Chapter 30 Lois
Ever since Adam screwed me more than three weeks ago, ever since Lane asked me to grab a coffee, I’ve been dedicating all my brain space to studying.
The way he came up to me like that—the exact same way Kirk did—is a stark reminder of how badly they both hurt me.
The wound that had started to scar is raw and tender all over again, but I’m proud I stood my ground.
Let him drive himself crazy, while I carry on stepping into my best self—no matter how much it stings.
Hope and Prudence have taken it upon themselves to spend every Tuesday night building me back up over a post–water aerobics bottle of wine.
I was expecting them to bombard me with questions about how down I am and what happened with Lane; I thought they would be engineering some kind of sweet revenge plan for me to execute.
Instead, they while away the hours with stories of the wild lives they’ve led, each anecdote more gripping than the last. It’s unreal how strong these two ladies are—they’ve got more than sixty years on me, but I’ve never met such a pair of total badasses.
Slowly but surely, they’re rubbing off on me, and the Lois I hope to become is gradually taking shape in my mind.
Was this their plan all along? I have no idea. All I know is that I’m so glad we met.
This morning, Adam got back in touch out of the blue.
I was hoping he’d forget how I promised to help decorate the house they rented for their party, but nope: I got a text telling me he’d swing by to pick me up from campus, and though I drafted a hundred different ways to back out of it, I ended up just sending an “OK.”
Sliding into the passenger seat, I give him a long, hard stare. I’m through with playing games.
“Is Lane going to be there?”
“No—he’s coming by with the booze around five, so you can just head out then.”
Adam seems kind of upset by the whole thing. This guy is such a sweetheart—I kind of wish my heart had picked him instead.
Fifteen minutes later, we pull up outside the most unreal house, and I feel a pinch as I remember I won’t be coming to the party.
“So now you know how to get here,” Adam says as he unbuckles his seat belt.
“You know I’m not coming, right?”
“You know I’m not going to stop pushing, right?”
He shoots me a grin, and I smile back at him.
Adam always makes me feel so welcomed. Two hours drift by, and before I know it, I’m hanging decorations from the ceiling, singing my heart out and swaying from side to side, only realizing too late that the stepladder has started to shake, and as I feel the rung give way beneath my feet, I cry out.
“Shit!”
My arms windmill as I go flying through the air. I hear Adam lunge for me, and it’s a good job he’s so quick on his feet and big enough to take the hit. Muscly, too. And he smells just as good as Lane.
“Nice catch, Laney!”
I recognize Donovan’s voice somewhere in the distance, and I freeze. Strong arms are wrapped tight around me. Arms I know all too well. My eyes are shut, and I don’t want to open them just yet. Put me down already.
I mutter a quick “Thank you,” my breath catching in my chest. The smell of him is all over me, stirring memories that are still too painful to handle. Lane’s green eyes scan my face, and I shift uncomfortably in his arms. A strange expression flits over his features when, finally, he lets me go.
Don slings an arm around my shoulders. “Good work, guys!”
“Adam runs a tight ship.” I shrug. “I just followed instructions!”
Lane is still staring at me. I keep my eyes fixed on the fairy lights I just strung up—they better be worth the near-death experience.
“Need a hand, dude?” Don whips the pinata out of a plastic bag.
“Yeah… Let’s keep Lois as far as humanly possible from the stepladder. Lane, just leave the bottles by the bar.”
I watch Lane drift out of the room and decide to make a move before he gets back.
“I’m going to leave you guys to it.”
“Thanks for helping out!” Adam pulls me in for a hug. “See you tomorrow?”
I mumble my goodbyes and practically sprint to the sidewalk, fishing my phone out of my pocket as I run.
One missed call from Kirk. Shit! I need to hurry—I’m gonna be late.
It’s time for that coffee he mentioned. I ended up saying yes, and I have no idea what to expect.
I felt like a nobody without him, and it’s only now I’m realizing that I clung to Lane like a life raft, desperate for some kind of substance.
Emotional dependency, as Carrie had called it, before diving back into another one of her books.
I’m finally starting to lean in to the new, bad-bitch me, but there’s still a weight wedged in my heart, and it feels like I’m standing at a crossroads with no way through.
I start to walk, turning my thoughts over in my mind, when something catches my eye. I glance over at the road. Lane’s car. Is he leaving already? He’s creeping along the sidewalk, driving as slow as he can to stay level with me.
