Splintered Oak (Winsor Series Book 3) (6 page)

“No. It came fully furnished, but it’s not bad. I did get to contribute one thing, though!”
She ran over to a red loveseat in the shape of lips and lay dramatically across it.

I
wanted to freeze frame the moment. Issy’s new subdued demeanor was jarring, but periodically I’d see her old spark and excitement.

Eventually, my free-spirited cousin would resurface and we would go back
to how things were meant to be—us against the world.

In the meantime, I would use Grant to make Andrew Summers pay
for his crimes. Knowing my revenge was so tangible made the sour twist in my stomach go away.

“Jake!” Issy’s words brought me back to reality. “Sheesh, I forgot how
much I hate it when you zone out.”

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“What do you want for dinner?” She held up at least five different take out menus for me to choose from.

“Anything but Chinese food is fine.” I took the menus from her and
pretended to look while she carried her things to the back of the condo.

She seemed like a little girl playing house with that huge diamond on her finger and take out menus.

I gripped the counter, fire filling my veins.
I can’t do this
.
I can’t pretend I’m okay with all of this
.

“What did you decide?” she asked, coming back into the kitchen.

I forced myself to straighten and put on an everything-is-fine smile. “This sounds good.” I handed her a menu, not knowing what I chose.

For the first time in my life, I was uncomfortable in her presence, uncomfortable b
eing in this place she now called her home.

The awkwardness continued as she showed me around and talked about their time in Hollywood. I stopped listening before we ever left the kitchen, but nodded anyway, feigning that I cared.

What I really needed was a drink…and a date. I sent a quick text to David and asked if he wanted to meet me out.

Issy
gave me a irritated stare, and I finally let my ears hear her voice again.

“A
re you taking classes this summer?” Her tone made it clear she didn’t like repeating herself.

“I don’t know. Maybe. I barely passed last semester, so I’m not sure where I sit right now for graduation.” Yet another subject I didn’t want to face.

How did everything get so out of control?

“I’m not either. Grant doesn’t like the idea of me being on campus alone. But
, I did finally declare a major. Can you believe it?”

“If you’d asked me months ago, I would have said no, but now…well, there isn’t much more you could do to shock me, Issy,” I
tried my best not to sound disgusted.

If she sensed my
frustration, she ignored it. “Well, I did. Marketing. I love it. Finding that special product and making others believe in it, well, it’s an awesome feeling. Grant’s letting me work with his marketing department to get experience.”

I just nodded in response, counting the minutes until I could gracefully excuse myself.

“Grant told me he offered you a job. I don’t know why you won’t consider it. This company is fantastic. Their business model is about integrity and faith--”

“I don’t want to hear it.
” That was the last straw for me. Work for Grant? Over my dead body. “I’m not working for your boyfriend, okay?”

Before Issy could respond, we h
eard the elevator doors open. Grant’s grand entrance came with a new confidence and joy.

“There she is!” Grant
said, sweeping Issy in for a huge hug. “Two hours felt like a lifetime.”

I waiting, e
xpecting Issy to push him off after such a cheesy line. But she didn’t. Instead she kissed him back and declared how much she also missed him. I was going to vomit right on their fancy Persian rug.

“Jake.
” Grant extended his hand. “It’s good to see you, man. How are you?”

I forced myself to take it, willing
my hand not to squeeze his until he dropped to his knees.

“Better now our girl is home,” I choked out. “
Some details would be nice.”

Grant saw the determination in my eyes and nodded. “I’ll take you by the office after dinner. In the meantime, let’s enjoy some food. I’m starving.”

“I’m on it!” Issy said, giving Grant a quick kiss.

She looked at me again and smiled
like her world was complete. How she could do so was a total mystery. I just wanted to scream.

6. IMPOSSIBLE ROOMMATES

NAOMI

Jonathan
crossed the grass that separated my parent’s house from his. “You taking off?”

“Yep, this is the last of it.
” I closed my small trunk and turned to face him, feeling the same anxiety I had all week whenever he was around.

H
e took another step towards me. “I’ll be back at Winsor in a month or so. May I call you when I get there?”

I pushed
a chunk of hair behind my ear and pulled down on my shirt. The air suddenly felt hot and I struggled to get a full breath. “Um. Sure, I guess,” I stammered, sounding like a complete idiot.

He smiled, moving closer again, leaving only inches between my chest and his.
He slowly lifted his hand and moved my hair back out from behind my ear, settling the dark tresses in front of my shoulder. “Your hair is too beautiful to be kept back, Naomi.” He examined me, his serious expression causing a tickling sensation on my neck. “And I love I can now see those amazing eyes.”

Fear and anticipation waged war inside my body. Was he going to kiss me? Did I want him to? I blinked, breaking our intense eye contact
.

M
y front door swung open.

