Worth It (33 page)

Ten minutes.

My palms start sweating at the thought of approaching him. He might not even want to talk to me, and if he does, the reality that he’d be repulsed with me is too much to handle. I can’t risk that level of rejection. He probably doesn’t want anything to do with me anyway, so I guess the what-ifs don’t really matter. I’m holding on to the slim possibility that he will call again. I know it’s stupid to hold out hope. I’ve learned that lesson too many times. If I hold out hope for someone, I only give them power to disappoint.

Five minutes.

I finish wiping down the last table and head out back to the kitchen to put away the cleaning supplies.

“Hey! You do dishes,” fucktard Alex demands.

“Alex, I leave in five minutes. I don’t have time to do the dishes,” I say, irritated, not bothering to look at him.

“I no do them. I man. Only women do dishes.”

I roll my eyes before looking over at the scrawny prick. He’s only five-five or so and probably a hundred and forty pounds. He’s in desperate need of shampoo. His face fits him. He looks like a weasel.

“Alex, I’m leaving. You’re going to have to learn how to wash the dishes because I don’t have time. I’ve already stocked the soda cooler, wiped down the tables, and filled all the food. All you have left to do is the dishes and the floors, and you have two hours until you close. I’m sure you’ll manage.”

He sneers at me. “You no back talk me! I tell Christos, and he fire you!”

I snort a laugh.
Right—like I can’t find another job.
There’s only a bazillion pizza places around, including ones that don’t have twatwaffle brothers. “Do what you have to do, Alex.” I take off my apron, grab my purse and coat, and then walk out the door without another word or glance.

I’m digging in my purse for my keys. I’m only a few feet from my car when I find them, and I look up and stop in my tracks. My heart starts beating a mile a minute, but the rest of my body is frozen to the spot.

Jed’s truck is parked next to mine, and he’s leaning against it with his hands tucked into his coat pocket, looking solemn but still devastatingly handsome.

I’ve lost the ability to breathe.
He’s here. I can’t believe he’s here.
I know there’s a very real possibility that he’s going to tell me I’m psychotic and he’s done, but I can’t stop the hope welling inside me that we can work it out. Maybe he can forgive my freak-out, and we can continue on the good path we were on.

“Can we talk? I didn’t want to do this over the phone,” Jed begins quietly.

The disillusionment crushes the breath from my lungs, splintering my heart, and I want to punch myself in the face.
Haven’t I learned my lesson? Haven’t I learned that hope is an evil bitch, and I should never give her the time of day?
The disappointment from realizing that I’ve definitely lost him is overwhelming. To go from such a high to such a low is so shattering that I burst into tears, but I clench my teeth in an effort to stem their flow as I make my way to my car. I absolutely hate that I’m crying right now.
Take deep breaths. Put one foot in front of the other. Keep my emotions in check. This is not the end of the world, not even close.

As I brush by him, I say in a quiet voice, “It’s okay, Jed. I understand. You don’t need to let me down easy. I appreciate it, but it’s fine.” I open my door and slide inside my car.

Before I can close the door, Jed grabs it. “What?” He’s irritated.

I close my eyes and force myself to stop crying. After a few seconds, I’m successful, and I open my eyes to stare at the steering wheel. “I appreciate you trying to officially end things in person, but it’s okay, really. I get it.”

I chance a peek over at him. His eyebrows are raised and his jaw has dropped.

“Who said I wanted to end things? I just wanted to talk to you and apologize for pushing last night. That wasn’t right of me. I hope you’ll open up eventually, but I know you have to be ready to do that. I’m sorry I pushed.” He squats down to my level, reaches over to cup my face, and he brushes his thumb across my cheekbone. “Can you forgive me?”

My eyes grow wide, and tears once again threaten to spill over. Hope, that pesky bitch, is rearing her ugly head again. I feel like I’ll pass out from my emotions going up and down. “What?” I squeak out.

“Can you forgive me for pushing? I think it would be healthier for you to let it out, but I want to respect your boundaries. Can you forgive me, please?” he asks, pleading as he looks into my eyes.

