

  I was acting ridiculous, like he hadn’t been here a thousand times before.

  He’d replaced the light bulb on the light not inches from him.

  Theo Hound had been in my room more than anyone. As a best friend. As an enemy. And each time, he was the only person guarding my door. Now… as a lover? The thought seized my throat.

  What would he think? I wouldn’t be good enough. I never was. Not for Mom or Grandpa
, not for the world, definitely not for him. I didn’t have practice in this. I should’ve practiced. Why didn’t I practice? Maybe he would be fine with just oral.

  I could do oral.

  I was so busy weighing the pros and cons of presenting my just-oral-for-life idea that I didn’t notice he’d left my nightstand and come before me.

  “Hey.” Theo pushed my hair behind my ear, and I nearly jumped at the contact. He laughed, but it was soft and low. “You’re so transparent.”

  I looked away, mumbling, “Only to you.”

  “Good,” he practically growled. The way he spoke, as much as the meaning behind the words, curled my gut.

  He grasped my chin, lifting my eyes to his. I leaned on my tiptoes, angling for his lips, wetting my own. His burning, pale eyes dropped to them and his breath warmed my mouth. I could practically taste him.

  “Show me your art,” he said against my lips.

  I tried to ignore the flutter of him calling my found jewelry art. Garbage, junk, those were words I’d expect… but art? Only in my dreams. I didn’t bother questioning how he knew I still made jewelry. That was Theo; he always saw into me. What I did wonder was why the fucking fuck now? I was still on my tiptoes angling to kiss him, and I could feel him against my hip—hard.

  I blinked, bringing the hazy room back into view.

  “Now?” I asked.

  A slow grin curved his right lip, melting my insides like butter, and then he nodded. He released my chin, and I walked in a trance to grab the box where I kept my secrets and jewelry.

  “I think that’s the first time you’ve listened to me,” he said to my back.

  “Don’t get used to it.”

  After grabbing my jewelry box, I turned around. Theo was in the process of tearing off his wine-stained hoodie. I nearly dropped the porcelain box to the floor. As if in slow motion, he revealed his body to me.

  Theo had always been muscular.

  But oh my God.

  I tilted my head, pushing my tongue into the muscle of my cheek. He slowly revealed the ridges of his cut eight pack, his tapered waist leading my eyes to his sculpted Adonis belt, which disappeared beneath jeans slung low on his hips. I licked my lips, too easily imagining where those toned vee muscles led.