More Than a Memory (18 page)

“
F
uck
!” I bellow, loathing the way my frustration is bouncing off the walls.

I didn’t think getting Olivia to care for me was going be easy, but I sure as shit never thought it would be this hard. I felt like we crossed over into new territory last night. I saw the affection in her eyes, felt it in the way she clung to me. It was with reverence, not desperation and despair. I had her last night. She was one-hundred percent with me in that bed. I had every piece of her. There was no room for Duncan there, but that didn’t last long.

The grin on my face was so wide, the stars in my eyes so bright, people even commented on how happy I looked, and I was—until I got home, expecting her to be as elated to see me, only to find him right back between us. I had my doubts; it’s her pattern. We get closer, then she pulls away—I don’t know why I let myself hope for anything different.

I squeeze my fists tight at my sides, trying to talk myself into keeping them from slamming into the thin walls.

Am I pissed? Fuck yeah I am. Did she deserve to be yelled at when I’ve know the score all along? Part of me thinks so, but the section of my heart that sees only her knows better.

I resolve myself to apologizing, but pace my room for a few more minutes, trying to calm down so I don’t explode again and giving her time to absorb my words and frustration.

I take a final deep breath before lifting my hand to knock on her door. For weeks, I’ve just walked right in. We’ve spent every second of our time together, but this evening, it doesn’t feel right. Before my knuckles can land against the wood, I hear
his
voice, and any calm I’d managed before this second vanishes as if it never existed. My jaw clenches so hard, my teeth hurt. Lowering my hand, I take a step back, resisting the urge to kick the door in and demand she never watch the videos again. How can she start a life with me when she’s living in the past?

The insidious doubt snakes up my spine and settles like a boulder in the pit of my stomach. Maybe I misread her. Damn, maybe she was faking it. Can passion and something akin to love look the same? Was she imagining it was Duncan she was with?

Her sobs break my mental battle and I reach for her door handle, hating that she’s hurting, hating that I may have been the one to cause some of that pain, but once again, his voice seeps through, oozing like a virus around the frame. Her pain becomes less of a concern when my heart is practically shattered, circling the drain. The faith and hope I’d allowed myself to build drains out of me. I leave it at her closed door and escape the apartment. Staying here will only lead to more words and sacrifice falling on deaf ears.

I don’t even bother with my truck, needing the cool fall air and expulsion of energy to help my attempt to regain composure. Every step I take is one more step I regret. Walking away from her isn’t the answer, but sticking around while he consumes every corner of her heart isn’t the smartest thing either.

Knowing I can’t go back there tonight without ending up in her room and begging her to love me, pleading for her to give me just a sliver of her heart, I pull out my phone and call Liam. It rings twice, then goes to voicemail. I call again. It’s apparent he’s screening his calls, and I don’t have the patience for that shit right now.

He answers on the second ring. “Dude, don’t you know how to fucking text?”

“Can I crash in your room tonight?” Sitting on the front steps of the math and science building, I watch as a few people walk along the sidewalk chattering with companions.

“She finally kick your ass out? That’s rough, man.”

“She didn’t…” My voice trails off on a frustrated breath. I’m not getting into this shit with him now or ever. “Can I just crash?”

“You know I don’t give a shit, but I’m not sharing my bed or helping you blow up the fucking air mattress.” I sigh in relief.

“Thanks, man. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

My trek across campus to the dorms doesn’t go as smoothly as one would hope considering my mood.

“Hey there, Daniels.” The feminine purr comes from beside one of the many statues marking the campus.

I look over and see a girl I recognize, but don’t know personally. She has to be a cleat chaser, or someone from one of my classes.

I nod in her direction, but turn my attention back to the sidewalk, refusing to engage any further.

“You looked stressed. I can relieve some of that for you.”
Cleat chaser.

She’s absolutely gorgeous, long brown hair, piercing hazel eyes, fingernails long enough to do the type of back damage I crave, but the sight of her makes me sick. And that’s when I realize I’m in trouble. A couple months ago, I wouldn’t have even bothered finding a bed. I would’ve dragged her into a dark corner and fucked her standing up. Now, I don’t even carry a condom in my wallet. Why would I when the only girl I can imagine being inside of lives in the same apartment?

I scrub my hand over my face and shake my head. I’ve got it so fucking bad, I can’t even be upset about it. Hundreds of women willing to sleep with me with little to no effort on my part—all of these options, including the one standing in front of me hiking her skirt up a little higher to reveal her lace garter belt and thigh high stockings—and my dick doesn’t so much as twitch in interest.

“No thanks,” I mutter and walk away.

Thankfully, she doesn’t chase me down and try to convince me otherwise. I’ve dealt with several girls these last couple weeks who have struggled with my rejection, and the things they offer as a means to convince me to fuck them are pitiful. Hell, not even that—I can’t count the offers of “just let me suck your dick” I’ve gotten since I started school here.

