Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
ELIZABETH
“I can’t believe I just ran ten miles,” I pant, hands on my knees, as sweat pours down my face.
The man next to me jogs in place, looking fresh as a daisy. I, however, look like I just ran through a car wash in the middle of a hurricane.
“Seriously, Julien. You do this every day?”
My leg muscles tremble, threatening to give way, so I plop down onto the grass like an exhausted pretzel.
Sitting down beside me, Julien pulls me to his side, despite my protests of being sweaty and gross.
“You get used to it.”
“I think I may need a few minutes before I’m able to stand back up.”
Today is the first day of the semester, and like the stupid girl I am, when Julien asked me to come running with him at five this morning, I was more than happy to say yes. My first class wasn’t until nine.
I’d begun running almost every day about six months ago and could do four miles easily. I underestimated my level of fitness. At five miles, Julien had to turn into a drill sergeant to get me to do three more, and then he resorted to bribes for me to finish the last two miles.
I start to tally up the prizes he promised if I finished.
“Let’s see. You owe me not only a night of karaoke at Belly’s but also a dinner of my choice and a rom-com movie. Am I leaving anything out?”
“The T-shirt.”
I burst out laughing. “How could I forget the T-shirt?”
I can’t wait to get it made. I know exactly what I want the front of the shirt to say, and I’m going to make sure it’s the gaudiest shade of pink. And he’ll have to wear it all day on campus.
He buries his face in my damp shoulder and groans. “Don’t remind me.”
“You said it first, not me.” I swat a mosquito away. “Why didn’t Elijah come with us this morning?”
Julien took me to the hill where they liked to watch the sunrise. Jogging up that damn thing was pure torture on my thighs.
“He understands that I want to spend time with you.”
I check the time on my fitness watch. “We need to get back. Ryder and Jayson are meeting us for breakfast at seven.”
Yes, that is another thing I reluctantly agreed to—having breakfast with them a few times a week. They told me it was one of the things we used to do together every morning before school.
I tug Julien’s hand. “I’m going to need you to help me up. My legs don’t want to work.”
He lowers into a crouch and pats his back. “Hop on.”
I eye him with a hefty dose of skepticism. “You’re not serious.”
“Will you just get on?”
Feeling a little ridiculous because I’m a grown-ass woman, I grab his shoulders and hoist myself onto his back. He secures his hands under my thighs and lifts me effortlessly.
“Happy?”
“Very,” he replies with a laugh and starts walking. “Think I can convince you to come running with me again?”
Looping my arms around his neck, I rest my chin on his shoulder and enjoy the ride. “Do I get more rewards?”
“I’ll have to take bad karaoke off the table for our next run.”
“But you have such a lovely singing voice.”
He lets out a dramatic sigh. “If my audience was a bunch of cats.”
“You’re not that bad.”
“You’re the singer,” he says. “Your dad—” He swallows the rest of the sentence. “Shit, Liz. I’m sorry.”
We’ve avoided any conversation about my parents and sister. It’s like a silent agreement between the four of us that we steer clear of that topic of conversation. I know it bothers them more than it does me. After all, they have memories of them, and I have…nothing.
And that absence—it gnaws at me. How can I mourn people I don’t even remember? The guilt simmers beneath my skin, always there, making me feel hollow, and empty, and…wrong.
“Julien, it’s fine. I’m fine. You can say whatever you want to say.”
He waits for a car to pass before crossing the street.
“Your dad was incredible. His musical talent—it’s in your blood. The guitar, the piano, the drums, your voice.”
“There was this baby grand in the lobby of the medical facility. When I saw it for the first time, I felt this inexplicable happiness. I sat down, and my fingers just moved. I played ‘La Campanella’ without even thinking. It bewildered me that I knew how to play when I couldn’t even remember most of my life. Perhaps I should reconsider my plans to go into oncology and switch to neurology instead.”
“That’s what you want to do? Go into medicine? Like medical school and residency?”
“You sound surprised.”
“I had no idea you were interested in that. At the end of last year, I switched majors and am doing sports medicine with Elijah. Maybe we’ll have some classes together.”
“Instant study buddy. Out of curiosity, what was I interested in?” Because clearly from his reaction, it wasn’t science.
He slows his gait and readjusts his grip, popping me up higher on his back. “Music…Jay…and, um…I really don’t know. You never said what you wanted to do after college. You applied to CU because we did, and saying all that out loud makes me feel like the worst best friend ever.”
“From what I’ve gathered, old me was a doormat.”
Julien stops in the middle of the sidewalk, sets me on my feet, and turns around. “You loved with your whole heart. That doesn’t make you a doormat, and it doesn’t make you weak. It makes you selfless and empathetic. You would walk through fire, so that someone else didn’t have to.”
His kind words still don’t change my mind about the girl—old me—they’ve told me so many stories about.
I spot Ryder’s Hellcat as we walk across the parking lot, and the anticipation of seeing him reinvigorates my exhausted body—only for it to fade quickly when I look up the flights of stairs we have to ascend to get to my apartment. Julien laughs his ass off when I grab hold of the stair railing and take each step one at a time.
