Fate (Choices #2) (19 page)

Chapter 36

When I wake up, the reality of last night comes crashing down on me. It feels like an awful nightmare, but the empty feeling in my gut tells me it was real. I lay in bed, looking up at the ceiling, for a long time before
I finally get up.

I didn't even know Quincy had a sister, much less one that had stability issues. I had no idea that the girl who was blooming in front of me, finally letting me in, was hiding such heartache
, and although the pain in her eyes shatters me, I'm mad as hell. Such a selfish thing, really. I'm consumed with jealousy and anger. Declan knew. All along, I thought we were on a level playing field, even felt bad for what I was doing, but the whole time, he had the upper hand. I had only the pieces Quincy allowed me to have. He had all of her.

The talk of the house is about what happened last night. A few of the guys heard her scream and cry
and saw Declan carry her out of the house. If they only knew she was in my room when it happened, I'm sure that would be the new topic of gossip. I look around the room, and all I see is a group of privileged guys, most of whom have never been touched by pain. They've never seen someone break. Seth notices me and quickly walks over, patting me on the shoulder.

"Bro, you got a minute?" He guides me to the stairs, away from the guys. I go, only because I have no desire to hear what they're saying.
I don't want to replay it in my head over and over. Last night, something inside of me shriveled up and died, destroying that part of me who had finally learned to love and trust. Inside my room, Seth turns sympathetic eyes on me. 

"Don't, Seth. I don't need your fuckin' pity
," I warn him. My chest heaves as I suck in deep breaths. "This is so fucked up, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it." The girl I love is hurting somewhere, and I have no right to be there.

"Dude, what the hell happened? Last I knew, she was with you, and then I saw Declan carrying her out o
f the house." He's trying to be a friend, but I don't want to relive the whole nightmare with him.

"Her sister committed suicide. She got
 the phone call and flipped out, asking for Declan." That's all he's getting. "Just drop it, man." I sit on the end of my bed, my elbows on my knees, and my head in my hands. I think I'm in shock.

"Well, man, you know I'm not shit for talking, but I'm here for you if you need anything." He moves to leave, and looking over his shoulder, he says, "It'll work out somehow." I don't acknowledge him
; I just need him to get out of my face.

I check my phone several times throughout the day, but nothing. Not one word from Quincy. I type several texts but always end up erasing them before
pressing ‘send’. A text would never be adequate. My words would never be enough. Finally, I resort to sending a message to Jenna. I know it's a low blow, but it's all I have.

Me: How is she?

Jenna: Not good.

Me: I can't do anything.

Jenna: Give her time.

Me: I might go crazy.

Jenna: She loves you 2 much for you 2 give up on her now.

That's just the thing. I didn't give up on her.
She gave up on me
. When the shit hit the fan, she asked for someone else. She asked for
him
. End of story.

It's kind of ironic that I've always believed in
fate, and it was fate who kicked the shit out of me. It's only now that I see things clearly. Fate can lead you down a road, but you can't control what happens along the way. You can't make decisions for someone else. Sometimes, maybe you misread the signs, and fate wasn't involved at all. You just wanted something so bad, you tried to make it happen yourself. But there is one thing that keeps you believing.... maybe sometimes, fate gets it right.

Chapter 37

One minute, I want nothing more than to go to Quincy, to make her want me like I
want her. The next, I convince myself that I'm a selfish bastard. You never know how people deal with tragedy, and I understand that Declan is her friend. Apparently, he knew about the situation with her sister, and it was only natural for her to run to him. The only thing I know for sure is that she's grieving, and she needs to do that in her own way.

D
amn, it's hard to give her that space. When she hurts, I hurt. Her pain is my pain, but I've been shut out. It's not just the fact that she asked for Declan. It's the simple fact that she didn't seem to want me there at all.

Eric knocks on my door, interrupting my pity party. It's been three days since Quincy left, and I haven't heard anything from Jenna either. Declan stays as far away from me as possible, and I try to act as if nothing has changed. We're all one big, happy family, pretending that everything is perfect on the outside while we're falling apart on the inside.

I open my door, standing aside so Eric can walk in. I can't read his expression as I wait to hear what he has to say. He sighs, before his words spill out in a rush.

"We're going to Quincy's sister's funeral.
I understand if you don't want to go, but Jenna and I think she needs you there." I hesitate, taking a moment to decide. Does she really need me? I don't think so, but I'd be a dick if I didn't at least try to show my support.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course I'll go. When?"

"In an hour." He shifts uncomfortably, staring at his feet. "…And, uh, Declan's going with us." Well, I'll just have to get over that. Being there for Quincy is much more important than proving a point. I just feel so powerless over the whole damn situation.

I meet Declan and Eric downstairs. Jenna is already in Collier, so we'll be riding up alone.
Declan looks at a point above my head, his eyes never meeting mine as we walk to the car and get in. I sit in back while Declan rides in the passenger seat up front. Eric tries to start conversations with both of us several times, but the air in the car becomes so thick with tension that it is stifling. Soon, he gets the hint and gives up, turning the music up high. The rest of the trip is made in awkward silence.

