The Safe Bet (The Game Changers #3) (15 page)

“Because what I believed and what I hoped for were two very different things.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Now

Brock left that night after revealing to me that the past wasn’t quite what I thought it was, but I still wasn’t sure I could trust him. It wasn’t only because of him, though. Reality really sunk in the next morning. In the harsh light of day, I realized it wasn’t him I couldn’t trust. I was the problem. I couldn’t manage my feelings anymore. I was terrified of getting hurt, so I avoided any situation that could result in rejection. I ran from people who could potentially make me feel anything other than lukewarm. The only two people in the world that I couldn’t seem to outrun were my dad and Brock. One I was genetically stuck with and the other wouldn’t let me go.

Literally.

He appeared everywhere. He brought me lunch. He sent me flowers. There were the daily chocolates, cupcakes, and candy that magically appeared. I would walk out of the office and there’d be a dozen daisies sitting on the front counter. I would walk out to my car and sitting on my seat would be a bag of my favorite candy and a note reminding me to lock my doors. Yesterday, when I arrived home from working out, I immediately took a long shower to ease my aching muscles. When I stepped out of the bathroom, I found yet another surprise. There on my bed were the biggest and the best chocolate cupcakes I had ever seen, smelled, or tasted. They were the kind of cupcakes from which one never recovered. Bakery cupcakes. Damn him.

Each time I saw Brock, he would envelop me in a hug that would make anyone feel precious and loved. It was becoming impossible to avoid letting him in, to refrain from hugging him back or even worse, kissing him. I may have remained frozen with my arms down by my sides each time he cradled me against his rock-hard body, but I ate every one of those damn cupcakes he had sent over. I wasn’t sure how long I could keep this up before I’d have to give in out of fear of a sugar coma.

It didn’t help Jordan was in on it as well. “Brock’s coming to dinner tonight,” became a standard greeting in our house. He came to Meyer’s dance recital, her poetry reading, Zoe’s promotion celebration. He. Was. Everywhere. And do you think I was able to get ten feet away from him? No. Definitely not.

If you simply went by how things appeared, you would assume we were together. Everyone did. He ignored every beautiful woman in favor of me. He made sure my drink was always topped off and my pasta was garlic-free because garlic is the grossest thing on the planet. He was playing the perfect boyfriend with one catch. He wasn’t my boyfriend.

Melanie couldn’t get over how amazing “my new man” was. There was constantly an “I wish I had a man that would…” whatever coming out of her mouth. Blah blah blah. He was perfect. I got it. I just wasn’t ready to give in yet.

Even Restaurant Guy, who would now be known as Brian, liked Brock. They started surfing together on Sunday mornings. Brock and Brian’s Sunday morning surf, everyone called it. And I do mean everyone. Damien even came in talking about their bromance. It was all very bizarre.

To make matters worse, my father was showing up at every turn as well. He took Meyer to the aquarium. He came by for dinner, for breakfast, to say hi. I really thought I might be going crazy. I let it go on for a week, thinking it would eventually taper off. By the end of the second week, I was becoming more afraid the cruel joke would last longer than I would. By the end of week three I couldn’t take it anymore.

We were sitting around the dinner table at Brian’s restaurant. Yes, we frequented there now that everyone was Brian’s buddy, except me, of course. I was still in that awkward I-used-to-watch-you-strip-in-the-parking-lot-then-met-you-and-realized-I-wasn’t-into-you phase. Jordan and Melanie dragged me there the first few times. Now I went without argument because it wasn’t worth getting stuck with everyone in the house where I couldn’t escape them like the last time.

Just imagine playing Monopoly with the two people you were most trying to avoid because your niece with the devil puppy dog eyes started crying when you tried to leave. Yeah, guilt trip central.