“Shut up. My legs are on fire.”
Jayson and Ryder are waiting on the top step when I finally make it to my floor, coffees and paper bags in their hands.
“Sore?” Ryder says, smiling that beatific smile that makes my heart beat a little faster.
“Not a word,” I reply and step between them to unlock my door and enter the code to turn off the alarm.
“Liz, you want the shower first?” Julien asks, picking up the duffel bag he left in my entryway.
Ryder hands me a coffee, and the delicious smells of fresh pastries coming from the paper bags are too enticing.
“You can go first.”
Ryder holds up his bag. “Donuts. Jay’s got the scones.”
I point to his and make grabby hands.
Ten miles worked up an appetite, and I want to shove as many donuts into my mouth as humanly possible. I am that hungry.
Ryder takes a plate out of my cupboard and starts piling donuts on it. Cinnamon and sugar, raspberry-filled, glazed, and powdered. As soon as I see the chocolate-covered donut, I snatch it up and take a big bite. God, that’s so good. Whoever invented milk chocolate is a genius.
“Where’d you get these?”
“Julien told us about that bakery you found.”
I give Ryder a thumbs-up.
Jayson comes to my side, leans in, and unexpectedly presses a quick kiss to my cheek. “Morning, Princess.”
It irritates me for some reason when he calls me that. I also don’t appreciate the kiss. It feels like a major violation of personal boundaries.
“I’m not your princess,” I mumble, my mouth full as I chew.
“You’ll always be my princess.”
He hooks me around the waist and pulls me to him, and I immediately push back.
“Stop.”
Julien walks into the kitchen, hair still damp from his shower. “Bathroom is free.”
In one quick movement, Jayson lifts me and tosses me over his shoulder.
“Shower time. You smell,” he says and carries me down the hallway.
My head explodes with flashes of images, each one coming in rapid succession. Of Jayson carrying me inside a house. Of a wonderland of fireflies and sweet kisses. I blink, and the images morph into a room, like a garage. A black Challenger sits raised on a lift. My eyes are glued to the hunger on Ryder’s face as we collide together, our lips locked in a fierce, open-mouthed kiss.
“Put me down.”
Jayson must hear the desperation tingeing my voice because for once, he actually does what I ask.
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
Drained from my run with Julien and unnerved by these new flashes of memories, I snap.
“I’m not your baby, and I’m not your fucking princess! Stop trying to force me to be the girlfriend you used to know. I. Am. Not. Her!”
Ryder and Julien look on in stunned silence, but it’s the hurt look on Jayson’s face that fills me with tremendous guilt.
“Jesus Christ!” I shout at no one, hands gripping my hair.
It’s like I kicked a defenseless puppy. It’s too much. He’s too much. Why does he keep pushing?
I strike my fist against the wall and stalk to my bedroom to get away from everyone. When I slam the door, the loud crack of sound is satisfying. Of course, my asshole neighbor starts banging on the wall, yelling for me to be quiet.
Needing an outlet for my emotions, I hold my pillow to my face and scream into it. I curse the world. I curse him . I curse myself. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to hurt Jayson. But he wants me to be the girlfriend I used to be. I can’t. I don’t remember him in that way. I don’t want him like that.
You want Ryder. You want Ryder to want you like that .
I glare at my bedroom door when a soft knock breaks the oppressive chaos of my emotions.
“Elizabeth,” Ryder says quietly. “Open up, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart .
“Hey, talk to me. Please. Let me help. I’m coming in.”
The door slowly swings open, and he studies me with concern before asking, “You okay?”
“No.”
Ryder opens his arms. Without hesitation, I go to him and bury my face in his chest. He smells like sandalwood and…home. I cling to it. I need this. I need him.
“I told the guys to take off and give you some time.”
“I appreciate that,” I murmur, my voice barely audible as it melts into his shirt.
“Want to talk about it?”
I release a long, jagged exhale, the kind that scrapes at the inside of your lungs. “No.”
Ryder doesn’t push. He never does. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m here for you. So is Julien.” His lips brush the top of my head. “And so is Jayson. He loves you, Elizabeth. He’s loved you most of his life. This is really hard for him.”
I know it is. But that doesn’t make this hurt any less.
“What about you?” I ask.
He stiffens. “What about me?”
“Didn’t you love me, too?”
After a pause that’s way too long and too full of things unsaid, he answers, “Yes.”
“So why is it harder for him than it is for you?”
Ryder doesn’t answer me, and in not answering, he tells me everything.
I step out of his arms. “I need to take a shower and get ready for my first class. Jayson was right. I smell. Can you lock up on your way out?”
“Sure.” He steps toward the door, then stops and looks over his shoulder. His eyes hold something soft and achingly tender. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he says, before slipping out, leaving the door ajar.
I wait until I hear him leave before getting undressed. My phone that I left charging on my bedside table chimes, and I pick it up.
ScaryGuy: I’m sorry.
So am I. For so many reasons.