Текст книги "Whisper to Me"

Автор книги: Christina Lee

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter Eighteen Rachel

I was meeting Miles again tonight and this time was going to be different, I could feel it. He’d been biding his time, saving himself up. Maybe even seeing if I was too delicate to hear it. So I’d decided to meet him in a public place where I felt comfortable and would have my friends for support if I needed them. Most evenings, the casino was noisy and crowded, so it may not have been the perfect location to have a serious conversation. But alone in a quiet restaurant over dinner felt too romantic, and I was already anxious enough.

Miles and I had gotten together by ourselves only one other time—at the FroYo place near Pure. Again, it had been quiet and ordinary. Almost humdrum. I’d begun to question what in the hell we’d ever had in common. He claimed he had stuff to say to me, but yet again, he never did.

Then his text came last night.

Miles: Meet up again? I really need to get some things off my chest.

Rachel: You’ve had plenty of opportunity, Miles.

Miles: I know I have. I was just . . . giving you time to get comfortable around me again.

Me: ???

Miles: I wanted to see what it would be like to hang with you. To spend time getting to know you again. See what there still was between us.

Me: WTF? Pretty sure we’re not on the same wavelength. I only met up with you so you could say what you needed to say. NOT to be in each other’s space again. You can’t make that decision for me. I swear to God, Miles, you need to get on with it. Spill it or be on your way. This is absolutely the last time I will be meeting with you. Got that?

Miles: Got it. And I agree.

I figured if he held back yet again, then I would be the one to say good-bye. Three times would be enough closure for me.

He was lucky I was even giving him this chance. But I had to admit, I was still curious about what he had to say.

Dakota and Kai were at work, so I got ready alone in the apartment. I kept dropping my mascara wand in the sink as I prayed that I wouldn’t make a fool of myself by dressing in the outfit Dakota had insisted I wear. Had I been at the university prepping for a frat party with the girls, I would have worn my sexiest shirt, my tightest jeans, and swiped on one more coat of mascara. I pleaded for that confident and carefree mind-set now.

I had wondered for hours on end what in the hell Miles could possibly have to confess. Even though I felt stronger each time I saw him, I was afraid continued contact with him might finally break the dam keeping my emotions at bay. Would wreck me all over again. I actually questioned if these past three years were only a precariously placed Band-Aid over my heart and whether I’d done any real healing after all.

What if I only thought that I’d become stronger, self-possessed, and secure in my own skin? Maybe my supposed healing was a ticking time bomb, like the carefully monitored pressure in my brain, threatening to boil over at any moment. Be my undoing. Take me to my final grave.

Everybody still tiptoed around the subjects of Miles and my accident. I knew Mom and Dad were terrified that I’d have long-term physical complications, like an infection or a random blood clot—it was a long shot, sure, but I saw the caution in their eyes.

Allowing me to go away to college had been a huge step for them—of letting me go. I could still feel the tethers from miles away.

The only person who seemed to treat me the same was Kai. He’d always had this quiet confidence that I would be okay, that everything would work out. And for that alone I admired him. Appreciated him. Would always consider him a best friend.

But best friends didn’t get that gnawing feeling in their stomaches when they saw each other, the one that gets you all knotted up inside, hoping that the too-perfect moments from another night could be repeated again and again.

A platonic friend didn’t stand in front of the mirror and wonder if the same outfit she was wearing to meet her ex would also appeal to that certain someone else working tonight.

If anything, I should have been thanking Kai for the distraction; otherwise I would have been a basket case at this point. Instead, my stomach twisted and sloshed with anxiety and dread.

I tugged the black mini dress from the hanger and slipped it over my head and down around my hips. Then I stepped into my killer black pumps. I rarely dressed like this, but Dakota had shoved her collection of gorgeous dresses at me, adamant that I wear this number because the neckline made my boobs look bigger. She told me to go big or go home. She said if this was the last meet-up with Miles, he needed to have one final hot memory of me.

I turned toward my closet and considered pulling out my best pair of jeans and my highest wedges instead. But I was already dressed, and it kind of felt nice to wear a dress for a change. Maybe I should do it more often. Maybe Dakota was rubbing off on me.

