All In (Cedar Mountain University #2) (4 page)

Great. I close my eyes, dropping my head against the door. I’m a
sucky best friend. The worst of the worst, and this isn’t the first time I’ve
proven that fact. Sucking in a deep breath I open my door again. Holden is
still standing right there and the stern look on his face is just shy of
hilarious. “You are going to be a great dad one day, but I seriously hope you
don’t have a daughter.” I shoulder past him to look for Delaney.

“You smell like a brewery.”

“That’s because I drank my weight in alcohol last night. Jesus,
Holden, take a break. I’m a big girl.”

I knock on Delaney’s bedroom door. “Del?” I can hear her crying on
the other side of the freaking door. Perfect. “I’m sorry, Del, I didn’t mean to
make you worry. Can I come in?”

It takes a few seconds before the door opens. I blink at Cole
standing in front of me with a frown on his face. He doesn’t hesitate to
chastise me on her behalf. “You should have called her.”

“I know,” I answer meekly. “I didn’t realize Kelsey was going to
call.”

“Well obviously you’re all right.” He says with a hint of a smile.
“I thought Holden was going to stroke out.”

I glance down the hallway to where I can still hear Holden
muttering under his breath. “He might yet. Can you take him and go?” I ask. “I
could use some girl time with Del.”

Cole glances over his shoulder, and it doesn’t escape my notice
that he hasn’t opened the door far enough for me to see Delaney.
 
Turning back to me he says, “Sure, just give
us a minute. You might want to take a shower. You smell.”

I smile weakly, “So I’ve been told.”

The water helps me feel marginally better. I take longer than
normal, trying to give Cole enough time to say goodbye to Delaney and then
corral Holden and get him out of the apartment. This is the first time I’ve
ever wished the three of us hadn’t chosen to attend the same college.

Holden had graduated last year and was now in his first year of law
school, and somehow had decided now that he was older and obviously wiser, he
was going to take our dad’s place as my keeper. Especially since things with
Grant had ended. I think he is terrified I am going to spiral out of control,
do something stupid and end up pregnant.

Which was reason number one why no one would know I had nearly
indulged in a one night stand last night while drunk off my ass. Secrets didn’t
stay secrets long in our group, and I didn’t need that particular piece of
information getting back to either Holden or Grant.

I towel dry my hair before running a brush through it, and then
slip into a pair of hot pink yoga pants and a black tank top before heading
back down the hall to Delaney’s room. The apartment is quiet so I must have
given them enough time. I knock softly on the door, pushing it open when she
calls out.

She’s sitting on her bed, reading a book with her pretty brown hair
piled up in a messy knot on top of her head. She’s dressed the same as I am,
only her pants are black and her tank is blue. She obviously utilized the time
I was gone to wash her face. There is no evidence of the tears I heard earlier.

“Before I come any closer, please tell me how clean those sheets
are so I have some reassurance that I will not be even remotely close to any of
my brother’s…bodily fluids.
 
Because that
would be beyond nasty.”

At least that gets a laugh out of her, with a pale pink blush
staining her cheeks as she says, “Maybe we should go in the living room.”

“Gross.” I shudder. “That is so gross.”

Arching an eyebrow she says, “Because you were a perfect little
angel whenever Grant was here, right?”

“That’s not nearly as gross,” I tell her wrinkling my nose as I
follow her back into the living room. I head straight to the kitchen and grab
each of us a bottle of water before joining her on the couch. “I’m sorry I
didn’t call you, Del, I honestly didn’t think about it.”

“I know I overreacted. You’re a big girl, Grace, you don’t need to
check in with me.”

“It was insensitive, regardless, in light of…things.” She looks
down, as she always does whenever our conversation heads anywhere remotely
close to her kidnapping. I know she still struggles with shame, just as I know
there is nothing either Cole or I can tell her that will convince her that she
has nothing to be ashamed of.

Finally she asks, “Did you have a good time?”

“It wasn’t too bad for a frat party.” I tell her before taking a
swallow of my water.

The thing I love most about Delaney is she really has no
expectations when it comes to being her friend. She’d never really had one
before she’d started rooming with me, so she has nothing to compare our
friendship to. She doesn’t mind if we do nothing more than sit in the same room
together. There’s no pressure to entertain or pretend to be somebody I’m not.

