Unbroken (48 page)

He stepped aside, but only far enough that I had to squeeze by him to get out of the door.

When my arm bumped against his chest, he grabbed ahold of it and leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Cheating can be the least of your problems. Breathe a word of what happened here today and it will be. It’s your word against mine and I can make your life very difficult, Miss. Stark.”

I locked up at his touch and couldn’t move—or breathe—again until he released me. Then, I moved. Ran like the room was on fire all the way to the closest bathroom.

“
Rylie
?” I hadn’t even realized I’d blown right by Elijah in the hallway. “Rylie, are you okay?”

In complete disregard to the ‘Women’s’ sign on the door, he barged into the bathroom to find me hunched over a toilet. I hadn’t even had time to shut the stall door before losing my lunch.

“What the hell happened in there?” He balled up a wad of toilet paper and handed it to me to wipe my mouth, not skeeved out in the least by my display.

“This is a
girl’s
bathroom, Elijah.”

“Yeah, and we’re the only ones in it, so what? You guys hiding some kind of secret handbook or something in here?” He ducked, like he was actually searching for something below the sinks, dragging out a small smile from me.

“There you go.” He smiled, but it wasn’t his usual self-amused grin. It was almost . . . gentle. “Now tell me what happened.”

My stomach heaved again and I considered diving back into the stall and slamming the door before it settled. “I-I can’t.”

I didn’t even realize my hands were shaking until Elijah folded them both in his. “You’re terrified. What the hell is going on? You better start talking, Ry, or I’m gonna go ask Mr. Parson.”

“
No!
No, you can’t do that. Don’t-don’t say anything to him. Please.”

Elijah’s eyes narrowed along with his lips. “Did he do something to you?”

“No.” I shook my head hard enough to give myself a headache before one of Elijah’s hands cupped my cheek, stopping me. “Not really.”

“What does ‘not really’ mean?” He ducked his head, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. “Rylie, talk to me.”

“He . . . He accused me of cheating.”

“I can see why that would upset you, but not like this. There’s more. What is it?”

I licked my dry, chapping lips and flicked my eyes to his before dropping them again when the concern shining through quickly became too much to handle.

“Just tell me.”

“Nothing. I just . . . I don’t feel well. Must be that whole chemistry allergy thing.”

“Bullshit. It’s real simple, Ry. Either you tell me or he does.”

“Elijah, just forget about it. Please?”

“Not gonna happen, Princess. You’ve got ten seconds to start talking.”

“Elijah, I—”

“Eight.”

“I can’t. I have to—”

“Five.”

“I have to get home. My parents will be—”

“Three, two, one.” Elijah’s booted foot slid backward and I panicked.

“He . . . offered me a way to make it up.”

“A retest?” Elijah’s confusion was obvious.

I shook my head again as much as his steady touch would allow. “A way to e-earn it.”

“Earn it?” His face hardened as understanding stared to set in. “How did he want you to
earn it
, Rylie?”

“By . . . By . . .” A sob I was unprepared for tore from my throat as the tears sprung up again. “I don’t know. He didn’t give me details.”

“Son of a bitch. Did that asshole put his hands on you?”

I couldn’t look at him, but the tremor that shook my body at the memory of Mr. Parson’s touch was all the answer he needed.

“Bastard!” Elijah pulled me to him, wrapping me tight enough in his arms that I could feel the way his chest heaved against mine. I was terrified of what he planned to do, but I couldn’t stop crying long enough to ask him. “Shh. It’s okay.” His hand glided carefully up and down my back. “I’m gonna fix this. It’s going to be okay. Shh.”

It took until my hysterics quieted into erratic sniffles for my brain to process his words. “What do you mean you’re going to fix this? Elijah, you can’t—”

His hands framed my face again, forcing me to look at him. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But he said if I told anyone, cheating would be the least of my problems. He could ruin everything. It would be my word against his. No one would believe—”

“Don’t. Worry. About it. I will handle this. I promise.” He planted brief warm kiss on my forehead and—unlike Mr. Parson’s—Elijah’s touch brought out all the right kinds of goose bumps. “Now get cleaned up and I’ll drive you home.”

“You got your car back already?”

“Replacement. Don’t ask.”

I wasn’t planning to. “My car’s in the lot.”

I flipped on the sink and splashed cold water on my face, trying to ease away some of the atrocious red splotches.

“I’ll drop it at your place later. You're in no condition to drive right now.”

“You don’t have to—” The sink shut off and I turned to face Elijah, just to have his index finger pressed to my lips, effectively silencing my feeble protest.

“Let’s go. Do you need anything from your locker?”

I shook my head and he nodded, scooping my bag and excess books from the bathroom tile where I’d dumped them and led the way out into the hall. Thank goodness they were empty. Who knew what people would think if they saw the two of us coming out of a bathroom together.

COMING SOON-JASMINE CAROLINA

Loving Gabby

Coming Summer 2015

Gabby

Present Day

Flipping through the pictures the private investigator gave me, I shake my head as tears spring to my eyes.

It wasn’t hard to locate Braxton Crew, the great love of my life. He always knew his name would be in lights, that he would someday be known for his music. By the time he graduated high school, he was a household name. Finding him would have taken nothing more than a simple Google search if he was still on tour, but he’s not. He hasn’t been for over a year now, making things difficult. So I had to take things into my own hands.

