Текст книги "The Singles"
Автор книги: Emily Snow
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Текущая страница: 43 (всего у книги 45 страниц)
Chapter Twenty-Five
Neither of us breathes as we stare at each other. “What do you mean you already know?” I finally manage, and my mother releases me. She sits back down, keeping her stare straight ahead. Looking at the window like she had the day I told her I didn’t want to go to Lily’s funeral. “Mom?”
“You called here last year when you were drunk,” she explains. “It scared the hell out of me getting a call from you that late, but I listened to everything you had to say. You were inconsolable, crying about how Lily’s death was all your fault.” Mom takes a sip of her coffee and then wraps her trembling fingers tightly around the mug.
“I don’t believe that, just in case you were wondering. I blame Lily’s death on one person—and that’s neither you nor the boy from your college. I know it probably seems like I did, but I handled your sister’s passing ... badly.” She looks over to me, her eyes touching mine again and gives me a sad smile. “And I’m sorry for the way I handled things.”
So am I, but I push forward. “Did you tell Dad what I told you?”
She moves her head from side to side. “Some things are just better left unsaid.” With those words, Mom gets back up, smiling at me with tears racing down her face. “I’m starving. Maybe ... we can go grab something together? Just the two of us. And then after that we should probably figure out what to do about Thanksgiving.” She laughs sheepishly. “I haven’t even bought a turkey.”
Nodding, I swallow past the giant lump in my throat to say, “I’d love that.”
With the air clear between us, Thanksgiving goes smoothly. It’s just Mom and me, and we skip the traditional meal in favor of steak that she burns on the grill, but I don’t mind. As I prepare to go back to school on Sunday morning, she hugs me tightly. “I love you, Evie.” She clasps my face between her hands and kisses my forehead before adding, “I know you’ve doubted that, but I do.”
“I love you too.”
***
I return to Founders feeling like a thousand pounds have been lifted off my shoulders and I jump into the last full week of classes determined to, as Nathan always put it, make finals my bitch. Rhys doesn’t come back, but I try to tell myself that it’s for the best as I leave Professor Cameron’s office a few days before my final exam.
“What’s for the best?” a voice speaks up from beside me, and I look over to take in Nathan’s unruly red hair and bright blue eyes.
“That I transfer next semester,” I say gravely, and when his eyes bug, I grin. “Haven’t you learned by now—I’m too lazy for all that.”
“How are you feeling about the final?”
Grasping the bannister, I walk quickly down the stairs. “Hmm, considering Cameron just told me that my interpretation of the melismatic passage in “Vittoria Mio Core” reminds her of a baby goat—” I turn toward him, holding my thumb and forefinger apart and squinting at it—“I guess you can say I’m just a little bit nervous.”
He laughs, but when he sees that I’m one hundred percent serious, he shakes his head. “A baby goat? That’s a new one, even for the succubus.”
Putting Professor Cameron’s comment—which Mac later assures me is tame—out of my head, I practice like crazy over the next couple days. When it’s time for me to go back in front of the vocal department professors again, I’m nervous and shaking.
“You’re going to do great,” Corinne promises me, sipping slowly on her Red Bull as I get dressed for my performance. “Just don’t forget to breathe. I’d give you more advice than that, but since I can’t sing ... just breathe.”
The corners of my lip drag into a grin, and I face my roommate, holding my arms out. “Do I look professional?” She quickly takes in the sight of me from my cream-colored flats, to my slim chocolate brown pencil pants, and finally to the lacy blouse that matches my shoes, and nods. “Alright, if I’m not back before your next final, good luck!”
“You too. Seriously, you’ve got this.”
Grabbing my coat and an oversized knit beret to protect my ears from the chilly day, I head over to the music department. As I sit outside the smaller auditorium and wait for my turn to perform, I play on my phone, checking my email out of boredom and nervousness.
And then my heart stops when I find a message from Rhys.
