Found (Lost and Found #2, New Adult Romance) (Lost & Found) (19 page)

Maria

I
sit on the couch with a glass of water and stare out the window. Owen left my apartment fifteen minutes ago and I haven’t moved since. My emotions keep bouncing back and forth between humiliation and bliss. I hate that I broke down in front of everyone—that I passed out on my graduation day—but once I woke up, Owen told me the news about Darren.

Darren’s dead. I’m finally free.

The two sentences loop in my head over and over as I try to convince myself that they’re true. It’s over. I’m free and he can never hurt me ever again.

I take another sip of my water, my hands still shaking, and then I carefully put the glass down again. I feel strangely groggy, almost as if I’m floating somewhere outside myself and watching every move I make. It’s disorienting and uncomfortable, and I don’t know if it’s out of shock from Owen’s news or if it’s from passing out.

Darren’s dead. I’m finally free.

I stare silently out the window again and watch the beautiful leaves rustle in the wind. It’s so quiet in the apartment that I can hear the blood coursing through my veins.

Darren’s dead. I’m finally free.

The doorbell rings, shattering the silence, and I nearly leap out of my skin.

My legs feel weak and tremble as I drag myself off the sofa and hurry for the door. It
must
be from passing out. There’s nothing else it could be. I’m doing okay right now and I’m not scared—

I open the door and my brother’s delighted smile hits me like a hammer.

“Happy graduation, Maria!” he tells me. My head starts to spin and I get dizzy as he hugs me. What’s Micah doing here? How’d he find my apartment? I... I don’t want to talk to him. I need to be alone.

“Hi Micah,” I greet him weakly, hugging him back.

I was wrong—I’m still scared. I’m still scared to tell anyone what happened.

“
Darren can’t hurt Micah anymore. You can tell him
,” whispers a voice in my head, but I don’t believe it. It’ll still hurt him to know. He doesn’t want to know that about me. He
can’t
know about it.

Micah releases me from his embrace and looks expectantly at me. He wants me to invite him in, doesn’t he? I don’t have much of a choice.

“Come on in,” I tell him, and I hold the door open.

“Ooh, nice place!” he exclaims as he sprawls out on the couch and gazes at the apartment. “You’ve got good taste, Mousy.”

“Glad you approve, Squidboy,” I answer, shooting him an awkward smile at my old nickname. We used to pretend to be superheroes when we were little. He was Squidboy and I was his sidekick Mousegirl. I don’t know where we got the ridiculous names from, but they stuck for years.

I cautiously sit beside him on the couch and wait for him to say something. He stares right back at me with a smile for a long time before breaking the silence.

“It’s been a long time, Maria,” he whispers. “I’ve missed you so much.”

I smile but say nothing. I still miss him. I miss the brother I used to talk to, the brother who used to be my best friend. I miss the brother I could tell secrets to. He didn’t change, though—I did. He watches me again, his green eyes locked to me as he tries to read me. I already know he can’t do it. I blocked him out years ago to keep him safe.

“Are you going to tell me what happened today?” he asks quietly, and I shake my head. I can’t do it.

He sighs and shakes his head.

“I’m going to tell you a secret,” he tells me. “But only if you promise not to get angry.”

“I can’t promise anything.”

“Then I can’t tell you,” he says, and he puts his feet up on the table, crosses his arms, and sticks his tongue out at me. I don’t know how he does it, but I start to laugh as he sticks his tongue out. His face just looks so ridiculous that I can’t help myself. He’s always been able to make me laugh like that. God, I miss him so much.

“Okay, I promise.”

“Your boyfriend told me to talk to you,” says Micah. “He said we had a lot of catching up to do, and that we had to do it alone. Do you want to tell me what he meant by that?”

My heart plunges into my stomach and starts to burn. Why would Owen tell him that? I didn’t want Micah to know. I’m not ready to tell him.

“
Here’s your chance,
” urges the voice in my head. “
Tell him! Get it off your chest once and for all.
”

Micah stares at me, waiting patiently, his eyes begging me to tell him. He misses me and wants me back.

