One Week Girlfriend (22 page)

I hammer my fist against the steering wheel once. Then again, ignoring the pain that radiates across my knuckles, shoots through my hand. My coach would kill me if he saw me right now, trying to fuck up my throwing hand. Imagining his anger makes me hit the steering wheel yet again, and my fist is throbbing by the third punch.

But the pain feels good. Raw and real, reminding me of who I am,
what
I am. My life looks easy, so damn easy. Everything I’ve ever wanted has been handed to me on a silver platter. I’m a spoiled as hell rich kid who should be living the life. Bragging to my so-called friends, living high in my huge apartment, strutting around campus with a girl under each arm because I’m the one they call the hero, who’s saved our football team these last two seasons.

My world…is a world of shit. What Adele confessed has left me in fucking shock. I drove pretty much the entire way home without saying a word. Neither did Fable. I feel like shit for acting like that, but what could I do? Make small talk with her, chat about the weather and our favorite music and oh, the fact that my stepmom just told me my sister really isn’t my sister at all, but my
daughter?

My life is a total soap opera. I don’t know how to handle it. I don’t know if I believe Adele. She’s lied before. She always lies. Maybe she was trying to shock me. Disgust my girlfriend so badly Adele thought she could drive Fable away. My girl is more stubborn than that.

Besides, I know exactly how to drive her away and tune her out. I’ve become a pro at it these last few days.

That realization fills me with regret.

Unable to stand my out of control thoughts any longer, I call Adele while still sitting in my truck in the parking lot, the rain tapping a steady rhythm on the roof.

“Andrew.” Adele answers on the second ring, and she sounds surprised to hear from me. She should be.

“Tell me you were lying.” The words rush out and I squeeze my eyes closed, waiting—and dreading—her answer.

She’s quiet for a moment. I can hear soft music playing in the background, like she’s at a restaurant or something. I wonder if she’s with my dad. I hope like hell she excused herself so he doesn’t hear what she’s saying. “I wasn’t lying. She belonged to you.”

I blow out a harsh breath, my lungs feeling like they’re folding in on themselves, they’re so tight. “How do you
know
?”

“God, Andrew, it’s the same old story, you know? Your father and I…we tried for years to have a child, but with no success. The idea came to me one day that you might be the perfect candidate. The next best thing, so to speak, and you were. I planned my visits to you according to my cycle, poked a few holes in the condom and it was a near-instant success.” Her voice is hushed, but she sounds so damn logical about it, I want to scream.

Bile rises in my throat and I swallow it down. I was fucking sixteen years old when I got this bitch pregnant. Only
sixteen.
“So you tricked me. And my father. You’ve played us both. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

“I was never playing either of you, you must believe that. I love your father tremendously. And I…I love you too, Andrew. Can’t a woman be in love with two men? There are so many qualities to the both of you that are similar yet different. I wanted you both.” Her voice is small. That she even talks about me like she…she
wanted
me when I was just a kid, makes me sick.

“Well, you had us both. I hope you’re satisfied,” I snarl into the phone, ready to hang up but I hear her say my name, her voice downright frantic. I decide to hear her out. I don’t know why. “What?”

“You’re not…you’re not going to tell your dad, are you? What I said?”

The knowledge would devastate him. Even if it can’t be confirmed, what with Vanessa gone, I’m not about to blab. Why would I want to hurt him? It would damage our relationship irrevocably and right now, he’s the only family I have that counts. This secret, I plan on carrying to the grave. “I won’t tell him. Not to save your ass, but to save his.”

She exhales loudly, her voice shaky. “Thank you, Andrew.”

“Don’t bother thanking me. I’m not doing this for you.”

“Of course not.” She pauses. “What about your—girlfriend? She knows, since I said it in front of her. What if she tells?”

“She won’t,” I say automatically because I know it’s the truth. I trust Fable. She wouldn’t dare tell a soul.

“You haven’t dated very long. What if you two split up and she becomes vengeful, deciding to ruin both our lives? We might never recover if the truth is revealed.” Adele sounds so full of drama, I almost wonder if she gets off on it.

“There’s no way in hell Fable will spill this. Stop worrying.” And with that, I hang up. I don’t want to talk to her anymore. I don’t want to talk, period.

Instead, I sit in my truck a little while longer, thinking. The cab gets muggy, the windows steam up from my breathing and the rain is coming down harder. I don’t want to go into my apartment and spend the night there alone. My thoughts are too jumbled, too focused on what Adele said.

I wish she never told me the supposed truth about Vanessa. It would’ve been so much easier to go through life oblivious to that fact.

But she shared in her misery and for that, I’m forever locked to her yet again. Just when I think I’m free of Adele’s shackles, she pulls me back in, locks me up.

And tosses away the key.

~* Chapter Fourteen *~

One Week’s Up, Midnight

I choose you.
 
– Drew Callahan
 

Fable

I can’t sleep. I’m too restless, too worried, too…everything. My mom left hours ago after I encouraged her to call her new loser boyfriend to make up with him. He came by within fifteen minutes of her ending the call and they took off to their favorite hangout: a shitty bar the local drunks love.

That I work at a bar doesn’t go unnoticed by me. I do realize I’m following in her footsteps no matter how hard I try not to. Makes me wonder if we’re predestined to end up like our parents anyway, regardless if we fight against it.

Just the thought depresses me so I file it away.

Owen came home around five, the relief that Mom wasn’t there evident by his easygoing smile and his teasing—if a little crude—nature. I really need to break him of the bad language habit he’s developing at a rapid pace, but who am I to talk? I curse all the fucking time.

