“I won’t.”
He presses his lips together and nods one more time before turning and walking out the door. I close my eyes and try to sleep.
***
Guy hovers beside me as I work my shirt over my head. It’s slow going, but I’m determined to do it on my own. I’m not sure I can sink any lower, but having my friend dress me might do it.
I finally get it into place and drop heavily on the bed. Shoes are next, but that’s going to be harder than the shirt since it requires bending over. I’m not in the mood to get another dizzy spell. If I puke one more time, I’m not sure the doctor will let me go home.
And I really need to go home.
“You need some help?” Guy asks. He takes a step toward the bed and I shake my head. The quick movement causes the room to spin. I have to lie back and close my eyes as I try to breathe through it.
Concussions fucking suck.
Life lesson number 11: Don’t talk shit to a group of guys when you’re by yourself. Especially if you got a blowjob from one of their girlfriends. Not that I really remember all the details, but those parts are pretty clear.
“Just slip your feet in and I’ll tie them.”
I open my eyes and he’s standing over me, holding my boots. Pushing myself up, I swing my legs to the floor and wait for the room to slow down. I feel like an asshole—more so than usual.
Guy drops the boots to the floor and the sound has my brain throbbing. I shove my feet inside. “Have you talked to her?” I don’t say her name. I don’t need to. He knows. I’ve asked about her every time I’ve seen him in the past three days.
“I saw her this morning.”
“Did she say anything?”
He squats to tie my laces, keeping his eyes focused on the minor task. “She asked how you were doing and wanted to know when you’d be home.”
He stands up, but still doesn’t look at me.
“Did she want to know when I’d be home so she knew when to avoid my apartment?”
“She’s hurt,” Guy says in explanation.
“I know.” I close my eyes again because the light is bothering me. “I fucked up. Again.”
“You can fix it,” he says, but I can hear it in his voice. He doesn’t really believe that anymore than I do.
“She hates me. And she should.” I went to great lengths to ensure that.
Guy exhales loudly. “She stayed all night,” he reminds me. “She sat right in this chair, by your side, even when the nurses told her she needed to leave. She doesn’t hate you. She cares about you and that’s why you were able to hurt her. If she hated you she wouldn’t care that you slept with another girl directly after sleeping with her.”
I cringe. “I didn’t sleep with Erika.”
“Semantics. You made it perfectly clear to everybody there that night that you and she were well acquainted. And if I remember correctly, you had plans for her.”
Yeah. I did. But now, days later and sober, I realize how completely fucking stupid those plans were. I don’t want Erika. I never did. I just wanted her to erase the fucked up shit stuck in my head, and possibly help me forget Lucy.
Because I should forget.
“It doesn’t matter now,” I say gruffly. “She’s better off staying away. Hell, I’m better off if she stays away. That girl has me fucked up thinking shit can be different.” I sigh and rub my forehead. “Where the hell is the doctor? I want out of here.”
Guy settles into the chair and observes me. “I’m sure you’re not his only patient. He’ll get here when he can. While we wait, why don’t you explain to me what you mean about thinking shit can be different.”
I roll my head so he can get the full effect of my glare. “Why don’t we not do that?”
“You know I want you to be happy, right?” he asks.
I look away and laugh sarcastically. “We can’t all be gay.”
“Oh, you’re so punny.” He crosses his arms and leans back. “Anytime you want to actually start putting those extra IQ points to work, please feel free to do so.”
“Are you calling me stupid or smart?”
“I’m saying you’re being stupid.”
“Here’s a little secret, Guy: I don’t give a shit.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. It makes me want to smack him. “We both know that’s not true,” he states. “You give a shit. In fact, I think you give a lot of shits.”
“Well it’s still shit regardless. And stop thinking because you’re wrong.” He’s not and he’s fully aware of it. But I’m not about to tell him he’s right because then he’ll want to fix it. Fix me. I’m not fixable. Old dog—new tricks and all that.
Before he can reply, the doctor finally decides to grace us with his presence. He gives me some paperwork, has me sign more, and then tells me I’m free to go. I don’t hesitate. I’m out of the bed and moving toward the door as soon as the words leave his mouth. He tries to stop me with some policy about a wheel chair. Fuck that. I ignore him and keep going.
By the time I stop in front of the elevator, I have a cigarette in my mouth, and I’m flicking my lighter anxiously. I’m dizzy again, but I ignore it. I’m almost out of this place.
Guy steps up beside me and hands me a pair of sunglasses. I push them up on my head. “Thanks man.”
He nods as he fishes his cell phone out of his pocket. “Chase is out by the main doors.”
“Is he by himself?”
