“Fuck you. Leave me the f**k alone and stop talking shit about my girlfriend.” I jerk out of Adele’s hold and push past her, hurrying into the house. I need to find Fable. I need confirmation once and for all that she’s not talking to some other guy while she’s here with me.
I know I don’t have exclusive rights to her. But the least she can do is take calls from other guys out of earshot of anyone. I mean, come on. She’s making me look like a jackass and giving Adele way too much ammunition.
And the idea Fable might really be with another guy on the side while she spends time here with me? Fuck, I can’t stand it.
My blood boiling and jealousy eating at me so hard and fast I’m turning into a complete dick, I stride through the house, ignoring Dad when he calls my name, ignoring Adele when she finally bursts into the house and makes a grab for me yet again. I can’t find Fable anywhere inside, and when I finally do spot her standing in the front yard puffing away on a cigarette I instantly see red.
Instant, I want to kick some ass, bloody as hell red.
Opening the front door, I stalk outside, heading straight for her. Our gazes clash and I see the fear, the wariness, the…matching anger in her eyes as well. She takes a long drag on her cigarette, blowing the smoke directly in my face when I stop in front of her and I’m furious. With her. With Adele. With my dad.
With myself for thinking I could have something with this girl who clearly doesn’t give a shit about me.
“You’re with someone else,” I say, not bothering to hold back.
She purses her lips, the cigarette dangling from her fingers. “Talking to your stepmom, I see.”
“Tell me what’s going on.”
“How is it any of your business?” She flicks the cigarette onto the grass and grinds the heel of her boot to put it out, digging a hole in my parents’ otherwise pristine lawn. My dad is going to shit a brick when he sees that.
“I’ve paid you a f**k ton of money to pretend to be my girlfriend this week. I think that makes it my business.” I grab her arm and haul her in close, staring directly into her blazing green eyes. I want to see if she’s lying to me. If everything we shared yesterday was nothing but a bunch of meaningless bullshit for her.
That hurts. More than I care to admit.
“So we’re back to that, huh? All those sweet words and yesterday’s romance evaporates after I get you off. Now we’re at square one and the paid girlfriend bit.”
She’s mad. But I’m madder. “Tell me the truth. Is there another guy?”
“Only if you tell me how your sister died,” she throws back at me.
Surprise renders me silent and I let go of her, back up a few steps. Fuck. I hadn’t counted on that. Figured I still had a little bit of time before I had to confess about Vanessa. “There’s nothing to tell,” I murmur, not about to go into the details, ignoring the guilt that has a death squeeze on my chest.
“Right, you just so happen to forget to mention you have a dead three year old sister who died here almost two years ago to the day. I mean, no wonder you don’t want to come back to this place, Drew. I wouldn’t want to either. I’m sure your house is chock full of horrendous memories you don’t want to face.”
“You’re damn right.” She’s distracting me and I’m getting angrier because of it. We are not going to discuss my sister any further. “Who’s the guy, Fable?”
She shakes her head. “No one.”
“Who’s. The. Guy?” I bite each word out, so freaking tired of her bullshit.
“What? Are you jealous?”
“Fuck yes, I am!” I roar, unable to stop the words from spilling out. “After everything we’ve shared, especially after yesterday, you have the nerve to ask if I’m jealous? Of course, I am. This isn’t a game to me, Fable. This is my life. And I want you to be a part of it. But if you’d rather f**k around with other guys, then I can’t deal with that. I want you and you only. I’m not sharing you with anyone else.”
My breathing’s ragged by the time I’m finished with my speech and I can’t believe what I just said to her. She’s staring at me like I’m crazy and maybe I am, but I can’t hold back with her. For whatever reason, she makes me want to confess everything.
Every f**king thing, the good and the bad.
“Me and you, we’re pretending,” she whispers. There are tears in her eyes and one slips down her cheek. I want to stop it with my thumb, I want to kiss the tear away, but I don’t. I can’t, not after what she’s said. “This isn’t real. You’re getting caught up in nothing.”
