The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1) (80 page)

Yeah. Thanks for that, sweetheart,
I think to myself as I shake my head. I can
’
t help but chuckle as the singing entourage finishes their number and waits around for me to blow out my candle. When I do, they erupt in a hearty round of applause.
That
’
s
when Beck loses his composure and joins in on Jack
’
s laughter. Their amusement is contagious and, pretty soon, I
’
m laughing, too.

Thankfully, the rest of breakfast goes by without anymore surprises. I
’
m feeling stuffed and anxious to see Avery by the time we leave. I thank my roommates for my breakfast, as they insist I am not to pay for my share, and then we head out. As soon as we get back to the apartment, Beck hands me the mailbox key. At this point, I don
’
t even think to inquire why
now
is an important time to check the mail
—
I just do it. There are only two cards inside. One green, one yellow. As I catch up to the guys, I have a fleeting thought about the significance of the green and yellow colored envelopes. I wonder if it
’
s a hint as to what
’
s inside or what might be coming next.
Green and Gold. CSU colors. Connection?

I toss the mailbox key onto the coffee table as I open the green envelope first.

Excited to know that whatever is coming next will involve me getting to see my girl, I turn my attention to the yellow envelope. I pause when I notice that this one is thicker and it
’
s actually
addressed
to me. When I turn it over to open it, my stomach drops. There
’
s a return address on the back. When I see her name scribbled across the envelop flap, my heart drops, too. Suddenly, I feel like I might just crap out all of my organs.

“
What. The. Fuuu-aaahhh
—”
I bite my tongue, but I can
’
t contain myself. I have to yell. So I do.
“
Fiddle sticks!
”
I
’
m too distracted to be amused by my use of the Avery-ism. I have to concentrate on containing whatever it is that I
’
m feeling
—
I can
’
t even assign a name to it; all I know is that it
’
s making it hard to breathe.

“
What the hell, man?
”
asks Jackson, looking up at me from where he sits on the couch.

His voice snaps me out of my head.

“
Are you okay?
”
asks Beck, his confusion made evident on his face.
“
Why do you look like you could punch a wall?
”

“
I
—
I
—”
I can
’
t talk right now.
Ignoring them both, I head to my room and shut myself inside. I don
’
t realize that I
’
m trembling until I look back down at the envelope and see that it
’
s shaking in my hand. Despite the movement, I can still make out her name.

Rhonda Meyers.

Her last name is different, but I would recognize that handwriting anywhere.

I toss the envelope on my bed, as if holding it any longer might singe away my fingerprints.

How the hell did she find me?

I can hardly think straight, which infuriates me. I begin to pace in an attempt to gain some sort of control. I walk from the door, across the room to my desk, and then back again. I still can
’
t figure out what it is that I
’
m feeling, all I know is that it
’
s
suffocating
. I lace my fingers together and rest them around the back of my head in order to open up my lungs.
God
—
I feel like I might burst!

I don
’
t notice that I have company until I almost plow right into her. Despite the fact that her hands are full, she lifts them both to brace herself for impact, but I stop short. Her eyes grow wide in surprise and she sucks in a tiny gasp as she stares up at me. The look she
’
s portraying is full of worry and wonder. I don
’
t know why, but the sight of her pushes me over the edge. It
’
s as if she tears down my walls just by looking at me. Now I feel completely defenseless against my own emotions.

“
Sonny, what is it? What
’
s going on?
”

“
Happy
—
effing
—
birthday to me! She found me,
”
I spit out, pointing toward the bed.

“
What?
”
she murmurs as her gaze follows my finger. She makes her way to the bed, discarding whatever it is that she
’
s brought before she picks up the envelope. I can tell when realization hits as she coughs out a breath of air.
“
Sonny
…”

Her sympathy is my undoing and I can
’
t stop the tears that fill my eyes.
I don
’
t want her to feel sorry for me. I don
’
t want her to see me like this at all!
I
’
m pissed at myself for letting a stupid envelope get to me this much. I growl my frustration, pressing my heels against my eyes to press away my tears.
That woman
does not
deserve to get a rise out of me. Shit! How did she find me?

“
Sonny,
”
Avery murmurs as she reaches for my wrists. I shrug away from her touch as I begin pacing again.
“
Hey, stop,
”
she pleads, grabbing a fistful of my shirt. I plant my feet but tilt my head back and look up at the ceiling as I push out a heavy sigh.
“
Look at me.
”
When I don
’
t obey, she reaches her hands up and cups them around my neck, coaxing me to comply.
“
Grayson, hey, look at me. Please.
”
I brace myself, knowing I
’
ll break a little more when I meet her gaze
—‘
cause that
’
s what she does to me; with one glance, she opens me right up and leaves me completely exposed and vulnerable.
“
Grayson,
”
she whispers.

I give in. When my eyes meet hers, a breath hitches in my throat and I have to clench my jaw to try and stave off the tears.

“
Talk to me.
”

“
She
—
she
—
what does she want?
”
I manage, speaking through my teeth. It
’
s been three years since my last birthday card from her. I thought I was finished with having to deal them. The fact that she doesn
’
t know how her cards ended up doing more damage than good upsets me
more
. If she knew, if she cared to find out
—
to learn
anything
about me
—
she would have given up a long time ago. But, once again,
my birthday is not about me at all.

“
I don
’
t know,
”
Avery answers my question softly, stroking her thumbs against my skin to try and comfort me.
“
There
’
s really only one way to find out.
”

“
What
—
you mean
open
it?
”
She nods.
“
No,
”
I state, emphatically.
“
Absolutely not.
”

“
But Sonny
—”

“
No! I
’
m not opening that.
”

“
It has a return address. Didn
’
t you say she never used to leave a return address? Maybe she
’
s ready to be found.
”

“
She
’
s
ready to be found?
”
I scoff and pull away from her.
“
That
’
s
bullshit
,
”
I cry, unable to control the quiver in my voice.
“
She
’
s
the one who left
me
.
She
should be the one crawling back for
me
. No
—
I don
’
t give a shit what
’
s in that envelope.
”
I walk around her, picking it up from off the bed and tossing it in the trash beside my desk. Unsatisfied that it
’
s still in eye sight, I bury it under the trash that
’
s already in the small bin. The act seems to restore my control and I feel better having discarded the offensive item.
I
’
ll have to remember to take that to the dumpster later.

“
Grayson
—”

“
Avery, I don
’
t want to talk about it.
”

“
Hey, I understand
—”

“
No, Avery, you
don
’
t
. You
don
’
t
understand.
”
I huff, realizing that my emotions still need a little reigning in. I
’
m not so sure I can do that with Avery in the room. I
’
m aware of the fact that I
’
m raising my voice at her, but I can
’
t help it. She doesn
’
t get it and I can
’
t listen to her tell me that she does. Her mom is a phone call away; just like I don
’
t understand what
that
feels like, she doesn
’
t understand what
this
feels like.

The rational side of me reminds me that she
’
s just trying the be helpful; but my
rationale
pales in comparison to my bitter anger
—
because
that
’
s
what I
’
m feeling.
I
’
m angry that my so-called-mother has the audacity to send me a damn birthday card. I
’
m angry that she found me
—
but most of all, it pisses me off that she went through the trouble to find me and a card was the best she could do.
I shake my head, wondering what else I would expect her to do? Show up herself?
Yeah right.
“
I
’
ve got to get out of here.
”