Darren’s dead. I’m finally free.

I suddenly remember standing up to Owen’s father—how scary it was and yet how much easier it felt than this. I could stand up to him because he wasn’t my nightmare. I shouldn’t have a nightmare anymore. My nightmare is dead.

Darren’s dead. I’m finally free.

Micah isn’t my nightmare.

I can do this.

“Did Owen tell you anything else today?” I ask, trying to stop my voice from shaking. “Did he explain why Tina tried to attack your friend?”

“He said he was expecting someone else instead of Jared,” answers Micah.

I feel as if I’m on the edge of the bridge again, staring down into the darkness. Once I start to tell him what happened—once I jump off the bridge—there’s no going back.

I take a deep breath and step off the edge.

“He thought you were bringing Darren to graduation with you,” I tell him. My throat is so tight with terror that I can barely get the words out. “I panicked because I thought you were with Darren too, and that’s why Tina attacked Jared.”

My stomach clenches in fear and my heart races, but I can’t stop now. I’m so close to telling him. Please let me get the rest out. Please don’t let me choke up now.

“I haven’t talked to you in years because I’ve been too scared,” I continue, my voice wavering uncontrollably now. I need to go faster or I’m going to start crying. I can feel the first sob forming inside me. “I’ve been scared of him for seven years, Micah.”

“But
why
?” asks Micah, raising his hands to me in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“Do you remember when I visited you in college, back when I was fifteen?”

He nods in reply, his eyes round and worried as he hangs on my every word. Darren can’t hurt me anymore and he can’t hurt Micah either. I’m going to start crying if I wait any longer. I have to tell him now.

“He raped me while you were at class,” I whisper, and the first painful sob works its way up my throat. “He said he’d hurt you if I told anyone, and so I didn’t! I... I kept it a secret and now he's dead! Seven years, Micah...”

I break down and start crying. I can’t say anything else. It’s been seven years and the time finally came. I’ve finally told him. He presses his hands to his temples and his eyes turn dark and sad. He knows what happened now, and it’s hitting him like a brick.

Tears cloud my vision, and I cover my face with my hands as sobs rack my body. It’s over.

Darren’s dead. I’m finally free.

Suddenly Micah’s arms are around me.

“This is my fault,” he whispers. “I should never have left you alone with that fucker. God Maria, I’m so sorry.”

I want to tell him it’s okay—that it’s not his fault his roommate was evil—but I can’t. I can’t tell him anything because I can’t stop crying. Tears stream down my face and my throat tightens so painfully that I can barely breathe.

“He’s dead, Maria,” says my brother. “Do you want to know what happened to him?”

I nod, still trying futilely to control my grief. I can’t do it. I can’t stop crying.

“He was a shitty asshole of a roommate all through college, but he paid his part of the rent, so I dealt with him for all four years,” says Micah. “Then, during my senior year, he just disappeared. He skipped town without paying his rent and I was furious at him. I called him over and over, but he never answered his phone. That’s when I discovered he’d stolen my emergency money out of my dresser, too. Called his family back home, but they hadn’t heard anything either.”

He stops and hugs me even tighter—so tightly that I can barely breathe, but I like it anyway. It’s not the same as when Owen hugs me, of course, but it’s a different kind of wonderful. I’m so happy to have my brother back.

“A week later, I saw him in the newspaper. He tried to rob a gas station at gunpoint while a police officer was there. He was dead on arrival at the hospital. I had to deal with police inquiries for
weeks
after that.”

“He’s really dead?” I whisper, finally finding a few words somewhere deep inside me.

“He’s dead, Maria,” answers Micah, releasing me from his embrace and looking into my eyes with dead-serious honesty. “My rent-skipping, store-robbing asshole of a roommate, now also a rapist, died three years ago. I love you, Maria, and I’m so sorry for what he did to you.”

Darren’s dead. I’m finally free
.

