The Love Series Complete Box Set (173 page)

“Who pissed in your Cheerios?” His lips pulled up as he smiled and laughed at me. I rolled out of bed and dug my boxers out from the pile of clothes on the floor. Shane sat up against the creaky headboard, the thin sheet draped across his lap.

I walked over to the small bathroom and grabbed my toothbrush. The door was still opened a crack and I could see Shane on the bed through the mirror. His legs were bent at the knees, his forearms draped across them, his head hung low. He worked his hands over his head, pulling on the ends of his hair in frustration.

We’d shared a perfect night together and I’d ruined it in one stupid sentence. After rinsing my mouth, I sat on the bed next to him. “I’m sorry. It’s just−”

“I want to leave.” He cut me off and it felt like the world stopped spinning for a minute.

Something in his tone was different, more resolved. “Wait, what?”

He ran his hands through his hair once more, before his eyes met my confused stare. “I’m going to leave. I have to.” He dropped his legs and I sat right next to him, locking our fingers together.

“And I’ll help you. You know that, right? My mom knows about us.” He looked at me with fear in his eyes. “It’s okay. She’s known for a while. She doesn’t know about your dad or anything like that, but I’m sure if we talk to her, she could help us figure things out.”

A small flicker of hope washed away the fear that was just there. “I think . . . I’d like that.” His shoulders slumped, finally giving way to the tremendous weight he’d been carrying all these years.

“Will you talk to me about it though?” As I wrapped my arm around his shoulders, he dropped his head to mine.

With a deep shuddery inhale, I could tell he had a lot to say. “I . . . I don’t know where to begin. There’s so much to tell you. I’ve been . . .”

His words were cut short by a loud banging on the motel door. My heart jumped in my chest. No one knew we were here and I paid the bill up front and in cash so there was no reason the front desk would be coming after us.

I looked at Shane, his face white as a ghost, the fear returning full force. “It’s okay. I’ll get it. It’s nothing I’m sure.” Even though I wanted nothing more than to calm him down, I knew that was the last thing that was going to happen.

When I was inches from the door, the banging stopped, and a woman’s voice began yelling. “I know you’re in there, Shane. I see your car. You could at least have the decency to break up with me before you go crawling in bed with whatever whore you have in there!”

Spinning around, all I saw was Shane stumbling to his feet, trying to find his boxers. Incapable of speech, I just pointed at the door, a devastated and extremely hurt look on my face.

“I can explain,” he whispered as he hopped into his shorts. “Please, just let me . . .” The banging started again as did the yelling.

“Open the goddamn door!” She, whoever the hell
she
was, screamed, drawing plenty of attention to herself.

Anger burned deep inside. He betrayed me in the worst way possible. Denying his own sexuality was one thing, but taking away what we had, denying what we were, was another thing entirely. Anger turned to rage. I reached for the knob, twisted it, and sneered at Shane. “No. Why don’t we let
her
explain? Who is
she
anyway?”

“No, please. Just . . .” It was too late to finish his sentence. An icy blast of the fall air blew in as I opened the door.

She stood there in the doorway, mouth agape and silent for a moment. “You?” She lifted a wobbling accusatory finger at Shane who stood there, shocked. “And him?” She waved her hand back and forth between the two of us, disgust clearly written on her face.

Before anyone could utter another word, she whipped out her phone, snapped a few pictures, and stared Shane down. “You’ll pay for this, you asshole.”

Then she was gone. It was just the two of us and I wanted no part of being anywhere near him. Shane stood there, motionless. I was vibrating with anger. It bubbled up until I could no longer contain it.

“You’re pathetic!” I stepped in front of him, merely inches away. “I don’t even know what the fuck to say. You have a
girlfriend?
A fucking girlfriend!” I cursed. My hands were fisted so tightly my knuckles actually cracked with the pressure.

“It’s not what you think.” Shane’s voice trembled, but I’d had enough.

“No?” I scoffed sarcastically, scanning the room for the rest of my clothes. “Because let me tell you what I think. I think you’re weak.” I poked a finger at his chest, striding past him to where my shirt was tossed across the back of the chair.

“I’m not weak.” He kept his voice low as he followed me. Grabbing my shoulder, he tried to turn me around, but I brushed him off.

“Leave me the fuck alone.” I pulled my shirt on and stepped into my jeans before falling down onto the small armchair to the side of the door. With my elbows leaning on my thighs, I held my head in my hands.

He knelt in front of me, worked his way in between my legs, and pulled my face to meet his. “I’m sor−”

I pushed him back; he fell on his ass. I didn’t care. “I don’t give a fuck that you’re sorry. I don’t give a shit.” Flying around the room in a fit of rage, I grabbed my wallet. Sliding my sneakers on without even bothering to tie them, I found my keys and rushed to the door.

“I trusted you,” I seethed as I stopped at the door, looking back at him sprawled out on the floor. “And you fucked it all up. Just like you fuck up everything.” Slamming the door with such force caused the frame of the shitty motel to shake.

I got in my car and sped away, the tires screeching and leaving angry black marks on the pavement.

“Aren’t you supposed to be home?” John’s voice was groggy. I’d obviously woken him up. It was barely ten in the morning and he was not a morning person. He sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes.

“Yeah and now I’m here,” I snapped.

