Oblivion (Alphaholes #4)

9. Sammy

9

SAMMY

“ H ey,” Starling says, her gorgeous face flashing onto the screen of my cell phone.

“Hey,” I reply, smiling tightly.

“How are you? How’s your dad?” she asks, the same way she does every time she calls me.

Back in August, I was eager for the daily calls from her, ready to hear about all the things I would have been doing if my dad hadn’t had a heart attack and ended up having a triple heart bypass. But as the weeks have rolled by, I’ve answered her calls less and less. I’m not really sure why I’m distancing myself from her. That’s a lie. I’m distancing myself from her, because if she’s just the friend I talk to once in a while, it’ll be easier for me not to go back to California.

“Sammy, what’s going on?” she asks bluntly.

“What do you mean? Nothing’s going on,” I hurry to answer.

“When are you coming back to school? Your dad’s much better. He’s home and has been for weeks. You barely answer my calls, and I know you see my messages, but you leave me on read.”

“I’m…” I trail off, then lamely say, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? That’s it?” Starling snaps, showing me the fire she keeps hidden most of the time.

“I just…I thought it’d be better for both of us if we got used to not speaking every day,” I admit.

“You’re not coming back, are you?” she asks quietly.

“I don’t know. Drew is at Harvard, and he loves it. He thinks?—”

“Drew?” Starling asks. “Who’s Drew? Wait, Drew, as in your ex, Drew?”

“Yes. We dated in high school, but it’s not like that. We’re just friends now.”

“And Drew , your only long-term boyfriend, who is now your friend, is at Harvard?” she snarks, arching an eyebrow at me.

Exhaling, I roll my eyes. “Yes, my ex, Drew, who I broke up with, goes to Harvard.”

“And he wants you to transfer to the same school as him?”

“He thinks that it’d be better for my long-term prospects to graduate from Harvard, yes.”

“Are you fucking him?” she blurts.

“No,” I blurt back. “We’re just friends.”

“Is this because of Evan?”

Apparently, Starling isn’t holding anything back today.

“What could Evan have to do with anything?” I snap.

“He wants you,” she states, like it’s a known fact.

“No, he doesn’t.”

“He’s in love with you.”

“Starling,” I gasp. “Evan is not in love with me, he…” I trail off again, not wanting to admit that I gave him a chance, and he walked away.

“You said Drew was dismissive of you. You told me he talked himself up by putting you down. You said he liked you quiet and pretty. You’re so much more than just a pretty face, Sammy.”

Smiling softly at my best friend, I shrug. “We’re just friends. We haven’t even kissed since I came home for summer. And he’s different now. We’re both different.”

“And what about Evan?”

“What about Evan? He had his chance.” I regret the words the moment I say them, especially when Starling’s eyes light up and her lips curl into a knowing grin.

“I knew it,” she squeals. “What did he do to fuck it up?”

“Nothing. We had a moment. He told me he was wrong for me. We had another moment, and then when I woke up the next morning, he was gone.”

“You had sex and he did a fuck and chuck? I’ll kill him, the fucking asshole,” Starling growls.

“Calm down. We didn’t have sex. But he told me that if we were together, he’d hurt me, and he did.”

“This is my fault,” Starling says.

“How is it your fault that Evan doesn’t want me?”

“Because he’s being an idiot because he’s being eaten alive by his guilt. He feels bad about everything that happened in high school and…after…and then once we came to college. They all feel bad. Well, maybe not Sebastian, but Clay, Hunter, and Evan do. But since our parents got married, he wants to be my big brother, but he knows that a real brother would never have done what he did. Of the four of them, he’s really the only one who truly regrets what he helped Sebastian do to me. But he’s also the only one who’s refused to move past it or learn from it.”

“Have you forgiven him?” I ask her.

She doesn’t answer immediately, her expression turning thoughtful. “I’m trying to forgive them, but it’s hard. Some days, I feel like I’m over it. But then others, I’m so angry and hurt, and I want to hurt them in response.”

“I think that’s understandable,” I admit.

“We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you and Evan. How do you feel about him?”

