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Authors: Anna Cruise

It Was Me (15 page)

BOOK: It Was Me
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THIRTY ONE

 

 

An hour later, I was standing on the sidewalk in front of Abby's house. I'd taken the shower with Griffin watching over me. After vomiting up the entire contents of my stomach and downing four ibuprofen, I'd started to feel slightly more human. I got dressed, managed to swallow—and keep down—a half glass of orange juice and was able to talk myself into believing that Griffin was right. I did need to talk to Abby. Not over the phone and not through voicemails. In person.

I shoved my hands in my pockets and stared at the front door of the house. My pulse raced a little and I wondered if being there was such a good idea after all. She could have picked up the phone last night if she'd wanted to talk to me. She could have come by any time during the previous three days if she'd wanted to see me.

And she hadn't.

I shook my head. Of course she hadn't. She'd broken up with me. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, thinking. I wasn't there to make amends or to try to talk her into changing her mind. It was all still too new, too raw. The only thing I wanted from her at that moment was the reason why. Why things had changed, why she'd changed her mind about us.

And I was pretty sure the only way I was gonna get that was in person.

I took a deep breath and adjusted my sunglasses. It was now or never.

I took a step forward, then moved quickly, making my way to the door before I could change my mind. I rapped hard on the wood exterior, my knuckles stinging. The sound of footsteps approached and the butterflies stirred as the door opened.

“West.” Mr. Sellers greeted me cooly.

I lifted my sunglasses and moved them to the top of my head. “Mr. Sellers.”

“What can I do for you?” He didn't ask me to call him Doug.

I kicked a little at the door threshold. “I was wondering if Abby was home.”

“She is.” He made no move to step aside, tightening his grip on the door handle instead.

“Can I see her?”

He frowned. “Now's not really a good time—”

“I don't think there's ever going to be a good time.” I pointed out. When he didn't respond, I  started again. “Look, I don't know if you know
—”

“I know.”

I nodded slowly. “Okay.” I hesitated, my fingers closing in on the keys in my pocket, the jagged edges pressing into my skin. “Five minutes. Three, even. I just have a question I need to ask. That's it.”

He studied me, his eyebrows drawn together. “I don't know if it's a good idea.”

“Please, Mr. Sellers.” I swallowed. “ I know things are different now but I'm pretty sure you were on my side last week. With baseball, with having me along on your vacation. I don't know what went wrong and I swear I'm not here to make things hard on Abby or to try and make her change her mind. I just wanna know why. That's all.”

His expression paled a little but he nodded. “I know.” He studied me for a moment, his eyes filled with something I couldn't quite place. Finally, he expelled a breath I didn't realize he'd been holding. “Wait here.”

He closed the door part way and his footsteps padded down the hallway. I rocked on my heels, my pulse quickening.

The door opened wide again and my breath caught in my throat. Abby was there. Dressed in jeans and a simple white t-shirt, her hair pulled back, her face free of make-up, she looked more beautiful than I'd ever seen her. Beautiful and broken and sad.

“Hey.” I tried to offer a smile but my lips wouldn't curve, not even a little.

She didn't look at me, just kept her eyes glued to the step I was standing on. “Hi.”

“I'm sorry about last night,” I said. “Blowing up your phone like that. Totally wasn't cool.”

“It's okay.”

I fingered the keys in my pocket, my thumb nail digging into the ridges again. I hated that we were standing there like two fucking strangers, two people who didn't know each other and who didn't mean shit to one another. I'd spent the better part of a year with her. Talking with her, laughing with her. Kissing her, tasting her, making love to her.

She was mine, dammit. She wasn't a stranger.

She was mine.

She was looking at me. Her blue eyes burned into mine, her expression just as unreadable as her dad's had been only a few minutes earlier. “What do you want, West?”

“I...” I faltered and cleared my throat and tried again. “I just wanna know why.”

“Why what?”

She wasn't making it easy. I was torn between wanting to throttle her, I was so pissed, and wanting to kiss her, I was so filled with needing and wanting her.

“Why you broke up with me.”

She took a deep breath and looked away. “I already told you. I needed a break.”

“Just like that?” I shook my head. “One day, we're fine, getting ready to move to Arizona and then the next—boom, done?”

She didn't answer right away, just stared at my left shoulder, like she was looking at something on the street behind me.

“Yeah,” she finally said. “That's pretty much it.”

“Look at me.” Her gaze didn't falter and I said it again. “Look. At. Me.”

Her eyes lifted, meeting mine. They were bright with unshed tears.

“Tell me what's wrong,” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper. I pulled my hand out of my pocket and reached for her but she took a step back.

“Nothing is wrong,” she said but I heard it in her voice. She wasn't telling me the truth.

“Bullshit,” I said. “Why are you lying to me?”

“You can think whatever you want.” Her tone was defiant. Angry.

“Fine.” I shoved my hand back into my pocket and found the keys again. The metal poked into my skin and I pressed harder, welcoming the pain. “Then tell me this.”

“Look, I gotta go.” She took a step back, her hand on the doorknob.

“One more question,” I said quickly. “One more and then I'll go. I promise.”

She started to close the door but then stopped and sighed. “One.”

“Do you still love me?”

The question hung in the air and I watched her reaction, the way her eyes flared, the way her mouth opened as she started to respond, then closed, her lips drawn tight. I watched her take a deep breath, watched how the unshed tears pooled in her eyes.

She looked at me just as a tear escaped, snaking its way down her cheek. “No.”

The door closed and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Because I knew one thing.

She'd just lied to me. Again.

 

THIRTY TWO

 

 

“What are you doing here?”

“Can't anyone just greet me with a simple hello?” I complained.

