Chapter 30
CHAPTER
THIRTY
GUNNER
Soft fingers run through my hair and I blink my eyes open. I’m leaning sideways, my head resting on Rebel’s shoulders.
At first, my heart expands happily and I smile to myself.
Then I freeze.
What if I drooled on her? I was dead-tired and I wouldn’t be surprised if I did.
The potential for embarrassment wakens all my senses. I sit up so quickly that my head spins.
“Hey,” a voice that is not Rebel’s purrs, “slow down. You shouldn’t move that fast when you just woke up.”
I lurch backward, stunned to see Victoria occupying the seat where Rebel had been a few minutes ago.
Was it a few minutes ago?
I lift a hand to check my watch and grimace. It’s been an hour.
“Where’s Rebel?” I demand, my voice hoarse.
“I don’t know. She wasn’t here when I arrived.” Victoria folds her arms over her chest, seeming annoyed that I mentioned Rebel’s name.
I fumble around for my phone. “You should have woken me.”
“You were sleeping so peacefully.”
I clamor to my feet and pull my phone out of my pocket.
There’s a message from Rebel.
REBEL: Benji and I are catching a cab back to town. Tell your mom get well soon.
I read and re-read the message, my heart twisting painfully. Why did she leave with Benji? I would have gladly taken her back to town.
Rubbing my forehead to clear the lingering grogginess, I start down the hallway. I’ll check on mom one more time and then swing by Rebel’s. Not to talk to her… just in case she hasn’t made it home yet and I can see her before she goes in.
Victoria grabs hold of my T-shirt and stops me.
I look back and find her staring pleadingly into my eyes.
A deep, weary sigh slips out of me. I push her hand off.
“Gunner,” Victoria stares at the ground as her hand swings limply at her sides, “I didn’t come back to town to compete for you. No matter how much I like someone, I have my pride too.”
I turn to her, my eyes cool and emotionless.
“I also have my own values.” Victoria lifts her chin. “I respect when a man is in a relationship and I would never encroach.”
I find that hard to believe. Wasn’t she the one who ran her fingers through my hair a moment ago?
“But,” Victoria adds stubbornly, “even if I know this is embarrassing, even if I feel like a second-grade villain, I can’t stop. I like you that much.” She pauses. “And I’m also not convinced that you’re really interested in Rebel.”
I stiffen at her words.
“I saw how surprised she looked at the luncheon when you told everyone you were dating. Even if I wasn’t a lawyer, I would have found the timing suspicious. And last night at the restaurant, you went against your mom for her, but she was still angry with you. She didn’t care about you at all.”
I wince, but I can’t argue with the truth.
Victoria shakes her head like a teacher disappointed in a student’s failing grade. “If it were anyone else, maybe I could concede, but women like her are nightmares.”
My eyes narrow and I stare down at Victoria in warning.
“It’s the truth.” She stands ten-toes-down on her statement. “She’s used to getting her own way because she’s so pretty. She knows that a guy will do anything she wants and that gives her a power trip. But she’s just a girl. In the city, there are tons of girls who look just like her or even better.”
Says who? Rebel Hart is the most beautiful woman in the world to me.
Victoria keeps spitting her vitriol. “Honestly, back then and now, I don’t understand what men find so irresistible about her. Every guy at Cornblue acted like she was such a prize.” Victoria shrugs. “Except you. You were the only one who didn’t fall at her feet.”
My eyes slide to the ceiling. She has no idea. It took intense restraint to act like I didn’t notice every little thing that Rebel Hart did in high school.
It took even more restraint to act like I hated her when I didn’t.
Victoria squeezes her eyes shut and makes a circular motion around her head. “So I kept thinking and thinking about you two. About why you would date someone like Rebel and why she would agree to date you too. And then it hit me.”
I shift from one leg to the other.
“I know exactly why you’re doing this.” Victoria reaches out again, touching my hand. “Everyone might think you’re cold and heartless, but I know you, Gunner. We dated for three years and I experienced firsthand how thoughtful, considerate, and patient you are. You don’t say what’s on your mind, but your actions speak so loudly?—”
I pull my hand away.
Victoria winces, but keeps going. “You don’t actually care about Rebel. You’re doing this so she can join the Ladies. You just feel sorry for her and want to help.”
I frown.
Her eyes search mine. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone. But Gunner, there are other ways to get Rebel into the Society. I can talk to your mom and the other Ladies. I can even talk to your uncle and get the mayor’s office involved?—”
“Victoria,” I say gruffly.
She snaps her mouth shut.
I speak as clearly as I can. “You and I are over.”
“We can be friends.”
“No, we can’t.”
Her eyes fill with hurt. “Gunner.”
“I won’t be friends with someone who’s doing her best to break up my relationship.”
“But Rebel?—”
“Is my girlfriend,” I say in a tone that brooks no argument.
I’m not with her because I feel sorry for her. I’m not with her because she’s pretty. And I’m not with her because she’s a prize.