I looked in the mirror, and as a line of red washed across my cheeks, I imagined Kai kissing my neck. The way the ball of his tongue ring dragged across my flesh and how his fingertips felt rough and uneven from plucking at the strings of his bass.

Thinking about the sexiness that Kai exuded was definitely serving as a great diversion from my meet up with Miles.

* * *

I drove to the casino in a haze, prepping myself for the night ahead. I parked in the garage and took the elevator up to the casino level. As I neared the bar, I saw that Miles was already seated at a small table. My emotions flooded back. How it had felt to be with him. How I’d melded into his body, his interests and plans. How I’d lost who I was with him.

How I had just allowed him to talk me into meeting with him on three separate occasions.

And there had been something altogether comfortable about letting him have that control, because I didn’t have to think or prepare—I just had to be. A perfect role for a first-time girlfriend of a hugely popular jock. I had been virtually invisible.

Until suddenly I wasn’t—because of the crash and the recovery, the scars and the shaved head. It had been as if he’d stepped out of the limelight and allowed me to take center stage, which I’d never even asked for. Which I’d never even wanted. Especially not for that.

I wasn’t that girl anymore, and tonight, I needed for him to know it.

He stood as if in a daze when I approached the table and then pitched forward to pull out my chair. Ever the gentleman. Adults loved him. His own parents worshiped him, just like everybody else in this damn town. Even my parents had loved him. Until he’d walked away so callously.

“Thank you,” I said clumsily.

He returned to his seat as his eyes greedily took me in. “You look great, Rachel.”

I dipped my head, feeling uncomfortable about the compliment. Even though I had selfishly wanted it. “Thanks.”

“I ordered you a beer. Hope that’s okay.” And it all came crashing back. How he’d always done things like that—things that I’d thought I liked—under the pretense of his taking care of me.

I felt my rage welling up. “What if I wasn’t in the mood for a beer today?”

“Shoot, you’re right.” His eyes widened in discomfort. “Sorry. Order whatever the hell you want.”

“I will, thanks,” I said, my eyes meeting his in a challenge.

He studied me from across the table, and I had trouble holding his gaze. I looked down at the bar menu in front of me.

“God, you’re so different, Rachel.”

“Of course I am.” My eyes slid back up to meet his. And suddenly I had a moment of vulnerability. Something he often brought out in me. “Is . . . is that a bad thing?”

“Hell no,” he said. “Just wasn’t sure what to expect after so long.”

I ordered a margarita from the server, and we sat in awkward silence for a few moments.

Tapping my fingers on the black tabletop, I said, “What did you need to say, Miles?”

“I just . . .” He adjusted the sleeves of his button-down. My thoughts immediately drifted to Kai and how differently he’d dressed from someone like Miles. Miles was so prep school, with his starched shirt and loose jeans. He wouldn’t be caught dead with any piercings on his body. I used to love that clean-cut look in a guy. Had sought it out, even.

What had changed in a couple weeks’ time?

I’d gotten it on with a bad-boy musician with more holes in his ears than in mine, and he’d made me feel damn good. He’d made me forget. So fucking what?

Kai was somewhere in this casino working one odd job or another, and I forced my gaze back to Miles. I needed to be present no matter how much I was fighting it. The dread of what Miles was about to say was difficult to tamp down. And the longing to meet Kai’s gaze—to have him silently tell me all would be okay—before Miles got on with it was tugging at me.

“Could you listen to me first without interrupting?” Miles said, his voice low, timid even.

I started to protest and tell him where to stick it, but he cut me off by saying, “I’m afraid I won’t be able to get it all out. And I want to. Please.”

I nodded and then waited for him to begin, all the while scanning the bar area, hoping to see a comforting face. But all I saw were drunk guys and hard-up girls. And it occurred to me that on any other night during college, those girls would have been me. Just looking for a good time for a couple of hours.

“Listen, Rachel,” Miles said. My eyes sprang back to his. “What I did to you was wrong. So damn wrong. And I’d never make any excuses about it.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping his apology would finally register. I’d wanted to hear it for so long that now the words just sounded hollow in my ears.