I’m almost positive she prefers the silence. Delaney has a habit of
getting lost inside her head sometimes, and it takes extreme effort on my part
to get her to come back out. But on days like today, when I still feel like I’m
in a fog, and I’m not quite sure how to explain how I’m feeling, the quiet she
brings is a beautiful thing.

And she forgives easily. Which she proved earlier this year when it
took me forever to get my head out of my ass and get over being hurt that she
hadn’t felt like she could tell me about her past. I know it’s all kinds of
twisted stupid that I had remained at odds with her for so long.

I hadn’t known what to say to her. It was Grant who finally told me
I needed to man up and work things out with her. It hadn’t been as awkward as I
had thought it would be. She was still Delaney, still the same girl I had
shared a room with for months. None of the other stuff mattered.

I flick the TV on, scanning through until I find an
America’s Next Top Model
marathon that
we can mindlessly watch.

I can’t even lose myself in the stupid drama of the show though. I
keep picturing Jacob Ross smirking at me while talking about fairies kissing
the water, and hearing the way he said that he had seen me in class. I’m not
melodramatic enough to say that getting my heart broken by Grant is going to
stop me from trying again. Though it will definitely make me more cautious.

And I’m sure as hell not stupid enough to think that my very
physical reaction to Jacob means that we’re going to have some grand love
affair. I do know that right now, at this very moment, I don’t want to be in a
relationship. I don’t want to venture down that road again until I’m one
hundred percent sure that I’ve recovered from Grant.

It wouldn’t be fair to whoever I dated, and it sure as shit
wouldn’t be fair to me.

But it wouldn’t hurt my feelings to spend more time with Jacob.
Even if all I do is look at his pretty face, and imagine the incredibly
gorgeous body I know he is hiding under his clothes, and let those two things
fuel my dreams for a while.

That wouldn’t be such a bad deal.

Three episodes in to our marathon I place an order for pizza,
because my stomach has finally started to settle and I find myself starving and
craving cheese pizza. After I place the order and grab each of us another
bottle of water I tell Delaney, “I met someone.”

Her head jerks up, surprise widening her eyes as they meet mine.
“Like a guy?”

“Exactly like a guy. Jacob Ross.”

Delaney wrinkles her nose when I say his name. “Why does that name
seem familiar?”

“Because last year everyone and their brother was talking about the
fact that he walked away from a very promising football career, and left us
high and dry in what had promised to be a very good season, with great bowl
game potential.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t pay attention to gossip, and
certainly not football gossip. It has to be something else.” With a dismissive
wave of her hand she adds, “I’m sure I’ll remember later. Tell me everything.”

I wince. “Most of it’s embarrassing. And not appropriate to be
shared with Cole.”

Obviously offended she mutters, “I don’t tell him everything.”

“Liar,” I say with a laugh. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not giving you
any more ammunition against me. Suffice to say I embarrassed myself, and then
ended up sleeping in his room. After,” I add when her eyes widen to the point
that they look like they are going to pop out of her head, “he promised to
sleep on the floor. Which he did. He was a perfect gentleman.” Unfortunately, I
think.

“Are you going to see him again?”

I pull the black hair tie off my wrist, twisting it around my
fingers. “He’s in my Intro to Humanities class, which I didn’t realize before
he mentioned it. He’s crazy beautiful up close, Del, I’m not sure how in the
hell I missed that he was in my class.”

The doorbell rings, causing Delaney to jump. “Pizza.” I remind her,
before moving to answer the door. The delivery guy is pushing fifty, with a
huge belly with a red shirt stretched to the limit in effort to cover it. How
come I never get cute delivery guys?

I sign the credit card receipt quickly, giving him a brief smile
before shutting the door with my foot. I decide to forgo plates, seems like a
waste of time, and drop the pizza box on the coffee table.

Delaney grabs a slice. “What does that mean? That you think he’s
crazy beautiful. Like you want to date him?”

