Rebounding (22 page)

THIRTY

Max

I feel like shit. My head is killing me. My top lip feels like it’s split in two. The pain isn’t the worst part though—the worst part is knowing I deserve every wince. I deserve the aching, the stinging, the pressure, the bruising—all of it. Because the only thing I accomplished last night was to piss everyone off. I knew Garcia was there, but I couldn’t get to him in time. Right before his thugs grabbed me, I caught a glimpse of him, and I could’ve sworn he looked right at me. It’s almost like he knows who I am. I wouldn’t be surprised if he does.

“Mornin’, asshole,” Trevor greets me as I walk into the kitchen.

I ignore him and fill a glass with water from the fridge, using it to down some painkillers.

He sits on the barstool across from me, his palms pressed against the granite countertop. “We need to talk about the people who did this to you,” Trevor tells me point blank. “Charlotte and I overheard them planning to find out where you live. They would’ve killed you last night, but they wanted to wait until there are no witnesses.”

“I figured as much. They took my wallet.” I rub the back of my head. One of them managed to shove me against the concrete, and now I feel a lump forming. Bastards.

Stephanie walks in, setting grocery bags down on the counter. “Max, you need to put some ice on that. There’s a bag of frozen peas in the freezer. Use those.”

“So you’re telling me they know where we live?” Trevor asks, worried.

“No,” I say, opening the freezer door. “I carried an alias wallet. It had fake IDs, fake credit cards, fake everything.”

Trevor considers this. “Maybe you’re not as big of a dumbass as I thought.”

The thing is, I am.

I’m the biggest dumbass in the world.

The things I said to Charlotte…I wince again. That conversation is still haunting me. Between the look in her eyes when I told her to leave and letting Garcia get away, I feel like a failure all around. I don’t know why I blew up like I did. Maybe it had to do with seeing her there. She put herself at risk just by coming. I don’t think I could’ve forgiven myself if something happened to her. She’s infiltrating every part of my life, even the parts I want to keep hidden. She’s becoming more important. Knowing something could happen to her is enough to make me stop chasing Garcia, and I’m not ready to give up just yet.

The least I can do is apologize though. She deserves that much from me. The problem is, I have no clue where to begin.

“Are you hungry?” Steph asks me, turning on the sink faucet to wash her hands. “I’m planning to cook a big breakfast. Eggs, bacon, hash browns, a few pancakes too.”

“Maybe later. Save some leftovers for me.”

She looks over my face, shaking her head. “When is it ever going to be enough for you, Max?”

“For fuck’s sake, Steph. Don’t start on me right now.”

Her mouth tightens, but she doesn’t say anything else, busying herself with preparing breakfast.

Once I gather up enough courage, I leave to go check on Charlotte. I’m still nervous. I’m not sure what to say, but I need to make it right.

Her bedroom door is open, and it makes me pause. Something is wrong. I slowly step inside and look around.

She’s not here. All her things are gone. The bed is made. Everything is in the exact place it was before she moved in.

I’m not sure if I’m even surprised.

She didn’t even leave a note. She just…left. The room twists and spins into a blur. I see it, but I don’t see any of it. Pressure builds inside of my chest until it feels like I’m going to explode.

She left.

I throw my fist into the door.

The wood cracks, splintering open. For a short-lived moment, I feel better. And then I feel worse. I shake out my throbbing, bloody fist. One more injury to add to the list.

She’s gone.

I can’t fucking believe it.

THIRTY-ONE

Char

Hayes Barnaby sizes me up with a distrusting look. “A few questions first,” he says before letting me inside the door. “Do you clean up after yourself?”

“Of course.”

“Do you wash your dishes right away?”

“Yes.”

“Scrape the lint from the dryer vent after every use?”

“Um, usually.”

“Sanitize the bathroom?”

“Yes.”

“How often?” he probes.

“About once a week, I suppose.”

“That’s better than my last roommate, but I’d like it done everyday.”

“Don’t you have two bathrooms?”

“Yes.”

“So then we don’t have to share, right?”

“No, we don’t have to share,” he says without further explanation. “What about your dirty laundry? Do you wash it right away or throw it on your bedroom floor?”

“I put it in a hamper until I have enough for a load.”

He shakes his head, making
tsk tsk
noises. “No, that won’t do. If you want to stay here, you’ll need to wash it right away.”