“But I need you to understand what was going on in my head at the time.” He took a quick sip of beer, maybe for courage. “I just . . .”

Just get it out already was the phrase screaming inside my head. So I could get the hell out of there and do whatever I needed to do to lose myself. To forget the ache in my heart.

“Look, I though maybe I could make it up to you somehow. See if we still had what it took . . . to date again. That’s one of the reasons why I kept asking to see you.”

Anger lapped at my neck and heat crawled across my cheeks. “I’m pretty sure you don’t get to make that decision alone, dill weed.”

“I know that, okay?” he said, clenching his teeth. “You promised not to say anything until I was done.”

I gave a curt nod. “Whatever. Go on.”

“See, before the accident, I was already questioning our relationship,” he said, looking away from me. Like a goddamn coward. “Wondering how to break it off.”

I sucked in a deep breath. That certainly was news to me.

I hadn’t been expecting that confession, and it felt like a hard slap across the face.

An old wound being ripped open.

Was his damn promise ring some last-ditch effort to keep me happy? Fucking promise ring. What a crock. A racket. A bucket load of shit. So glad that puppy had been lost after the accident.

I was so stunned I didn’t even know how to arrange my face. So I just sat there, unblinking. Unable to move my lips into any semblance of words.

Chapter Nineteen Kai

I was filling in for a cashier who’d called in sick at the casino that day and only had about an hour left on the clock. My father had looked impressed when I arrived ten minutes early for my shift. I wasn’t about to fuck around where the casino’s money was concerned, even though I was bored stiff and my fingers were numb from counting out change.

Rachel had slept almost until morning in my room the previous night, and when she awoke, we both agreed to be more careful. I had no clue what in the hell we were doing. All I knew was that it felt damn good.

I figured it was nice for her, too. Probably in a different way. This is what she’d been doing with random guys for the past three years. But I knew we shared something more—a history. She loved me like a brother. Okay, maybe not like a brother anymore. Maybe more like a guy friend.

I still thought she was only using me instead of going out to the local bar to work out her issues or whatever the hell it was that she’d been doing with those guys. And I was fine with that. It was going to hurt like a bitch at the end of the summer when all of this ended, but at least I’d have those memories to hold on to.

Her soft and smooth skin. How she watched me when I touched her. The excitement in her eyes when I took control. How she thrilled at taking it back. Watching her shudder when she came. The way her tits were perfectly round and full in my hands.

She’d have no clue I was thinking or feeling any of this, and it would remain that way. She probably figured this was what I did with all the girls I’d been with. Except she’d be so wrong.

I didn’t savor or revere those girls or even remember some of their names. But I didn’t want to give Rachel the impression that I liked being with her too much—she might pull away if she knew. I needed to act natural and confident like I always had around the opposite sex.

So when this super hot chick headed toward me at the cashier’s counter, I gave her a good look up and down. I tried to push the image of Rachel far away. “What can I do for you?”

“Lots of things.” She hesitated a moment while allowing her gaze to roll over me. “But first I need to cash these in.”

She handed me a pile of ten-dollar chips through the Plexiglas window.

“Been playing some roulette?”

“Yep, been playing lots of games.” She was full-on flirting with me now. And I was all for getting my mind off Rachel, until I looked over her shoulder and saw Miles heading straight to the bar. He looked like he was alone, and I wondered what in the fuck he was doing here.

He stopped briefly to talk to Shane, who was on security duty tonight. Shane met my gaze across a row of Lucky Seven slot machines and gave me a firm nod.

“Is everything okay?” the blond in front of me asked.

“Everything’s cool. Sorry about that.” I handed her the cash and turned to break open a new stack of one-dollar bills, essentially giving her the message that our little flirting session was over. She huffed before walking away, and I blew out a breath of my own.

Shane strode toward me and stuck his head in the window before the next customer could step up. “Rachel’s meeting Miles at the bar tonight.”

I clenched a row of hundred-dollar chips as my entire body tensed.

“What the fuck for?”

“Calm down, big brother,” he said quiet enough for only me to hear. “She told Dakota that if she was going to meet him again, it would be in a public place close to where her friends were.”