“That’s not true,” I start but she shuts me up, pressing her fingers against my mouth for the briefest moment before she drops her hand.
“It is. You don’t want me, not really. I’m not who you think I am. And you’re definitely not who I think you are. There are so many secrets and problems between us, I think our life would be one f**ked up mess after another if we were to really try and be together. And that’s never going to happen, you know this.”
I can’t say anything. I know she’s right, no matter how badly I don’t want her to be. I’m wishing on nothing right now. And my heart is breaking for it.
“Two more days, Drew.” She pauses, chewing on her lower lip. “Unless you want me to leave tonight like Adele said. She has something planned, about the anniversary of your sister’s death. And clearly I’m not invited.”
“I don’t want you to leave,” I say automatically. “Two more days, I need that from you.”
“Fine.” She nods once, her lips thin, her eyes imploring.
She wants to say something more, I can tell, but Adele throws open the front door, announcing, “Dinner’s ready!” all cheery-like and it’s such bullshit I throw her a hard stare over my shoulder, earning a slammed door for my efforts.
“We should go in,” Fable says, wrapping her arms around herself as she starts for the front door.
I follow her, only realizing later I never found out if there really was another guy or not.
~* Chapter Eleven *~
Day 6 (Black Friday), 8:00 a.m.
What lies behind us, and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. – Ralph Waldo Emerson
Drew
Yesterday’s Thanksgiving dinner was a disaster, not that I expected it to be anything less. Dad invited a few business associates, and while they talked Wall Street and the state of the economy at one end of the table, we were pretty much silent at the other end. Fable sat across from me, stubbornly quiet as she picked at her plate full of catered food.
Adele doesn’t cook and she sure as hell wasn’t going to prepare a Thanksgiving meal. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a home cooked turkey since the last time we spent the holidays with my grandparents in New York, and that was years ago.
The hostility in the house had been off the charts. Adele tried her damnedest to talk to me and I refused. The taxi had shown up to cart Fable away just as promised later that evening and I sent the guy away, shoving two twenties in his hand as payment for his trouble.
Not once did Fable speak to me. The moment she could make her escape, she was gone, heading back to the guesthouse without a goodbye to anyone and locking herself away in her room. She didn’t come out for the rest of the night.
So I did the same, pissed at myself that I let her get under my skin. I didn’t sleep much, hadn’t really slept much the night before either, and now I’m lurking outside Fable’s closed door, tempted to bust in there and make her talk to me.
This is definitely not like me. I’m not confrontational. I hate facing my feelings. But damn it, that fight between us yesterday left me raw and hurting. I feel like a pu**y for even thinking this, but I thought what we had was turning into something special.
Guess I was wrong.
But see, this is where my stubbornness kicks in for once in my personal life. I don’t want to be wrong. I don’t think I am wrong. For whatever reason, she’s running scared. I can’t blame her. I do the same damn thing, day in and day out. The only time I feel completely in control of my life is out on the football field. Being trapped here for the last few days, I’m jonesing to get back to it. Get my head out of the bullshit and back into the game.
Go back into unfeeling robot mode and forget everything else.
Irritated with myself, I knock on her door and turn the knob, surprised to find it unlocked. I don’t bother giving her even a second, I stride into her dark room, stopping at the foot of the bed to find her a sleeping, dead to the world lump in the center of the mattress.
Her blonde hair is strewn about the pillow in tangled waves, her face soft with sleep. Rosebud lips parted, the covers are pushed down to her waist and she’s wearing a skimpy pale blue tank top with no bra, her ni**les clearly visible beneath the thin fabric of her top.
The thin top, her hard ni**les beneath, I’m captivated, salivating really. It’s cold as hell in the room and I go to her, grabbing the edge of the comforter so I can pull it up over her body. My knuckles brush against her chest, I did it on purpose, I’m not going to lie and her eyes fly open at first contact. She sits up so fast she nearly nails me in the jaw with her forehead, and I take a quick step back, saving myself from massive injury.
