Dearest Clementine (36 page)

“Baby, I wasn’t with Angelique last night. I never cheated. You need to believe me.”

My body says that I am currently being hugged by Gavin, but my head is throbbing, so it’s possible I never made it home from the hotel and am passed out in the gutter somewhere.

It takes a few heartbeats to realize that, yes, I am awake, and yes, Gavin is still here, holding me. Pushing hard against his chest so I can look at his face, I stare back, doing my best to look impassive. I might have declared my feelings for him on national television, but it doesn’t absolve him of fucking Angelique. The thought of him touching her, of them touching each other, disgusts me. He must see the rage and hurt in my eyes because he says it again.

“I did
not
sleep with Angelique.” His voice is so forceful that it gives me pause, but before I can speak, he grabs my hand and yanks me out of my apartment. “Come on.”

He’s running down the stairs, dragging me behind him. Thank God I’m wearing clothes. I tug on him to let me go, but he tightens his grip.

When we reach the bottom, Gavin points. In the vestibule of my building is Angelique. A very pissed-off Angelique. He pulls me to her before I can protest, but the sight of Angry Red turns my stomach.

“Tell her,” he says.

Angelique blinks lazily and looks away.

He inches closer to her, all the while holding my hand. “Fucking. Tell. Her. Now.”

Angelique crosses her arms and tosses her head back. “Honestly, Gavin, have some shame. I’ve never seen you so worked up over a girl.”

“I certainly never was over you.”

That gets her attention, and she glares back.

“Tell her, Angelique, or so help me I’ll never write for you again.”

Angelique’s eyes skim over me, and with a resigned shake of her head she sighs. “I wasn’t with Gavin last night. He and Mark swapped floors, so I was, uh, hanging out with Mark.”

“Tell her why you were wearing my clothes.” His voice is laced with warning.

She looks at him and rolls her eyes. “God, you’re whipped.” His eyes narrow at her. “Fine. I spilled something on my shirt, so I grabbed one of yours.”

“So we’re clear, you hooked up with Mark last night, not me.” His eyes are fire, his voice rough.

“Yes, dickhead. I hooked up with Mark. Can I leave now?”

“Tell her why we went to Rhode Island.”

She grabs a long lock of red hair and twirls it between her perfectly manicured fingers. “We were investigating Wheeler.”

“Thank you. Now leave.”

The dismayed expression on Angelique’s face dissolves into open hostility a split second before she exhales in disgust and storms out of my building, the door slamming behind her.

I stare after her, a little dumbfounded.

“Hey,” he says, nudging me. “Let’s go talk. There’s more.”

* * *

How could there possibly be more? Gavin takes my hand and walks me back upstairs. I follow, quiet, trying to make sense of the last five minutes of my life.

When we get into my apartment, I turn on a few lights and sit at one end of the couch, pressing myself as far as I can into the corner. I grab the green throw pillow and squeeze it.

Gavin sits next to me, leaving a little space.

“I need to tell you everything, so you understand.”

My head is still trying to process what Angelique said when he gently touches my face, startling me.

He shakes his head, looking almost hurt that I reacted to his touch by flinching. Pulling me against him, he kisses the top of my head and holds me several minutes. I find myself taking slow, deliberate breaths, trying to relax.
Gavin didn’t cheat. He didn’t lie.
The thoughts racing through me send a pang through my chest at my own distrust of him. At my doubt. But even though I know the truth, I’m still shaken.

I think I’m in shock, the toll of what’s happened over the last few weeks slamming into me. Gavin seems to understand, and he runs his hands down my hair with soft, light touches that reassure. I pull away so I can see him. He looks exhausted. His brows are furrowed, pinched into a V on his otherwise lovely face.

“Clementine, don’t get mad, okay? I want you to hear the whole story.”

I look at him wearily, but he doesn’t wait for my response.

“After seeing what happened with you and Wheeler at the student union, I felt like I needed to do something to protect you.” He licks his lips and closes his eyes briefly. “I thought I could find some dirt so he’d have a good reason to stay away from you. I have a friend who works in the HR department who let me take a peek at his employment file, and I noticed a strange letter from a university in Rhode Island.

"At first, it looked pretty standard, a letter confirming his attendance, but then I noticed it had two different names on it. In the subject line, it said Justin Whitmire, but in the body, it said Jason Wheeler, which made me curious. I dug more and found that his family donated five million dollars shortly after he transferred to a different college mid-semester. That
definitely
piqued my interest. Enough to troll through some of the school's message boards and find rumors about a girl who said she'd been raped by another student around the same time. But there was nothing about it in the press. The police didn't have a record of it either.”

He squeezes my hand gently. "Considering what you went through with him your freshman year, I thought this warranted a deeper look. I spoke to my managing editor about going to Rhode Island to investigate further, and Angelique overheard and demanded that she come with me. I wanted to handle it on my own, but my boss agreed she should come, and that was the end of the discussion. ”

Sighing, he shakes his head. "We were about to knock on the dean’s door to ask if Wheeler was in any way connected to the girl who claimed she was raped when the FBI interceded. They feared we’d somehow jeopardize their investigation of Olivia Lawrence, so we were told to back off. Now, as a member of the press, I’m under no obligation to do that, but the agent…”

Running his hands through his hair, his agitation evident, he sighs.

“Agent Robertson knew who you were. Knew about us. I wasn’t going to disclose your connection to Wheeler, but the FBI already knew.” He shakes his head in frustration. “Robertson said Wheeler was possibly a sociopath, and that if he really viewed me as a threat, as someone who might get in his way, he might take it out on you.”

“Which is why you became so distant.” I can barely say the words.

“Yes.”