My shoulders instantly unwound. She wanted the security of her friends in case things went south fast.

I raised an eyebrow. “And how is it that you know this when I live with the girl?”

Shane looked momentarily guilty and then shrugged. “Just ran into Dakota. She told me to look out for Rachel. My shift’s over soon anyway.”

“Yeah, mine, too,” I said, looking at the giant clock behind me. “Meet you in the bar in a few.”

After he moved away, I called up the next customer, an older gentleman with some five-hundred-dollar chips. Man, the amount of money that filtered through this place was mind-boggling. I made sure to concentrate on my task instead of on the douche bag at the bar. I didn’t want to count the bills wrong or make any other stupid mistakes that would get back to my father. He’d hand me my ass on a silver platter.

In between customers, I saw Rachel enter the bar, practically taking all the air in the room with her. I’d rarely seen her dressed up and—goddamn—certainly never in a sexy-ass dress and fuck-me-now heels. My stomach clenched painfully knowing she’d worn that outfit for him. But could I blame her? Who wouldn’t want to look her best when meeting up with an ex? Unless it was an ex you gave two shits about getting back together with.

Fuck, was that what this was about? Was she hoping for reconciliation? And how about Miles?

And that’s when I saw her—this blond chick with bright-red lipstick sitting at the roulette table not far from the bar. Miles made eye contact with her a couple of times as if he knew her.

Had he brought along a date for his meeting with Rachel? What a stupid-ass motherfucker. Sure, I was relieved that he probably had no intention of getting back together with Rachel, but my protective instinct had now kicked in full force.

Rachel had taken a seat across from Miles, and I could see only the back of her head and her profile when she turned her face to briefly look around. Was she searching for her friends? I noticed how she clenched her fists and bit down on her lip, and damn, I hated that Miles made her so apprehensive.

I could barely keep my eyes on the customers, but I forced myself to look down at my cash drawer. As soon as there was a lull in the line, my gaze returned to them.

At one point, Miles reached across the table as if to comfort her, but Rachel moved her hand beneath the table and kept her body stiff and upright. I could see the tension rolling off of her as Miles kept talking, making his point with his fingers, and then finally letting his head drop into his hands.

When his head was down, I saw her swipe at the corner of her eye, like she was afraid he’d noticed that she’d been moved to tears. She was trying to be so strong in front of him, and I badly wanted to punch the shit out of him like I’d done that day after the accident.

But I needed to remind myself that this talk between them was necessary for resolution. Just like it was essential for me to see how emotionally unavailable she continued to be. How much leftover baggage she still had with this guy.

Besides, she only liked that I got her off.

Nothing more, nothing less.

But maybe after this meet-up with Miles, Rachel would finally be able to shake the influence he continued to have over her. It was the same power she held over me. The power to destroy me with one word. One look.

Maybe there was that one person who could forever haunt you. For her, it would be Miles. And for me, it would be Rachel. But there was no way I was turning back now, because the reality of having Rachel’s body in my arms was so much better than the fucking fantasy of having her heart.

So I needed to keep up appearances. Continue being the reckless dude who messed around with girls. And I’d be that for her for as long as she needed me to be.

Even if it broke me.

Chapter Twenty Rachel

“We were talking about our future, thinking about colleges, and I was wondering whether we’d really last, you know?” Miles said. I was having trouble concentrating on his actual words. I was too busy trying to remember what it had been like between us. What it had really been like. On the inside. In my gut.

Had I been happy? Had I felt whole when I was with him? Hadn’t I lain awake at night wondering when I’d finally get a backbone and become the person I was supposed to be?

I remembered admiring Dakota and Kai in those days. Not because they came from a close family. Not because they were good-looking and had loads of money.

But because both were so confident and self-assured. Even when Kai was fucking up and getting in trouble, he did it with finesse. Like he knew exactly what he was getting himself into and could remain in control. I wanted that self-possessed certainty. That poised surety. I was like some bumbling fool next to the two of them.