“No,” I say, “Maybe? I don’t know.” Groaning loudly I reach over
and snag a slice of pizza, folding it in half before taking a bite. “Everything
feels like it’s all screwed up, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Delaney reaches over, grabbing my hand, where I’ve been chewing on
my thumbnail, pulling it away from my mouth. “You don’t need to fix anything,
Grace. You took a chance with Grant and it didn’t work out.”

“And now everyone around us is uncomfortable and walking on
eggshells.”

“That’s our problem, not yours.” She smiles. “Personally, I think Grant
is an idiot for breaking up with you.”

“Thanks.”

She shrugs her shoulders. “You’re gorgeous, fun, and only slightly
annoying, so I’d say you were a great catch, and he isn’t going to do any
better. Of course now that he’s a moron because he broke up with you, I’m going
to tell you that you can do ten times better.”

Laughing I tell her, “See, you are good at this friend stuff.”

I’ve never been so excited to go to class in my life. Sadly it
shows as I’m dressed in my cutest skinny jeans with my brown leather knee-high
boots pulled up over them, and a dark blue button down shirt with huge white
polka dots all over it, my sleeves rolled up to my elbows. Delaney had smirked
at me when she’d seen me in the kitchen stuffing a Pop-Tart into my mouth, but
she didn’t say anything.

I’m actually going to be early to class, which has probably only
happened like twice in my entire life. I’ve just never had it in me to stress
over school. I do what needs to be done, when it needs to be done and not a
moment before. And I have a serious dislike of deadlines and group projects.

Just as I’m about to enter the Daniel Leadership Building, where my
class is held, I hear him call my name.
 
Where it used to send shivers of excitement up my spine when he said my
name, hearing Grant call me now makes my entire body lock up.

We haven’t spoken, not really, since the night we broke up. We’d
obviously seen each other. Our lives are too intertwined, even without us being
together, for us to be able to avoid each other totally. But that didn’t mean
that I had to socialize with him.

“Grace, come on, give me just a minute.” He calls when I don’t
answer him.

I spin around. “Why?” He’s holding a Starbucks up in his hand. “Is
that a pumpkin spice latte?” I arch both my brows. “Are you bribing me to talk
to you, Grant?”

“It could be for me.”

I snort, “You don’t drink coffee. Hand it over.” Because I’m too
weak to turn away from it. No matter how mad I am at him. I take a huge sniff,
inhaling the beautiful scent that means fall is just around the corner. “What
do you want?”

“I can’t just want to talk to you? See how you’re doing?”

I eye him warily, shocked to see that he doesn’t see any problem
with what he’s doing. That he really thinks it’s okay for him to try and strike
up a conversation out of the blue. I tilt up the Starbucks cup, taking a long
drink. “Holy shit, that’s hot.” I feel the fiery burn of the coffee scorch its
way down my throat.
 
What am I supposed
to tell him? Sure, Grant, let’s talk about the weather and whatever the fuck
else you can think of? We’re just supposed to slide right back into that like
he wasn’t banging somebody else just days after breaking my heart?

Taking a deep breath, I swallow all the bitchiness I want to blast
him with. No need to give everyone something else to talk about. I’m actually
pretty proud of myself when I calmly say, “I appreciate the latte, Grant, I do,
but I’m actually on my way to class so I don’t have a whole lot of time for
chit chat.”

His face drops and a look of hurt passes over his eyes. “I just
wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Ehh.” I make a loud buzzer sound. “Try again. You haven’t been
interested in how I’m doing for four months.”

“That’s not true, Grace. It’s not like I just shut my feelings for
you off.”

I choke on the latte again, but not because it’s hot. Does he
really want to go down this road? He’s given me enough ammunition over the last
few months to call him an asshole in every imaginable way. Crossing my arms
over my chest, I can’t help but ask, “What were you feeling for me while you
were kissing Naomi Clark the other night?” Raising one hand up to stop him from
spouting whatever bullshit answer I know is about to come out of his mouth, I
shake my head. “Never mind, I don’t want to know what you were thinking. I
really need to go, Grant.”

I turn around, taking a few steps before spying the gorgeous Jacob
Ross standing just a few yards away. Those intense eyes are locked on Grant and
me with a speculative look. Huh. And he wasn’t the only one watching us with
interest. Great, exactly what I’d been hoping to avoid. Now I feel like a
circus sideshow exhibit.