I take a deep breath. This guy is already getting on my nerves. “How will my dirty laundry affect you? You won’t even see it.”

“Yes, but I’ll
know
it’s there. It’ll drive me nuts.”

“All right, Hayes, listen up.” I lift my sunglasses over my head, giving him my best look of intimidation. “You’ve lost five roommates in two months. I get that you have this whole weird OCD thing going on, so the way I see it, you have two choices: Either you live here happily by yourself or let me and my germs move in to help you with rent. Which one is it going to be?”

He thinks about it for a long moment, and then sighs. “Take off your shoes before you come inside.”

After that, he shows me to my room. I figure he might hang around to show me how to organize my belongings, but he doesn’t. Thankfully.

I set my things down on the floor to look around the small bedroom, a little in disbelief. I sit on the edge of the twin-sized bed, staring at the wall. Here I am, back in Gainesville. The shock still hasn’t worn off.

My initial plan was to move in with Doll, but I scratched that option when I found out Gwen still works as her maid. When I called Doll on the drive here, she tried her best to convince me it wouldn’t be a problem. “Come on, Char. You’re being ridiculous. Wes and I lived with each other for three and a half years without even speaking. I’m sure you won’t even notice Gwen is here.”

“Yeah, right,” I scoffed. “She’d probably clean out the toilets with my toothbrush out of spite.”

“What about the sorority house then? Don’t you have like a million friends?”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not going back to the sorority, and besides, I want some space from them. I’m not ready to dive back into my old life.”

I heard Doll’s sigh come from the other end of the line. “Well, I do know someone who needs a roommate, but I’m not sure how you’re going to feel about it.”

A few hours later, I ended up at Hayes Barnaby’s apartment. The truth is, I’m okay with it. The apartment building is located off campus in a woodsy area, and living here will give me space to collect myself before letting people know I’m back.

My phone dings. A new text message. A flicker of hope ignites; maybe it’s from Max. There’s a small part of me that hopes he’ll ask me to come back before this all becomes my reality again.

The text is from Stephanie.

Come back. We miss you.

I swallow, knowing I feel the same. I wish I didn’t. If I could gather all my emotions and put them in a bottle, I’d throw it into the sea and never look back. If I didn’t have to feel things this deeply, life wouldn’t be so hard.

I don’t reply to her text. Cutting things off is better for all of us. She’s part of Max’s world, and this is mine. What I want to say lingers in the air unsaid.
I miss you too.

***

Over the next several weeks, I get a text everyday, either from Trevor or from Stephanie. I never respond to them, but they keep coming. Each one is different. Sometimes they make me laugh.

Trevor: When the delivery guy rang the bell, I was nice to him. Something is clearly wrong. I’m going to the doctor’s tomorrow. What if they tell me I only have three months to live? You better get back here fast.

Stephanie: Trevor thinks he’s dying. He’s using it as an excuse to eat all the ice cream you bought.

Trevor: My last wish is to see you before I leave this world…who knows how long I have left…it could be any day now…(choking noises)

Stephanie: He’s actually gagging himself. Please save me before I kill him for real

Sometimes they make me cry. Actually, the majority of them make me cry.

Trevor: Max punched a hole in your bedroom door. The guy is losing his damn mind without you.

Stephanie: He’s working at the office again. I wish it was because he wants to, but I think it’s because he’s trying to keep himself busy :(

Trevor: If you were here, you could tell him how stupid he is for letting you go. I told him, and he said, “Mind your own fucking business.” He’s been a real treat these last couple of weeks. Seriously. Joy and laughter.

Stephanie: I think he knows he messed up. He’s just too stubborn to admit it.

Trevor: I brought Batman home from the pound when he was a puppy. Max has no idea. He thinks he just showed up on our doorstep out of the blue. I never told him because if he knew I was behind it, he would’ve returned Batman. He needs to believe fate brought the two of them together. Just like he needs to believe fate brought you to him. I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I guess I wish it were just as easy to pick up a Charlotte from the pound. Turns out, you’re one of a kind.

It’s hard for me to read the messages, and even harder to believe them. If what they are saying is true, then why haven’t I heard from Max? His silence tells me more than anything. It tells me that he doesn’t care enough to change things. Besides, he’s the one who told me to leave. He could just as easily tell me he didn’t mean it. But he hasn’t. He hasn’t told me anything at all.