I got why we hung out. In the privacy of my own circle of friends, I could be funny, cocky even. But get me in front of a group of guys and I became a wallflower. And if that’s what attracted Miles to me in the first place, it was kind of pathetic. He’d once told me he’d been used to girls throwing themselves at him, and it had been refreshing being with someone like me.

Someone like me. Those words now rang true in my head.

“I mean”—Miles was still talking, and I flicked my eyes back to him—“in the end, I couldn’t see us married or anything, Rachel. And I know I gave you that ring. But . . . God, that was so stupid of me. I was confused . . . and again, feeling guilty.”

I shook my head numbly. I didn’t want him to see how much his revelation was affecting me. I didn’t want the tears that were burning the back of my throat to spill down my cheeks.

“You relied on me for a lot of things.” I gave an imperceptible nod, agreeing with him in my own way. “And . . . and I let you. You never really stood up for yourself. You became different from the girl I was first attracted to.”

I had trouble dispelling the oxygen from my lungs. I knew exactly the girl he was referring to, but I asked him anyway. “And what girl was that?”

“You were gutsy and sarcastic and seemed to have so much confidence—at least in front of your friends,” he said, and I could only agree with that. Because he was right. I had been mostly invisible to boys when next to my very beautiful best friend, and that had been fine by me. When it came to guys, I hadn’t known how to act.

Except with Kai. When he had been with his friends, I would freeze up, sure. When he’d pull me into his chest, mess up my hair, and treat me like a kid, I’d be embarrassed. But in private, when I’d spend weekends at their house, sleeping over in my best friend’s room, we’d had a blast together. We would stay up late watching movies, playing video games, sneaking into their parents’ liquor and getting tipsy.

When Kai would come home late from dates with girls, his hair mussed, his face shiny from lip-gloss, I would be intrigued. I’d wonder exactly what he’d done with those girls.

And here Miles was talking negatively about the same girl who Kai had warned me I’d become in that relationship. I threw a look over my shoulder to see if he was anywhere around. I could’ve used the distraction right then.

“Rachel?” I brought my attention back to Miles. “I’m sorry if this is hard to hear.”

“It’s not,” I said, clamping down my jaw. “I already figured all of it out myself.”

I purposely made my voice sound harsh. No way was he going to have control over my emotions again. “So go on. Say whatever else you need to say.”

Sadness filtered through his eyes before he continued. I found it hard not to look away. Seeing him miserable affected me whether or not I wanted to admit it. No matter how much he hurt me, I still cared about him. I couldn’t help myself.

It wasn’t the same kind of caring it had once been. It had evolved and transformed into something different. Something that bordered on agony. Almost like going through the surgery to put my head back together. I knew that in the end, it would be the best thing for me—despite hurting like a bitch and knowing I’d come out differently.

Others who have life-changing experiences find God, become charitable, go around preaching not to take life for granted. I’d never had that need. I figured people already knew just how precious life was.

I let other people ignore signs of my accident as they went about their daily life, because any reminder would be too painful for them. I remembered how difficult it had been for people to look me in the eyes when I’d attempted everyday tasks in the weeks following my accident—like walking into the grocery store, needing the support of my mother’s arm or a cane.

Life was hard enough.

Instead of going around preaching about just how fragile our existence was, I took life by the balls. I got my needs met—physical, mental, social—did whatever the hell I wanted, never worrying how I looked to those around me. They didn’t know me anyway.

It was a pretty fucked-up way of conducting my life, I now realized. Even I could see the absurdity of my last three years. I had been over-the-top, like a clown with too much makeup. If I’d just toned it down, people might’ve actually been able to understand me better, see me more clearly. I was just some messed-up girl trying to navigate her way through relationships and decisions. Through life.

“I asked you to take a ride on that motorcycle with me,” Miles said, with conviction in his voice. And it dawned on me that he’d been trying to navigate through life in his own way, too. “And after the accident . . . seeing you like that, knowing it was my fault?”

Suddenly his head dropped to his hands, and I was stunned into silence. “I couldn’t live with myself. With the idea that I’d hurt you.”

My fingers reached across the table to comfort him, but they fell short. He should’ve been comforting me, damn it. Not the other way around. I quickly wiped a tear from my eye, so he didn’t see it spill over.