Later than I expected, I make it to Liam’s dorm room. He yells for me to come in when I knock. I’ve never been here before, but he warned me about his weirdo roommate. It’s only when I step inside do I realize just how damn weird the guy is. His entire side of the room is full of screens—not even a bed, just computer equipment—which are currently filled with some space game. He’s wearing Beats headphones and doesn’t even bother acknowledging my presence as I step inside.

I jerk a questioning thumb over at him and Liam just shakes his head.

“What are you working on?” I ask, surprised to find him sitting at his tiny desk with his head bent over an actual textbook.

“Fucking World History,” he bitches.

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen you with a book before.”

“Yeah, well, I shouldn’t have this one out, but that sophomore chick I was banging found out about the freshman chick I fucked last week and she won’t do my damn assignments anymore. She even warned all the other chicks in class about me, so I can’t find anyone to do them. Fucked up, right?” He looks over at me, expecting commiseration, but he doesn’t find any.

“Sorry, man.” I slap him on the back, trying to seem as comforting as possible. I wonder how the guy is still in school and on the team if this is how he is.

“Air mattress is in the closet. I hope you don’t mind the light.” He nods his head to his oblivious roommate. “Jackass over there will be up all night playing video games and jerking off, and from the looks of this shit, I won’t be getting much sleep either.”

“No big deal. I appreciate it.” I reach into the closet and grab the air mattress out, knowing I won’t get any sleep tonight either.

I’ve spent weeks falling asleep with Olivia wrapped in my arms and waking up with her warm breath on my bare chest. There’s no way I can rest easy knowing she’s alone in the apartment, but I have the twisted hope that she is wondering where I am and missing me as much as I miss her.

* * *

M
y alarm blares
in my ear what seems like only an hour after I finally pass out. Feeling like I got crushed by a bulldozer, I sit up in the dip of the air mattress and my ass hits the ground since it lost half of its air last night.

“Damn it,” I grumble, looking at the time on my phone. I had to have reset the alarm when it went off the first time even though I have no recollection of it. With ten minutes to get to class, I don’t have time to go home for a shower, or even to change my clothes.

I slip my shoes on and roll the air mattress up as fast as I can. Liam is passed out face down with his head on his history book, drool pooling and ruining the pages, and his creepy ass roommate is passed out in his office chair. Stopping by the book store, I grab a notebook and a pen, because my books are still in my backpack at the end of the couch where I dropped them yesterday after finding Olivia watching those damn videos.

I groan as I sit down in my first class, hoping it goes by as fast as possible and praying I can concentrate on something other than Olivia Dawson.

A
tear rolls
down my cheek when my suspicions are confirmed. I close his bedroom door, an ache I can’t describe spreading throughout my chest. I hoped he eventually came home and slept in his own bed, but I never heard him come in. I waited up until the early hours of morning, praying, but to no avail. He should be home from class by now.

Knowing he didn’t sleep in this apartment makes me wonder where he did stay, and with who. Simone comes to mind and the thought sours my stomach. He doesn’t seem like the type, but he was more upset than I’ve ever seen him.

I walk into the kitchen and get a bottle of water from the fridge. Coffee would be too strong for my stomach this morning. I grab my laptop and pull it into my lap as I plop down on the sofa. It’s mid-afternoon and I know he’ll be home soon. I refuse to let him ignore me today. I let him walk out last night without a word, but that can’t happen today. I need him as much as he seems to need me, a realization that hit not long after he was gone. We have to work through this. There’s a way to compromise here, but we can’t do that if he’s gone—hell, it may not even be an option depending on what he did last night after he left in a rage.

I surf around on social media for a while, wondering why I even bother. I don’t post, never comment or engage…I even have my status always set to offline, but I can’t help it. I do care about what my former friends are doing and how their lives are going, even if they don’t realize I’m creeping on their pages.

An email alert dings, so I open that window.

The only time Bryson has emailed me was when he confirmed the list of house rules I demanded he acknowledge when he first moved in, but sitting in my inbox is an email from him. The subject line is blank, which is ominous. My hand trembles as I move the mouse, hovering over the email. I’m terrified it’s going to detail his plan to move out and break his lease.

I push the laptop away, staring at the seemingly innocuous name, knowing it’s going to change my life forever. Rip the Band-Aid off, right?

I give in, preparing myself for the pain, only to find the email contains a smiley face and a Word doc titled
Love Letter for You
. I grin at it. Even as upset as he was last night, he sends something like this. A crumb of hope that what we were building isn’t destroyed settles inside me.

I click on the attachment with a wide smile on my face. It opens, then closes immediately. I click on it again, and the same thing happens. Is this some sort of joke? Finally, after the third click, the letter opens, only there are no words on the screen, just random parts of the alphabet…computer code is what it looks like.