Owen

I
t’s one thing to meet a girl’s parents for dinner, but it’s another thing entirely now that it’s
Maria’s
parents. I’ve never cared so strongly about making a good impression before. I feel like hunting down every single self-help author who ever wrote the words ‘be yourself’ and slapping them. Be myself? Seriously? That’s the part I’m worried about.

I’m nervous. I’m so fucking nervous.

“Relax,” whispers Maria, squeezing my hand as we walk up to the restaurant’s entrance. “You’ll do fine.”

She smiles warmly at me, winks and then adds, “Just so you know, you look
great
in that suit.”

“Thanks. It’s the latest fashion from Goodwill,” I tell her, returning her smile and trying not to get too excited by how beautiful she looks tonight. She’s wearing her black dress again, and it looks so good on her that it’s filling my mind with all sorts of inappropriate ideas.

“
Save those thoughts for after her parents leave,
” I tell myself.

We’re meeting her parents at the Statler Hotel, home to the university’s restaurant program. Cornell’s cafeterias are known for having great food, but the Statler restaurant blows them all away—not that we lowly students can ever afford to eat here, though. This is a treat from Maria’s parents to celebrate her graduation.

Her brother Micah is waiting for us out front, and he hurries over to greet us as we approach.

“My god, Maria,” he gushes. “My little sister’s all grown up and turned into a freakin’ supermodel or something. When the hell did
that
happen?”

“Oh stop it,” she tells him, but she’s still wearing a big smile as she hugs him. I can’t help but smile at how easy and carefree their embrace is. Micah went and talked to her, didn’t he? He must have—the stifling awkwardness I saw in them this morning has completely vanished. Micah flashes me a brief, thankful smile as he hugs his sister, and I know it’s done. I’m glad.

Maria returns to my side and elegantly hooks her arm through mine as the doorman invites us in.

“Do they know yet?” whispers Micah, nudging his sister as we awkwardly enter the restaurant. I feel terribly out of place in here. I have no money, I’m wearing a second-hand suit and I couldn’t even afford to
be
here without financial aid. The ice sculpture of the school’s mascot stares at me from the buffet as if it knows I’m a fraud.

“No, they don’t,” answers Maria, shaking her head.

“Know about what?” I whisper in her ear.

She’s quiet for a moment and then whispers back, “About Darren. I told Micah today, but I’m not telling my parents.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Micah’s furtive smile. I’m so glad they finally talked to each other.

“Do you want me to tell them when we get back to Jersey?” he asks. “I could...”

“No,” she cuts him off. “I’m not telling them. Not yet.”

When we finally find the table, Maria’s parents are already there. Micah expertly grabs me by the arm and pulls me aside as his parents descend on Maria, doting over her, complimenting her dress, and extolling her beauty as she tries not to let her awkwardness show.

“Maria, darling! I haven’t seen you in years and... oh look how much you’ve grown up!”

Her mother’s accent is just as bad a Jersey stereotype in real life as it is on the phone, and Micah surreptitiously kicks me in the shin to keep me from laughing. I’m starting to get the impression that he’s been through this routine with his parents a few times before.

I may have inherited almost all my characteristics from my mother, but Maria’s are split evenly across both her parents. She has her mother’s green eyes and pale complexion, and she clearly inherited her stature, straight black hair and the narrow nose from her father. Her father would be an astonishingly handsome man if he lost about forty pounds, but instead he gives off the vibe of a middle-aged, retired boxer with a penchant for buffets.

When the tornado of parental exuberance finally dies down, Maria nervously clears her throat and waves me over to her.

”Mom, Dad... I’d like you to meet my boyfriend Owen.”

She puts her arm around my waist and pulls me in beside her, and together, we hold our breath and wait for their reaction.

Nothing.

Still nothing.

Come on already—say something. They’re just staring at me.

“Oh how wonderful!” squeals her mother with almost infuriating excitement. “It’s so nice to meet you, Owen. I’m Abigail, but you can call me Abby.”

As if he’d been waiting for his wife’s reaction, her father finally steps forward and greets me.

“Nice to meet you, Owen,” he says, and he shakes my hand. “I’m Ramil.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Ayala.”