Tonight was different, though. Everything had been building up inside me for the last three weeks, and now the whole gang was sitting around a table, including my father and Clara. Brock’s arm was wrapped around my chair with his hand massaging my neck like it was the most natural thing in the world. I let him do his thing, but I remained in my own little world observing the scene at the table. Melanie was sipping a cocktail. Zoe had one arm looped through Jordan’s while they were both relaxed back in their chairs. Meyer had even paused her reading for the moment. Everyone’s attention was on Brian, who was telling my dad a story about setting fire to the restaurant’s kitchen the day before opening.

“So,” he said, “I was testing the shrimp recipe. Thirty pounds of shrimp ready to go. They were wrapped in the paper, and I didn’t think anything of it until bam! A huge flame erupts on the stove. It was the first time I had ever turned the stove on. It had just been installed that morning after being backordered for two weeks. The flame was bigger than anything I had ever seen before.” I stopped listening for a moment when Brock’s hand gripped my neck a little tighter to get my attention. He gave me a questioning look that distracted me from Brian’s story long enough to miss why his arms were waving dramatically in the air. Next thing I know everyone was in hysterics. I glanced around the table at how my family and friends were together and entirely too comfortable with each other. They all had easy smiles and laughed as one. When did this happen? When did we become a unit? How did I end up surrounded with all these people? And even worse—I realized that I was deathly afraid this moment wouldn’t last.

“Rea? Babe?”

I turned to Brock, who was now leaning close to me. “You okay?”

“What?” I was confused for a moment.

“Are you all right? You seem out of it.” Was I okay? Was I all right? No. I wasn’t sure that I was. Just yesterday I was living in my own little world, floating on my own cloud, and now I was suddenly grounded with all these people tethering me to the world. Most people would find it comforting, but I was…I was freaking the fuck out. This was not what I wanted. This was not supposed to happen. This was dangerous, painful, and unnecessary. This was how people got hurt.

I stood so fast I knocked my chair over. “I have to go.”

I looked around and couldn’t find my purse. I needed my keys. Where was my purse?

“Rea, calm down. What are you looking for?” Brock was gripping my arms. He was doing it again. He was trying to pin me down. I couldn’t breathe.

“Keys. I need my damn keys.”

“I’ll drive you anywhere you want to go, babe. Just tell me what’s going on.”

In a total freak moment of clarity, my insides completely calmed. I looked up into Brock’s worried eyes, and repeated the words I said so long ago. “Let. Me. Go.”

His hands dropped from my body like I was on fire, and once again, I was out of there as fast as my two legs could carry me. It wasn’t until I reached the parking lot that I remembered I still didn’t have my purse. It was in the store. If I returned to the store, I would be heading back in their direction. I started to run. My shoes weren’t meant for this, but God gave me two legs to use, and I was sure they were made for running away. Unfortunately, living near a beach meant uneven terrain, and in the wrong shoes, a twisted ankle could really slow you down.

I fell about a quarter mile down the road. I hobbled for a good five minutes before a Mini Cooper pulled up next to me. “Get in,” Melanie shouted from the driver’s side. I kept walking. “I can see you’re hurt. Get in the damn car, you stubborn brat.”

I let out a frustrated huff and did what she said. As soon as my door shut, she started driving. At first, I lifted my foot onto her dash to assess the damage to my ankle, but when she started driving further away from the beach, away from my house, and away from civilization altogether, I set my foot down and sat up straighter in my seat. This felt eerie and all too familiar.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Nowhere. I have a full tank and a credit card. I’ll take you wherever you want to go after you talk. Otherwise I’m staying above sixty on this road until we get to Mexico.”

She wasn’t kidding.

“I’m not kidding.”

See.

“Here’s the thing. I’ve pieced together a bit, but I don’t understand any of it. I can’t figure out why you keep pushing him away. You’re torturing the poor schmuck. And the thing with your dad…I see you two have a…strained relationship? He seems to be trying. You’re the one making it all difficult.”

I was about to breathe fire. How dare she see this situation as being so one-sided? Obviously I had reasons to keep everyone away. Otherwise they’d be a prominent part of my life. I snapped my head in her direction, about ready to lay down the law, when she held up one hand.