He threw his feet over the side of his bed and took a bottle of water out of the mini-fridge hidden under his bed. “Trouble in paradise?” He drank half of the bottle in one sip as he looked at me over the raised bottle.

“I don’t want to get into it.” I kicked off my shoes, pulled out my phone to call my mom to tell her I wouldn’t be home until Thanksgiving. Even though we didn’t have classes, I’d rather spend the week alone in my dorm than go back home and deal with Shane.

“Too bad.” His voice was calm and in control, but it had an air of compassion to it. “I want to hear about it. So spill it. What happened? You’ve been looking forward to this weekend since you last saw Shane a month ago.”

I stared at him. The hour-and-a-half car ride had done nothing to help me calm down. Shane must have called my phone a dozen times, probably more, but after twenty minutes, I shut the thing off. I didn’t want to hear his voice. I couldn’t, actually. Because I knew if I did, if I listened to one single voicemail that I would have cracked under the pressure. I would have turned the car back around and driven to save him from the shithole that was his life because the one thing I realized on the way back to school was plain as day.

I didn’t hate him one bit.

I loved him.

With everything that I had and everything that I ever would be.

But I was too proud and too damn hurt to admit that right now, especially to Shane.

So I actively chose to stay pissed off at him. Not to take my words back. I’d thought him anything but weak through the years. In fact, I was astounded at how strong he was, sticking up for his mom and for Reid more times than I knew I would have been capable of.

I was being an ass and I was fully aware of it, but no one had ever hurt me the way he did. Did he have a reasonable explanation? Who the hell knew? But right then, I didn’t care to hear it. So as I called my mom, gave her some lame-ass excuse about failing a paper and needing to re-write it before I failed the course, I ignored all of Shane’s texts and calls.

“Hey, you in there somewhere?” John tossed his empty water bottle at me after I hung up with my mom.

I launched it back at him and sat there in my world of angered self-pity.

He shook his head and laughed at me before pulling his desk chair up to mine. “This one time−”

“I swear to god, if you finish that sentence with ‘at band camp’ I’m gonna lose my shit.” A small smile that I desperately tried to suppress broke out.

John lightly punched my arm, but since he was the same size as the Jolly Green Giant, it fucking hurt. His eyes danced with humor as I rubbed over what was sure to be a bruise. “Shut up, asshole, and listen to me. What I was going to say was that Elise once broke up with me.”

Tilting my head to the side in misunderstanding, I probably looked like a dog who had just been asked if he wanted to go for a car ride. John and Elise were a modern marvel—at twenty, they seemed like they had the whole world laid out ahead of them.

“Don’t look so shocked.” He stood from his chair and turned it around so that he could lean over the back. I had to chuckle a little because he kind of looked like The Hulk sitting in a chair that was part of a doll’s house. “It was at the beginning of last year. I was at a party and since I’d been training pretty hard all summer, the alcohol hit me real hard. Half-passed-out on a couch at a frat house, some girl sat on my lap, started practically screwing me right there. I was so drunk it took me a minute or two to even realize what the hell was going on, but Elise walked in just as the chick started lifting her shirt, just as I started to come to.”

“No shit.”

“Yeah.” Judging by the tone of his voice, it wasn’t his proudest moment. “She didn’t talk to me for like a week,” he huffed. “Felt more like a month, honestly. I tried to explain to her what had happened, but she wouldn’t hear it. In the end, I got so pissed off; I said some nasty shit. Elise said some nasty shit and we both spent two months away from each other, all over some stupid misunderstanding.”

His story impacted me somewhat, but I was still in the beginning stages of figuring this all out and honestly, anger was easier than being the bigger man here. “Thanks, man. I’ll keep all that in mind. But really, I just need some space.”

The truth was that this hurt ran much deeper than a misunderstanding. Shane denied not only who he was, but who we were—who I was and that was the part I couldn’t deal with.

I stood from my chair, clapped him on the back, and walked toward my small closet. “Thanks, but I think I’m just gonna grab a shower and get some rest.”

Before I could close the door, he had one final thing to say. “Just don’t let whatever happened get in the way. You two are good for each other, even if things aren’t perfect right now, don’t let it fizzle out and die before you can save it.”

I nodded and walked down the narrow hall to the bathroom, never in my wildest dreams imagining that I’d be pushing away the one person who meant the most to me.

Chapter Twelve

November 18, 2007

Having meant what I said to Dylan, going home was no longer an option. So I didn’t. Unfortunately, since Alex had found me at the motel, staying there an extra night wasn’t an option either. So I slept in my car that first night.

Calling Dylan the first day had proven to be futile; he hadn’t answered a single one of my calls or texts. I shot Reid a quick text letting him know that I’d be out for the night. His response was immediate.

Sure. But we gotta talk when you get home.

I hadn’t been home yet and Dylan had left me exactly thirty-eight hours ago. It was cold and I was getting hungry. I had a few bucks on me, enough to last me through the day. But now that night had rolled out across the sky, the temperature was dropping and I knew I had to go home eventually.

But not for good. I was only going home to grab some clothes and the money I had stashed away so that I could leave. Dad beating up Mom over a mess in the kitchen, me over a lost scholarship and Reid over a late night out was not how I wanted to spend the rest of my life. It’d taken me more than twenty-four hours since Dylan left me to realize that he was where I belonged, not here.