“Aren’t they just
such
a lovely couple together?” prattles Maria’s mother. “Oh we just
have
to take a picture. Did you bring the camera, Ramil? Micah? Did
anyone
think to bring the camera? I think it’s out in the car, maybe. Or did I leave it at...”

As her mother babbles on and on to her husband, Maria nuzzles my cheek and then kisses me softly.

“Here we go,” she whispers. “The dinnertime challenge awaits.”

We take our seats across from her parents and her father shoots me a look. I don’t need to be a mind-reader to know what that look meant. It was saying, “
I saw my daughter kiss you, and I don’t approve one bit.
”

I smile awkwardly back at him and bury my face in the menu.

The waiter arrives almost instantly and comes directly to me first. Great... it’s awkward enough having to eat with Maria’s parents in the first place, and now I have to be the first one to order? I haven’t even finished reading it yet and everything is so expensive that I don’t know what to get.

“Ooh, what about this one?” asks Maria, reading my concerned look perfectly. She gently touches my shoulder and then points to the salmon on the menu. “You like fish, right?”

“I’m sure he can pick for himself, dear,” chides her mother. Maria draws back from me and goes silent.

“I’m sorry,” I tell the waiter. “I’m not ready yet. Come back to me at the end, please?”

Maria presses her leg against mine under the table and smiles at me.

“I’ll take the salmon and risotto please,” she says, and then she winks at me. God, I love her. She just did
exactly
what I needed and gave me the price range. As long as I stay below thirty-five dollars, I’m safe.

“Cheeseburger and sweet potato fries. Rare,” orders Micah. “Extra ketchup, please.”

His mother gives him the evil eye over his order, but he’s clearly used to it and doesn’t care. Ramil orders the goulash next and then finally Abby orders a large Caesar salad with the dressing on the side. Now it’s my turn again.

“I’ll take the chicken parmigiana over ziti, please.”

Maria nods approvingly. My twenty dollar pasta is a nice compromise between Maria’s salmon and Micah’s burger. As the waiter leaves, Maria’s father adds a bottle of champagne to the order.

Now begins the awkward silence.

As if trying to help take the pressure off of Maria and me, Micah digs greedily into the basket of bread with far more enthusiasm and significantly less manners than is warranted. Maria laughs as he stuffs his face, and I try not to grin her as Abby tries to decide who deserves the evil eye more—her raucous son or her giggling daughter who’s egging him on.

“Tell me, Owen,” starts Maria’s father, raising an eyebrow, “what are your plans now that you are done at Cornell? You were doing your master’s degree, correct?”

“I’m starting on my PhD at Harvard this fall,” I explain. “Theoretical and applied statistics.”

“And with that degree, you’ll do what, exactly?”

“Ideally, I’ll get into research analytical support when I’m done, but realistically, I’ll probably get scooped up by some investment bank when it’s over. Happens to most of us.”

“Well, at least you’ll get paid very well for that,” states Maria’s mother, and I nod back to her.

“Very true. It’s not my ideal outcome, but there are worse problems to have.”

Maria and I glance at each other, and I instantly know we’re thinking the same thing.

“
No fucking kidding.
”

“You know, I think that investment banking is a perfectly noble cause,” says Abby. “A friend of mine works for this wonderful firm out in Connecticut and...”

Maria’s mother starts into a long, winding, and completely incomprehensible story about someone she knows and how great this person’s life is and how whoever the hell this is retired at age thirty-five and...

...and Micah is making faces at her while she’s not paying attention.

I bite my lip and try not to smile or laugh. Damn it, Micah, it’s hard enough to pay attention to her in the first place, so stop making it harder. The moment Abby’s story ends, Micah instantly reverts to a look of bored detachment. I barely know him and I love him already.

“And how about your parents?” she asks. “I didn’t see them at graduation and I’m surprised you’re not celebrating with them tonight. Where are they?”

Maria looks over at me in worry, and I squeeze her hand under the table. I’m okay. I’ve got this.