I never heard Grant move, but obviously he does because he is
suddenly standing directly behind me, so close I can feel his breath when he
quietly says, “Someone saw you coming out of one of the frat houses last
weekend.”

That brings me up short. Is that jealously in his tone? “So?” I
ask, turning my head over my shoulder to look at him. “So what?”

“So what?” He sounds exasperated. “Grace, it was the morning after
one of their parties.”

Narrowing my eyes I spin around to face him again. “What are you
implying, Grant?”

“It’s not what I’m implying, Grace. It’s what everyone on campus is
saying.”

Of course they are. This place thrives on gossip. “Please enlighten
me, because obviously I didn’t get the memo.”

“The only girls that come out of those houses the day after are
girlfriends and one night stands.”

“What the hell are you saying?” I hiss. He doesn’t answer me right
away. He’s looking at something over my shoulder, and I’m acutely aware of the
fact that Jacob was standing there just moments before, but I don’t want to
think about him still standing there watching this. I smack Grant’s chest,
drawing his attention back to me. “Hey, asshole, I'm asking you a question. Are
you– ”
He interrupts, “What were you doing with Jacob Ross?”
Seriously? Wasn’t anything easy anymore? All I had wanted was one freaking
night, and now the entire school thought I was spreading my legs for Jacob
Ross? These people need to get a life. And where in the hell does Grant get off
on asking me about who I spend my time with? And what’s so wrong with Jacob
Ross that he doesn’t think I should be spending that time with him?

I cross my arms over my chest, arching one brow. “Are you serious
right now?” I hold up a hand, stopping him when he opens his mouth to respond.
I'm not sure I won't kill him if he speaks again. “You opted out, Grant. You
told me you wanted us to explore our options. So you don't get a fucking say
anymore.”
“You're too good for him.”
I feel my eyes narrow into slits. “You. Opted. Out.” I say again, carefully
enunciating each word. “I get to decide who I'm too good for, not you. And I
sure as hell don't have to justify those decisions to you.”
Running a hand through his hair, Grant lets out a small sigh. “Grace, I want us
to still be friends.”
Closing my eyes, I struggle to maintain my composure. It’s not fair for him to
say things like that to me. It’s not fair for him to try and twist this around
to make me feel like the bad guy in this situation. I’m not the one who walked
away, and how in the hell am I supposed to be friends with someone who broke my
heart? Digging my nails into the palms of my hands is the only way I can keep
from reaching up to strangle him. In a deceptively calm voice I tell him, “You
probably should have thought about that before you basically told me you wanted
to screw other people. I don’t want to be your friend. I don't want to be your
anything. Not right now.”
“Grace–”
“Shut up, Grant.” I interrupt him, “Just shut up and get out of my face. I have
nothing else to say to you.”
“You all right, Grace?” Jacob questions as he comes to join our fun little
conversation. I jump slightly at the sound of his voice. I hadn’t seen him move
across the courtyard.
“Fine,” I answer brightly, my eyes never leaving Grant’s face. “Grant was just
saying goodbye.”
It's easy to see the anger in Grant’s face with the way his jaw is pulled
tight, and the thin lines of his lips. He flicks his gaze over to Jacob and
then back to me again.
“ I don’t want you to get hurt, Grace.”
Does he not understand that he’s the one hurting me? I throw a hand out against
Jacob's chest to stop him from moving forward. How strange that I already know
what his reaction is going to be? I give him a quick shake of my head before I
answer Grant. “I'm no longer your concern, Grant. That was your decision. Not
mine. You need to remember that you chose, and your choice wasn't me.”

He stands there for a few tense moments longer and I’m afraid he’s
going to say something else. I’m not sure whether I’ll punch him or cry, and
honestly neither is an option I want to explore. Then Jacob lays a hand on my
waist, and I’m afraid Grant is going to be the one to start swinging.

“Class is about to start,” Jacob says calmly, using the hand at my
waist to pull me away. “Let’s go get our seats.”

I let myself be led away, turning away from Grant and heading
toward the steps of the building. Jacob walks beside me, not saying a word. I
can still feel the warmth of his hand at my waist, the heat of his forearm
where it brushes against my lower back as we walk.