Even though I’m still really mad at him, it makes me happy to hear he’s running his company again. I should try to do the same—stay busy. Stop thinking about him twenty-four seven. Since Hayes let me move in, I’ve been acting like a hermit, staying in my room, and focusing on my online classes. Oh, and cleaning. Cleaning helps me bond with Hayes. He likes to show me where everything goes, and he teaches me nifty little tricks. Like all the things baking soda can be used for. Surprisingly, I don’t mind.

But I do need to get out.

So I break down, and I call Vanessa. I tell her I’ve moved back. After several seconds excited squealing, she asks me where I’m staying. When she finds out I’m with Hayes, the squealing comes to a screeching halt.

“Wait—what? Why didn’t you move back into the house?”

“Because I quit the sorority, remember?”

“Getting you back in will
not
be a problem.”

“I only have one semester left, Vanessa. I appreciate the thought, but I think I want to spend it doing my own thing.”

She’s silent for a moment. “Doing your own thing, huh? I guess that’s reasonable. You dedicated a lot of time to us. Still…I miss your face. Will you come hang out?”

I don’t even have to think twice. “Definitely.”

“Good. We’re having a party tonight. It’s casino themed. You better be there.”

I smile, remembering all the themed parties we used to organize together. “Sounds like fun.”

“I should warn you though. Miles might be there too.”

I think about how seeing him again would affect me, especially if I have to see him with Gwen. “It’s okay,” I tell her confidently. “I can handle it.”

Oddly enough, I think I mean that.

THIRTY-TWO

Char

It’s hard to smile when I don’t feel like smiling. I’m wearing a glamorous red dress. My hair is pinned to one side, left down in loose curls. I look around the glitzy room and see all my old friends, and I feel a sense of nostalgic comfort. The music is loud, and the champagne is delicious. But I still can’t manage to smile and mean it.

Dammit, Max Archer. This is all your fault.

This feels different than how I felt when Miles cheated on me with Gwen. Back then, I was angry. Heartbroken, yes. But mostly angry. I felt like I’d been betrayed. The bitterness drove me crazy.

This time I’m angrier with myself. This time I’m the only one to blame. I should’ve known better.

“Are you okay?” Vanessa asks, giving me a knowing look.

I nod and lie. “Yeah, just hungry. I’m going to the buffet table. Want anything?”

“No, thanks.”

As soon as I’m away, I feel a sense of relief. Socializing used to be so much fun. I used to live for these parties. The planning, the excitement over choosing what to wear, the anticipation over how many people would come—it used to be
fun
. I’m not sure what happened to that side of me.

As I move to stand in line for the buffet, someone taps me on the shoulder. “Excuse me, are you Charlotte Hart?”

Good question. Who the hell knows anymore?

“Yes, that’s me.”
I suppose.

I turn around. A girl wearing a polka dot dress studies me curiously. She has a round face with freckles and long dark hair. “Weren’t you the president of Alpha Delta Pi?”

“I used to be.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, why did you quit?”

I give her my go-to answer. “It’s my last semester, and I just wanted to enjoy it.”

“Do you not like the sorority anymore?”

The line moves forward, and we both grab a paper plate. “I loved the sorority. It was just time consuming.”

She nods, pressing her lips together. “Sorry for all the questions. I’m considering pledging next semester.”

“It’s fine. Are you a freshman?”

Her cheeks turn pink and she lowers her eyes. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m not actually a student yet. I’m still university shopping. One of my friends told me about this party. Just figured I’d have some fun while I’m in town.”

“Gotcha. My lips are sealed.”

“I’m Francesca by the way.” She holds out her hand. The name automatically rings a bell. It’s not a super common name, which is why I guess my thoughts go straight to Max. I mark it off as another side effect of my broken heart. Lately anything and everything reminds me of him. Hayes brought home ice cream yesterday, and the sight of it made me cry. It wasn’t even Häagen-Dazs, but I still found a way to connect it back to Max.

“Nice to meet you,” I say, shaking her hand. I know it’s a long shot, but I analyze her face, looking for signs of resemblance. Her eyes and hair are the right color, but brown is a common color. Their noses have the same straight lines, and I suppose the way they smile is kind of similar. There’s something about the way she looks at me too, an intensity to her gaze that reminds me of Max.