From: [email protected]
Date: Fri, Dec 06, 2013 at 3:37 PM
Subject: Wrecked
Evelyn,
I’ve sat here typing and re-typing this message. My words have been angry, bitter, and guilty, but what it all tells me is this:
You have twisted yourself around my mind, and nothing—who you are or who I am—is enough to take that away. Even if it were possible, I don’t think I’d want it to happen. I can still feel you, taste you, smell you. You are everywhere, and I’ve thought about you until it seemed like you were the only thing that exists.
You have wrecked me—body and soul—and I know that can only mean one thing.
I am in love with you.
I am so in love with you I can’t even think straight anymore.
So the question is—what happens next?
My fingers are shaking so much that I nearly drop my phone as I read his message a few more times. He loves me. This isn’t the first time he’s told me that—he said as much the day he walked out of my room—but this is the one that really counts, the one that lets me know that maybe he and I aren’t done. It’s the one that gives me hope. I start to send him a message back asking when we can actually talk and sort through this, but then Professor Cameron comes out of the auditorium.
“We’re prepared for you, Evelyn,” she tells me, motioning me inside. While she takes her seat amongst the other professors, I stand on the side of the stage, removing my coat. I’m tucking my fingers beneath the brim of my slouchy beret when I see a familiar body duck into the auditorium.
Rhys.
He’s here.
His searching sea blue lock on mine and then he gives me an encouraging nod. “Take off the hat,” he mouths before going to sit behind Professor Cameron, who turns and hands him a clipboard. My hands are so numb I barely feel my fingers as I place my hat by my coat.
The performance is similar to my midterm—I take the stage and state my name and sing each piece of music—but everything else seems to fade as I look out at Rhys.
When did he get back? Why didn’t he at least warn me he’d be here? And most importantly, will he stay?
When he leaves during my last song, my chest burns. My heart is beating erratically by the time I sing my last note, and Professor Cameron gives me one of her tight-lipped smiles.
“Thank you so much, Ms. Miller. Your final grade will be posted in the student portal shortly after the end of the semester.” With those words, she releases me, and I burst into the hallway breathing harshly.
My phone vibrates in my coat pocket. I pull it out and glance down at it. A surge of uncertainty mixed with anticipation and fear goes through me at the sight of Rhys’ simple text.
Will practice room #4 work for you?
Taking the path that I’ve walked so many times already this year, I get down to the basement level in thirty seconds flat. I’m almost afraid that he won’t be here yet, but when I open the door to the room where I first fell all over myself for him, Rhys is sitting behind the piano. He’s playing a song—“Yesterday” again—and I stand perfectly still in the doorway, letting his voice and the music and my own feelings wash over me. When he’s finished, he looks up at me, his eyes full of emotion.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” I whisper brokenly, and he shakes his head and scoots the bench away from the piano, giving me a clear view of every inch of him.
“I couldn’t stay away.”
Words like this are dangerous, and I run my hand over my chest as if it’ll smooth out my heavy breathing. “You didn’t say goodbye,” I say carefully. “But I understand why you left.”
“Evelyn—”
“What happened with your niece?” His eyes follow me as I walk slowly toward him. My chest tightens with every step, and I swear I can hear my heart beating in my ears—it’s racing that fast, pounding that hard. “Your brother’s ex-wife isn’t going to get custody of her, is she?” I question, and he shakes his head.
“No. No she’s not.”
Then, taking a deep breath that sends a shiver through my entire body, I close the distance between us. He reaches his hand out to me, and I take it, gasping for air when he pulls me between his strong legs. I cup his face gently between my hands, looking down at him. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “I’m sorry that I led you on and that I—”
“Stop apologizing.” He twists his head to the side and kisses my wrist. “God, don’t ever apologize for that. I know why you didn’t tell me—knew why even as I stood there angry with you—and all I could see were my own problems. That makes me fucked up, doesn’t it?”
But I move my head from side to side, my hair falling over his face. “I think we’re both fucked up and a little broken, but I think we could be alright.”
His hands slide down my sides, his fingers kneading into my lower back as he presses his forehead against my stomach. “I love you, Evelyn. I’ve loved you for a while now, and I don’t care who you are or who I am. It’s not going to make me feel any different.”
Those words terrify me—dig their way into my soul. Those words give me hope. “I love you too, Rhys.”