“No, Miles.” I cleared my throat. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I was driving the damn thing, Rachel,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’m the one who was being careless. I caused the accident.”

Honestly, the revelation that he’d felt that much remorse took me by surprise. I mean, Shane felt guilty about his bike—but his guilt had looked different. Shane didn’t just fucking walk away.

“Don’t you see?” His voice was muffled by his hands. “Not only did I feel guilty about wanting to break up with you. I also had the shame of the accident.”

Those words delivered a powerful punch straight to my gut. I was surprised I wasn’t hunched over dry heaving or something.

“Got it,” I mumbled, tasting bile in the back of my throat.

I couldn’t remember a time I had felt lower as a human than waking up in the hospital, unable to speak or use my limbs. I felt my bottom lip quivering and clamped my teeth down on it. I was so close to losing it. To letting all my sorrow burst free.

“I’m so damn sorry, Rachel,” he said, lifting his head. “Please, believe me.”

I said nothing in return, maybe secretly wanting to prolong his torture.

And then fury, disappointment, and agony bubbled to the surface as I stared at his perfectly shaved head and starched collar.

What a fuck stick. A goddamn motherfucking fuck stick. Plain and simple.

And if I truly had been half the girl I pretended to be at TSU, I would have said that out loud.

For everyone in the entire universe to hear.

But he was only being honest. And I probably should’ve respected him for that. My anger deflated and then dissipated as my own pride and humiliation won out.

He had put it all on the line, never mincing words. He could have left out the bit about how he’d felt about me and just worked the guilt angle. But no, he was pouring it all out in front of me. Every last bit of his ugly words—his ugly truth.

I wanted to stomp on it and bury it deep within my subconscious.

Maybe he’d actually done me a favor. Had he hung in there with me, I probably wouldn’t have fought so hard. After all, the tears and the wallowing, the heartache and the shame did a hell of a lot to spur me on. Along with having my life hanging in the balance.

“What made you decide to tell me all of this now?” I said, trying to compose myself yet again and failing miserably. “Why wait three years, make me go through hell wondering what in the fuck was going through your head?”

“I was immature. I didn’t have the balls.” His eyes leveled on me. “I’d like to think that I’ve got myself together and am now admitting to my mistakes.”

At the cost of my feelings, I wanted to say, but I didn’t. Because on the one hand, I was grateful to truly know what he’d been thinking. I’d always wondered. Hell, I had killed myself wondering. And one day soon, it would sting less.

“I just didn’t feel like I could go on any longer without telling you how deeply sorry I am.” I saw his eyes skate over my shoulder to something behind me and I wondered just who or what he was looking at. “Do you think you can ever forgive me?”

“Forgive you?” I blinked at him. He wanted me to absolve him.

And it should have been a profound moment between us as he waited for my answer. Except that he stole a look behind me again. This time I turned in the direction he had just glanced only to see a blond girl subtly shaking her head at him. “Who in the hell are you looking at?”

“Damn it, Rachel. I’m sorry.” He sighed. “That’s . . . Melanie. She’s . . . a friend and she’s kind of here for moral support.”

I considered flinging my drink in his face, but then thought better of it when I spotted Dakota in my peripheral vision, rounding the corner on her way to the other bar on the opposite side of the casino. Hadn’t I also come seeking moral support from my friends?

“Please, don’t be upset. She encouraged me to talk to you. And . . . being around her helped me figure out that maybe I have stronger feelings for her than I’d realized.” And now he looked love-sick, and I wanted to punch him in the face. “Ha . . . haven’t you been dating anyone, Rachel?”

Nope, just sleeping around with every Tom, Dick, and Jock to get you out of my head. How pathetic. He might actually be moving on to a significant relationship, and I’d done nothing more than have meaningless flings.

I stood up, wanting to get as far away from him as possible—and I had never felt that way about him before. But I didn’t want to be in his space any longer. Not one goddamn minute more.

The truth of it made my knees feel weak. I grasped at the edge of the table.

“I need to go. Thanks for baring your fucking soul,” I spat out as his mouth hung open. “Have a nice life.” Asshole.