Chapter 46
Don’t turn around and get her phone number.
Don’t turn around and get her phone number.
Don’t turn around and get her phone number.
Bex never makes it backstage and doesn’t answer my texts before I put my phone away for the performance. I assume she got caught up, but I can’t help the small part of me that’s worried something happened. I look for her each time I’m on stage, but the lights are bright and it’s hard to make out faces in the audience.
I do, however, give the performance of my life. I’m extremely confident as we all take the stage for our final number; it’s a group song that does an amazing job of highlighting each of our individual personalities while also showing that we could easily be excellent members of a company.
We are all beaming as the number wraps up and we take our final bows. The energy in the theater is addicting, and I’m on a high as I head to the dressing room to pack my things, eager to find Bex. I turn my phone on and a slew of messages pop up. My brows furrow as I try to decipher what the hell is going on.
The first messages I see are from Gabe asking if I’ve seen Bex. The next message is from my father, so I ignore that one. Finally, there’s a text from Bex.
Baby Bardot
I’m so sorry. I’m at the hotel whenever you’re done. Take your time, enjoy tonight. You deserve it.
She missed the show?
The rest of the excitement from the night drains, leaving me feeling an immense loneliness, even in a room full of people. I switch over to the message from my dad.
Erik Oleson
I have something for you.
And suddenly I know. I know with certainty that this has to do with him. I hastily throw all of my things into my bag and make a beeline for the lobby. I shove the backstage door open and almost completely bowl someone over. I’m about to apologize when I realize who is blocking my way.
“You,” I growl at my father. “What the fuck did you do?”
“The bitch already told on me, huh? That was fast.”
“She hasn’t said anything. She’s not even here. What”—I crowd him until he backs into the opposite alley wall—“Did. You. Do?” I ask again. We are about the same size, but I can tell he’s been drinking, so I can easily take him if he tries anything.
“I tried,” he slurs, “making a deal with her. I was hoping she’d want what’s best for you, but the little slut kneed me in the dick instead.”
I see red. “What’s best for me? You know what’s best for me? You staying the fuck away from her,” I seeth. “Actually that’s what’s best for you. Because if you touch her again, I will ruin you. Don’t forget, I have enough shit on you to make your life a living hell.”
He doesn’t seem concerned about my threat, instead shoving a bag into my chest. “Here. She dropped this before she ran.”
If Bex felt the need to run then that means he did something to make her uncomfortable. Before I have a chance to change my mind, I pull my right hand back, putting all of my force into a sucker punch across my father’s left cheek. He crumples to the floor and I stand over him holding the bag in my other hand.
“Don’t fucking come near us again.”
There’s a look of pure wrath in his eyes as he spits out, “You’ll never see any of your inheritance, you little shit.”
“Good,” I throw over my shoulder as I turn to walk away. I can’t believe he thinks I still want his fucking money. It took me a lot of therapy to see that my value lies in more than the money I have—a lesson my father never learned. I keep walking, leaving my past writhing on the ground and moving as fast as I can to get to my future.
I saw Gabe and the rest of the Bardot family in the lobby as I left. I stayed long enough to reassure them that I had heard from Bex and was going to find her. The concern on their faces matched the guilt swirling in my chest. This feels like it’s my fault, even though I know, logically, it isn’t. Erik Olsson is the scum of the earth. I foolishly never thought he’d take things this far though.
Scanning the key card, I rush into the hotel room and find Bex sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for me. The immense relief I feel to see her quickly fades when I take in the look of pure devastation on her face.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, fresh tears welling in her eyes.
I drop to my knees before her and reach up to wipe them away. She flinches and my heart shatters, but I immediately pull my hand back. “Don’t be. Are you okay? What happened?”
She shakes her head and a single tear falls down her cheek, navigating a path through the tiny freckles dotted across it.
“No you aren’t okay? Talk to me, baby. Please. What’s going on?” I’m prepared to call the police right now on that fucker, but I want to make sure she’s okay first.
She pulls in a shuddering breath through her mouth. “Physically, I’m—I’m fine. He tried to…” She trails off and I’m trying to be a patient man, I really am, but I need to know what happened like I need my next breath.
“He tried to what?” I try to keep my voice calm. I want to touch her, to comfort her, but based on her reaction a moment ago, I don’t think she’s ready for that.