First, I stare at the pictures of him. He looks almost exactly the same, except for the fact that he’s cut off his shoulder length red hair. He looks like the man I always knew he would be, instead of the boy I knew. There are so many, mostly from tours and gigs, but there are a couple personal ones as well, probably taken from his social media accounts. There’s Brax on stage, Brax on the Crew Caravan, Brax with the Crew Crew—stupidest name for the band that plays with him. I was there when he came up with the brilliant idea back in his junior year, and I tried to talk him out of it, but he loves it—, Brax with fans, Brax doing something goofy at the mall. Even after all this time, he hasn’t lost his smile. I admire that about him.

Then I glance at the pictures of his wife. There aren’t many, just three. She’s stunning, with long auburn hair, dark green eyes, full lips and a glorious smile. If I could have hand-picked the perfect woman for Braxton to be with, it’d have been her. The other two pictures she’s in, she’s with someone. There’s one of her and Brax on their wedding day, which I heard took place in the Bahamas. And then there’s one of the two of them with their son. His name is Max, and he’s adorable from the picture Brax put on his website. He’s smiling at the baby, but his eyes are on her. I can feel his love for her consuming me just by looking at a picture.

He’s looking at her the way he used to look at me, when we were young and falling in love beneath the stars, two teenagers who had no clue that someday, the rug would be pulled out from under our feet. He’s looking at her like she hung the moon, and from all my investigator has told me about her, it’s not too far off to assume that maybe she has.

It’s hard enough for me to accept that because of what I did to us five years ago, we’ll never have our happily ever after, but it’s even harder to know that he has a wife, a child, an entire life that doesn’t include me.

But it’s about to.

I place the pictures back into the manilla envelope, then tuck the envelope into my purse as the sound of little feet reaches my ears. My purse is at my side, hiding away all the information I need to approach Braxton for the first time in five years.

I haven’t come to this decision easily. There were a lot of factors to consider before I even tried to find him. I had to consider his new life, which will be turned upside down by my sudden reappearance. I had to consider his wife, and what type of woman she is, and how she’ll handle me being around. And lastly, I had to consider the children.

Little feet run and screech to a halt right in front of me, and I look up to see my little girl. Her red curls are all over her face, and I grin as I lean forward to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey, Lovebug, let Mommy do your hair,” I say, positioning her between my legs.

She nestles herself there, grabbing a pillow from the couch to put her high enough for me to reach. Pulling her curls apart with my fingers, I start to drag her hair backward and form the front of her hair into two Frenchbraids. I connect the two braids in the back by forming one braid, and I let the rest of her curls hang down her shoulders.

“Mommy, can I wear my purple dress to see Aunt Sisi?” Bria asks, speaking for the first time since she’s emerged from her room.

Sisi is my best friend from high school—her real name is Sienna. She and her husband are Bria’s godparents, and we make a trip up to Crawley to visit them twice a year, and they come visit us with their family twice a year. We don’t live far from each other, about a five hour drive, but we each have our own lives now.

“You can bring your purple dress with you, but we’re not going to see Aunt Sisi,” I respond.

My daughter turns around, staring at me in disbelief. I love when she asks questions, or is just curious in general. She scrunches her nose in the cutest way, her eyebrows furrow, and she cocks her head to the side. That’s precisely what she’s doing right now.

“But you said we’re going to Crawley?”

Her sentences often are statements, but the way her voice rises at the end, they sound like questions to me.

“We are going to Crawley. Uncle Mikey got us a good deal on a beach house and you and Mommy are going to stay there for a few months. We’re going to spend this time together, and I’m going to introduce you to some people, and it’s going to be the time of our lives, okay?”

She nods, but she looks like she still doesn’t quite comprehend.

This home is the only home she’s ever known. The idea that we’ll both have to leave it soon isn’t sitting right with me, so once she comprehends what’s about to happen when we walk out of these doors for the last time, I know it’s not going to sit right with her either.

I watch her expressions morph and change and distort as the wheels turn in her head. She’s honestly giving a lot of thought to this, and I’m afraid of what her reaction will be once she puts all the pieces of the puzzle together. Suddenly, her eyes widen and she shakes her head as it dawns on her. She glares at me before her shoulders slump in defeat.

“We’re not coming back?”

Oh, my goodness. How that question affects my heart.

No, neither of us will be coming back to Harlow. I’ve packed up all our things and had them sent ahead of us to the beach house. When we arrive, we’ll only have a day of down time before all the shit hits the fan, and our lives get turned upside down, even more than they were a month ago.

“No, we’re not coming back, Bug. But we’re going to have an amazing time, I promise.”

She sits down on her beanbag chair, crossing her legs. Through glassy green eyes, she stares at me. “Can we get a puppy?”

I close my eyes, unsure of whether I can answer that question right now or not. I’ve got enough on my plate moving us to another city, taking care of both of us, and getting all my ducks in a row. I don’t know if I can bring another living being into the chaos that is our lives.

“I don’t know, Bria. We’re going to be so busy having fun, I don’t think we’ll have time to take care of a puppy. Let’s see how things go the first month, and then I’ll think about it, okay?”

She nods, but she still looks sad.

That’s the hardest part about having a four year old as smart as my Bria. She knows exactly how to play me and every other adult in her life ot get exactly what she wants. That’s the worst part about her being an only child, and the only niece of a couple who has no children. We’ve spoiled her to the point that she doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘no’.

Sighing, I get up from my place on the couch and crouch down in front of her. I take her hands in mine and stare into her beautiful eyes, which are filling up with tears.

“We can stop at a pet shop on our way to Crawley, okay? But you can only have a puppy if you agree to take care of it.”

She nods, frantically, the light returning to her eyes.

“Do you want a boy puppy or a girl puppy?” I ask, giving her a smile.