If I Break THE COMPLETE SERIES Bundle (157 page)

I kiss him softly and rest my head against his. “Thank you, Zach, for letting me play a part but not become it.”

He smiles, showing his pearly white teeth, then gently pushes me off him. “I’m glad you took that crap off your hair.” He lays on his side and turns toward me.

I run my hands through my hair. Gone is the charcoal color I’d changed it to. Trying to get it back to my natural red was difficult—at first it was like a light milk chocolate color with auburn highlights—but my mom’s graduation gift to me was taking me to a salon and having a colorist correct it. Now it’s not far off from the natural red tone of my roots, about three inches of which are showing. I’d forgotten how much I missed looking in the mirror and seeing myself.

“You promise to come visit me?” I prop my head in my hand so that I can look down at him.

“Hell yeah,” he says, giving me a dazzling smile. Zach is literally sex on a stick sometimes. He has the smile of a Boy Scout, the swagger of a rock star, and the sex appeal of a soap opera heartthrob. If he could play an instrument or sing, he’d make millions. “So your plan is to not piss off your sister, find a job, meet a nice man, and have a litter of kids, right?”

I frown at him, feigning annoyance. “Litters refer to animals, not babies.”

“But that’s the gist, right?”

“I just want to have a family. It doesn’t have to be a perfect one, but a really good one. And I don’t want a guy who’s career-obsessed though. You know, I want someone who works hard but can balance his family and professional life. Like my dad. He worked but always made sure he was home for dinner and weekends.”

“You’re weird.” He laughs, and I frown. “You’re eighteen, and instead of thinking about all the bars and clubs you’ll get to hit up when you find someone to make you a fake ID, you want to be Mrs. Cleaver.”

“It’s not like I expect all this to happen instantly. It’s just that’s what I really want. It’s what would make me happy,” I say with a shrug. “What about you?”

“That’s easy—Lisa Bonet on a private island with all the pot I can handle,” he says, and I shake my head at him. “Don’t knock my dream, brat.”

“That’s not a dream. That’s a fantasy,” I correct him.

“Dream, fantasy. It’s all the same until you make it a reality.” He stands and stretches then reaches his hand out and pulls me up next to him. “Look up at the sky.”

I do. It’s pitch black with stars littering it.

“What do you see?” he asks.

“I see stars,” I say, glancing at him.

He grins then looks at me. “No. That’s infinite possibilities.”

We stare at them for the rest of the night.

I walk back into the house ten minutes before my official curfew. In one day, I’ll be free from it, living in the big city with my sister, an adult with freedom and no rules. I saw no need to rock the boat tonight to make a statement.

Before my foot could hit the first step to go upstairs, I hear my mother call to me from the dining room. I glance at the clock to make sure I didn’t break curfew, and I haven’t. I hesitantly make my way into the dining room and see my mom sitting at the head of the table with a glass of wine and a piece of chocolate cake left over from my small graduation celebration, which consisted of a few friends from school, two distant relatives, and Martin’s staff from the car dealership. It wasn’t my idea of a party, but I made off with a hundred fifty bucks. I survey mom’s face to gauge her mood. When I see her small smile, her bright eyes, and her hair falling to her shoulders, I let out a small breath.

“Have a seat, honey,” she says gesturing to the chair next to her.

I take a seat as she slides the plate of cake over to me. I cut a piece with my fork and pop it in my mouth.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” she asks, and I nod. “Not as good as your dad’s though, huh?”

I swallow the cake and the lump in my throat. Not only because she said the exact thing she was thinking but because it’s the first time she’s mentioned my father in months. She smiles and sighs.

“I do miss him so, Gwen,” she says, her voice lighter than I’ve heard it in a long time.

“Why don’t you ever talk about him?” I ask.

She shakes her head so slightly I could almost mistake it for a tilt. She lets out a long, deep breath. “We all handle grieving differently. Loss can be devastating.” She takes another sip of her wine then folds her hands. “Not just loss of a person but loss of love, a friendship, youth. I-I know how close you were with your father.”

My eyes leave her face. I feel tears welling up in my eyes and my throat closing in on itself. Why is she bringing this up now? I want to move my hands to wipe the tears coming from my eyes, but I’m afraid to move.

“I am sorry that I didn’t know how to be there for you,” she says with tears falling from her own eyes. “I want you to have a good life. And I know that when you lost him, you lost a big part of yourself. I want to make sure that—” She grabs a napkin and wipes her eyes. “I want to make sure that your changes are organic and not forged for a reason your father would… that I would hate…” She adds a smile to her devastated expression. “I’m glad that you’re moving in with Gia. I think you’ll be great for each other.”