I try to shake off the nagging feeling, but I can’t seem to get rid of it. And I know if I don’t ask, I’ll regret it later.

“What’s your last name, Francesca?”

“Garcia.”

My stomach drops. For several seconds, I wonder if my mind is playing tricks on me. This is too big of a coincidence. Maybe I only heard the name Garcia because I wanted to. Maybe she said something else, and I misheard.

She shakes her head. “I know, right? Everyone is always surprised when they find out I’m Spanish.”

It occurs to me that Francesca is mistaking my shock to be about her nationality. “Your dad’s name wouldn’t happen to be David, would it?” I ask her.

Her eyes sharpen for a brief moment. “How did you know?”

My heart launches into my chest. I look around, wondering what to do. Does she have bodyguards? I bet she does. I wonder if they’re close by, watching our every move. I swallow, feeling my throat go dry. Francesca is still looking at me, waiting for me to tell her how I know her dad’s name, and the pressure is building by the second.

I lower my voice to a whisper. “Would you, um, like a tour of the house? I could show you around.”

“How do you know my dad’s name?” she asks again, all humor gone from her face.

“Let’s just say I know a lot about you.” I keep scanning the room, looking for anyone who may be watching. “Can we go somewhere quiet? There’s something really important I need to tell you.”

She puts her plate back, frowning. “I think I’ve lost my appetite. Nice meeting you, Charlotte.”

When she moves to leave, I start to panic. “Francesca—please wait!”

“I have nothing to do with my father’s world,” she says grimly. “As a matter of fact, I’m trying to get away from it. That’s why I’m here. If you have some involvement with him, I’m not interested in learning about it.”

“You need to listen to me. You’re not who you think you are—”

“Goodbye,” she says again, tightlipped.

“Fiona.”

She spins back around. “What did you call me?”

“That’s your name. Your
real
name.”

Slowly shaking her head, she stands there staring at me, and I know the name is registering somewhere within the deep recesses of her mind. She was only two or three years old when she was taken. But old enough to retain a memory, even a small one.

“Are either of you planning to get something to eat?” The guy standing behind us in line is staring at us expectantly, signaling that the line has moved.

“Go ahead.” I wave him on, step aside, and then continue pleading with Francesca. “Please just give me a chance to explain. You and I may never have this opportunity again. Are you being watched right now?”

Still in shock, she gives a little nod of her head. “My cousin. He’s always with me.”

“Can you slip away?”

“No. He’s watching me right now.”

Chills tingle down my spine; I sense she’s telling the truth. “Can you meet up with me later?”

She hesitates for few seconds. “Okay,” she whispers. “Tomorrow.”

I let out a small sigh of relief. “What’s your phone number?” With shaky hands, I reach inside my clutch for my cellphone.

“You tell me yours.”

“But—won’t you forget it? Do you want me to put it in your phone?”

She shakes her head. “He’ll see me. I won’t forget your number. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to do this.”

“Oh.” I give it to her, thinking it’s kind of sad that she has to resort to these tactics just to get someone’s phone number. I can’t even begin to imagine what her life is like.

“I’ll call you tomorrow. Around lunch time.”

I nod, and she disappears without getting anything to eat.

I wonder if she’ll really meet me tomorrow, or if she only told me that to blow me off. Maybe she didn’t trust me. I could’ve imagined the look on her face when I said her real name. Ugh. This is going to keep me up all night.

I guess I simply have to believe she’ll be there, that this meeting was fate, and that I have her attention. If any part of her questions her past, I’ll hear from her.

My appetite now gone, I zigzag my way back through the crowd. Just as I’m considering calling it a night, I stumble upon the last person I want to see. I try to maneuver my way around him, but he reaches out to touch the side of my arm. “Don’t pretend like you don’t see me.”

“I’m a little busy, Miles.”

“But it’s a party. A party that you’re not even hosting. You’re not busy.”

Inwardly groaning, I look up into the familiar face that I’ve known and loved for years. Blonde hair. Bright, charming green eyes. And a smile that used to make me swoon. It’s hard not to look at him and be reminded of how many good memories the two of us shared. So many good memories—all shattered by one bad one.

“I’d heard you moved away. I was hoping that wasn’t true.”