***
Later that night, we sit facing each other on his bed and tell each other everything. He tells me about his childhood and Owen and his many regrets. And I tearfully tell him everything—starting with the stupid argument that had driven a wedge between Lily and me, to the awful words I said to her the day I lost her, to the guilt that had settled on my heart for two years. I tell him about everything I wrecked and everything I’m trying to fix, and when I’m done, he holds me close to his chest.
I hear his heartbeat. Feel his warm skin pressed up close to mine. And I am lost.
“Did you mean what you said in your email?” I whisper much later, and I feel his face tilt down to mine.
“Which part?”
“That I’ve wrecked you—body and soul.”
His lips find my temple, and he chuckles against my skin. “Yes. I meant every word. You have done things to me that I didn’t think were possible. It scares the shit out of me, but I wouldn’t want any of that to change.”
Squeezing my eyes closed, I let my head wrap around the twist of fate that brought us together as our bodies entwine with each other.
“I love you, Rhys. So much it hurts. So much that—”
But he covers my lips with his, drowning out my words. I let him because I’m not sure I can speak anymore. He’s right, this is scary, but it’s also right.
“I love you too, Evelyn.”
Epilogue
The Following Spring
Early this morning, I dreamt of my sister. Lily. The girl I lost nearly three years ago. It was the fourth time I’ve dreamt of her since she passed away—the second dream from this year alone—but just like always, seeing her and hearing her voice was enough to stun me. That was probably something that would never change, no matter how often she visited me in my dreams.
For once, Lily didn’t have on the red and white tracksuit she was wearing the day she was killed. She looked completely different—dressed in the navy blue bikini she bought the summer before she died. Instead of a tight ponytail, her golden brown hair was piled on top of her head in a messy knot, and she looked relaxed. Happy. She stood at the side of my bed, adjusting the top of her bathing suit and muttering how much she wished she had my boobs before lifting her gaze to mine.
“Now I’ve got your attention,” she teased, jumping beside me on the bed and sitting on her knees. Staring down at my reclining body, she narrowed her eyes sternly. “Were you planning on sleeping all day?” As she flung my bedspreads off the bed, the clean scent of her sunblock filled the air around us. “Oh come on, Evie. You have to get up and get it over with. You’re gonna thank me when—”
You’re gonna thank me when you graduate.
Though I'd hated those words coming from her mouth when she was still with me, there was nothing I wouldn't give to hear Lily admonish me face-to-face one more time.
“I’m up.” I slid my body into an upright position and rested my back against the headboard. Lolling my head to the side, I gazed at my sister who almost immediately offered me that heart-stopping, breath-catching smile. The one that crinkled the corners of her chocolate brown eyes. The one immortalized in the form of a girl just a few weeks shy of her eighteenth birthday. It was the smile that, even though I was dreaming, sent a harsh blast of pain through my chest.
Still, if this were all I have left of Lily, I’d take it.
I’d rather have this than nothing at all.
“You just closed your eyes again!” my sister shrieked in mock outrage. I felt her hand on my shoulder, shaking me gently. “Evelyn!”
“Lilianna,” I countered, fluttering my lashes apart and giving her a look that would rival the Cheshire cat. She hated being called by her full name almost as much as I did, and she responded to what I said by crossing her bare arms over her chest and twisting her lips to the side. “See, they're open now. Happy?”
“I’ll only be happy when you get out of bed before you screw your day to pieces.” A few seconds later after I swore up and down that I was definitely getting up, she slid off the mattress and padded across the carpet toward the closed door.
That was when panic hit me full-force, and I'd scrambled off the bed to follow her. “Where are you going, Lil?” I demanded, nothing the desperation dripping from my voice. With her shoulders trembling slightly with laughter, she shook her head and tossed a mischievous grin behind her.
“I’m wearing a bathing suit. Please don’t tell me you’ve lost all your common sense since I left?”
Ignoring the rare display of what Lily had always called “Evie-esque sarcasm” from my soft-spoken and sweet sister, my next question stopped her in her tracks. “Will ... will you be back?”