My jaw drops slightly for a moment before I throw my arms around him and hug him fiercely. I’m so fucking relieved that it’s not even funny. “I thought you were breaking up with me because of my freak-out,” I whisper hoarsely into his neck.

He pulls back slightly, just enough so that he can press his lips quickly but passionately against mine, and then he rests his forehead on mine. “Anna, we all freak out sometimes. Whatever your dream was about was obviously upsetting. I’m so sorry that you’ve been through something that hurts.” He closes his eyes tight and takes a deep breath, clearly struggling with his emotions. “I hate it,” he whispers. “I hate knowing that you’ve been hurt in some way, and there is nothing I can do about it.”

This is my second chance to show him that I can trust him, that I can let him be there for me. It would be a huge fucking leap off the top of Mount Everest to do this. I’ve never told a soul, but I feel like I should tell him. I want to tell him to relieve the tension in his face because he might be imagining something so much worse, but I’m terrified he’ll be so sickened with me that he’ll shun me. This is a turning point though.
Sink or swim, right?

“Can we go to your place, Jed?” I ask hesitantly.

“Of course. You’ll follow me over?” he asks hopefully.

“Sure.”

He places a chaste kiss on my lips. “See you soon,” he murmurs before standing.

I smile up at him, and he smiles back before striding to his truck. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. With shaky confidence that talking to him is the right thing to do, I start my car. I put it in gear, and follow Jed to his apartment.

I can do this. I need to tell him. I need to.
The thought fills me with dread, but it also makes me feel lighter. After four years of keeping this clump of black sludge in my heart, I can almost taste the relief from letting it out. That shocks the shiznit out of me, but it also gives me hope.

I pull into the parking lot of his apartment building and park next to Jed. I breathe deeply, willing the extra air to give me the courage to do this, and then I turn off my car and step out.

Jed meets me at the end of the car, and he slings his arm over my shoulders. He dips his head to whisper in my ear, “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the zombies.”

The laughter busts out of me. I turn my head and look up at him to see him smiling down at me. For the first time all day, I can breathe, but then the thought of what I’m going to do invades my head, sending an icy shiver down my spine, and my smile falters.
Can I really do this?

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concerned, as we approach the door.

I smile weakly up at him. “Nothing. Everything’s great.”

He pulls the corner of his bottom lip into his mouth, and his eyes roam over my face, making me feel like he can see right through me.
I need to talk to him.

I sigh. “Can we talk about it once we’re inside? It’s freezing out here,” I plead.

He still has a studious expression, but I can see the relief there, too.

“Sure, baby,” he says. Then, he reaches in his pocket for his keys.

Once we enter the apartment, I remove my coat, sling it over the chair, and plop my purse down. I’m worrying my bottom lip. I feel like I’m nearing the top of the world’s largest roller coaster. I don’t like roller coasters. In fact, I hate them almost as much as I hate zombies.
I mean, seriously, who wants to be strapped to a giant car, only to be thrown and then twisted around on a giant track? Hasn’t anyone seen Final Destination 3?

“Can I grab you a beer?” he asks cautiously, like I might bolt at any second.

I hate that my behavior has put that look on his perfectly chiseled face.

“Sure.” I give him a weak smile.

He heads to the kitchen, and I walk to the couch. Perching on the edge, I begin to chew on my thumbnail. It’s a horrible habit, I know, but I bite my nails and cuticles all the time.
I should get a chew toy. I could be a bitch.
I giggle inwardly at my nervous inner rambling.

“Here you go.” He hands me my beer and takes a seat next to me. He drapes his arm over the couch.

He’s giving me his full attention, but he’s also offering me space, and I guess I’m thankful for it. With the way he affects me, I wouldn’t be able to think straight, and I definitely need a clear head right now.

I slip off my shoes and tuck my feet underneath me. I clear my throat and steel myself for what I’m about to do. I look down at my sweaty palms. “I want to tell you about my dream last night.” My voice is barely above a whisper.

He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, and then he turns his head, so he’s facing me. I glance at him, and he peers at me, frowning slightly.

“Anna, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. When you’re ready, I’ll listen, but I don’t want to force it out of you.”

There’s my out
. He’s giving me an escape off this roller coaster before I take the plunge. Instead of relief from not confiding, I feel that tar settling back into my heart, and I shake my head slightly.

