Stars (Penmore #1) (24 page)

Have I been so enraptured with my own life that I had forgotten that she had moved?

I know I had struggled to listen to some of her ramblings over the past few months, consumed with my own concerns, but I’m pretty sure I would have picked up on relocation discussions. I keep my knock brief when I make it to the door. Twice. Short, quick and with the hope that if it
is
a new family they won’t be too enraged that a total stranger is disturbing them. When Millie opens the door, I’m not sure if I’m relieved or even more worried than I was before. She looks worse than when I last saw her. And this clearly doesn’t seem like a late party sort of disheveled. It’s like seeing the physical manifestation of my internal battle. Dark circles make her light blue eyes seem grey. Her usually glowing dancer’s figure appears dull and colorless.

“Hey, this is a surprise. I guess you’re visiting your dad for Thanksgiving. You okay? How come you aren’t dragging him to shopping centers like you usually do?” she asks me. She sounds exactly the same. Her question seems completely normal.

I don’t know why, but this causes me to worry even more.

She isn’t opening the door further, she isn’t jumping up to hug me and she’s asking me these questions on her porch like I’ve come by to sell Girl Scout cookies.

She isn’t my best friend.

And I really needed my best friend.

*****

Unlike the lackluster exterior of the Monroe house, each room inside their home was decorated with warmth and an abundance of love. Millie’s room had a single black wrought-iron bed with several blankets and pillows in varying tones of pink. Her small white side table had three different-sized white vases filled with silk hot pink sunflowers.

We’re sitting cross-legged on her bed. I had just stared at her until she invited me in earlier, and then I walked directly into her room and shut the door.

I wasn’t going to waste time. I needed to fix her. Then maybe she could help fix me.

“I’ll wait all day,” I tell her clearly. No fuss. No miscommunication. I fully intend on sitting on her bed until she gives in. I had spent days in bed; I saw no problem having a few more. I could always catch another plane, but I couldn’t necessarily catch a new best friend.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she tells me, her gaze shifting to every item in her room other than me.

“Mill, cut the bullshit,” I say before reaching for her hand and squeezing. “Or if you’re going to lie, at least try and make eye contact.”

She finally looks me in the eyes, hers gradually filling with tears, and softly whispers, “I’m pregnant.”

I don’t know what to say at first. Congratulations? I’ll support whatever you choose to do? Holy fuck?

Instead, I just squeeze her hand again, letting her know I’m there, and wait quietly for her tears—and the fear I see is causing her body to shake—to subside.

When she finally smiles at me, wiping the last tear away, I hesitantly ask, “Is it Nate’s?”

I knew that while Millie talked some good talk about men, she rarely slept with the guys she dated.

And only a few months ago, we were sitting across from each other, like we are now, laughing about Nate’s sexual performance.

So I’m not surprised when she nods and squeezes my hand until I feel like I might not have any bones left in it when I leave.

Almost instantaneously, my phone starts buzzing. The song “I’m Sexy and I Know It” starts to play at an obnoxiously loud volume.

“Shit, it’s Nate,” I gasp.

Millie’s eyes grow wide before she jumps up and runs to the bathroom to rid herself of her lunch.

“Hey,” I answer, my eyes locked on the bathroom door.

“Why the fuck didn’t you call me? Did we stop being friends and I didn’t notice?”

I had no idea what to say. I had just found out. Although, I guess if Nate just found out, he would probably have thought Millie would have told me earlier.

“Umm, I really didn’t think—” I was going to say ‘it’s my place to say anything’ before Nate is interrupting me.

“If you’re about to tell me that I wouldn’t care then I’m pissed Parky. My best friend and dipshit brother break up and you think I don’t care?”

“Oh, that,” I say.

“Oh,
that
. You’re trying to convince me you’re over it? That something bigger is going on in your life? Don’t try and fool me, babe. I know how you felt. Feel. I know how hard this must be for you. You want me to fly to you?” he asks.

I watch as Millie walks into the room, looking worse for wear, and I can suddenly see why she’s no longer sporting her glowing energy. Morning sickness is a bitch.

“That’s nice of you to offer, but I’m good. I’m back tomorrow,” I tell him, trying to end the conversation that is clearly causing Mill distress. Her eyes are still wide and she is now chewing heavily on her top lip, staring at my phone. “I’ll call you as soon as I land.”

“You better. Okay, speak soon,” he tells me.

“See ya,” I reply before hanging up and looking at Millie.

“Um, what did he want?” she asks softly. A nervous shell of the girl I grew up with.

A girl who didn’t need to worry about my problems, especially now when she clearly was battling her own.

“He just wanted to know when I was coming back,” I tell her carefully.

“Will you tell him?” she whispers.

“I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

“Um, maybe in a week?” she asks me pleadingly, clasping her hands together. “I know it’s cowardly of me, getting you to tell him. I should call. I should do it. I plan on having this baby, so I
will
have to learn how to talk to his or her father. I just… Right now, it seems too hard. I don’t want him to hate me. It was an accident, but what if he thinks—”

“Mill, there is no way he could hate you,” I tell her, walking over and wrapping her in my arms. “I don’t know much, but I do know the Waters boys are nothing if not compassionate.”

I just abstain from letting her know that their compassion has its limits.

Namely liars.

PARKER

I’m back at school.

It hasn’t changed anything. I thought maybe checking in with Millie regularly and helping her through her decision to leave college and put her current dreams on hold would be a big enough distraction.