“Whoa there, dragon lady. I’m not saying you aren’t justified in your actions. I’m just trying to figure it all out. Maybe I can help. I have been known to be a good friend every now and again.”

My anger immediately flew out the window and defeat settled in along with despair and regret. I had more questions than I had answers, and what I had been doing up to this point wasn’t working anymore. Maybe it was time to open up to someone other than my brother, who had only learned bits and pieces over the past decade, and mostly when I was inebriated and somewhat incoherent. There was no one that fully understood the ups and downs of my life. I wondered for a moment if that was how Ivy felt moments before she grabbed the wheel that night. Was she so far gone that she believed I wouldn’t understand? Or were we friends because neither of us asked questions?

Here, I had a friend asking questions, wanting to know what happened, wanting to help. I only hoped that I didn’t live to regret it when I opened this can of worms. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” I told her honestly.

“The beginning. Duh.”

I snorted unattractively. Melanie’s humor was my favorite thing about her. She was never serious for long, and what I interpreted as a superficial relationship all this time might have actually been us becoming real friends. If I was going to tell anyone my deepest secrets other than Brock, I felt safe telling them to Melanie.

“I met Brock when I was just a kid…the week after my dad left. He was so cute and had this smile that attracted everyone’s attention even at that age. Our teacher, Mrs. Andrews, was captivated by him. The other kids wanted to be his friend. I, on the other hand, hated him on sight. In my warped little mind, I decided that if I had been more like him, my dad would have stayed.” Lights shined up ahead, and Melanie quickly pulled into the parking lot of the truck stop where activity was booming for such a dead highway.

She shut off the engine and turned in her seat toward me. “I don’t think that’s an abnormal reaction. I mean, I’m not certain, but kids often misinterpret emotional situations and—”

“I know I was justified in thinking it was my fault, but it didn’t make sense for me to displace my anger onto Brock. I think I realized it later when he worked so hard to be my friend. I hated him all through elementary school, and even though I like to pretend our hate was mutual, he was never mean to me. He always took care of me.”

“So, what happened?”

“I fell in love with him…at a young age. I think I realized it when I was sixteen. I never told him that. I was too afraid he’d leave me.”

“Daddy issues…” she said absently, then added, “Preach it, girl.” I didn’t know much about Melanie’s situation, but I knew both of her parents were long gone. They died when she was young. She never shared the circumstances, and I never asked. Now I wondered, what kind of friend was I? A good friend would have known to ask what happened.

I carried on, knowing that daddy issues were something we could bond over later because I was going to share private information with her, and then I was going to become a more supportive friend for her. “Watching my mom work through a broken heart didn’t help either,” I continued. “She used to cry herself to sleep at night. I would get out of bed and sit outside her door and listen until I didn’t hear the sniffling and sobbing. I never wanted to be like her. I thought she was weak.”

“Now what do you think?”

“Oh, I still never want to feel that kind of pain, and that’s the kind of pain my dad brings. It’s the kind of heartbreak only Brock could make me feel.”

“But wait…you guys went to college together. I’m not getting the whole picture. Did he ever do anything to make you think he’d leave?”

“This is where things get tricky. I was afraid to tell him the truth. I pushed him away.”

“So, break the pattern.”

“It’s not that easy. He always had someone to pick up the pieces. He was fickle, and it hurt to watch him flit from one girl to another each time we had a lull in our relationship.”

“When you broke up, you mean?”

“Except we never broke up because we never admitted we had a relationship.”

“It sounds like you two need to talk it out.”

“Except words fix nothing. Words paint emotions into pretty little packages, but actions tell more truths than any human can say aloud. I believe everything he says; it’s everything I ever wanted to hear, but sometimes I wake up and realize I’m waiting for him to let me down. I’m waiting for the next blonde model to appear and grab his attention while he’s waiting on me to fully commit.”