She faced me slowly, a few strands of hair tumbling out of her hairband as she moved her head up and down in an effort to put my mind at ease. Her grin faded away to a sad smile that sent every feel imaginable tumbling through me. “You know I will,” she swore. Then, rolling her brown eyes, she’d shrugged her shoulders. “You know, as long as you get your lazy butt out of bed.”
Those words, and Lily’s promise to return, ripped me out of my sleep. I sat up in bed abruptly, dragging in a deep breath, my hands reaching out in the darkness as if I’d be able to touch my sister if I tried hard enough. It wasn’t possible, and I hugged my arms around myself and squeezed my eyes together because she was gone. Again. And no matter how much I dreamt about her, how much I thought about her, that would always be our reality.
I’d stayed like this for a long time, with my breathing pushing in and out slowly, until a strong hand touched the small of my back. It ran carefully up my spine before touching my shoulder.
“Are you alright?”
Forcing my eyes open, I glanced down at Rhys’ sleepy, confused smile. “I am,” I said.
“You don’t look alright, Evelyn.” He’d started to sit up beside me, but I stopped him, pressing my palm against the middle of his ripped chest. “What are you doing?” he yawned.
Glancing at the alarm clock on his nightstand to see that it was only a few minutes before five and we had a few hours of rest left, I leaned in close to him. He feathered his fingers over my cheek before tucking a strand of long chestnut hair behind my ear. “I’m going back to sleep and so should you. I promise I’m fine.” Because even though dreaming about Lily tore me up inside, there would always be something so comforting, so beautiful, that came with those moments with her.
“I’m up,” I’d whispered to myself after Rhys quickly fell asleep. “And I promise I’m not going to mess everything up.”
Now, two and a half hours later, Rhys looks across his tiny kitchen at me as I walk into the room and take a seat at the small breakfast nook. “Good morning,” he drawls.
Though I didn’t actually go back to sleep after dreaming about Lily, I only climbed out of his bed ten minutes ago. After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I took a few minutes to respond to an excited email from Kendra, who I’ll be seeing next week, before coming in here to join him. “I have finals today. There’s absolutely nothing good about it.”
Downing the rest of his energy drink, he leans back against the counter and lifts one of his off-black eyebrows. I know what’s coming—he’s going to ask me about this morning. Keeping my gaze down for a moment, I open my unrefrigerated bottle of water, which Mac swears up and down is more beneficial to my singing voice than my usual tea and honey, and take a sip.
Finally, I meet his sea blue eyes head on and work my lips into a reassuring smile. “Okay, let me start over since that was pretty bitchy.” I cross my bare legs, which draws Rhys' gaze down for just a second before he searches my eyes again. “Morning, Mr. Delane.”
“You were talking in your sleep, Evelyn.” He crumbles the energy drink can and sinks it into the trashcan a couple feet away from me with ease. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous about today.”
I start to tell him about Lily, but then I think better of it. For starters, I’m selfish. That moment, even if it was all a dream, is something I want solely for myself. And then there’s the fact I have my voice final in an hour and a half. Somehow, I don’t think me showing up red-faced and flustered due to the tears I’ll be unable to stop will do anything to help my performance or grade. And I’ve discovered that those grades mean a lot to me. While I did okay on my final performance last semester—a very high “B,” as Professor Cameron loves to remind me—I want to ace it this time.
I need to do better.
Rhys rubs his thumb and forefinger over his chin, his eyes questioning. “I'm assuming that silence is a yes.”
“Cameron is scary as hell sometimes,” I reply, pausing for a second as he starts across the kitchen, striding directly toward me, “so of course I’m nervous. I told Nathan I’d switch advisors with him, but I’m pretty sure Ackerman is easy on him, so he’s not going for—” My breath rushes out of my body when Rhys’ hand closes around my wrist, and he jerks me out of my chair and up against his naked, muscular chest. He’s warm and hard, his incredible scent screwing with my senses, and I clear my throat. “If you make me late for my exam, I swear I’m moving back in with Corinne next year.”
“Bullshit, Evelyn.”
