Uncovering Officer Smith (The Discovering Trilogy #2) (38 page)

“Becca,” I call breathlessly. I’m nowhere near out of shape, but seeing her again has made me short of breath. She’s skinny, really skinny. Her eyes have bags under them. Her hair is limp against her face, her eyes are, – dead inside when they meet mine. Could I really have killed her spirit? How could a man tear someone so strong down? By
me
?

Becca glances over at my approach. Meggie whispers something to her. Becca snaps at her; I see her head moving expressively. I continue my approach, anyway.

“Becca, can I talk to you?” I meet her at the edge of the back of the truck, taking the boxes from her hands and placing them into the back. I turn back to her.

“I don’t have anything to say to you.” She turns in her boots and walks back toward the dorms.

“Becca, wait!” I dash after her, grabbing her shoulder. She pauses. Meggie continues inside. Slowly, she turns to look at me. Her blue eyes appear… defeated.

“What? What is it?” Her voice is small.

“I’m sorry.” Her eyes soften slightly and I continue. “Becca, I didn’t mean to hurt you. If anything, I tried to help you – I think I only managed to make things worse.”

Her face is unreadable, waiting for me to continue. “I was scared, scared of what we had. I was terrified of letting you in, of getting hurt. But most of all, I was scared of losing you. But I have a feeling I’m going to either way. I can’t leave it like this, I can’t lose you too.” The
too
comes tumbling out before I can help myself. Her hand comes flying up, silencing me.

“I knew it,” she breathes. “I knew you would do this. You could have just talked to me, you could have literally just called me and explained. You
could
have done a million other things to tell me how you felt. Instead, you chose to do nothing and walked away. I will not play second choice to the one-that-got-away. I deserve better than that.”

She turns, glancing away from me towards the football field. Her eyes begin to glisten. The darkness begins to settle over her face and the campus around us. I’m at a loss for words and with a deep breath, she continues. “You walked away, and that’s what I’m doing now. I can’t be here anymore. This place isn’t good for me; too many memories; too much temptation. I need to recover. I need to get my mind right.” She turns to leave, when she changes her mind and faces me for the third time. “Believe me, John, I understand how it feels, – I know all about losing first love.” She shrugs, tears filling her eyes. “Because you were mine.” She bites her bottom lip in an attempt to stop the tears from falling—A fight she is losing.

You were mine
. She leaves me there, watching her blonde hair swish behind her as she goes. I should say something or call after her. Instead, I watch her disappear into the night away from me, forever.

The ride back to my apartment seems to go on forever. It’s the only time I’ve ever regret living so far away from Angelica. I just want to be alone. After Becca stomped on my apology, I fled, dashing back to my car and zipping away. My thoughts on one thing only: This is all because of me. I turned Rebecca Swanson—An independent, intelligent girl into a heartbroken, damaged woman. She didn’t deserve that. She deserves so much more than me. It will take me years to get over how her face looked at me just before. It will take me years to get over her. And the worst part is – I deserve it.

My feet mindlessly take me up the three flights of stairs and turn the key to my apartment. The lights are still on and the television is blaring.

“John?” Ford looks up from his spot on the couch. “What happened? You look like shit.”

“She left, man.”

“Oh.” He pauses. “What happened?”

I walk around the couch and collapse next to Ford. “I told her I was sorry. I told her how I felt. And she still left.” My eyes stare ahead at the television.

“Oh, man. I’m sorry, bro.”

“It’s okay. I deserved it.”

Ford sighs beside me. “Just give her some time. Becca has always been strong. She’ll pull herself out of this. We’ll try again.”

“No.” I shake my head. “I think this was real. I think Becca finally realized I’m no good for her.”

“That’s a bunch of crap, Smith, and you know it. I’ve never seen you look at any other girl the way you looked at Becca in my kitchen that day. I knew and I wanted to kill you for it.”

“You’ve been talking to Courtney, haven’t you?”

“She might have mentioned it.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter now.”

“Don’t give up, bro.”

“I think its
her
that’s finally given up on me.”

I got home a few days ago. It was hard returning to my old room. It was even harder listening to my mother as she berated the college I enjoyed so much.

The house is a lot quieter than I remember. The cook, Dorothea, has this look in her eye whenever I ask her to make me something. It’s a look of pity; one that screams she knows what happened. The good thing is I barely see my mother. She is in damage-control mode, calling all of her friends to explain away my reappearance before the gossip mill grows out of control.