“Uh, I don’t know,” he replies, and I stare at him, waiting for him to tell me the truth. “Hope’s been worried about you. She may have insisted on coming along.”
Son of a bitch.
I drop the sunglasses down over my eyes and stride into the elevator. I’ll just have to deal. It’s only a ten minute drive. I can do that. It’s not like she’ll be around much longer. She’s got a life to get back to.
Guy pushes the lobby button. My thumb flicks against the lighter. My other hand is tapping against my leg and my head is light.
“Did you want to go to the police station now, or wait until tomorrow?”
“What? Why would I go to the station?” I ask, confused.
“So you can press charges against the assholes that did this to you.”
The doors open and I move quickly, heading toward my freedom. As soon as I step outside I light my cigarette and take a long hit, my lungs protesting. I cough, causing pain to shoot through my head, and my chest to ache. Fucking pricks bruised my ribs.
“I’m not pressing charges,” I say.
“Why not?” Guy asks incredulously.
I cock my head to look at him. Because I deserved it. “Because I don’t remember what happened.” I spot Chase’s car and start walking again. He has a stupid-ass, no smoking rule in his car, so I suck as many hits as I can before I get over there.
Hope hops out of the passenger door, holding it open for me. I move around her and fall into the seat with a grunt. Everything fucking hurts.
“Hello sunshine,” Chase beams. “You’re bluer than a Smurf.”
I haven’t looked in a mirror, but I hear it’s bad. “Fuck off.”
“Oh, you’re just precious today.”
“I want to go home. That’s all I want.”
***
I slept the day away yesterday. All I remember is seeing my bed. Anything after that is fuzzy. My boots were sitting on the floor next to my bed when I woke up. I don’t remember taking them off.
My body must have needed the sleep because I feel pretty good today. My head still hurts, but it’s not as bad as my face. That’s new, so it must be improvement.
I make my way to the bathroom to take a long, hot shower. My stomach clenches when I catch sight of my reflection. Fuck. It’s not just my face. It’s my neck and throat. I take my shirt off and shift from left to right. My torso is covered in dark bruises. I stare at them, trying to remember each hit. Each kick.
“Oh, my God.”
My eyes flick up to see Bree’s in the mirror.
I smirk. “No, just me.”
“Jesus, Park,” she breathes. Her gaze roams over my back and I don’t even want to know what she sees. “I was going to ask how you were feeling, but…”
“Yeah. I kind of feel like I was jumped by three big-ass guys.”
She nods. “You look like it.”
I turn around to face her and she winces. “How’s Lucy?” I ask.
Bree stands up straighter, showing off her height. She crosses her arms over her chest and glares at me. “I’m guessing she feels like you look.”
Now I wince. I knew she was upset. Hurt. But the comparison hits hard.
“You need to stay away from her,” Bree hisses. “She trusted you.”
I swallow hard. This is unfixable. Why did I do it? Why did I fuck it up?
Bree’s still looking at me, waiting for me to give her something. Some explanation. Some reason. I don’t have any. I roll my eyes and grab the door. “That was her first mistake,” I say, swinging the door closed.
I wait several heartbeats to see if she’s going to say anything or kick the door in. When I’m met by silence, I turn the shower on and slip my jeans off. The first touch of water on my skin stings, but the longer I stand under the spray, the better it feels.
And then I can’t push the thoughts away any longer. It all settles in my chest, weighing it down until I feel like I can’t breathe.
I just want it to go away.
Lucy’s Rules:
1. Make the conscious decision to look at others with an open mind and an open heart.
2. Everybody needs someone in their life they can rely on. Try to be that person.
3. Take a chance.
4. Love whole-heartedly. (Unless in the presence of Park Reed—in which case, guard your heart at all cost.)
5. Make it your goal to make someone smile daily.
6. Always expect more of yourself today than you did yesterday.
7. No matter how many times you’re let down, continue believing in the goodness of others.
27
Lucy
“Whatchya watching?” Bree asks, plopping down on the couch. I look up at her from my position on the floor as I stretch.
“I’m not.” I toss her the remote and lean forward to grab my toes. “I’m going for a run.”
Bree crinkles her nose and pops a chip in her mouth. “You have fun with that.”
I laugh lightly as I stand to finish my warm-up. “You can come with.”
“Mm…that’s okay. I have big plans that consist of this couch, this TV, and this bag of chips. Who am I if I abandon my life goal?”
I straighten up and rest my hands on my hips, stifling an eye roll. “And that would be what?”
“To not run unless I’m being chased.”
“If you ran, you’d have a better chance of getting away if you were ever chased,” I point out.
“No. See I’m resting up for it. With all the running you do, if you were ever chased you’d be too tired to get away. My way is so much better. And fun. And…”
“Lazy?”