Jonathan rolled his eyes and stepped back, turning to look at Alex approaching us.

“Hey shorty, you gonna say goodbye?” Alex put his heavy arm on my shoulder. I could sense a silent warning to Jonathan. One that clearly said,
don’t mess with her head
.

Although the youngest, Alex wa
s the tallest and most intimidating of all my brothers. He was a physical trainer when not in school and even did some amateur boxing.

Jonathan winked at me, ignoring Alex completely.
“I’ll call you when I get back to school.”

I couldn’t help but watch him retreat, appreciating the build his g
enetics and love for sports had given him.

Alex’s arm tightened around me, which immediately stopped my staring. “
You’re playing with fire, Naomi.”

“I don’t
know what you’re talking about.” I was so sick of being lectured by all of them. “We’re only friends.”

“Yeah, and I’ve got a postcard from Portugal that says otherwis
e.” He stepped back, making sure I was listening to his rant. “A guy who wants you will call you tomorrow…not just when he gets back to school. He takes you for granted. He always has.”

I sighed and walked over to my car. This
conversation was just a repeat of the one we had two nights ago, and I wasn’t in the mood. “Ok, fine. I hear you. I’m going to go now.”

“Wait,” he called, stopping my door. “Let me pray with you before you go.”

Tears filled my eyes and I put my hands in his.

“Lord, please guide Naomi’s path. Protect her as she goes and let her always know how precious and special she is to You and all of us. Thank you for being our portion daily and guiding us even when we don’t know where life is going to take us.”

He squeezed my hand and then pulled me in for a hug. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, shorty. I just want you with someone worthy of you.”

“You’ll nev
er think anyone is worthy of me.” I wiped away a stray tear.

“You find a man who will pray with you, and we’l
l see. Until then, you’re right.”

I punched him slightly and thought ab
out his words. “Wait, Jonathan’s a Christian.”

Alex
arched a yeah-right eyebrow. “So he says. The jury’s still out on that one.”

“Whatever.
” I dropped into my seat, tired of the conversation.

He shut the door
, securing me safely in my car, and tapped on the widow. “Drive safely.”

“I will.”

“Love ya, shorty.”

“Love ya, too.” I put the car in reverse and backed out of my driveway, keeping my eyes on the road and not on Alex as he watched me drive away. 

The apartment door was unlocked when I turned the handle
. The sheer mess in our living room was enough to force a gasp. Half of the couch and most of the floor were covered in an array of clothes and shoes. Issy’s red lip love seat was gone and in its place sat a neon green chaise lounge, barely visible under books and papers.

“Issy?” I called, closing the door behind me. The
stench of unwashed dishes and stale beer penetrated my nose.

A
squeal boomed from Issy’s room and soon two identical brunettes approached me jumping up and down. They each had streaks in their hair, one with pink, the other one with a horrific baby blue.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” The one with blue streaks cried, grabbing me in for a hug
I didn’t reciprocate. “We have been so excited. So tell us, which one was Isadora’s room? Oh, please say it’s room A!”

“I’m sorry?” I asked, prying her off of me. “Are you Avery?”

“Me? No, no. Avery moved out before we got here. Our daddy, Senator Banks, got us this room because we heard it’s where Isadora Summers lived. What was she like? I heard she was totally wild until she got engaged to that hottie, Robbie Marsh. Have you met him too?”

Isadora? I
’d only heard her mom call her that before. Engaged? Not in a million years. Issy was passionately opposed to love.

T
he girl continued to bombard me with questions, making my head swim.

“Please, stop for one minute.
” I put up my arms. “Are you saying Issy doesn’t live here anymore?”

I walked away from them and over to Issy’s old room to see it was also covered in an array of stuff. The posters of half naked men plastered all over the walls confirmed my fears.

I was now rooming with these two.

“I knew it!” The girl behind me screamed, jumping up and down. The other one
stuck out her lip and crossed her arms. “I’m Stacey and the one pouting over there is Tracey,” she said after stopping her dance around the apartment.

“Naomi,” I replied quietly, still trying to process my fate. “Excuse me.”

I unlocked my door and closed out their loud, obnoxious voices.  The sanctuary of my untouched bedroom reduced my heartbeat to a manageable flutter.

My white and lime green comforter was tightl
y tucked and unwrinkled, just the way I left it. I eyed the walls and smiled at the colorful prints. My brothers used to tease me that my decorating style was eye-popping color while my personal style was a stale gray.

Well, not anymore
, I mused, glancing in the mirror at my bright orange shirt and khaki shorts. I even bought some multi-colored wedges that not only added three inches to my 5’6” frame, but also showed off the definition in my legs. I stared at myself in the same mirror that reflected baggy jeans and oversized sweatshirts just one year ago.