His eyes are so full of worry and regret that everything I’ve been bottling up, all of the feelings I’ve been trying to block, come rushing back to me. I have a hard time swallowing.

His jaw clenches. “I don’t know if you want to hear this, but my
Globe
editor told me the FBI found surveillance photos Wheeler took of you running at night. He had a whole wall of pictures of you at his house.”

“So he
was
stalking me?” My words come out a whisper.

“Yeah.” Gavin closes his eyes briefly, and when he opens them, I see the dread on his face. “I don’t know what I would have done if that sick fucker had hurt you.”

He pulls me to him and wraps his arms around me. I nuzzle against his neck, too overcome to say anything.

Gavin kisses my cheek. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t tell you the truth. It was killing me that you stopped trusting me.”

My eyes sting with tears. Wheeler could have attacked me on any given night. My body shudders against Gavin’s chest. In my head, I hear that Beatles song about killing the girl, and I can’t hold back the sob that erupts. Everything from Wheeler’s threats to Angelique in her underwear totally unhinge me and hot tears stream down my face.

“Darlin’, don’t cry.” He hugs me tighter. “I’m so sorry for all of this. I was trying to make things better for you with that asshole.”

He holds me while I weep, soothing me with soft words until the tears stop.

“I was waiting for the FBI to arrest him, which I thought would happen sooner, and then it didn’t help that Angelique started antagonizing you. She’s pissed because I wouldn’t let her write the article that the newspaper is publishing this week.”

A small tremor runs through my body, a deep breath I’m finally able to take.

“Why can’t she write it?” I ask, muffled by his chest.

“It’s a conflict of interest. I can’t write it because of my connection to you and the fact that I threatened Wheeler. Angelique shouldn’t do it either because she isn’t unbiased. She obviously doesn’t like you. I told our boss that and recused both of us last week.”

Pulling back from him, I wipe my cheeks. “I don’t understand the significance of Wheeler’s name. Is he also Justin Whitmire?” I sniffle and reach for a Starbucks napkin on the coffee table.

Gavin’s eyebrows pinch when he sees me. I’m probably red and splotchy. I smile weakly, and he takes my hand.

“He was known as Justin J. Whitmire growing up, but after his mother died when he was in high school, his uncle, who was the governor at the time, adopted him. But Wheeler didn't change his name until after he transferred from that college, presumably to distance himself from those rape rumors.”

I sit there, absorbing everything.

Maybe I can put Wheeler behind me now. For good.

Part of me is overwhelmed by the past few days, but more than anything, I’m grateful. Grateful for this wonderful man sitting next to me.

I glance up and Gavin smiles, and it feels like the clouds have parted. He pulls me to him for a soft kiss.

“I’ve missed you,” he says against my mouth.

That’s when I realize what I want to tell him, what I need to tell him. I push on his chest. “Nothing is going on with Daren.”

“I know.” One side of Gavin’s mouth tugs up in a half grin. “I ran into him this morning coming back from the
Free Press
office. I guess he and your brother were stopping by your apartment to talk to your roommates.” Gavin ducks his head and laughs. “Daren asked me why I was breaking your heart and told me that if I didn’t get my head out of my ass, he’d take it out for me.”

“Oh, Jesus. I’m sorry.” I lean back and cover my face, completely embarrassed. “He used to be really protective when we were little, and since we made amends, he’s been going a little caveman on me. I’m scared to ask what else he said.”

Gavin rubs my cheek, like he’s trying to savor the fact that we’re finally able to talk again. “Just that he would have, and I quote, ‘given his left nut to have you express your feelings about him the way you did about me,’ and that if I was smart, I’d do whatever I could to win you back.” His lips turn up into a smile. “I guess you weren’t very expressive when you were in high school.”

My fingers run over the buttons on his shirt. “That’s putting it mildly.”

“I know. I read your book.”

That’s when my heart stops. I’m pretty sure that blood flow to my brain has also ceased.

“Clementine, breathe.” He chuckles again and brings my face closer to his. “You’re a phenomenal writer. Your novel had this beautiful dark humor mixed with some really poetic elements. I mean, it made me want to beat the shit out of your ex, but since he started trying to be noble, I can’t really hold a grudge.” He leans down and kisses my forehead. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that.”

I squeeze him tighter, half afraid that if I let go, he’ll disappear. He shakes his head. “Then I got this phone call from Ryan who started swearing at me because he heard you saw a half-naked Angelique in my room, and that’s when I hunted her down so she could explain what happened.” He clears his throat. “I can’t imagine what you were thinking after seeing her last night. God, I still feel fucked up over that.”

“It’s okay. I should be the one to apologize for not trusting you.”

He shakes his head as he runs his hands down my arms. “I don’t blame you for that reaction. I would have felt the same way, and it was unfair of me to ask you to blindly believe me. But honestly, I wasn’t sure what to do.”

I can’t get over Gavin, how he tried to help me, how far he went to protect me. He starts to grumble again about what happened last night, and I twist in his arms to look at him eye to eye.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Tilting his head, he smirks. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a way with words?”

I raise my eyebrows. “What happened to the shutting up and the kissing?”

That does the trick.

-
30 -

It’s late, past midnight, but neither one of us is ready to say goodnight. We’re sprawled across my bed. Gavin is leaning against the wall, and my head is in his lap as he plays with a long strand of my hair.

“It seems like it’s been ten years since we spent time together, but it’s only been a couple of weeks since our date.” My eyelids are heavy, and I wonder if I’m making sense.

“I’m thinking it’s time to take you on another.” Gavin leans down to nibble on my neck. He seems to sense that we need time to reconnect, so even though I think we’re both dying to be together
in that way
, neither of us pushes things beyond kissing.