TROUBLE, A New Adult Romance Novel (The Rebel Series) (31 page)

I’m seized by a sudden bout of madness.
 
I’ve been avoiding the subject of Charlie not only out loud but in my own head.
 
I haven’t seen him in months.
 
And just like we talked about tonight with Barbara and Michael, he has rights.
 
I don’t want him to have them, and I’m worried to death about what he might do with them, but it doesn’t change anything.

Words spoken by Teagan and Quin come back to haunt me.
 
He has a right to know
.
 
I’m sick over it.
 
Just plain sick.
 
But there’s something inside me that says I need a clean slate.
 
I need to start from zero and work my way up from there, with no skeletons shaking their bones in a closet, threatening to come out and haunt me.

I should call him.

I grab my phone from the bedside table and sit up, staring at the glowing keys.
 
My pulse-rate is twice its normal speed and I’m sweating.
 
I know his number by heart.
 
I could just dial it and say hi.
 
I could test the waters and see what he says.
 
Maybe we could meet for coffee and I could tell him about the baby in a rational, calm way and he might say that he sees the error of his ways and wants to be a good person and do the right thing by us.

The idea makes my throat burn with pre-vomit.
 
He raped me.
 
He forced me into this.
 
He’s a monster!
 
He doesn’t deserve anything from me!

But still … he deserves to know.
 
I shouldn’t be alone during this time in my life.
 
What if he realizes he made a mistake? What if he’s sorry?
 
I mean, he knows I’m pregnant now.
 
Randy came over here.
 
Maybe he sent Randy to see how I was doing.
 
Maybe Randy had a message for me.
 
He sounded angry, but Randy never liked me.
 
He was always jealous of Charlie and me.
 
I shouldn’t let Randy stop me from doing what’s right.

I’m not in a good place; I know that. I should put my phone right back down on the table and go to sleep.
 
That would be the smart thing to do.
 
But I’m lonely and stupid and confused about my life, so I don’t do the smart thing.
 
I press the buttons and put the phone to my ear.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

I’M GETTING READY TO LEAVE a voicemail message after the fourth ring of the phone when it gets picked up.
 
I panic when I realize it’s not Charlie.

“Hi.
 
Charlie’s phone.”
 
The girl answering giggles.

My mouth opens but nothing comes out.
 
The heat rises up into my face.
 
My ears are burning.

“Hello?
 
Is anyone there?”
 
Her giggling has stopped.

I can hear Charlie in the background.
 
“Who is it?
 
Give me that.”

There’s some rustling around and then Charlie’s voice slams into my ear.
 
“Hello, this is Charlie. Who’s this?”

“Uhhh … ummm …”
 
It’s the best I can do.
 
No actual words will form and pass my lips.

“Who is this?
 
Is this a prank?
 
Randy, if this is you …”

“It’s not Randy,” the girl says in the background.
 
“Look at the number.”

A pause and then Charlie is back on the phone.
 
“Whoever you are, go to hell.”
 
And then he hangs up.

I’m not conscious of taking the phone away from my ear or turning it off, but I look down sometime later and it’s there in my lap. And it’s buzzing. Someone’s calling me.

I pick it up and see Charlie’s number there, glowing out from the dark covers around my legs.

My heart seizes up.
 
What?
 
He hasn’t destroyed me enough?
 
He wants to do some more damage?
 
I press the green button and answer anyway.
 
Maybe I deserve this.

“Hello?” I hate that my voice wavers and my hand shakes.

“Is this … Alissa?”
 
He’s almost whispering.

“Yes.
 
It’s me.”
 
I’m sick.
 
Literally sick to my stomach.
 
I pray I can get to the toilet in time if this goes too far.

“What are you doing?”

I frown over that question.
 
“What am I doing?
 
I don’t understand the question.”

“Why are you calling me?”

“Because … Randy …”

“What about Randy?”

“He was here.
 
He told me … he said …”

“Here?
 
Here where?
 
What are you talking about?
 
Are you on drugs or something?”

I’m suddenly deliriously happy.
 
He didn’t send Randy to threaten me!
 
“Sorry.
 
I’m at my house.
 
And Randy came by here so I thought you sent him.”

“Who me?
 
Nah.
 
He’s a dick.”

I can’t believe he’s saying that about his best friend.
 
Maybe there’s hope for Charlie.
 
“Yes, he is … a very unpleasant person.
 
I’m happy to hear you realize that.”

“So what’s up with the call?” he asks.

I can’t believe he’s being so casual.
 
Like nothing ever happened between us.
 
Like he doesn’t know I’m pregnant…

That’s when it hits me.
 
Maybe he doesn’t know!
 
My mind is swarming with ideas.
 
I could just hang up now and end this.
 
Stay in hiding.
 
Have my baby anonymously and put no father’s name on the birth certificate.

My body sinks down into itself and the baby kicks me hard in the ribs.
 
I can just imagine what Teagan and Quin would say about that.
 
Charlie needs to know.
 
He deserves to know everything.

“I was just thinking maybe you and I could meet for coffee.”

“Hold on a second.” Charlie’s voice comes through the phone muffled as he covers it and talks to someone else.
 
I hear running steps and a slamming door before he talks again.
 
He’s slightly breathless.

His voice is different.
 
Changed.
 
No longer breezy, light and open.
 
