Rebound Therapy (Rebound #1) (6 page)

The next round of banging on my front door drags me out of bed to see who won’t give up at six o’clock on a Saturday morning.

I take a quick look through the peephole and see Brian looking like hell. His eyes are red, he’s in the same rumpled clothes he was wearing last night, and his hair is sticking out like he’s been running his hands through it all night. As I watch, deciding whether or not to open the door, he runs a hand through his hair again. His expression is a mix of frustration and determination and he bangs on the door again.

I sigh and contemplate what to do exactly. He’s apparently not going to give up and go away or he would have already.

I open the door just as he has his hand raised to bang some more. He looks faintly surprised when he registers that his hand has hit empty air, and then looks down at me. A look of concern replaces the frustration he wore just seconds ago. He starts to reach out to me, but I step back, gesturing him inside.

“What happened last night, Jenna?” he asks once I’ve closed the door. Before I can formulate an answer, he continues, “I know that was Tom’s parents. Amy told me.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Did she also tell you they blame me for Tom’s death?”

He nods, looking confused. “I got that from what his mom said last night. I don’t understand why, though. Amy said it was a car accident.”

I nod, looking at the floor. “It was. I was driving. We’d been at a party and Tom had been drinking. I had, too, but only a couple drinks at the beginning of the party. We were on our way home, and an SUV ran a stop sign and smashed into Tom’s side. I lost consciousness from the impact. Apparently, my head hit the driver’s side window. When I woke up, Tom was almost on top of me and covered in blood. They managed to get both of us out through the driver’s side, but Tom had massive internal injuries. He died in surgery at the hospital.”

Brian’s hand is cupping my face, wiping away my tears. I didn’t even realize I was crying. “How is that your fault, Jenna?”

I shrug. “I wanted to go to the party. According to his parents, I made him go. Apparently I changed him into a party animal with my slutty party girl ways or something. They knew I’d been drinking at the party, too, so I was obviously driving drunk and it was all my fault.”

“Did the police charge you?”

“No. I wasn’t drunk. They ruled the other driver at fault. He died on impact.”

Brian wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his chest. I let him, relishing his warmth and comfort, even though I shouldn’t. “Weren’t you engaged to Tom?” I nod against his chest. “Did his parents always think that badly of you?”

I pull back, putting some space between us. I can’t talk about Tom or our engagement while touching Brian. It’s just too wrong. “Not really. They didn’t approve of us having sex before we were married, but since we were engaged and adults, they couldn’t really do anything about it. They never said anything to me, though I know Tom had to deal with them in the beginning, especially before he proposed. Apparently since he died and I didn’t, I’m the whore of Babylon who brought him to his death.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says, reaching for me again. “That’s awful. I knew he’d died, you told me the first night we met. But I had no idea it was that awful, or that his parents blamed you.” Brian pulls me in close, and I turn my head at the last minute so he kisses my cheek instead of my mouth. He pulls back, a puzzled frown on his face. “Why didn’t you answer my calls last night?”

“I turned off my phone. I needed some time to think.”

“About what?”

“You, me, Tom, everything.”

“You, me, Tom, everything,” he repeats, the puzzled look increasing. “What’s there to think about? And did you come to any conclusions?”

I nod, not looking at him. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

Brian jerks back, looking like I just slapped him. Hurt has replaced all the other expressions that have been warring on his face since I saw him in the peephole. “What? How did you come to that conclusion?” I’m not sure how to put it. I hate seeing the look of hurt on his face.

“You blame yourself, too,” he says, realization dawning. I look away again. “You just told me the police ruled the other driver was responsible. You said yourself you weren’t drunk. How can you blame yourself?”

I sigh, wrapping my arms tightly around myself. “They’re not wrong, really.”

“Who? Tom’s parents?”

I nod. “Yeah. He never would’ve gone to that party if not for me.”

“So, you’re just some dumb slut that dragged their son down and got him killed. That’s really what you think?”

I flinch, as much from the anger in his voice as the words themselves. “I’m not a slut,” I say through clenched teeth.

“I know, Jenna.” Brian’s tone is softer now. “I never thought that.”