“It doesn’t matter. We had a moment, and now it’s gone,” I say dismissively, trying and failing to believe my own words.

“Bullshit,” she gasps. “You love him.”

“I do not,” I protest.

“Yes, you do.” Straightening in her seat, she laughs. “Oh my god, you’re in love with Evan. Come home and tell him. Maybe then he’ll stop being a mopey asshole. Maybe he can turn some of his guilt into your orgasms.”

“That won’t happen,” I say sadly, my own mood not being affected by Starling’s jubilance.

“What? Why?” she asks, visibly deflating.

“Because I don’t want to have to force him to admit he wants me. He knows how I feel, and he chose to leave. He chose to disappear in the middle of the night rather than wake up in my bed and tell me he didn’t want me. I’ve told him I want to try twice, and he’s rejected me both times. I won’t put myself out there to be rejected a third time. I know that you and Sebastian have this epic love story, but most people’s lives are just simple. They meet someone they’re attracted to, who’s attracted to them, and then they date. No offense, because I know you’re happy now, but I don’t want to have to go through what you went through to find my happy ever after.”

A part of me is expecting her to be hurt or offended. Instead, Starling laughs and shrugs. “I need you to come home, Sammy. I miss you, and I really don’t want to move somewhere cold again. I’d miss the year-round sunshine if I had to move to Massachusetts.”

“We can do girls’ night. We’ll still see each other,” I try to assure her.

“I already told you in the summer, if you go to Harvard, I go to Harvard.”

“God, I miss you,” I say, smiling widely.

“Then come home,” she insists. “I have an idea that will fix everything.”

Two Weeks Later

I think Starling may have finally snapped. As I watch through the screen, she expertly uses a scalpel to cut the tiny tracker out of Bunny’s neck, blood coating her latex glove-coated hand as she wipes the cut with gauze.

The expression on my bestie’s face is barely recognizable now. Earlier when Bunny had told us all the fucked-up stuff Hunter had done and said to her to convince her to marry him, I watched the change take over Starling until she was cold and lethally focused. I’ve never seen her like that before, but even through the computer, I can feel the impact of her emotions.

Bunny is a mixture of shellshocked and resolved, and January just looks worried. When Starling first told me she wanted to have an escape plan in place, I thought she was kind of crazy. But I understood her need to have some way to get away from Sebastian just in case—not that I think he’d cross a line that Starling would see as unforgivable again.

I helped her prepare her go bag. I learned how to cut the tracker in her skin out and even purchased the burner phones that she’s showing Bunny right now. But I never assumed she’d need any of the preparations we’d made or that she’d be giving her escape plan to Bunny to help her get away from Hunter.

For the first time in months, I wish I was at Kingsacre and not hiding from the decisions I need to make. If I was there, maybe I could bring my bestie back from the edge and the line she just crossed, a line she may not ever be able to come back from.

Six Weeks Later

It’s been six months since the last time I saw Evan or the rest of my friends. The people I left in California after the wedding were happy. They were young and rich and in love. Now, from what I’ve seen through the occasional calls I get from Starling, everything has changed.

I’m not entirely sure what was said, but according to January, Starling lost her shit when she dropped the bomb that Bunny was gone, and that Hunter would never find her unless she wanted to be found.

She blurted out all the fucked-up truths that she’s kept locked inside of her and imploded our group in a way that they may never be able to come back from. Despite the awful things Hunter has done to her, Bunny is apparently back at school with him. But Hunter isn’t talking to Starling. Evan is suffocating under the weight of the guilt he feels. Clay is desperately trying to prove to January that he’s worthy of her gentle soul. And Sebastian has lost his mind convinced that Starling is about to disappear.

Instead of jumping from the sinking ship that is our obliterated friendship group, I’m packed and boarding a plane for California today instead of heading to Harvard like I should be. Something about the lost distance in my friends’ voices the last time I spoke to them is drawing me to them. And maybe it’s a foolish dream, but I feel like I need to fix them before I leave them.

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Mama says, for the fiftieth time.

“Mama, you knew I was going to go back to school eventually. I’ve missed an entire semester. I can’t miss any more classes.”