“Exactly.” She smirks around another chip. “Before you go, can you bring me my laptop?”
“Oh, my God,” I sigh. “You are hopeless.”
“It’s not my fault. My parents made me this way. All those years of being told I’m a princess…it gets to a girl.”
I shake my head as I fight the grin begging to be released. “Pathetic.”
“Your mom’s pathetic.”
“Your mom has a lazy-ass daughter,” I call over my shoulder. I grab her laptop off the desk in her room and bring it out to her just like she knew I would.
“Thank you. Your mom has a sweet daughter that likes to do things for me.” She puts her palms together and bats her dark lashes. “Like getting me a can of Coke…?”
I roll my eyes and head for the door. “They’re called legs, B. And they can take you anywhere you want to go.”
“Can they take me to Jensen Ackles’ house?” she yells. “Because that’s the only place I want to go right now.”
I laugh as I let the door close behind me. Pressing my ear buds into place, I set up my playlist, and skip down the stairs. I pause near Park and Jessie’s door for just a second before continuing on.
I haven’t seen Park since he’s come home. I haven’t actually seen him since his first night in the hospital. I don’t know how I feel about that. Or him.
Part of me feels like I should go see him. He could have died and I haven’t bothered to even so much as stop by. Damn my parents for instilling stupid values in me. Guilt twists my tummy as I head out into the muggy day.
What if he’s in too much pain to take care of himself?
No. If he was that bad, Jessie would tell me.
Would he though? He doesn’t want me to have anything to do with Park. Maybe he would keep it from me on purpose. In which case, he’s probably taking care of Park himself. And Guy’s been there a lot.
Park doesn’t need me.
And I shouldn’t want him to.
But I miss him. I wonder if he misses me.
He doesn’t miss me. He made it perfectly obvious that I’m easily replaced. Just like Jared did.
I speed my pace. I need to fall into the run, let it absorb me so I can’t think about this anymore. Prying the iPod out of my pocket, I turn the volume up loud. I don’t usually do this. I typically keep it low so I can hear traffic or someone approaching me. But I need it right now.
Sweat trails down my back and in between my cleavage, beads on my forehead. It’s too hot to run. This late in the afternoon is the worst time. But again, I need it right now. Sitting in the apartment, knowing he’s just a floor below me drives me nuts.
How could he have sex with another girl—a girl with a boyfriend—the same day as having sex with me? Why would he do that? If he didn’t want to be with me…why not just tell me?
I thought he cared about me. I thought he was going to do his best to not hurt me. He didn’t even make it twenty-four hours. As soon as Hope showed up he lost it.
What did I do wrong? What could I have done differently?
No. This is not my fault. I didn’t do anything wrong. This isn’t on Hope either. This is all Park’s fault. He lied to me. I was honest with him and told him exactly how I felt and he used it against me.
But I thought he was going to be different with me.
That’s just what he wanted me to believe. I was a challenge and he conquered me. End of story.
But then why? Why all the talk about belonging to him? He didn’t need to say those things.
It doesn’t matter. None of it matters now.
I slow to a stop and hold my sides. I need to catch my breath. I’m cramping and I feel nauseated.
I should just go see him. If I can see he’s doing better then I’ll feel better. I can be the bigger person.
I can’t believe how close he came—
What if I lost him?
No. He was never mine to lose. He ended this the moment he left me in his apartment so he could go sleep with some other girl.
I grind out a frustrated growl as I pant, still trying to get a good breath. Park Reed is not worth all this torment.
Stop thinking about him. Forget him. Pretend he never existed.
I laugh as I start into a jog.
Yeah. Easier said than done.
***
I decided the best way to appease my guilt over my refusal to go see Park is by cooking. For him. I do it under the pretense of dinner for everybody. I have been neglecting Jess since Park’s come home and Bree’s always down for my cooking.
Really it’s my excuse to see him. If I can just see with my own eyes that he’s okay then I can move on. The only problem with this plan is getting him here. It’s not like I can get Bree or Jessie to make sure he comes along. Bree hates him and Jessie’s not going to force him over here.
I finally come up with the idea of taking the meal down to them. I’m busy
packing each course into containers and placing them into a large box when Bree pops her head in.
“What are you doing?”
“Just finishing dinner,” I say casually.
“What’s up with the box?” Her dark brows scrunch as she watches me.
“I thought we could go to Jessie’s.” I try to pick up the box, but it’s kind of heavy and it’s an awkward size. I can’t get a good grip on it. I push it with my foot, kicking it toward the door.
“We’re taking it downstairs? Why? It’d be so much easier if Jessie just comes up here…”
I shrug and keep going. I know she’s going to be pissed and I really don’t