I simply stare back at her, silently agreeing with everything she’s saying.
“Anyway,” she continues, looking back out at the road, “after one of the shows that weekend when I was on tour with them, he and I went to this little pizza shop and got a pizza, and we somehow ended up talking about his ex-girlfriend.”
I swallow hard, and Rowan asks, “He said her parents owned a pig farm that had a strawberry patch?”
I nod, confirming that he was talking about Danica.
“We talked about her for a little bit, and I eventually asked Mike why none of the guys had girlfriends. I wanted to know why Adam didn’t have one, and he told me that Adam, Shawn, and Joel didn’t want one.” I crack an amused smile, since they have all very clearly changed their minds, and Rowan mirrors it before she says, “But do you know what Mike said about himself?”
I wait for her answer, and she holds my gaze. “He said he hadn’t found the right girl yet.”
A torrent of emotions whirls in my stomach—I feel proud and incredibly lucky that he thinks I’m the right girl, but worried and pressured that I’m not.
I’m nothing special. I know he thinks I am, but I’m not.
“It’s been kind of . . . sad isn’t the word I’m looking for . . . but, I mean, Adam, Joel, and Shawn all settled down before Mike, when Mike has been the one open to finding love this whole time.” Rowan looks over at me again, worrying her lip like she’s trying to choose her words carefully. “I love Mike like a brother, Hailey. I want him to be happy.”
I know what she’s telling me. She’s telling me not to break his heart. I can hear myself having this conversation with Luke’s girlfriend in a few years.
“Me too,” I say, and I mean it.
Mike deserves the girl he’s been waiting for . . . I just don’t know how I can be her, when Danica is so determined to make sure I’m not.
Chapter 37
Some days at the animal shelter make me not want to live on this planet anymore. Like days when it’s time to evaluate the dogs that were rescued from a dogfighting ring a few days ago, when I have to see just how devastating human cruelty can be. Even though we’re a no-kill shelter, many of the pit bulls are too aggressive to be adopted and have to be put down. And even more are simply injured beyond hope.
As part of my internship responsibilities, I help evaluate the rescues, and each time one lunges at me or goes ballistic on a plastic hand or stuffed dog, I fight back tears. I know they weren’t born this way—they were made this way—and it’s why my heart shatters every time I have to walk one of them to the back room.
I go home that night mentally, physically, and emotionally drained. I went directly to the animal shelter after Rowan drove me to my car, and it’s been a terrible, long day. In the clothes I arrived at the video shoot in the night before, I sit in my apartment parking lot, wondering if I should just sleep in the backseat of my car.
I slept with Danica’s ex-boyfriend last night. I had his fingers and his tongue and his sex deep inside me, and every second of it was bliss. He made me feel things that I’ve never felt in my life before, and that I doubt I could ever feel for any man again. And I can’t help feeling like it’s written all over me—like as soon as I walk inside, she’ll be able to see his kisses on my neck, his fingerprints all over my skin.
I fiddle with my thumbs and fiddle with my phone, until I’m typing a text to Rowan just to keep from fiddling anymore.
Me: I’m sitting in front of my apartment.
Rowan: Any particular reason why?
Me: Scared to face the Hell Beast.
Rowan: Want to spend the night here?
I stare at the lit windows of the home I share with my cousin, knowing I can’t run forever. She’s in there, she’s awake, and I’ll have to face her sooner or later.
Me: No. But if you don’t hear from me tomorrow, find out where she dumped my body.
With forced bravado, I pocket my phone and order my feet up the entry stairs. Then I wrap my hand around the knob and push it open as quietly as humanly possible. I’m hoping Danica will be in her room and that I’ll be able to sneak into mine, but her dark eyes zero in on me like a heat-seeking missile that’s found its target.
“Did you know Mike’s band shot their video yesterday?” she accuses at me as she launches off the couch, her teeth snapping.
“Huh?”
It’s all I can manage. She’s invading my bubble, dressed in a tight black mini dress with her hair and makeup looking professionally done, and I know she wants to tear me to pieces. I realize she must have shown up at the clearing only to find it empty. Maybe there was a cleanup crew picking up all the trash—and Danica standing there in her dress.
I want to feel bad for her, but it’s hard when she’s standing in my face like a death eater about to devour me whole. With panic surging through me, I respond with the first thing that comes to mind, which is definitely not the detailed excuse Dee instructed me to go with. “No!”
Danica narrows her eyes. “Oh really? Then where were you last night? Did you even come home?”
“I was on a date.” The lie comes as a surprise even to me, and Danica’s eyes seethe with suspicion.
“A date with my boyfriend?” she hisses.
It takes everything in me to not shout that he’s not her fucking boyfriend, that he’s mine, but I conquer the urge and hiss back at her. “With a guy from school. I spent the night at his place just to get away from you for a night.”