One Week Girlfriend (17 page)

Adele doesn’t cook and she sure as hell wasn’t going to prepare a Thanksgiving meal. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a home cooked turkey since the last time we spent the holidays with my grandparents in New York, and that was years ago.

The hostility in the house had been off the charts. Adele tried her damnedest to talk to me and I refused. The taxi had shown up to cart Fable away just as promised later that evening and I sent the guy away, shoving two twenties in his hand as payment for his trouble.

Not once did Fable speak to me. The moment she could make her escape, she was gone, heading back to the guesthouse without a goodbye to anyone and locking herself away in her room. She didn’t come out for the rest of the night.

So I did the same, pissed at myself that I let her get under my skin. I didn’t sleep much, hadn’t really slept much the night before either, and now I’m lurking outside Fable’s closed door, tempted to bust in there and make her talk to me.

This is definitely not like me. I’m not confrontational. I hate facing my feelings. But damn it, that fight between us yesterday left me raw and hurting. I feel like a pussy for even thinking this, but I thought what we had was turning into something special.

Guess I was wrong.

But see, this is where my stubbornness kicks in for once in my personal life. I don’t want to be wrong. I don’t think I
am
wrong. For whatever reason, she’s running scared. I can’t blame her. I do the same damn thing, day in and day out. The only time I feel completely in control of my life is out on the football field. Being trapped here for the last few days, I’m jonesing to get back to it. Get my head out of the bullshit and back into the game.

Go back into unfeeling robot mode and forget everything else.

Irritated with myself, I knock on her door and turn the knob, surprised to find it unlocked. I don’t bother giving her even a second, I stride into her dark room, stopping at the foot of the bed to find her a sleeping, dead to the world lump in the center of the mattress.

Her blonde hair is strewn about the pillow in tangled waves, her face soft with sleep. Rosebud lips parted, the covers are pushed down to her waist and she’s wearing a skimpy pale blue tank top with no bra, her nipples clearly visible beneath the thin fabric of her top.

The thin top, her hard nipples beneath, I’m captivated, salivating really. It’s cold as hell in the room and I go to her, grabbing the edge of the comforter so I can pull it up over her body. My knuckles brush against her chest, I did it on purpose, I’m not going to lie and her eyes fly open at first contact. She sits up so fast she nearly nails me in the jaw with her forehead, and I take a quick step back, saving myself from massive injury.

“What are you doing?” She pulls the covers up to her chin, covering up all that pretty exposed skin and disappointment crashes into me. “Sneaking around my room?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Lame as hell answer, but it’s all I got.

“What time is it?” She leans over and grabs her phone off the bedside table, checking the clock with an aggravated groan. “Why would you think something’s wrong with me this early in the morning?”

“You locked yourself up in here over twelve hours ago. For all I know you could be unconscious. How was I supposed to know?” I feel defensive. Her reaction makes me defensive, and I don’t know how we skipped backwards and ended up hostile towards each other again. I fucking hate it.

I want the new Fable back. I want the new us back.

There was never any us you asshole.

Clamping my lips shut, I sit on the edge of the bed, sad when she skitters away from me as if she needs the space. I’ve had this idea lurking in the back of my mind since about three this morning and I hope it’s going to heal what damage has been done to our tentative relationship. If she doesn’t agree…

I don’t know what else to do.

“Well, I’m fine,” she retorts, setting her phone down, her gaze locked on her bent knees in front of her. “You can leave now.”

“I was hoping I could ask you to go with me somewhere.”

She flicks her head in an I-don’t-give-a-shit way. “I don’t know if we should hang out together anymore, Drew. I know we’re supposed to be pretending we’re boyfriend and girlfriend, but this week is almost over and I don’t think we need to make a big show of it.”

Fuck, what did I do? I have no idea, and she’s not going to tell me unless I drag it out of her. “I wanted you to come with me to the cemetery. I need to visit my sister’s grave.”

Her gaze finally meets mine, those green eyes full of pain and sympathy. All for me. “I don’t know if I should…”

“I want you there.” Reaching out, I grab her hand and cradle it in mine. Her fingers are ice cold and she tries to withdraw, but I tighten my grip. “I need you there, Fable.”

“I thought Adele had something planned for family only.” She lifts her chin, looking defiant. Vulnerable. Beautiful.

So beautiful I’m tempted to haul her into my arms and never let her go. But I don’t.

“I’m not going with them.” It would be my every nightmare come to life. Adele a weeping, emotional wreck and I’ll be expected to stand by her, full of sympathy and offering her hugs.

I can hardly stand the thought of her touching me, let alone actually letting her.

Fable’s quiet. I can tell she’s considering my request, which fills me with relief. I don’t want to go alone, I don’t want to go with my parents either, but I need to go and pay my respects to my baby sister. The idea of going alone fills me with such overwhelming sadness, I know I’d fall apart the second I parked my truck in the cemetery parking lot. I wouldn’t be able to go in there and I need to.

Having Fable by my side will give me the strength I freaking need to visit my sister’s grave. Beg her forgiveness at her gravestone for not taking care of her and hope like hell when I tell Fable the truth, she won’t hate me for what I’ve done.

And maybe, just maybe, her acceptance will help ease the hatred I feel for myself.

“I’ll go with you,” she says, her voice low, her gaze downcast once more. “When do you want to leave?”

“I need to take a shower. I’m sure you do too.” When she nods, I continue. “A couple of hours then? By ten?”

“That sounds good.” She nods again and slowly releases her hold on my hand, her fingers drifting along the length of mine. Chills steal over me at the subtle contact and when I look at her, she’s watching me, her lips parted, her eyes wide. So fucking beautiful in her tousled, still sleepy state, it hurts to stare at her for too long.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “For saying you’ll come with me.”