Running my finger around the collar of my shirt, I pull it away from my neck, allowing me a few deep breaths before walking toward the funera
l home. I am speechless. There's a line of people stretching out the front door and into the parking lot. We had to park two blocks away because there weren't any closer spaces. I've never been to a funeral like this before, never seen so many people gathered to show support.

We take a place in the line, behind everyone else. It moves
slowly, but I get an opportunity to hear conversations around me. People tell funny, often hilarious, stories about Quincy's sister. Her name, it turns out, was Katie, and she was apparently well-liked. According to those around us, she said whatever she thought, no matter where she was, and she loved to pull pranks on people. She sounds like someone I would've liked to have known.

F
urther up in the line, some of the stories grow darker, recounting Katie's drug abuse and brushes with the law. Someone whispers that she feels sorry for Quincy, for the fact that she had to live in her sister's shadow. Another person whispers that the Priests seem like good people and they can't imagine how a child of theirs could do this. Some say that this comes as no surprise to them; they're only surprised it took so long. I want to shout that no one deserves this, no matter who or what they were, maybe kick someone's ass, but I can't make a scene. Quincy would never forgive me for kicking her guests out, even if they did deserve it.

As we get closer, Quincy comes into view.
I'm mesmerized, captivated, by this amazing girl. People walk through the line, but instead of comforting her, Quincy often comforts them, giving them hugs and whispering words of encouragement. Upon closer inspection, though, I notice the stress lines on her face and see the pain in her eyes. And it kills me.

I watch the slideshow
that plays on the wall beside us. Pictures of a young Quincy begin to float across the screen. She's laughing with another little girl who looks older but just like her. In many of the pictures, they have their arms slung across each other's shoulders and look like twins. Katie.

When it's our turn, Declan steps forward fi
rst. Tears gather and escape Quincy's eyes before she swats at them with the back of her hand, attempting to hide the evidence of her pain. Folding her into his arms, Declan embraces her for several minutes. Her breathing becomes even before he steps away, like he was all she needed to calm down.

Eric steps
forward next, taking her hands in his before offering his condolences. And all too soon, it is my turn.

Taking her hand in mine, I say,
“I am so sorry, Quince." I gulp. "For everything.”
For your sister, for your pain, for not standing up for us, and for not trusting you.... but not for the best few weeks of my life.

She
nods, averting her eyes from mine, like she's uncomfortable with me being here. Man, this sucks. Maybe once all of this is over, we'll still have a chance. I sense the way her body reacts when she sways toward me, but it feels like something has changed, like maybe things will never be the same again.

When we get back in the
car to go home, the ride is just as excruciating as it was on the way here. I avoid looking at Declan, and he avoids me. I guess this is the way it's gonna be from now on, probably gonna get worse before it ever gets better. And right now, in this moment, I don't even care.

I just left the girl I love, the first girl I've ever loved, at a funeral home with a broken heart. I didn't do it willingly, but I did it just the same. It makes me question what true love is. When the one you love is hurting, do you stay and fight even if it might hurt them more? Or do you walk away, give them the space they need, and hope they make their way back to you? Right now, either choice sucks.
In this moment, I feel further from Quincy than I ever have.

Chapter 38

The first time I see Quincy on
campus, it's like seeing a ghost. She looks like Quincy, walks like Quincy, but it's like she's only pretending to be Quincy. She walks into class, her eyes scanning the room and finding Declan, before she takes a seat. She's trying to be strong, but there is a sadness in her eyes that wasn't there before. I can even hear it in her voice. Gone is the sparkly-eyed mischief maker. In her place is a shell of the girl I once knew.

Like I said, I haven't experienced a lot of tragedy or loss in my life, but I know people who ha
ve. They grieve, and over time, they heal. One look at Quincy tells me this is not going to happen for her. She has been forever altered by something she never could have changed. And that hurts me. I wonder if I somehow broke this girl a little more than she already was.

When a heart breaks, can you feel it? I think I do. There is an actual physical ache, a pain, I feel every time I'm close to her. I've called her a few times, but she never answers the phone. I've e
ven left a few messages, but I'm quite certain she's never listened to them. She looks right through me every time I'm near her, and my heart cracks a little more each time.

As much as I want to wrap my arms around her and comfort her, I also want to grab her by the shoulders and shake the shit out of her.
Wake up! Wake up for me!
I want to yell. Jenna says I should give her more time, but I already know it's too late. It's as if the past few months never happened, like she died when her sister did. Maybe she did. I just can't imagine that kind of pain. All I want is for her to take me there, give me a chance to bring her back to life.

Instead, weeks go by
, weeks that I haven't spoken to or touched Quincy. I watch her from a distance, always hiding in the shadows, to make sure she doesn't see me. She often walks with her head down, like she's lost in thought or afraid to face the world around her. She's lost weight, weight she didn't need to lose, and there is darkness under her eyes. I can see other ways she's changed, but she's still Quincy to me. Sweet and beautiful.