The words pulse through my throat, but I don’t set them free. That isn’t a conversation that I need to have with my ex. When I share the depth of my feelings, it’ll be in front of the person to whom those feelings belong.
I turn away. “Don’t waste your time on me anymore.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Victoria’s shoulders slump.
Though she’s hurt right now, I strongly believe she’ll get over me. Victoria Pierce has a lot to offer someone. But that ‘someone’ isn’t me.
“Gunner?” My dad’s voice stops me as I’m halfway to mom’s hospital room.
I stop and wait for dad’s long strides to catch up to me. It doesn’t take long.
Dad’s holding two cups of steaming hot coffee. “I was wondering where you disappeared to. I thought you took Rebel back to town.”
I shake my head.
Dad studies my face and then offers me a cup.
I accept it. “How’s mom?”
“She’s doing much better.”
“When can she leave?” I take a sip of the strong brew. Dad likes it as black as the dirt in the orchard.
“Tomorrow. The doctor said that she needs to avoid stress and anxiety.”
I tap my finger on the flimsy paper cup. That’ll be a difficult task. Mom works herself into a frenzy over the tiniest details.
Comfortable silence falls between us.
“Son,” dad clears his throat, “about last night, I don’t blame you. It’s normal for adults to want some breathing room.”
I study my father’s weathered face.
He rubs the back of his neck. “You don’t have to tell me where you went if you don’t want to…”
“I was rebuilding the treehouse,” I answer bluntly.
Dad’s eyes widen. Guiltily, he shifts his gaze to the coffee cup.
“I didn’t stay out last night because I was mad.” I consider my next words. “I did it to avoid another fight with mom.”
Not that it did any good. Mom ended up in the hospital because of me.
“I feel responsible for this,” dad says, setting a hand on his belt and looking off into the distance. “I’m the one who told you to go after Rebel, and yet I can’t show you any support. Your mom’s stubborn and she seems hell-bent on disapproving you two.” Dad takes a sip. “Carol seems to be of the opinion that you want to replace her.”
“That’s not it.” I square my shoulders and look my father in the eye. “In this world, mom has you to protect her, look after her, and worry about her. I want to be that person for Rebel.”
Dad smiles behind his coffee cup. “I didn’t know you were so romantic, son.”
I rub the back of my neck.
A smile grows on dad’s lips. “You know what I find amusing? You and Rebel were thick as thieves when you were,” he taps his knee, “yay high? Then you seemed to have some sort of falling out and I barely saw her around. Now you two are together again. Isn’t life funny?”
‘You need to stay away from that girl, Gunner. Bad things will happen if you keep hanging around with her.’
A cold chill runs down my spine at the memory.
“Gunner?” Dad looks at me in concern. “What’s wrong? You look pale.”
I shake my head.
Dad gives me a nudge. “Head on home and get some rest.”
“Tell mom…”
“I will.” Dad shoos me away.
I stumble to the elevator, lost in the memory of that cold windy day. The hospital walls fade out, replaced with the brick of a dark church. I hear pealing church bells and loud sobs. And then the tap-tap-tap of a cane. I remember the feel of bony fingers pressing into my shoulder as if he’s there in the elevator with me.
‘ Bad things will happen’.
To a seven year old boy who still believed in Santa Claus, those words left a deep, dark impression. By the time I was grown enough to question the warning, the damage to my relationship with Rebel was irreparable. She had already grown to hate the sight of me.
Thinking we’d be forever estranged, I never questioned the warning I was given and almost convinced myself to believe that it was my decision to abandon her.
But after only a few days in Rebel’s company, there’s no escaping the truth.
I should have never cut her out of my life. So why did I?
No, the better question is, why was I forced to?
As I near the hospital parking lot, I hear Uncle Stewart’s familiar voice. He’s speaking in low, hushed tones.
“I’m pretty sure the Hart girl don’t know nothing. No, of course not. Gunner has no clue either. ”
At the mention of my name, I snap to attention.
“Of course. I have it all under control…” Uncle Stewart whips around and sees me. Guilt strains across his face and he hangs up.
I approach him determinedly. “Who was that?”
“I thought you left.”
“Who. Was. It?”
He slips his phone into his pocket and moves past me.
I grab his upper arm. “Why did you mention Rebel’s family. What did our family do to hers?”
Uncle Stewart swats my hand off. “Keep your nose out of adult business, boy.”
Red fills my vision and I block his path, “Why? Because bad things will happen if I don’t?”
Uncle Stewart freezes and turns slowly around to face me.
“What did we do to Rebel’s family?” Those foreboding words that cast a shadow over me when I was seven return to haunt me now. An insidious fear winds its way around my spine and claws at my throat. “Tell me.”
Uncle Stewart extends a hand.
I stare at his grizzly palm, my eyes narrowed.
“Give me your father’s badge first,” he snarls.
My eyes whip up to his.
Smugly, he pulls his hand back. “Hand over your uncle’s political career. Fire your mother as chairwoman of the Society.” His grin sends another chill down my spine. “Then I’ll tell you.”