“Thank you for trusting me enough to ask.” She licks her lips, leaving a damp sheen on them and I want to kiss her so bad, I ache with it. “That’s why I was so mad, Drew. After what happened yesterday, what you and Adele accused me of, it felt like you didn’t trust me. And all I’ve ever been is honest with you.”

She’s right. I know this. I overreacted. Adele pushed all my buttons and I fell for her tricks. So stupid.

“I shouldn’t have listened to Adele.” I take a deep breath and let it out. “I’m sorry.”

A little smile curls her lips and my heart flutters. “You’re forgiven. And just so you know. The guy I was talking to yesterday?”

Now my heart is pounding. “Yeah?”

“It was Owen. My brother.”

I feel one hundred times the jackass. Of course, she was talking to her brother. She’s worried sick about him most the time. “I shouldn’t listen to Adele.”

“No, you shouldn’t.”

“I feel like an asshole.”

“Yesterday, you sort of were one.” I’m about to say something, but she cuts me off. “Truthfully? I liked seeing all the anger. It means you actually feel, you know?”

I’m quiet. She’s right. I can’t remember the last time I went off like that. Do I ever go off like that? A fuse had been lit within me and I was unable to contain it.

“I’m going to take a shower.” She flicks her chin at me. “You should go. I don’t want you to see me. My shirt’s practically see-through.”

“Fable, I hate to break this to you, but I’ve already seen you,” I remind her, my voice low.

Now it’s her turn to remain quiet and with a grin, I stand, heading for the door. “I liked what I saw too,” I call over my shoulder.

Her soft laughter follows me all the way down the hall.

Fable

It’s so cold outside and gloomy, the sky full of dark, foreboding clouds and that ever-present wind. I pull my coat tight around me, following Drew as we walk through the cemetery. He’s taking a windy path through the gravestones and I try my hardest not to look at them, but I can’t resist. Some of them are beautiful, with actual pictures on them, heartbreaking messages and even statues.

And flowers. Flowers everywhere, real and fake, bright and cheery, dark and somber. Some are even holiday-themed. I see remnants of Halloween ribbon, plenty of autumnal colors. Rusty reds and oranges and harvest yellows.

I felt better, seeing all the color, the benches that people put out there to actually spend time with the loved ones they’ve lost. Death is a terrible thing but it’s also such a part of life. I don’t like thinking about it, our mortal selves.

It’s easier to pretend we’ll live forever.

“Here it is.”

Drew’s deep, somber voice made me glance up and I see he’s stopped directly in front of a small gravestone that lies close to the ground.

Slowly I approach, stopping just at his side and I let my gaze settle on the words written across the stone:

Vanessa Adele Callahan

Born September 30
th
, 2007

Died November 27
th
, 2010

Forever in our hearts…

There was a little picture of Vanessa in the upper right hand corner. Her hair was dark like Drew’s, she has a big smile on her face and her blue eyes twinkled.

She was adorable.

I glance over at Drew and see him staring at her picture, his hands in his jacket’s pockets, his expression bleak. Full of sadness. I want to comfort him, want to draw him into my arms and whisper that everything’s going to be all right, but I don’t feel like it’s my place.

Plus, he needs to do this. He told me so on the drive over. He wanted a few moments where he did nothing else but look at her grave and think of her. Talk to her in his mind.

I agreed because who am I to judge on his grievance practices? We all mourn differently. Personally, I wouldn’t want to come out here, especially since his sister died at such a young age.

Curiosity crept over me again and I tried to ignore it. I really want to know how she died. I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much, but everyone in this family is so damn secretive about everything. This one little detail is major and I want to know.

I have to know.

A shuddering breath leaves Drew and I can’t take it anymore. Stepping closer to him, I grab hold of his arm and squeeze it, wanting him to know I’m there for him if he needs anything. He hauls me in closer, his arm going around my shoulders and the next thing I know, he’s embracing me, his face buried in my hair, his arms wound so tight around me, I can hardly breathe.

But I let him hang on to me. He needs the comfort. I do too.

“It’s my fault,” I hear him murmur against my hair. “I was watching her outside while my dad took a phone call. And then…then I left.”

A prickly sensation skitters down my spine and I try to keep myself relaxed so he doesn’t catch on that what he’s said disturbs me. Yet I want him to be open with me, not close himself off.

“It was an accident.” I have no idea since no one’s told me, but it seems the right thing to say. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

“No.” He sets me away from him, his blue eyes blazing as he stares down at me. His body vibrates with emotion and he runs a shaky hand through his hair. “Did Adele tell you what happened? Did she?”

“I—no.” I shake my head, gasping when he grasps me by the shoulders and gives me a little shake. “She didn’t tell me anything. Only that she died.”

He pushes me away, cursing under his breath and I stumble, stunned that he would treat me that way. He’s walking away, his head down, his strides quick and I follow him, confused and angry and suddenly wishing I would’ve never come with him to this horrible, depressing place.

“Where are you going?” I yell, huffing and puffing against the wind and the cold, pissed that his long legs give him such the advantage.

“I need to be alone.”

“Give me a break,” I mutter, increasing my speed. “You can’t avoid the bad shit forever, you know,” I tell him.

He whirls on me, his face contorted with so much conflicting emotion, it’s like he’s a different person. “You don’t know me. I don’t avoid the bad shit. I fucking live it every single day of my life!”

I’m taken aback by his outburst, again with the show of emotion. Even though he’s taking all of his anger and turmoil out on me, this has to be good for him, right? “You don’t have to deal with it by yourself, you know. It’s okay to grieve and talk about her.”