We order pizza, and it takes forever because it’s the Saturday night after Thanksgiving and no one in town wants to cook. We watch awesome nineties movies on cable—the one luxury I gladly pay for since it makes Owen, okay fine and me happy—and waited for our food, moaning and groaning how starved we are.

All the while, I think of Drew. His smile, how he touched me, the way he looked at me when he hauled me into his lap that first time. The taste of his lips, the warmth of his breath, the touch of his hands on my bare skin, he haunts me while I tease my brother, as I watch a movie I’ve seen one hundred times, when I finally shove pizza into my mouth like I haven’t ate for weeks.

I cannot stand the idea of him alone somewhere with his thoughts, his memories, his troubles. I check my phone again and again, hoping for a text, a call, something, but he doesn’t contact me. And I won’t contact him.

Yet.

Maybe he needs time, I reason with myself later in the evening as I watch Owen throw some clothes in his backpack. He’s headed back to Wade’s to spend the night. His friend called to ask and I spoke with Wade’s mom, reassured that he really was going over there and not running the streets in the middle of the night. I want to trust my brother but come on.

He’s thirteen.

So I’m left all alone and I’m used to that. Owen spends the night at his friend’s house a lot and my mom prefers staying out until the bars close. I’m always working so no one is usually home around this time anyway.

The rain is still coming down, I can hear it as I lay in my bed in the dark, my eyes wide open as I stare at the ceiling. I can’t get Drew out of my mind. I need to know he’s okay, that he’s safe. Without thought I grab my phone and type in a quick text to him, sending it before I can second guess myself and delete it.

Slipping out of bed, I go into the living room and curl up on the couch, slinging an old throw blanket over me as I flick on the TV. It’s past midnight. Our week long fake relationship is officially over.

And as the minutes turn into hours, I realize he’s not going to come and rescue me. He kept his word to our agreement.

My position as Drew Callahan’s one week girlfriend is done.

Drew

I passed out cold on top of my bed, still in my jeans and sweatshirt, not bothering to pull the covers over me. I must’ve slept like that for hours, because I wake up groggy and disoriented, my muscles aching and my mouth dry, my stomach growling since I skipped two freaking meals. I never do that.

Glancing at the alarm clock on my bedside table, I see it’s past two in the morning and I sit up, scratch the back of my head and lean over to flick on the lamp. My cell is sitting on the bedside table, taunting me and I grab it, push the button to see if anyone called or texted when I see it. A text from Fable and it says one word.

Marshmallow

Holy shit. She sent it to me hours ago.
Hours.
Feeling like a complete asshole, I practically trip over my feet as I scramble off the bed, shoving my phone in my back pocket and grabbing my keys off the dresser. I should text her back, but that’ll take too much time and I’m consumed with the need to see her. I’ve left her hanging for hours. The thought of disappointing her…

I can’t stand it.

I leave my apartment and charge out into the still-pouring rain, climb into my truck and take off. The streets are pretty much empty, I pass only the occasional car and all I can think about is Fable. Maybe I should’ve called her. What if she’s in real trouble? What if she really needed me and I let her down?

Pulling into her complex’s parking lot in record time, I get out of my truck and practically run to her door, remembering her apartment number from picking her up when we left seven days ago.

Damn. I can’t believe I’ve known this girl for only seven days. She’s become my everything—and with all my baggage, I’ve probably become her worst nightmare.

I bound up the concrete stairs to her second story apartment, the metal railing rattling loudly and I knock on her door almost frantically, my breath coming in short spurts, the rain dripping down my face.

Long, agonizing minutes go by and I knock again. What if she’s not there? Damn it, I definitely should’ve called first. Pulling out my phone, I’m just about to when the door cracks open, the safety chain in place.

Relief floods me, making my knees wobble. It’s Fable, peering through the narrowly open door, wearing only a thin, oversized T-shirt and nothing else. All I see is long, shapely legs and tousled blonde hair.

My body instantly reacts.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice is small. Cold.

“I got your text.” I swipe my hand across my face, wiping the raindrops away.

“You’re two hours too late.” She’s about to shut the door but I wedge my foot in, keeping it open. “Go away Drew.”

“Fable, listen to me. I fell asleep. I’ve been asleep for hours. I woke up not even fifteen minutes ago and the second I saw your message, I hopped in my truck and sped over here.” I spread my arms wide. “Look at me. I ran in the fucking rain across my apartment parking lot and yours to get to you.”

“So what?” Her flippant tone irritates me. Fable in tough mode is back on full force and I don’t like it, though I probably deserve the attitude.

“Come on.” I scratch the back of my head. “Just tell me this. Are you all right? Everything okay with your mom and your brother? No crazy emergencies or anything?”

She frowns. “No emergencies. We’re fine.”

“Good.” My heart eases a little and I rub my chest, thankful she’s okay. “If you don’t want me here, I get it. I just...after seeing that text, I had to make sure you were safe.”

I ease my foot away so she can close the door and turn, ready to leave when I hear her speak.

“Drew…wait.”

Slowly I turn back around to find she’s opened the door all the way, allowing me to fully see her. And fuck, she’s so beautiful. Her face scrubbed completely of makeup, her expression wary, all that gorgeous hair a wavy mess that tumbles just past her shoulders. The T-shirt only hints at her curves, but I know exactly what she looks like beneath it and my fingers itch to take it off of her.

“Yeah?” My voice cracks and I clear my throat. I should stay away from her. Keeping her close brings her into my disastrous world and she has enough problems on her own. She doesn’t need mine to royally screw up her life.

“Could you…will you come inside and stay with me?”

My heart stills, literally skips a beat and I take one step forward, ready to leap at this opportunity. Despite the warnings going off in my head, despite knowing I’m not good enough for her, I don’t want to turn her away.