“No, Jed, I think it’s best if I tell you now. That way…” I pause, not knowing how to phrase this. “I don’t know. I guess we can either move forward or not. I show you that I appreciate everything you’ve given me. You’ve made me feel more confident in myself than I ever have been before, but I don’t know if I’ll
ever
be ready. I’ve never talked to anyone about it, but I want to talk to you.”

“Okay, baby, if you’re ready.” He leans over to give me a kiss, and then he pulls back, looking at me expectantly.

I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and bend my head. “So, I told you that my first year of college was at Westfield State, right?”

I peek over at him, and he nods.

I look down at my hands. “So, I went to a frat party with a friend. We were drinking and having fun, and then…” I swallow the thick lump in my throat that threatens to choke me. “To be honest, I’m pretty sure I was drugged because I don’t think I drank that much. Anyway, the next thing I know…” I pause a moment to stop my body from trembling. I’m terrified to say it out loud. It will make it real and not just a nightmare. I fill my lungs with a deep breath and blow it out shakily. “I don’t remember much. I can’t even picture his face, but he was on me. I tried to swat him away, but I was so fucked-up. I couldn’t really move, and he…he…just kept telling me to shut up.” I swallow the disgust in myself and keep going. “When he, um…finished, he, um…just said, ‘Clean yourself up, slut,’ and then he left.”

After I’ve regained some of my composure, I glance up quickly to see Jed’s jaw clenched in anger. He’s visibly vibrating with it.
Oh God, he is mad. I knew he would be. Shit.
I wish I could rewind and not tell him. I knew I should have kept my mouth shut.
Oh fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.
I’m disappointed because I thought maybe we could work through it, but I also feel relieved because it actually felt good to tell someone. That relief is squashed forcefully by my regret. I should have thought this through more.
If I thought I was disgusting, what would he think?
Pain pierces my heart when I realize what he must think of me.

“I’m sorry, Jed. Do you want me to go?” I whisper hoarsely.

His jaw drops so fast that I’m momentarily taken aback myself.

“Hell no. Why would you leave?”

I look at my hands and shift in my seat, uncomfortable that I have to say it out loud for the first time. “Well…” My cheeks heat, and my voice drops to a whisper. “Because I was raped.”

His eyes flare briefly before he recovers. “I’m sorry. I’m so damn confused that it’s not even funny,” he says.

I look at him, my brow furrowing. “Confused about what?”

He sucks in a deep breath and blows it out. “Anna, I am so sorry that happened to you. I thought it was something like that, and for once, I hate that I’m right. I hate that I can’t do anything about it. I hate that you relive it.”

I close my eyes slowly, and my shoulders sag with shame.

Then, he turns to me, reaches over to gently take my hand, and looks at me with sympathy and confusion. “But why would you think I’d want you to leave?”

Fighting tears, I open my eyes. “Because I was raped,” I rasp.

His jaw flexes again, and he blows out a breath. “Right, but that doesn’t explain why I’d want you to leave?”

I’m starting to get irritated myself because this is so hard for me, and he’s making me spell it out.
Can’t he see that?
“Because I was raped. I’m like”—I wave my free hand around, willing him to get it—“damaged goods or something. I thought you might be mad because I didn’t tell you before we slept together.” Humiliation is staining my cheeks red.

His mouth drops open, and his eyes grow round. I can almost see the wheels turning in his head as emotions—astonishment, surprise, anger, annoyance—flit across his face.

“Tell me you’re joking.” He shakes his head. “You’re not joking, are you?” He looks back at me. “Who told you that?”

I blink, surprised by his reaction, but I manage to get out, “Um, no one. I never told anyone.”

“How long ago did this happen?”

“Um…about four years ago.”

“And you never told anyone?” he asks incredulously.

“I was embarrassed,” I explain nervously.

He puts a hand to his forehead and scrunches closed. “Anna, I…” He looks back over at me. “I don’t really know what to say. I’ve never talked to anyone who’s gone through this, so I’m having trouble finding the right words.” He looks across the room, sucks in a quick breath, and blows it out slowly before returning his attention to me.