“Seriously, Alissa, why the fuck are you calling me?”

“What?”
 
My heart sinks.
 
This is the Charlie I had expected to find.

“Thinking you might try to get some money out of me or something?”

“What?”

“Yeah, well, if you think you are, think again.
 
I don’t owe you shit.”

“Excuse me, Charlie, but that’s not why I called.
 
As far as I’m concerned you can just stay away from me.
 
You
and
your friends.”

“Oh, really?
 
Then why are you calling? You must want something.”

I cannot believe how much of a jerk he is.
 
I must have been seriously deluded to ever think he was a nice person. “I’m calling because … “
 
I don’t have an answer.
 
Why am I calling?
 
Because I’m desperately lonely and wanted to hear the voice of a person who I knew at some point loved me? I seriously need to get my brain examined.

“Actually, Charlie, I don’t know why I called.
 
Maybe to say that you raped me and I got pregnant.
 
And I’m having the baby soon and thought you should know.
 
But never mind.
 
I know there’s no point in trying to have a civilized conversation with a
rapist
.”

His voice is low.
 
Menacing. It sends a chill through my entire body.
 
“What did you just call me?”

I steel myself against the fear.
 
I will not let him do it to me all over again.
 
“I called you what you are. A rapist.”
 
I almost choke on that last word.
 
My body is going hot and cold in waves, over and over.
 
I’m sweating.
 
My stomach is churning.
 
I can picture him smiling and handing me champagne.
 
“You did that to me.
 
You raped me.”
 
I wish my voice were stronger but it’s not.
 
It’s weak and pitiful.

He laughs.
 
“You wish.
 
You’re a fucking whore and you got what you wanted.
 
Now you have regrets, but that’s your problem.
 
Don’t try to put your shit on me.
 
My family has lawyers and we’re not afraid to use them. You can’t prove anything because nothing happened.
 
You hear me?
 
Nothing happened
.
 
You’re
nothing.”

I want to say something.
 
The perfect come-back is somewhere in my brain.
 
But my brain isn’t functioning right now.
 
I just sit there, swallowing over and over, trying not to vomit.
 
I’m nothing.
 
He’s right.
 
I’m really nothing.

The door to my room opens without any warning.
 
“Alissa, you in here …?”
 
Teagan is standing in the entrance, staring at me.
 
“Holy shitcakes, what’s wrong?”

“Don’t call me anymore,” I say quickly into the phone before hanging up.
 
It flips out of my hands and lands in my lap.
 
Scrambling around to get it back under control, I look up at Teagan, trying to put some semblance of coolness into my features while I’m dying inside.

“Who was that?” she asks, taking another step closer.

“No one.
 
Sales call.
 
Tele-marketer,” I say, my throat a raw mess.
 
I swallow two more times, trying to keep the bile down.
 
It’s not working.

“Alissa, there’s no way that was a telemarketer unless it was someone selling dildoes or something, because you’re about as white as a sheet right now.”

I struggle to get off the bed, rolling off the edge to get to my feet.
 
I have about five seconds before I’m going to blow.

“Where are you going?” Teagan asks, moving sideways so I can get past.

I give up on graceful walking and run to the bathroom, getting there just in time to vomit into the toilet.

Teagan follows me in and turns on the water at the sink.

“Go away,” I moan, my face resting on my forearm that’s draped across the seat.

“Like hell I’m going away,” she says.
 
And then she presses a cool washcloth onto the back of my neck.
 
“What the hell is going on?
 
Who was that on the phone?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Tough titties because I do, and this time I’m not letting you blow me off over it.”

Ignoring her is my only escape.
 
After flushing the toilet, I get to my feet and use the washcloth she gave me to wipe the cold sweat off my face.
 
Eating half a tube of toothpaste only partially gets the sour taste out of my mouth.

“Come on,” Teagan says, standing in the hallway.

“I’m going to bed,” I say, not meeting her eyes.

“No, you’re not.
 
Not unless you want me sleeping with you, you’re not.”

I finally look at her.
 
“Teagan, I’m tired.
 
I’m exhausted.
 
I don’t feel well, as you can see.
 
I just want to be left alone.”

She reaches out and puts her hand on my arm.
 
“I think we’ve left you alone for way too long as it is.
 
Game over.
 
Time to face the music.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.
 
The girl paying your bills.
 
Come downstairs with me and let’s chat.”

Her bossiness rubs me the wrong way.
 
I grit my teeth and prepare to dig my heels in.

“I’m not kidding, Alissa,” she says in an angry voice.
 
“Stop fucking around and feeling sorry for yourself.”

Something flicks on in me and takes over.
 
I become a screaming maniac.
 
“I am
not
feeling sorry for myself!” Spittle flies out of my mouth.
 
“This is
not
a pity party!
 
This is my
life
, okay?!
 
This is my
life
!
 
It’s not
yours
!
 
It’s not
Colin’s
!
 
It’s not … anyone
else’s
!
 
Okay?!”

Teagan smiles, completely unfazed by my outburst.
 
“There’s the spirit.”
 
She waves her hand in front of her face.
 
“Maybe more toothpaste wouldn’t be a bad idea, though.”

“What?!” I’m ready to punch something.
 
Hard.

She’s still smiling. “I was wondering when you were going to wake up in there.
 
Come on.
 
Let’s go have some cookies.”