Except the pain never really went away.

It hurts. Constantly. Like a gaping hole in the middle of my chest. I could cover it. Dress up, speak with Millie and Keeley. Attend classes. But it wasn’t gone. The deep pain was too great to be forgotten about.

It’s almost funny how I once thought that Grayson telling me to go away was painful.

I’ve since learned that hearing nothing is so much worse.

Going from small texts, pillow talk, telling him to stop distracting me with his questions and pay attention to the teacher.

To nothing.

It’s unbearable.

The quiet forces me to focus on the way my heart pulses in pain. My eyes often sting, causing me to close them and try to suck in all the emotion that wants to leak out. I sit still, in class and on my work breaks. I remain stiff while everything around me moves at a hundred miles an hour. I wonder if my smile is fooling anyone or if everyone can see that someone has clawed open my chest with a rusty pitchfork.

If they can tell from my forgotten hair and messy clothes that it was also all
my
fault.

Staring into the mirror each morning to brush my teeth, I have to close my eyes. Looking at my reflection, I realize every day that I also wouldn’t want to speak with me. I can’t blame him. I wouldn’t encourage a lunatic pretending to be something she isn’t.

I haven’t called Nate like I told him I would. In all my whirling emotions, the strongest is my belief that I don’t deserve empathy. The usual friend rules don’t apply. I would feel worse if Nate tried to make Gray the bad guy.

He wasn’t. I was.

I was a coward who couldn’t admit the truth. I knew how he felt about liars. I let him share his fears, but I hid mine.

Each time I go into work, I keep wondering if Gray has told Marissa. But she hasn’t said anything, mostly avoids looking at me. However, she’s been doing that since Gray and I got together, so there seemed to be no change. I’ve decided I need to quit anyway. I can’t handle the pain I feel each time I see Gray’s football friends come through the doors of Lucky’s without him. Andy came by yesterday and when I placed his beer in front of him he barely acknowledged me.

I swear I even saw Nate and Grayson having coffee this morning when I drove to school.

Everyone is fine, and I don’t think I can handle watching any of it anymore.

Because I
am
the bad guy. I’m the villain who climbed on stage and interrupted the dancers.

I’m the one who tried to join in where I don’t belong.

And even if they resume dancing, I can no longer be in the audience.

GRAYSON

“She looks like shit at work,” Nate tells me as he takes a sip from his drink.

We were sitting at a local coffee place. I had practice in an hour, but since I returned we had slowly started meeting up. Getting to know each other. I figured if Ma and Tahnee could get over their issues to see who was really to blame for their disagreements, so could Nate and I. However, until now, we hadn’t touched the subject that we both knew was the elephant in the room each time we met.

Parker.

“Dude, she’s crazy. She liked to watch me through a window. She followed me here. You can’t say she isn’t a stalker. I know I’ve joked about stalking in the past, but jokes aside, I can’t date a genuine lunatic.”

“Okay, brother. I’m not going to say our girl is completely normal or maybe followed the right dating etiquette. Compared to some of the girls chasing you at the school, though, I bet they’ve done more stalking through social media to really qualify as crazy. Hell, they probably read enough articles on you to know your blood type and the size of your forehead. Also, you’ve been to her place. She doesn’t have a voodoo doll of you or some crazy printout of your future kids that she’s created from blending your photos together. And I’m just saying you see people doing crazy shit in their house and you ain’t gonna watch? Fuck, this couple across the road from me yesterday decided to have themselves a little afternoon delight with the curtains opened. Hells yeah, I watched that shit. It’s cheaper than using up my download quota. Smarter too.”

“Okay, so maybe you have a point on the curtain thing. And fuck, I know she didn’t hound me or keep any weird fucking pictures. But she also lied to me. For months,” I say, raking my fingers through my hair in exasperation.

“Yeah, she did. So you want to hold that over her head, go right ahead. I’ll stand by you.”

“Thanks, I think I will.”

“Then you won’t mind if I maybe get in there. I don’t see why I can’t stand beside you and maybe behind her, if you catch my drift. What with you being so against ever seeing a liar again.”

“You dick, you touch her and I’ll—”

“Hey, hey, no need to get riled up. I’m just pointing out that maybe your logic isn’t exactly how you really feel,” he tells me with a condescending grin. “Brother, I’m paying our tab and you are going to get your fucking girlfriend and my future sister before you hurt someone for doing exactly what I just suggested. You aren’t the only one who’s noticed her golden eyes or her other very appealing assets.” He leaves the table to take care of the bill.

When he gets back to our table, he notices I’m still sitting in my seat and glaring at him angrily. I can’t get the fucking picture out of my head of some other guy standing behind Parker, the vile image of this guy running his hand down the curve of her back. Slapping her ass. Fucking no-face, dipshit asshole.

“Okay, so you’re still pissed,” he chuckles. “You need to cool off fast though, bro, and then, just like how you dealt with me, realize how special she is and work your shit out.”

Thankfully, Nate’s conceited attitude snaps me out of my nightmare.

“Dude, I didn’t realize how special you were.”

“Please, as if that isn’t why you called me. You know you can’t live without me. It’s not something to be ashamed of.”

Fuck. I am so grateful I’ve only had a big brother for a couple of weeks. What a pain in the ass.

PARKER

“Okay, I’m done with this,” Keeley announces as she storms into my bedroom dressed in a short black cocktail dress, wearing an ‘I’m on a mission’ expression.