He leans across to the passenger window. “Let me give you a ride.”
The offer catches me off guard. I stop in my tracks, muffling the urge to say yes, mentally bitch-slapping myself back to reality.
“No, thanks. I’m okay to walk.”
I can’t handle letting him into my space again—not yet. I’m trying so hard to heal, I can’t undo all my hard work.
“Get in the car.”
I choose to ignore him, lengthening my stride.
Last time, he just let me go—and it’s hard, because my heart is pounding in my chest, all those memories I pushed back bubbling up to the surface.
I glance over my shoulder. Car horns are blaring out in a chorus, a long line piled up behind Lane.
Still he carries on crawling alongside me, refusing to let me go.
“You know you’ve started a traffic jam?”
“I’m not moving until you get in the fucking car.”
What is going on with this guy?
“Lois!” he snaps.
No matter how edgy he sounds, the way he says my name sends butterflies skittering through me. I’ve missed him. And I hate how weak I am.
Stay strong, Lois. Go your own way. The problem is my own way is currently one long stretch of road, and there’s nowhere for me to turn off. I could dip into a store—but I’m pretty sure he’ll just stay parked there in the middle of the street. I’d forgotten how stubborn he can be.
A guy in a monster truck leans out the window. “You gonna move the fuck along, buddy?”
“I’m waiting for her to get in the car,” Lane yells back. “Sorry!”
“Hey, you!” The same guy is waving at me now. “What’s the holdup?”
I throw up my hands. “I don’t know this guy!”
“Not my problem, lady!”
He hammers down on his horn, and some other woman jumps in, yelling in my general direction.
“What is wrong with you people?” I holler. “He’s the one blocking up the road, and you’re coming for me?!”
“Lois!” Lane calls out at me for the tenth time.
The man in the truck holds down his horn, and as a torrent of insults is launched my way, I make a split decision.
“You are so fucking annoying!”
I fling open the car door and slam it shut behind me as hard as I can, almost ripping the seat belt out as I clip myself in. I can feel Lane’s eyes on me, but I refuse to meet them.
“Drive!” I fold my arms over my chest. “This is unreal. How come people always take shit out on me?”
Nice little sideswipe there, Lois.
“Drop me at the mall.”
He hits the gas, and as the miles fly by, my throat tightens. He’s so unbearably sexy when he drives—one hand loose on the wheel, jaw set—and it makes me ache with the shameful truth: I’m still as obsessed with him as ever.
I watch helplessly as he turns off down a random side street.
“You’re going the wrong way,” I warn.
He pulls over and unfastens his seat belt as I glance out the window. I’ve never been to this part of town before.
“What’s the deal?” I snort. “This how I die?”
“I think we’re past that, don’t you?”
“We’re past a lot of things.”
He swallows hard, narrowing his lips.
“What do you want from me?” I sigh.
It’s taking everything I have to keep my tone in check.
“Come back home.”
For a split second, I forget to breathe. I wasn’t expecting this—and from the way he’s shifting in his seat, I don’t think he was, either.
For the briefest of moments, happiness swells in the pit of my stomach, but the feeling is fleeting as I remember that Lane is the same old Lane he ever was. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: nothing he ever says means what I think it does.
“No, thanks,” I say primly. “I love sharing a room with Carrie.”
“Listen, I know I messed up. I should’ve—”
“Don’t wor—”
“Let me talk! I’m trying to say sorry, here!”
He grips the steering wheel harder, his knuckles blanching.
“Well, you could start by actually looking at me,” I snap.
My voice cracks. This is what I’d been scared of. My instinct is to reach for the handle and shove open the door, so I start unbuckling my seat belt but Lane is quicker off the mark. He locks the doors before leaning over and jamming my buckle back in place.
“I’m sorry!” he yells. “Okay?”
For a moment, I freeze. And then I burst out laughing.
“You must be the only guy in the world to actually scream an apology.”
I shake my head, suddenly exhausted. I’ve been waiting for this moment since the day I left, but I’m still hurting. I’m so sad he broke what we had between us. Whatever I thought we had.
“Come home with me, Lois.”
“Nope.”
“I said I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you.”
“And that’s great. I appreciate it, I really do. But the answer’s still no.”
I deserve more than a shitty couch.
He makes to reply, but I’m on a roll.