“I’m not a slut,” I repeat more calmly, “but he never would have been there if not for me. He’d still be alive if I hadn’t made him go.”

“Jenna, look at me.” He reaches out and turns my face up to meet his when I don’t look at him. “Jenna, you are not the reason Tom is dead.” I try to avoid his eyes, but he moves his head until his gaze meets mine. “You are not responsible for Tom’s death. The other driver is.”

Brian is staring into my face, as though trying to make me let go of my guilt through the force of his will. His face still shows his hurt, but the confusion is gone, replaced by sincerity, and … love? No, I can’t let myself think that. I know he cares about me, but I can’t think he loves me.

“You don’t understand,” I say at last. He drops his hand from my face.

“I don’t understand,” he says in a flat voice. I look away and nod. “You’re right, I don’t understand. I don’t understand why you’d blame yourself for something that is clearly not your fault. And I don’t understand why that means we shouldn’t see each other anymore.”

“Tom’s dead, Brian. Tom’s dead, and he wouldn’t be if I hadn’t made him go with me. He was drinking more than he should have because he was annoyed with me. He—" I stop, choking off a sob. “We were happy, we were weeks away from getting married, and now he’s dead. He’s dead because I dragged him to a party. Even if I wasn’t the reason we got in a wreck, even if he’d been driving, it would still be my fault. How can I just move on like it was nothing, like he was nothing?”

“So, you can never be happy again because your fiancé died in a tragic accident?”

“Something like that.”

“Jenna, do you hear yourself? Would that sound sane coming from someone else? Think about it.”

“Brian, I’ve had fun with you. Because of you I stopped thinking about Tom for a while, I stopped grieving for a while, I’ve been happy for the first time since he died, but it’s wrong. Tom’s dead and it’s wrong for me to just forget him.”

“Jenna, you’re not betraying Tom by having a life.”

I don’t say anything. What can I say? Maybe he’s right, but my guilt won’t let me admit it. Tom’s blood is on my hands, even if Brian can’t see that. And I haven’t thought about Tom since Brian and I first started dating. In my happiness, I’ve forgotten all about him. How can that be right?

“Jenna,” Brian says softly. “Please don’t end this. I lo—"

“No!” I cut him off. “No, don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”

Brian is just looking at me, but I still won’t meet his eyes. Finally he kisses me on the forehead then walks to the door. “Goodbye, Jenna,” he says just before closing it behind him.

I sink to the floor, curling in on myself, unable to stay upright any longer. Hot tears slide down my cheeks. I cover my face with my hands as I start sobbing. I realize that I’ve now destroyed the two best relationships I’ve ever had.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“What are you doing, Jenna?” Amy asks after she barges into my apartment a week later.

It’s been a week since Brian walked out of my apartment. Eight days since I felt happy, like life was good. A week of punishing myself for my thoughtlessness in forgetting Tom for however brief a period.

“What do you mean?” I ask, feigning ignorance. I talked to her the day I broke up with Brian, but have been lying low and avoiding calls from her and my mom all week. I went to work on Monday, but went home early and called in sick the rest of the week.

Amy picks up my left hand and holds it in front of my face palm out so I can see the small diamond solitaire set in white gold glittering there. “Your engagement ring? And what are you wearing?”

I look down at Tom’s shirt. I’ve been wearing it and my engagement ring at home to remind myself of what I lost. What I should have had, but managed to destroy. What I shouldn’t have forgotten about. I look back at Amy and shrug. She knows what I’m wearing, so there’s no need to answer her question.

Amy lets out an exasperated sigh and plops down on the couch. I sit down, too, not looking at her, letting my head rest against the back of the couch. Amy surveys the mess of food wrappers and wadded up tissues scattered over my coffee table and spilling onto the floor. The couch isn’t covered in trash simply because I’ve been spending all my time lying on it and I don’t want to lie in trash.

“This isn’t healthy, Jenna,” she says quietly. I just shrug, not wanting to argue. “What happened? I thought you were moving past this. Last week you were thanking me for helping you meet Brian.”

Tears are prickling behind my eyes again. I’ve been crying most of the week. I don’t want to cry in front of Amy, but I can’t help it. All the guilt and hurt I’ve been feeling for the last week is still warring in my chest, and it only finds release through leaking out my eyes. I turn my head and give Amy a level stare. “You know what happened, Amy. You were at The Barrel Room last Friday.”