“What about Drew and Harvard?” she asks, her Southern drawl curling around each word.

“Drew is…a good friend, but starting at Harvard mid-year doesn’t make any sense. I wouldn’t even have anywhere to live. But you already know all this,” I remind her. My parents don’t want me to go back to Kingsacre. They’d love for me to write off the rest of this year and start my sophomore year over again in the fall either at Harvard with Drew or at a school close enough that I can live at home.

They don’t understand why I’d go back to a school where they believe I don’t have any friends, when I could go to Harvard with Drew. A part of me wishes that I could tell them about Starling and the others, but explaining that I moved out of the room they’ve been paying for and into a house with people they’ve never heard of and I’ve never mentioned might send my dad back to the hospital.

If I’d been honest with them, Mama would have known about my awesome bestie and her crazy husband. She’d have met them all when they flew on their private jet to support me after Dad’s heart attack. She’d know that the doctors, physiotherapists, and dietitians that contacted us were because Sebastian paid for them and that my friends all love me and miss me, no matter how messed up our group is.

But my mama has no clue about any of that because I was so determined to be a new version of myself that I split my world down the middle and made sure the two sides never even touched, let alone crossed over.

Hugging Mama one last time, I smile at my dad, then turn and drag my case away from the car and into the airport. Leaving is harder than I expected, but I’ll be home in a couple of months for spring break, and I’ll be calling regularly to check on my dad.

Checking into my flight at the desk, I hand over my case, then take my boarding pass and make my way to security. Once I’m in the departures lounge, I grab a coffee, then make my way to the gate.

“Samantha.”

At the sound of my name being called, I look over my shoulder, but all I see is an airport full of unfamiliar faces. Deciding that I must be hearing things, I turn back around.

“Samantha.”

The sound of my name is louder this time. I turn again, but the sea of people is too thick to see anything.

“Samantha Hartley, where are you?”

Slowly rising to my feet, I turn fully around, pushing up onto my tiptoes to peer through the crowd of people that is gradually parting to reveal…Drew.

The moment he sees me, a polished smile stretches across his lips. After spending the summer working alongside each other, he rushed to my side when my dad got sick, helping to take care of my mama and supporting me. His parents were amazing, making sure Mama slept and that we both ate and had clean clothes.

Despite his classes at Harvard starting, Drew flew home every weekend and sat for hours at my dad’s bedside, holding my hand and assuring me over and over that everything would be okay.

Even after Dad came home from the hospital, Drew still flew back each weekend. But instead of sitting in an uncomfortable chair in a sterile room, he took me to dinner or the movies. And now he’s here, in the airport, shouting my name.

“Drew?” I call. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t go to California,” he says, closing the distance between us until he’s close enough to take my hand in both of his. “I let you leave once before, and it was the biggest mistake of my life. I have loved you since we were eleven years old. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted or needed. We’re perfect for each other, and I know you know it too. I know this might seem sudden, but if you think about it, this is always how things were meant to be with us.” Slowly dropping to one knee, he lets go of my hand, pulls a box from his pocket and opens it, holding it out for me. “Will you marry me, Samantha? Will you be my wife?”

Stunned, I stare down at him, one knee resting on the floor, excited, expectant eyes looking up at me. Around us, the crowd of people is hushed, all waiting for me to answer, and I see the judgment in their eyes with every moment of time that passes.

I wish we were alone, not surrounded by strangers, but as I look down at Drew, I see my entire life laid out ahead of me. We’ll get married, I’ll go to Harvard, we’ll have some kids, and I’ll look after them while Drew follows his dreams into politics. My life will be easy and predictable and normal.

Drew might not be exciting or insane. It might not be a grand love story, but look what happens to that kind of love. Look at Starling and Sebastian, Clay and January, and Hunter and Bunny. Love like theirs implodes, and the fallout isn’t pretty or nice. It’s destructive and painful and messy.

I was going back to Kingsacre hoping that I could fix their mess, but why is that my responsibility? They made this mess, and even if I do manage to fix them, I still don’t have a place in their world. This is my world. Here, where my future makes sense.

“Yes,” I say, nodding my head. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”