I smile and nod. She didn’t say Gia would be great for me but that we would be great for each other.

“I’m going to give Gia some money for you so that you can settle in before you start working. I just want you to have the best start there. You’re such a special girl. You have a big heart like your father did. You bring light when you let yourself,” she says, squeezing my hand.

I squeeze her hand back before getting up and pulling her into a big hug. “Thank you, Mom.” I can’t control my crying.

We hold each other for as long as we need to, and we forgive each other with words that don’t need to be said for the hurt and pain we caused because we were consumed with our own.

The day I’m set to arrive at Gia’s house, butterflies have a parade in my stomach from the time I go to bed to the time I wake up. Today is the day. This is it, my first day of real adulthood. “Leaving the nest” is what Martin keeps saying. When I stand at the train station, my bags all packed—three large suitcases to be exact—it’s bittersweet.

I sit in the terminal with my mom and Martin.

“Chicago’s a great city. You’re going to do great things there, Gwen,” he says enthusiastically.

I give him genuine smile. “Thank you, Martin.”

Since I came back from Gia’s a couple of months ago, we’ve been cordial, sometimes on the edge of friendly. It would still seem false to call him Dad or something sentimental like that, not that he’d expect me to. I think he’s grateful enough that I haven’t caused any more problems since he’s predicted to win the election in the winter. My train is called out. I give Martin a semi-awkward hug and my mom a longish one before I head to the opening in the train where they load my luggage.

“Make sure you call me as soon as you make it to Gia’s,” my mom calls.

“I promise,” I tell her with a little wave.

I see the tears rolling down her face, and I feel wetness in my own eyes. I’d never imagined the day I said good-bye being sad, but I guess things sometimes don’t turn out how you imagine them.

I sit on a bench at the Chicago train station, listening to the music playing from the speakers. Next to me is a woman reading a book. I flip through the magazine I read cover to cover on the train and glance at my watch. Gia should have been here almost thirty minutes ago. It’s not like her to be late. I try to hang on to the anxious energy in my stomach instead of becoming annoyed. It’s hard to focus on the pages with all the commotion around me. This city is so different from my town back home. It’s as if everything here is constantly moving, and it’s exciting but intimidating.

“Gwen?”

My heart tightens when I hear the voice that calls me. I shake it off. That’s the voice I run from in my sleep but can’t help but yearn to be closer to. It was my only reservation about coming back. When I look up, that only reservation is standing in front of me. Six feet tall, sandy blonde hair, and unnaturally hypnotizing eyes—Will Scott, my sister’s boyfriend.

“How are you?” he says with a smile that makes me want to melt.

Shit. This was supposed to be over. This stupid crush was supposed to be gone. Crushes are supposed to go away, especially when you haven’t seen the person in months… well, except in your dreams.

“Hi,” I say, unable to contain my own smile.

He takes my hand and pulls me into a hug. He lifts me so easily. How I fit into his arms feels natural.

“How have you been?” he asks, not knowing the effect his unannounced presence is having on me.

I’d known I would see him of course, but not now. I was supposed to have time to prepare myself, to get ready for him. He wasn’t supposed to just spring up here.

“I’m great,” I say, his enthusiasm contagious.

“You look great.”

I swallow hard at the compliment.

“Your hair… you look so different I almost didn’t recognize you,” he says.

I subconsciously run my hands through it. “You like it?” I need to hear him say it once more.

“I love it. It fits you… and now I can call you carrot top.” He chuckles, and I roll my eyes. “Let me get your bags.”

He grabs the two biggest ones. I take the last and follow him to his truck.

“I can’t believe you’re here. In the flesh,” he says once we’re both in the truck.

“You act like I’m a celebrity or something.” I feel myself blush. The butterflies return to my stomach just like last time. I’d have thought they’d gone away, but nope, they’re still here, making their presence known.

“Shut up,” he says playfully.

I try to think of something to say. Talking to him was so much easier on the phone. Talking to him has always been easy, so it only seemed natural that after he took me home, we would continue to talk, to be friends. What isn’t natural is that I started to look forward to talking to him more than anyone else. When the phone rang and it wasn’t him, I became disappointed. That wasn’t natural at all.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” he jokes.

“I thought Gia was supposed to pick me up.”

He frowns, but a smile follows it. “Gia had to work later than she thought, so she called me to pick you up.” A moment passes. “You’re disappointed?”

My heart beats a little faster. “No.”

My eyes stay on my lap. I can’t look at him because if I do, I feel like he’ll be able to read my mind, to know my secrets and how seeing him has reminded me of everything I’d hoped would change. Somewhere inside me, I’d thought, I’d hoped, that talking to him so much would help. That becoming his friend would change the way I felt.