Tana stared at me.

“I need to talk to you,” I said. I was on another doorstep, facing another person who didn't look too crazy about talking to me. “And before you go and start asking me what the hell I'm doing or telling me to leave you the hell alone, I really wish you'd just hear me out.”

She smiled. “Actually, I wasn't gonna say any of those things.” She opened the door wider and gestured toward me. “I was going to invite you in. It's a million degrees outside and my mom is gonna kill me if I let any more of this goddamn heat in the house.”

I was too stunned to say anything as I followed her inside. Tana's house was less than a mile from Abby's, on the north side of PB, close to La Jolla. A Spanish-style one-story with stucco walls and terra cotta roofing, it was one of the smaller houses on their block. I'd been with Abby to pick her up on more than one occasion but I'd never stepped foot inside.

She led me through the entry, past a living room stuffed with leather furniture and potted plants, and into the kitchen. There were bowls and utensils spread out on the island along with a bag of flour and a carton of eggs.

“Sorry,” she said. “You caught me in the middle of baking something.” She grabbed the eggs and shoved them back in the stainless steel refrigerator. She folded down the bag of flour and then plopped onto one of the bar stools parked next to the island. “Okay. Talk.”

“Uh, I was hoping you could tell me what was going on.”

“Don't just stand there,” she told me. “This is weird enough, having you here in my house without Abby. I don't need you just standing there, staring at me.”

Tana had always been a tell-it-like-it-is kind of chick. She could be annoying as all hell sometimes, especially when I wanted alone time with my girlfriend and she was around, but her directness was actually one of the things I liked about her. I always knew where I stood with Tana. Always.

I parked myself on the bar stool next to her. “Better?”

She nodded. “Much.”

“Okay. So talk.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “What do you want me to say?”

“Well, for starters, you could tell me what's going on with your best friend.”

She nodded, her blond hair bouncing on her shoulders. “I could.”

I waited expectantly.

“But I won't.” She smiled in sympathy. “Not my place to tell you.”

“What?”

She chewed her lower lip. “It's not my place to say.”

I sighed in frustration. “She won't talk to me. She won't tell me anything.”

“I know.”

“You know?” I grew a little more agitated. “Don't you think it's pretty fucking weird that she just broke up with me? That we'd been together for almost a year, that we'd just gone on vacation together and then she comes home and tells me we're done?”

“Yeah. Very weird.”

“I mean, she was ready to move to Tucson with me next month. Did she tell you that?”

Tana nodded. “Yep.”

“So, given all that, don't you think someone should tell me what's going on? What made her change her mind?”

“Absolutely.” A buzzer sounded and she stood up. She crossed the kitchen and opened the oven door. “Shit.”

“What?”

She peered into the oven. “The brownies didn't bake.”

I didn't smell a thing. “You were baking brownies?”

“I thought I was.” She slammed the door shut and sighed. “Except I sorta forgot to turn the oven on.” She pulled the pan out and hit one of the buttons on the range. Another beep sounded and the oven clicked.

She sat back down next to me. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

“That someone should tell me what the hell is going on.”

She nodded again. “Right. Yeah, absolutely.”

“Okay.” I waited. “So?”

She raised her eyebrows. “I already told you. I can't say anything.”

“Come on,” I said. “I saw her today. I was just at her house.”

“You did?” She sounded surprised. “What did she say?”

“She told me nothing was wrong.” Tana's expression clouded and I nodded in satisfaction. I knew I'd been right, knowing that Abby wasn't telling me the truth. “And she also told me she didn't love me.”

Tana took a deep breath and said nothing.

“I know she's lying,” I said. “About both things.”

She stayed silent, suddenly fascinated by the cuticle on her thumb.

“Fine,” I said. “I get it. She's your best friend. You're not gonna tell me things she doesn't want me to know.” She looked up at me and smiled and I knew I was right about that, too. “But just tell me one thing.”

“I don't know if I can, but I'll try.”

“Tell me I'm right. About her lying.” I hesitated. “About both things.”

“I told her it wasn't a good idea,” she said, her voice soft. “The decision she made. I told her I thought she was wrong. I actually haven't talked to her since...since she broke up with you. I was too pissed. And now she won't call me back. And the stuff that's going on...she needs her space. She needs to decide what she wants to do. But I told her it was the wrong thing to do.”

“You did?”

She nodded. “Abby's my best friend. She always will be. But I'm on your side, West. I really am. And I might not be able to tell you what's going on but that doesn't mean I have to stop talking to you. It doesn't mean I can't tell you to not give up. Because I'm hoping she comes around.”

I nodded, weirded out by the rush of tears I felt pooling in my eyes. I blinked a couple of times, hoping she wouldn't notice. Tana and I were definitely friends, but through Abby. She had always been our common denominator. And here she was, not spilling secrets from her best friend, but not turning me away, either.

I thought about her words. She was telling me to stick around. To wait it out. She thought her best friend had made the wrong decision. That she just needed space. A new thought formed and I felt my gut turn cold.

“She's not pregnant, is she?”

Heat creeped into Tana's cheeks. It was something I hadn't considered. We were careful. She was on the pill. But Tana said she needed space. That she needed to decide what she wanted to do.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It's nothing like that. I promise.”

Relief flooded me. The last thing I wanted was Abby trying to make decisions about something like that alone.

“Okay.” I sat there for a minute longer, unsure of what to do or say. “So what do I do? She won't talk to me. She says we're done. What do I do?”

The oven beeped, signaling it was warm and Tana stood up. She slid the pan into the oven and reset the timer.

“I don't know, West. I don't know.”

BOOK: It Was Me
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