“They both died a long time ago,” I answer. “I’ve been paying my way through college ever since I was a freshman. Scholarships, financial aid, work-study... you know, that kind of stuff.”

It’s mostly true. I
have
been paying my own way through college, and even though Mom only recently died, it feels as if years have passed since Maria saved me at the bridge.

“Oh how
industrious
!” exclaims Abby.

Maria turns bright red in embarrassment. She looks so humiliated right now. It’s always hard to figure out what to say when someone tells you his parents are dead, but her mother’s answer will
never
be the right answer.

“Well... I didn’t do it entirely on my own,” I say, turning to Maria with a smile. “I broke my hand a few months ago and Maria fed me until my paychecks paid off the hospital bill.”

Maria’s long since told me to stop thanking her for that, but I’m not stopping any time soon.

“Oh?” asks her father. “How’d you break it?”

“Oh, it was just an accident.”

“Was it the same accident that left that scar on your face?” asks her mother.

“Mom!” gasps Maria.

“I was just curious!” she defends herself. “Can’t a gal be curious?”

“Different accidents,” I answer. “The scar is from a long time ago.”

All of them are. They’re from a full lifetime ago.

Our food arrives and the spotlight shifts away from me and instead to Maria’s new job in Boston. Now it’s my turn to be the supportive one, and I squeeze her hand under the table. Her father wants to know all the details about her new job, and she dives in and starts explaining all the laboratory work she’s going to be doing for them. I have no idea what half of what she’s saying means, and I take the moment to zone out and enjoy my dinner.

“It’s still an entry-level role, but it’s way higher than most people with only a bachelor’s degree get when they start work,” finishes Maria. “I’ll still be working under a...”

“Wait, working under someone else after graduating from an Ivy League school?” interrupts her mother. “I assumed you’d at
least
be entering as a senior scientist, not an underling.”

I hold her hand again, and she squeezes back tightly and maintains the pressure.

“Maybe once upon a time that was true,” she says in a controlled, tempered tone, “but nowadays, no PhD means you don’t start in a senior role. Maybe they’ll promote me, but who knows. I’ll do a year or two in industry and then decide if I want to go back to grad school then.”

Her mother mutters something under her breath too quietly for me to make out, but it can’t have been pretty. She has impossibly high expectations for her daughter.

Maria is biting the inside of her lip; I recognize that look. I know how tense she feels around her mother and I’m so proud of her for holding it together so well tonight. There’s another aspect of her career ambitions that she’s confided in me that I know she can’t tell her parents—at least not yet.

She doesn’t want to be a senior scientist right now.

Maria likes to stay out of the spotlight and being a senior scientist means giving presentations and ordering around the lower-ranked scientists. It isn’t time for that yet—it’s time for her to start her life and finally figure out where she wants to go from there.

Micah clears his throat and interrupts the career disagreement as he stands up.

“I have to go get a few things from the car, like... oh... a graduation present for a certain little sister of mine,” he says, grinning happily at Maria. “Owen, could you please give me a hand carrying things in?”

I glance over at Maria to make sure she’ll be okay and she smiles back at me. She’s going to be fine.

“Sure,” I say, grateful for the reprieve from awkward dinner conversation, and I get up to follow him.

“Don’t forget to look for the camera,” Abby calls after us.

I follow Micah out to the lobby, out the front door, and then he stops dead in his tracks, turns around and hugs me. All I can think to do is stand in place, completely dumbfounded. What on earth was
that
for?

“Hey, I wanted to make sure I got a chance to thank you,” he says, smiling gratefully as he releases me from the awkward hug. “Thank you
so much
for getting Maria talking to me again, and even more, for being so good to her.”

“I... well, I’m not doing anything special,” I stammer. I’m not. All I’m doing is treating her the way I want to treat her—loving her the way she deserves to be loved. Whether she believes it or not, she’s too good for me. She saved my life, and I don’t deserve her.

“Oh don’t give me that,” he says, rolling his eyes at me. “Have you
seen
yourselves together? Jesus Christ, Owen, you’re fucking perfect for each other.”

I try to thank him but he cuts me off and keeps going.