Here I sit in my dark room, the curtains still drawn. What now? I ask myself. Where do I go from here? What is it that Becca wants?

My eyes fall onto a pair of old sneakers in the corner – I want to run again.

The sensation of my sneakers on my feet feels good. I bounce from one foot to the other just to test them out. Yup, just like old times. I glance up to observe my skinny frame in the long mirror on the front of my closet door. I don’t know who this girl is anymore. But here, with my running sneakers on again, I feel more like myself than I have in months. I toss a sweatshirt over my head and bound down the steps.

“Becca, dear, where – oh.” My mother eyes the sneakers on my feet while the phone remains next to her ear. “Dinner is at six.”

“I should be home by then,” I joke, swinging open the door and bounding outside.

I take the front steps two at a time before dashing across the yard and taking the winding driveway down to the street. It’s a gorgeous November day. New Jersey is littered with fallen orange leaves. Even the smells are different from New York. It’s refreshing; although I have a feeling, it will never really feel like home anymore. The air is brisk and cold as it pumps into my lungs and out again in a tiny clouds.

The faster my arms pump, the faster my feet take me. My muscles ache as they are used again.

God, I’ve missed this. I feel at home, I feel like all is right in the world when I run. I feel as if I’m finally in control again. The scenery becomes a blur around me and I focus on my breathing and my pumping arms. The ache in my chest is a distant pain. I’ve experienced worse at this point.

I don’t keep track of the time, but head home once the sun begins to set. By the time I get there, my muscles scream with exhaustion and pain. My socks have to be peeled off and red blisters cover my feet. But it’s the most alive I’ve felt in so long. I finally feel as if I’m back in control. I don’t know how I let myself fall so far. I was smart, calculated, driven – and yet one guy came in and made me weak. I told myself I would never be like that, but I still fell into every girl’s trap. What is it about men that make women stupid? What the hell happened to me? Never again, will I be
that
girl.

One year later…

The house is filled with distant caroling and wreaths the size of me. My parents spared no expense for this year’s holiday party. It seems like ages ago I rolled my eyes at these kinds of things. Now, I welcome it. There was a point in time when I might have never seen them again. It took months of therapy for me to come to grips with things again. My parents were a godsend. They saved me. College life just isn’t meant for some people. That’s what I tell myself. I still refuse to be one of those stupid girls that let a guy get to her.

“Oh, Becca, dear, guests will be arriving soon. Do put a dress on.” Victoria Swanson, the control freak as always. We all have to be putting on our fake smiles and Swanson family presentation that she thrives off. I can’t complain. That’s my mother.

“Okay.” She disappears around the next corner as fast as she popped up. I wander back into my room to change again.

The party is in full swing by the time I walk down the spiraling staircase. The marble floors shimmer against the twinkling lights strung around in garland. The huge Christmas tree in the foyer glistens with all the red and white lights. My mother should have been a party planner, instead of a housewife. She has such talent. The red dress I’m wearing is tight. Therapy taught me to use my frustration for something productive. I chose working out as a crutch. My old clothes always seem to fit snug now against my newly formed leg muscles. I tug the dress down as I continue my descent into fake-dom.

“Oh, Becca, dear!” My mother’s voice carries its way across the crowd. People turn to look. Of course, they have all heard about what happened, but will still put on a smiling face and ask me what I’ve been up to.

I take my time walking over to my mother and Mrs. Carolyn. This is the first of many interactions I’ve had to come to grips with.

“Becca, so good to see you.” Mrs. Carolyn’s condescension is evident with every syllable. It’s as if she’s speaking to a child.

Plastering on my fake smile, I respond, “You, too. How are you?”

“I’m wonderful, darling, how are you doing?” She leans forward at the question, as if she doesn’t want anyone else to hear.

“I’m doing really great, thank you for asking.” I nod with an even faker smile across my face.

“Becca here, has been taking online classes,” my mother butts in. She will feel the need to explain. They begin whispering, so I take the time to turn to someone else and thank them for coming. I sneak further and further away from my mother as I work the room.

I’m saved only when my brother comes swinging in the door. Perfectly dressed in his navy suit, he bounds inside with handfuls of presents.

“Mother!” he calls across the room. He stalks down the stairs and drops the presents in front of the tree, before dashing across the room and pulling her into his arms. Thank God, now I can silently slip into the background again. I will never match Bedford’s charm and success. Her huge smile tells me all I need to know:
he
is her pride and joy. I am just another embarrassment.