I don’t even acknowledge that with a response. “What do you want?”

“For us to be friends again.”

“Not gonna happen. Can I go now?”

He frowns sadly. “Just because we’re no longer together doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, Char. I
miss
you.”

“Sometimes that happens when you break up. Deal with it.”

“Do you have any idea what I’m going through right now?” he asks, reaching for my hands. “It’s not fair that we can’t speak anymore. We’ve been friends since we were kids, Char. When are you going to forgive me?”

Six months of anger brews inside my chest, threatening to spill over. I want to walk away, be the better person, and pretend like I don’t care one way or another. I want to show him he has no power over me anymore. But his indignation is what sets me off. At this point, I’m too pissed to let it go.

“Maybe if you’d ended our relationship when you first realized you were unhappy, things might be different, Miles. Maybe I could still be your friend. But you didn’t. You stabbed me in the back.” I point my finger at him, poking him in the chest to drive my point home. “I’ll never forgive you for the pain you caused me. Friends don’t do that to each other. Why should I care about what you’re going through, huh? You didn’t have the same respect for me while you were fucking another girl behind my back.”

“Charlotte, you know I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t want your excuses or your apologies, Miles. I just want you to leave me the hell alone. My love wasn’t the only thing you lost the day you broke my heart. You lost my respect as well. And I don’t
have
to be friends with you just because of our history. This is my chance to not repeat it.”

He stares at me incredulously.

“Well said, my friend.”

That familiar voice takes hold. When I turn around, I almost cry at the sight of Doll standing there. She’s glaring at Miles, her amber eyes almost fiery. Having a friend on my side feels really good. I throw my arms around her.

“It’s so good to see you.”

She hugs me back. Over my shoulder, she says, “You can go now, Miles.”

“This is between me and Char,” Miles says, sounding pissed.

“If you remember correctly, there are a lot of things that should’ve stayed between you and Char that didn’t.” Doll lets me go, then steps around me. “She doesn’t want to talk to you. You need to accept that and move on.”

Miles clenches his jaw, looks at me for a long, tense moment. I know he’s expecting me to say something, but I don’t. He finally marches off, cursing under his breath.

I can’t pretend it doesn’t bother me. Somewhere deep down, there is a girl that used to love him. I know how much he misses me, because I feel that too. You can’t love someone for almost half your life, and then try to erase them like you’re wiping away chalk from a chalkboard. Miles will always have my past, but that doesn’t give him any right to my future. Maybe one day I will come to terms with what happened. Maybe I’ll even find a way to forgive him. But I’ll never forget. I’ll never want to be his friend again.

Doll slips her hand around mine. “Let’s go out to the courtyard. I want to hear everything.”

As soon as we’re away from the crowd, tears spring to my eyes. We sit on a bench outside as I tell her everything that happened in Miami. The story pours out of me; until now, I hadn’t realized how much I needed to talk to someone. Doll listens without saying a word until I’m finished.

“I feel better,” I say afterward, inhaling a deep breath.

“Good,” she smiles.

She leans back on her hands, her eyes drifting around the courtyard lazily. “Did you know this is where Wes and I officially met?”

I crinkle my brows together. “Didn’t you guys meet at Harland’s funeral?”

She shakes her head. “No, I mean when we
really
met. It was at Graffiti Bash, remember? I
hated
him back then. If you had told me then we’d end up together, I would’ve laughed in your face.”

“That’s right,” I say, the memories flooding back. “Wes was so concerned about you that night. He told me about the girls who ruined your hoodie.”

“Oh yeah. Bitches.” Doll shakes her head. “Anyway, I guess the reason I mentioned it is because you never know how time will change your situation. Look at us now. Who would have ever guessed we’d come so far?”

I see where she’s going with this. She’s trying to give me hope, and for some reason that makes me frown. I want to be pissed off at Max the same way I am with Miles. I don’t want to feel this way; it’s easier to shut someone out when they don’t have a tight hold on your heart. I wonder if that means I’m still holding out hope that he’ll suddenly wake up and realize he made a mistake.

I won’t hold my breath.

***

Just as I predicted, it’s hard to sleep. I wrestle over whether it’s a mistake to not tell Max about Francesca. What if she doesn’t call tomorrow? What if it turns out it’s not really her? It would crush him. No, I can’t call him yet. Not until I know for sure.