The change was staggering,

Through the mirror, I noticed a small note laying just inside the door. I turned and picked it up, recognizing Issy’s handwriting.

Naomi,

I’m so sorry I couldn’t tell you this in person, but I lost my phone and it had all my contacts in it. I have moved out, but left you in great hands. Avery is amazing and I know you two will get along perfectly. Please call me when you get back in town. I have so much to tell you.

                       -- Issy

She left a phone number and an address. Frustration surged through me. How could she leave?

A loud bang
on the door made me jump. I opened it slightly to see some guy making out with my new roommate against the opposite wall. He turned, slowly moving his hand off her breast.

“So you’re Naomi,” he said approaching me, his eyes hovering over my “assets” much longer than necessary. I crossed my
arms, hoping to send a message.

H
is eyes eventually made contact with mine. “Nice.” The drawl in his voice was an unmistakable come on. He moved closer, placing his large hand on my door frame.

Maybe it wa
s because I had four older brothers and grew up with a best friend like Jonathan, but I had never been so openly disrespected by a guy before. I took a step back, shock competing with the blush on my cheeks.

Stacey or Tracey, I forgo
t which, approached us laughing. “Don’t mind him, Naomi. This is my boyfriend, Nate. Come on, silly.” She giggled as she pulled him toward her bedroom.

He followed her, but turned back to me before walking into her room.
“Care to join us?”

He laughed when shut my bedroom door to escape his outrageous suggestion.

The sounds penetrating the thin wall between her room and mine drove me quickly from the apartment and right to the housing office where I waited forty-five minutes before finally getting in to see a counselor.

Her disheveled hair and spastic shuffling of papers did not give me the sense this meeting was going to go well. I stood quietly, waiting for her to acknowledge my presence.

She finally glanced up from the mess on her desk and pointed to the chair in front of her. “What can I help you with?” Her voice was eerily monotone as if she had said those same words all day.

“I need a housing transfer,” I answered, trying to be as polite as I could.

She shuffled more papers and then handed one to me. “Fill this out and I’ll see what I can do. We allow transfers on a first come first serve basis, but typically can place you within thirty days, maybe longer if you are living in campus apartments.” Her words were lifeless repeats of the housing policy in our student handbook.

My heart ricocheted in my chest. “Ma’am, please, both of my roommates moved out without my knowledge and their replacements are, well, we are an impossible match.”

She stopped shifting to stare at me, removing her reading glasses in the process. Without the barrier, I could now see the dark circles underneath each eye and stress lines around her mouth.

“I’m sure your situation feels impossible, but I assure you, there are at least fifty other students with impossible roommates who
all had the foresight to request a transfer before the end of the semester. Now, do you feel you are more important than they are?” Condescending and accusatory, her voice immediately made me feel helpless.

“No ma’am, it’s just…” I trailed off, not knowing what else to say. Maybe I could stick it out for a month.

She put her glasses back on and I began filling out the paperwork. The ticking of her computer keys were like the scraping of knives, but I gritted my teeth and finished the required form before standing up.

She added the paper to a large stack on the corner of her desk, never once glancing back up. “You may call in thirty days for an update on your status.”

That was it. The gavel had been slammed.

I turned to leave, keeping the tears at bay and walked back to my car. Gripping the steering wheel, I pondered where to go next. I couldn’t seem to force myself to return to the apartment, but apart from Jonathan, I really didn’t have any other friends in town.

The thought saddened me a little. Why had I spent all those years isolating myself?

Taking deep breaths, I reached into my purse and grabbed Issy’s note. It was time to start living, and my first stop was going to be a long, overdue conversation.

I drove straight into Asheville,
not bothering to call.

Issy’s
building was close to the center of downtown. It took three trips around the block before I found a vacancy in one of the public parking lots. The front of the building, while beautiful, wasn’t much more welcoming.

I tugged
. Locked.

“Who’s calling?” An authoritative voice asked through the speaker.

“Naomi Bennett. I’m here to see Issy Summers.”

T
he door buzzed, and I pulled it free from its lock. Apart from the security desk, which blocked my entry, the lobby made me feel as if I’d stepped back in time. Large chandeliers and crown molding gleamed as the afternoon sun peeked in through stained glass windows. The history buff in me wanted to examine every inch of the space, but instead I approached the guard. He didn’t look at me, just picked up his phone and began punching numbers.

“Mrs. Forester, there is a Naomi Bennett here to see you,” he
said to whoever was on the other line. “Yes ma’am, right away.”

He
hung up the phone and a buzz and click removed the last barrier to my entry. He let the other guard know he was escorting me to the sixth floor and led me to the elevators.

The doors appeared hand carved and had to be the original wood. They opened, revealing a state of the art elevator system, and we entered the steel casing together. A swipe of the card and a few floors later, I was deposited right into the fanciest living room I had ever seen.