“I’m being serious,” I warn, pulling my brows together and pressing my lips into a thin line.
But his cocky grin, and the way his eyes seem to see right through me, tells me he doesn’t buy that for even a second. I’ve spent this entire semester splitting my nights between his place and the room I share with Corinne, and having my belongings all over the place is a nuisance. Last month, when Rhys asked if I’d move in with him next year since his roommate’s contract in Brazil was extended, I was apprehensive at first. The only thing I could think of was my parents, most specifically my mother’s reaction—although she likes Rhys and had even spent part of our spring break with us in Key West, I didn’t think she’d go for me living with him. When I pulled her aside to talk to her on the last day of the break, though, she surprised me. Instead of freaking out about me moving in with a guy I’ve known for nine months, she gave me her silent blessing.
And then she sent me a link of all the teen pregnancy movies on Netflix. It was typical of my mom, but I welcomed it. At least we’re getting our relationship on track, even if my dad has been hot and cold with me ever since Mom filed for divorce last year.
At the tiny smile that flits across my lips, Rhys frames my face with his hands and tilts my gaze up to his. His stare is intense as he studies my expression, looking for answers. “Since you’re not gonna tell me what’s wrong, let me ask you this: You won’t be this distracted while you’re singing today, will you?”
Heat tingles down my spine as his fingers massage against my temples, but I manage to shake my head. “Mmm, no.”
“There’s that mmm again.” Laughing, he lowers his forehead to mine, the tips of our noses together, our lips nearly touching, and our eyes locked. “You’ll do great.”
“You have to say that. You’re my voice instructor,” I say, and he releases a little growl before turning us around. Lifting me up, he sits me on the nearest countertop, almost knocking over a carousel of coffee pods in the process. “You have to be in the music department soon to help Cameron with finals,” I remind him, a pang of regret crawling through my chest. It settles in the pit of my stomach, causing me to heave a tiny sigh. “Rhys, I—”
But he cuts me off. His lips skim mine, soft and warm, turning that regret into a wave of longing that crashes through me. When he starts to draw away, I shake my head fiercely, digging my fingers into his black hair and pulling him closer to me. His tongue spreads my lips, plunging roughly into my mouth. He tastes like the energy drink he just finished, and as we wrap ourselves around each other, I decide it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Period.
At last, he drags himself away from me, backing up a few steps to put a safe amount of distance between our bodies. “Damn, I’m not gonna be able to focus on anything but you today,” he murmurs, running his hand over his face. I respond by touching my own lips, and his eyes darken. “I need to shower and get the hell out of here, but you’re mine tonight, Evelyn.”
Scooting off the counter, I adjust the oversized t-shirt of his that I’m wearing, pulling it over my ass as I start to walk past him. A frustrated groan ripping from the back of his throat, he yanks me to him yet again. “You know I love you, and—”
“I love you, too,” I whisper a little breathlessly, and a full grin spreads across his gorgeous features.
“Good, because I have no patience this morning,” he informs me, pressing my hand to the front of his boxers so I can feel his erection. “I need you in my shower in the next three minutes or I’ll end up taking my time, and Cameron will have both our asses when we're late.”
“I’ll be there in two,” I promise.
I can hear the sound of the shower running as I race to Rhys' bedroom to grab my body wash from the bag I brought over the night before. Just before I leave to join him, I catch a glimpse of my laptop, which is still open on his dresser from emailing Kendra earlier.
My latest background image, the one of Lily and me at prom three years ago, stares back at me and though I can’t remember anything we talked about that particular night, I can vividly hear my sister telling me many, many times how I’d thank her when I graduated.
“I haven’t screwed anything up in a long time,” I start in a low whisper, my voice heavy from all the emotion suddenly weighing my chest down. “I haven't gone out of my way to see what I can wreck. Let’s see how long I can keep this up. If you catch me trying to fuck everything up—well, knock some sense into me, please?”
Before I close the screen, I brush my thumb over my sister’s smiling face and give the image of her an appreciative nod. “And thank you. For everything.”
Then, I leave the room and head for the one thing I’ve wrecked that turned out right.
-The End of Wrecked-