“You’re really going to let that woman get to you?” Amy’s face is a mix of frustration and surprise. “She all but bitch slapped you at the funeral, demanded back your engagement ring at the wake, and treated you like crap ever since Tom died. Why do you give a damn what she says or thinks?”

I shrug again. “I can’t blame her. She’s grieving and she holds me responsible for Tom’s death.”

“I get that she’s grieving, but that doesn’t mean she has the right to call you names and treat you like trash.”

“Her son’s dead because of me. She has the right to act however she wants.”

Amy’s face softens. “Jenna, it was an accident.”

I look down at my hands. “Yeah, and I was driving.”

“But the other driver was at fault. They t-boned you. You weren’t responsible. At all. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“Cathy does.”

“She’s a psycho.”

“I dragged him to that stupid party. He’d still be alive if we hadn’t gone.”

“Jenna, that still doesn’t make it your fault. It’s not like you knew you’d get in a horrible car accident that would kill Tom if you went to a party. You can’t hole up inside for fear of something bad happening. And you can’t blame yourself for something someone else did.”

I press the heels of my palms to my eyes, trying to staunch the tears that are escaping at her words. The logical part of my brain knows she’s right. I couldn’t have known what would happen on the way home. There was nothing I could have done to evade the car that plowed into us. It really isn’t my fault. But Tom died and I didn’t. Amy slips her arms around me and pulls me into a hug. She rubs my back while I sob into her shirt, then hands me a tissue when I pull back and regain some control of myself. Tears are still slipping down my cheeks, I can’t stop them, but the wrenching sobs have passed for now.

“Why are you torturing yourself by wearing your engagement ring and Tom’s shirt? And why did you break up with Brian?”

“I just can’t be with Brian.”

“Why not?”

“Because … it’s not right.”

“What, is he a secret pervert? Did he try to get you to make internet porn with him or something?”

I let out a short laugh at that, shaking my head. Leave it to Amy to lighten the mood. “No, nothing like that. Brian’s great.”

“So, what’s not right about it?”

“It’s just … I was with Tom and we were happy and we were going to get married, but then we got hit by a car and he died.”

“Okay.” Amy draws the word out. “What does that have to do with Brian?”

“When I was with Brian, I didn’t think about Tom. Like at all. I mean, I told him about Tom some on our first couple dates, and I couldn’t help but compare them some in the beginning, but I haven’t thought about Tom in weeks. And I didn’t even realize it until you brought it up at The Barrel Room last week, and then Cathy showed up.” I take a breath and hold it for a moment, then let it out slowly. “I was happy with Brian, and it made me forget about Tom.”

“Jenna, you’re allowed to be happy.” I look away from her. “You’ve done nothing but think about Tom for over a year before you met Brian,” she continues. “It took you months to take off your engagement ring after he died. Even after you put it away, everything still reminded you of him. You’ve been stuck on him and blaming yourself for a year.”

“Don’t you get it, Amy?” I burst out, angry with her for not understanding. “I should be married right now. My anniversary would have been last month. And I didn’t even notice because I was so caught up in Brian, dating some other guy on my anniversary.”

“Jenna, you’re not cheating on Tom. Tom’s dead.”

“I know he’s dead! He’s dead and I’m not and it feels like I’m cheating on him, betraying him, especially when I don’t even think about him. And even more when I compare him to Brian and Tom comes out worse.”

“How does Tom come out worse?”

“Brian is so different from Tom. He … gets me in a way Tom never did, even though we dated for years. I loved Tom. I
love
Tom, but I really like Brian.”

“I know you love Tom. But it’s okay to like Brian. It’s okay to fall in love again, Jenna. You’re not replacing Tom. It’s okay that Brian’s different.”

“I know. I don’t want Brian to replace Tom. But I still feel like it’s a betrayal of what we had.” My face heats up and I feel myself blushing, comparing sex with Brian and sex with Tom.

Amy’s been watching me closely and notices the sudden blush. She points at me with one finger and narrows her eyes. “What’s that all about?”