I remember those la
st few days we were together, those carefree moments when I'd like to think she opened up to me. I remember the moment she actually relaxed and smiled at me like nothing else mattered. I had wished she would smile at me like that from the first moment I saw her, and I'd give anything to have that moment back.

The days when she sits alone in the courtyard are hard. I can only watch as her min
d travels to painful places, knowing I can't comfort her when the tears she fights so hard find escape and roll down her cheeks. Those days are hard, but they aren't nearly as difficult as the days she sits with Declan. They talk with their heads close together, and sometimes, he reaches for her hand or hugs her a little too tight. Those are the days I know I've lost her.

I don't know why I can't stay away from her. It would be so much easier to walk away and let her go, but I'm not the better man. I just can't do it. There is a part of me that ho
pes she will turn around and notice me. I can see it in my mind. When she sees me, she will stand up and slowly walk my way. She will smile up at me and allow me to pull her close. She'll say she's sorry she didn't trust me enough to let me in, and I'll say I'm sorry I didn't understand.

But that's not going to happen. Not today. Maybe not ever.

Today is the last day of waiting for her to notice me. I'm going to talk to her. When I walk into the coffee shop, she's talking to Declan. I can barely make out what she's saying, but her voice is like music to my soul. Maybe I should be grateful that she has someone she can talk to. However, I just can't be happy it's him. I want to be the one reaching for her hand across the table. I want to be the one she trusts with her heart, her dreams, and her nightmares. Dammit. I just want to be the one.

"Declan, there's something we need to talk about.
After this semester, I’m going to take a break from school. I’m not coming back next semester."  Those words stop me in my tracks. I feel as if I really am losing her. If she goes back home, I may lose her forever, and all of this will be just a memory.

Declan is soothing her, using his chaplain voice, but I don't hear a word. 
Fuck.
They both turn to look at me, openly shocked. I must have said it out loud. Right here, right now, my heart is being ripped to shreds. I say the first words that come to mind.

"Quince, don't leave. Can't you see? I can't make it without you."

It's true. I notice the changes in her more, but I know I've changed, too. I've turned into a pathetic excuse of a man. I can't sleep without dreaming of that phone call in the middle of the night, the haunted screams waking me in a cold sweat. I can't look at her without remembering the few happy moments we had. I can't even escape to the cabin because she's everywhere I go. Instead of the lifetime of memories created there, it only reminds me of her.

Declan narrows his eye
s, ready to fight, when Quincy interrupts.

"Brody, I can't do this with you." Her eyes meet mine for the first time in weeks, and she shoves the knife in deeper. "Please."

Her words are my undoing. I just begged her like a fuckin' schoolgirl, and she brushed me off. When I get outside, I take my first breath since she spoke. Pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, I'm at war with myself. I'm out here, and they're in there. Together.

I'm walking away when I hear the door open and close. When I turn around, Quincy is standing alone in the middle of the sidewalk, with tears wetting her cheeks. She looks lost, standing still, as the world goes on around her.
I turn and walk back to her, hesitating before reaching out to her.

“I’m dying inside, Quince. Dying.”
I place my hands on her shoulders, turning her to face me. She looks at the ground before raising her eyes to mine. “My heart breaks every time you give a piece of yourself to him.”

“Brody, don’t.”
Her voice borders on hysteria, her eyes wild with pain.

“Please! Please listen to me. You’ve never given me the chance to say anything, and now you are going to listen.”
I take a deep breath, afraid to say the words I've rehearsed in my head night after night when I lay awake. “Quince, I want to be the person you run to. I want to be the one you trust when the darkness falls. I want to know your dreams, and I want to breathe the air you breathe. I want to be the one who makes you smile. I just want to be with you. Just trust me, Quince! Trust me enough to be with me. Let me love you every day for the rest of your life.”

Backing away from me, as if she's afraid of me, she shakes her head
, “No.” She pushes past me, walking away as I stand alone with my bleeding heart in my hand.

I can only watch as she walks out of my life for good. Before she turns the corner, she looks over her shoulder one last time, her eyes meeting mine. I give it one last shot, everything I have left.
“Fate brought us together, but God dammit, Quince! Make me your choice.”

Lowering her head, she continues to walk away.
It makes me sick, literally, gut-wrenching, bone chilling sick, to think about. I know I have to let her go. I have to give her the chance to be happy because no matter how I feel, no matter how hard I want to hold onto her, all I want is for her to be happy. If that means letting her go, that is what I will do. There is a point in time when you realize that the world really doesn’t owe you anything and it really doesn’t revolve around you. You mature, you grow, whatever the fuck they call it, but the moment you realize that you care about someone else’s happiness above your own, that is the moment you reach it. It is the moment you are open to joy, passion, and happiness, and it is also the moment you become vulnerable to rejection, pain, and heartbreak. For, without those, you can never experience true love.

Goodbye, Quince.