“What are you doing?” She pulls the covers up to her chin, covering up all that pretty exposed skin and disappointment crashes into me. “Sneaking around my room?”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Lame as hell answer, but it’s all I got.
“What time is it?” She leans over and grabs her phone off the bedside table, checking the clock with an aggravated groan. “Why would you think something’s wrong with me this early in the morning?”
“You locked yourself up in here over twelve hours ago. For all I know you could be unconscious. How was I supposed to know?” I feel defensive. Her reaction makes me defensive, and I don’t know how we skipped backwards and ended up hostile towards each other again. I f**king hate it.
I want the new Fable back. I want the new us back.
There was never any us you asshole.
Clamping my lips shut, I sit on the edge of the bed, sad when she skitters away from me as if she needs the space. I’ve had this idea lurking in the back of my mind since about three this morning and I hope it’s going to heal what damage has been done to our tentative relationship. If she doesn’t agree…
I don’t know what else to do.
“Well, I’m fine,” she retorts, setting her phone down, her gaze locked on her bent knees in front of her. “You can leave now.”
“I was hoping I could ask you to go with me somewhere.”
She flicks her head in an I-don’t-give-a-shit way. “I don’t know if we should hang out together anymore, Drew. I know we’re supposed to be pretending we’re boyfriend and girlfriend, but this week is almost over and I don’t think we need to make a big show of it.”
Fuck, what did I do? I have no idea, and she’s not going to tell me unless I drag it out of her. “I wanted you to come with me to the cemetery. I need to visit my sister’s grave.”
Her gaze finally meets mine, those green eyes full of pain and sympathy. All for me. “I don’t know if I should…”
“I want you there.” Reaching out, I grab her hand and cradle it in mine. Her fingers are ice cold and she tries to withdraw, but I tighten my grip. “I need you there, Fable.”
“I thought Adele had something planned for family only.” She lifts her chin, looking defiant. Vulnerable. Beautiful.
So beautiful I’m tempted to haul her into my arms and never let her go. But I don’t.
“I’m not going with them.” It would be my every nightmare come to life. Adele a weeping, emotional wreck and I’ll be expected to stand by her, full of sympathy and offering her hugs.
I can hardly stand the thought of her touching me, let alone actually letting her.
Fable’s quiet. I can tell she’s considering my request, which fills me with relief. I don’t want to go alone, I don’t want to go with my parents either, but I need to go and pay my respects to my baby sister. The idea of going alone fills me with such overwhelming sadness, I know I’d fall apart the second I parked my truck in the cemetery parking lot. I wouldn’t be able to go in there and I need to.
Having Fable by my side will give me the strength I freaking need to visit my sister’s grave. Beg her forgiveness at her gravestone for not taking care of her and hope like hell when I tell Fable the truth, she won’t hate me for what I’ve done.
And maybe, just maybe, her acceptance will help ease the hatred I feel for myself.
“I’ll go with you,” she says, her voice low, her gaze downcast once more. “When do you want to leave?”
“I need to take a shower. I’m sure you do too.” When she nods, I continue. “A couple of hours then? By ten?”
“That sounds good.” She nods again and slowly releases her hold on my hand, her fingers drifting along the length of mine. Chills steal over me at the subtle contact and when I look at her, she’s watching me, her lips parted, her eyes wide. So f**king beautiful in her tousled, still sleepy state, it hurts to stare at her for too long.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For saying you’ll come with me.”
“Thank you for trusting me enough to ask.” She licks her lips, leaving a damp sheen on them and I want to kiss her so bad, I ache with it. “That’s why I was so mad, Drew. After what happened yesterday, what you and Adele accused me of, it felt like you didn’t trust me. And all I’ve ever been is honest with you.”