I feel the fight drain right out of me with every step we take and
honestly I don’t think I would have been able to put one foot in front of the
other without him there to guide me along.

I don’t protest at all when he leads me up the steps into the
building, heading down the hall past our classroom and straight out the back
entrance of the building. The entire world seems to be passing in incredibly
slow motion, moving by me in a hazy cloud of hurt and accusation. I want to
turn around, to run back to Grant and tell him that he can’t do this.

He can’t play with my emotions.

He can’t ignore me for months while he moves on, and then come
blasting at me the minute it even looks like I might be doing the same.

Another part of me wants to run back to him, throw my arms around
him, and tell that if he’s that worried about my reputation then he must still
love me, there must still be some part of him that wants me. And I’ll take
whatever I can get.

Pathetic isn’t even the word to describe myself.

“Where are you parked?”

I blink, trying to see past the fog currently clouding my brain.
“What?”

Jacob’s hand has slid from my waist to my elbow as we walk. “We
can’t go back to my place to get my car, Grace, that isn’t going to help the
rumors. Tell me where you’re parked.”

“Lot C, behind the library.”

He turns us just slightly, moving steadily across campus, and I let
myself be led along like a child. As we approach the commuter parking lot he
says, “Give me your keys.” When I hesitate he adds, “You’re in no shape to
drive, Grace. Give me your keys.”

“I can drive,” I mutter, but I dig in my bag and pull out the keys,
handing them over to him. When we enter the parking lot he pushes the key fob
and follows the flash of lights indicating my doors are unlocked.

“This is becoming a habit.”

We stop next to my car, and he studies me quietly for a moment
before asking, “What’s that?”

I open the passenger side door before he can do it for me, tilting
my head to meet his gaze. “You rescuing me.”

Chuckling he dumps both our book bags into the back seat. “I didn’t
rescue you. I rescued Grant.” He clarifies. “You were seconds from punching
him.”

“You picked up on that?”

“Grace, your hand was balled into a fist at your side. It didn’t
take a genius to figure it out.”

I pull the door closed and watch him as he walks around the front
of the car. This gorgeous guy who keeps rescuing me. He probably thinks I’m
looney tunes. Hell, I think I’m looney tunes. As he settles into the driver’s
seat next to me I can’t help but point out, “You know it doesn’t matter that we
didn’t go back to your place to get your car. They saw us together. They’re
going to assume we are together. Especially since I’ve already been labeled as
your slut.”

Wincing he says, “Okay, let’s not say it quite like that. It
doesn’t matter what they think or what they say, Grace. It’s what you know that
counts.”

“Ha! Not to my brothers.”

Throwing the car in reverse, he palms the back of my seat with one
hand while he pulls out of the parking spot. I’m not sure where he’s going. I
don’t care enough to ask. As long as it’s far away from Grant.

“You’re brothers sound like real princes.”

“They’re great.” I sigh. “Just ridiculously overprotective. Grant
is Holden’s best friend. It’s all very complicated at the moment.”

Watching the scenery going by I’m pretty sure he’s heading to the
Grease Spoon, and I’m reminded of the conversation we had during my drive of
almost shame the previous weekend. My go-to in situations like this is ice
cream, but blueberry pancakes don’t sound too bad.

“What’s so complicated about it? He broke up with you, right? For
no real reason?” It sounds so logical when he says it like that, but I know
there is so much more to it that he doesn’t understand and I can’t explain.

“Oh, he had reasons.” Incredibly stupid, horrible reasons.

Jacob glances over at me quickly before turning back to the road. “Doesn’t
matter. Holden is your brother. You win in situations like this.”

I think of the lone picture on his dresser. “You have a sister?”

His hands tighten on the steering wheel. I almost don’t notice, but
the way they pull on the wheel causes a weird squeaking sound to slip through
the car, and his knuckles whiten with the strain. The silence that stretches
between us is telling. And when he finally says, “I did,” I feel tears spring
to my eyes at the deep rooted pain I hear in his voice. I wish I could take the
question back. I wish I could ask him the dozen or so other questions that are
now forming in my head. Instead I give him just a few more seconds before I
say, “Blueberry pancakes?”