The attachment closes and my computer screen flickers a few times. My heart begins to sprint. Trying to close out of my email program is fruitless. Nothing my mouse clicks on is working. I hold the power button with shaking fingers, until the screen blinks off. Waiting an agonizing five minutes before rebooting, I’m calmer when it begins to start up like normal, but it’s short-lived.

When the home screen pops up, almost every folder on my desktop is gone. My heart pounds in my chest as I frantically click different things, but nothing happens. It’s as if my computer is on lockdown. I knew Bryson was upset last night, but this is beyond anything I imagined he’d be capable of.

Tears stream down my face and an ache I haven’t felt since watching Duncan’s live feed the day he passed crushes my chest. Nothing is working. I shut the computer down once more, but when it comes back on, even less is on my desktop.

“What’s wrong?” the devil’s voice asks, forcing me to snap my eyes up to him.

I shake my head, refusing to speak and turn my attention back to my ruined laptop. An eternity of clicking and futility in trying to open programs only makes the pain in my chest grow. With losing Duncan all over again and Bryson doing something so abhorrent, I feel like I’m having a heart attack.

I clutch my chest as sobs wrack my body. Bryson takes a step closer, holding his arms out, but I shuffle back, my eyes burning a hole into him.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” I scream. “You did this!”

“Did what, Liv? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” His face twists in confusion, no longer the handsome calmness I’ve come to expect from him.

“You’re so fucking bitter and vindictive,” I sob. “What did you think, getting rid of the last thing I had of him would make me love you?”

He takes a stumbling step back, as if I slapped him in the face.

“I haven’t…I didn’t…Liv?” He reaches for me again and words I can never take back tumble for my lips, each one a fiery lash.

“I could never love you like I love him. He was my entire life. Those videos were all I had left of him. Are you so damned selfish you’d destroy me just to keep me from watching them?”

I hang my head in my hands and the weight of the useless laptop on my legs defeats me even further. With shaking hands and a battered heart, I shove it off my legs, taking no pride when it slams to the floor and skitters away in two pieces. Just like my life, torn in two directions. Just when I was letting him in, just when I was opening myself up to him, his true selfish colors come out. Knowing everything I’ve done, all the times I took a step with him even though it ate me up inside, rips me to my core.

“He’s gone,” I cry. “I gave you something he should’ve always had,” I shout, all my pain shooting out like a slap to his face. “He should be here, not you! I should be sharing a bed with him. You asked if you were a surrogate? You’re less than that. You could never replace a fraction of what Duncan was capable of. You’re nothing to me.”

Break him. Just like he’s broken you
.

He stands silent only a few feet away, yet still too close for my liking.

“I opened that email with a hope that I hadn’t ruined what we had.” I point to the shattered computer near his feet. “What a fucking joke. You could’ve walked away. You didn’t have to erase him.”

“I could never walk away from you, Liv.” He sounds as broken as I feel, and the messed up part is I revel in his pain. It can’t possibly be a fraction of what he’s done to me.

“Well,” I say without a tremble in my voice, rage taking over the despondency I’m feeling, “I’m not giving you a choice. You need to leave. Pack your shit and get out of my apartment. I never want to see you again.”

“You don’t mean that,” he whispers, the pleading in his voice visible in his dark eyes.

“You have no idea just how serious I am, Bryson. Get out!” I don’t even recognize my own voice as I screech at him.

“I’m not leaving you. I’m not giving up on us.”

I hold both of my hands up to ward him off when he walks closer. Upturned hands close into fists and meet his chest in a violent burst of energy when he steps within reach. I pound his muscled flesh as he wraps his arms around me, holding me as close as he can even though I’m fighting for him to let me go.

“I trusted you,” I whisper when my energy wanes sooner than I anticipated. “I hate you.”

“Hate me today, beautiful. I can take it.” His voice is calm and soothing, the opposite of what I want, but exactly what I need.

I stop fighting him when he scoops me up in his arms and carries to my room. He settles us both on my bed, not even bothering to pull the blankets back. The broad expanse of his chest and the heat emanating from his body comforts me just as it has so many times before, but this time, I’m more broken than I’ve ever been.

Closing my eyes, I try to pretend Duncan is here. He’s the one holding me, promising me everything will be all right. The strength in Bryson’s arms, the masculine scent clinging to his clothes along with the deep timbre of his voice, are all reminders that Duncan is gone.

He left me in a crying heap while he faded away in a hotel room with only a doctor there to comfort him in his final moments. He didn’t love me enough to have me there to hold his hand, to kiss his lips when his breathing grew shallow. He robbed me of our final goodbye, tore the life I imagined we could have together away from me. Just as Bryson did today with one simple click of a mouse.

I’m not enough, never enough. The realization that I’ll always be alone, always be hurt by the men I care for hits me as I fall into an exhausted sleep.