“I don’t really know. He pulled me close and threatened your career. His hands were on me and it felt so…” Her breath hitches. “I felt so violated. I had to…” She stops and shakes her head. “I’m so sorry I missed the showcase,” she murmurs.
“Please stop apologizing. I’m the one who is sorry. We need to report him. We should get a restraining order.” I’m in fix-it mode. I need to make this better for her.
“No. No, I…”
Shock fills me. “No? He can’t get away with this, Bex. We need to do something.”
“I need time. I need to process what the hell happened tonight. I’m… I just want what’s best for you. I don’t want to stand in the way of that.”
“Don’t listen to anything he said, baby,” I plead. “He doesn’t have a leg to stand on. I don’t want his money or his influence—you know that. He knows that too, and he’s doing everything in his power to get to me in any way he can. He knew I would do anything to protect you, that’s why he came after you tonight, but I won’t let it happen again. I made sure he knows that.” The tips of my fingers tingle with the need to feel her skin against mine.
She looks down and sees the fresh bruises blooming across my knuckles, her eyes widening as she takes them in. “What did you do?”
“I took care of it, okay?”
“No. No, it’s not okay. This is getting really messy. I’m messing everything up for you,” she replies.
“Of course it’s messy!” I’m emphatic now. “We are human beings and life is inherently messy. We can choose to be messy together or do it on our own. And I want to be messy with you. You are worth it. This is worth it.” I gesture between the two of us.
She looks down at her hands—she hasn’t stopped wringing them since I got here. “I need time,” she repeats, whispering again.
I exhale and run my hands up and down my thighs. I search her face, looking for any sign, any hint of something that might help her. “Okay. Yeah, we can take some time. Let’s go to bed and we can talk more in the morning.”
She stands and moves around where I am kneeling before her, heading toward the door. I turn my head, my gaze following her, and realize her bag is fully packed—something I missed in my frantic entrance. My heart sinks.
She’s leaving.
“How much time do you need, exactly?”
Sadness echoes in each word she speaks. “I’m going to go stay with my parents for the night and head back home tomorrow.”
As much as I try to fight it, my voice breaks with my next question. “Are you… are you breaking up with me?”
She’s next to me instantly, her forehead pressed against mine as tears stream down both of our cheeks.
“No, Anders. No, I just… I need to clear my head. I’m being selfish—I know I’m being selfish, and I’m so, so sorry,” she sobs.
I move my head back and forth, breathing her in. “You’ll come back to me when you’re ready, right?” I can feel her nod. “Okay. I can give you time.” I cradle her face in both hands. “I love you. This is not what I want. I want to be here with you… for you.”
“I know,” she mutters before giving me a kiss that feels suspiciously like goodbye. “I love you too, Anders.”
And then she gets up and walks out, leaving me lost and alone on the floor of a shitty hotel room.
Later that night, I remember the bag my father shoved at me right before I punched him. I find it by the front door and pull a card out. Bex’s dainty handwriting is scrawled across the front of the envelope. I trace my hand over it, missing her already, the feeling of loss intensifying. I open the envelope and pull out a card. The front has a picture of a carrot and a radish with the words, “We’re rooting for you!” in bold letters at the bottom. It makes me want to laugh as much as it makes me want to cry. The inside is filled top to bottom with Bex’s words.
Killer,
Just like those veggies, I’m rooting for you! I know you are going to be amazing tonight. God, I can’t wait to watch you sing—to look up on that stage and know you are mine. And then bring you back to the hotel room and show you just how mine you are. I’m so proud of you. I spent most of the day picturing our life together in the city. I know we haven’t officially been dating very long, but rent is expensive and it would definitely be easier if we just lived together, right? I guess this is my way of asking if we can move in together after graduation. I have a feeling you’ll say yes! :) I love you. Break a leg, or whatever I’m supposed to say!
Love,
B
P.S. I got you a little something for luck! It seemed fitting given our mutual love for Chinese takeout. Hopefully you get a good fortune!
I open the bag and pull out a ceramic fortune cookie with a large crack down the middle. It would have been the perfect gift. I think of the fortune inside my wallet, the one I”ve been carrying around since that first day I ran into Bex again. I set the ceramic cookie on the nightstand and then watch in horror as it breaks in half.
Well if that isn’t symbolic as fuck.