Whatever It Takes

by Ritchie, Krista

  I look up at him. “You were already invited to the party.”

  “Not by you.”

  This is the day, the very moment, that I realize how much Garrison Abbey is glad to be in my company. Mine.

  Willow Moore from Maine.

  You may not be such a fool after all.

  25 PRESENT DAY – December

  London, England

  WILLOW HALE

  Age 20

  It’s been almost a full 24-hours since I booked Garrison’s flight to London. A delay from a snowstorm held up the plane in Philly all night, and he didn’t actually leave the airport until noon today. The sun has already set, and my nerves have gone from worry to catastrophic levels.

  Thank God for the flight tracker app. I’ve been obsessively watching the plane cross the ocean, and now it’s only a couple minutes from landing.

  Sitting on the steps to Bishop Hall, the wind picks up and howls. Music blasts from speakers on the snowy quad. A party starts to gain momentum, people dancing and passing around cans of cheap beer. Most of the parties here have been at houses or pubs, but apparently Wakefield always has one themed party on the quad at the end of every year.

  Tonight, the theme is “celestial” and everyone is wearing white, but I’m in a green puffer jacket and jeans. I don’t even care that I stick out like a neon sign. My stomach knots, unable to join in the festivities.

  I don’t know what happened last night, but Garrison doesn’t sound that upset unless something is going on with his family or the paparazzi or maybe his ex-high-school friends paid him a visit. My mind has been racing through the horrible possibilities.

  I was even tempted to text Connor about Garrison’s job to make sure he wasn’t fired. But unless it’s a group text, I don’t really have a texting friendship with Connor Cobalt. And anyway, I’d much rather learn what’s going on from Garrison, not run around him for information.

  So I’m waiting.

  “Willow!” Tess plops down on the stair beside me, beer in hand. She wears this fluffy, white fur coat that contrasts her rich brown skin. Glitter dots her cheeks. She looks gorgeous, truly fitting the celestial theme. Tess frowns when she sees my green jacket. “Do you have nothing white to wear? We can go to my closet.”

  I tuck a flyaway strand of hair behind my ear. “Thanks, but I’m not doing the party tonight. I’m actually waiting for Garrison to get here.”

  Tess’s grin lights up her face. “Wait, we’re going to meet the boyfriend tonight!” Her knees bounce in excitement and she claps her hands, even with a beer in one.

  “I mean…maybe,” I say.

  At this point, I’m not sure what will happen. Garrison could arrive in London and then just hop on a plane back to Philly. He didn’t want me going to the airport to pick him up. His words: I’m already inconveniencing you enough. Please just let me get a cab, Willow.

  Normally, I would have argued with him, but his voice was so…broken. I don’t want to push him.

  Tess sips her beer. “Well, I’ll be excited to see him even from a distance. I can tell you love him a lot, and I may be biased, but I think you have great taste in people.”

  I match her smile.

  Sheetal steps over in furry boots and a sleek white jumpsuit. “What are you two grinning about?”

  “Tess was just saying that I have great taste in people,” I say.

  Sheetal narrows her eyes at her girlfriend. “I love how you find a proper way to compliment yourself inside a compliment to someone else. Bloody brilliant.”

  Tess smiles wider. “Say that again, but…” She tugs Sheetal onto her lap. “Now.”

  Sheetal’s eyes fall into Tess’s. “You’re bloody brilliant.” Their lips meet in a tender kiss, and I look away as the music changes to an EDM song that I recognize. It’s one of Lo’s favorites.

  I let out a tense breath.

  Sheetal breaks from Tess and frowns. “What’s wrong, Willow?”

  “Nothing, really,” I mutter.

  They both exchange concerned glances, and then Sheetal says, “You should be celebratin’ like the boss champ you are. We all made the highest marks on our project. And second semester will be even better. Nowhere to go but up.”

  We did very well on our marketing project. It was a strange coincidence that we chose an umbrella for our marketing project, and then a month later Netflix dropped the trailer to their new show The Umbrella Academy. I’d already read the comics that the show’s based on, and it seemed like a great opportunity to capitalize on the timing.

  So we tied in some of our marketing around the show—and put in a budget of what it would cost to cross-promote with the studio and the actors. Of course, it was all a theoretical scenario. But I was able to put my old teenage skills in editing fan videos to good use, splicing the trailer into an ad. It was fun.

  And it worked. The professor was impressed that we thought about our demographic: the superhero-obsessed generation.

  Garrison and I already celebrated over Christmas. We read the comics together side-by-side while drinking champagne straight from the bottle.

  Cold slices my exposed cheeks, and I zip my jacket higher, trying to block the wind. I shake my head. “I am excited about school,” I tell Sheetal. “I’m just worried about my boyfriend.”

  Tess wraps an arm around Sheetal and explains, “Garrison is coming in tonight.”

  “Tonight?” Sheetal’s brows rise.

  I shrug. “It was a spontaneous thing.”

  “I’ll say.” Sheetal smiles, her excitement just as palpable as her girlfriend’s. “We’re finally meeting the boyfriend.”

  Tess nods. “That’s what I said.”

  “Great minds—” Sheetal can’t get the rest of the words out because Tess kisses her again.

  My phone pings with a text. My stomach has butterflies, drunk on concern. Flapping around in my belly with an intoxicated, sluggish rhythm.

  Garrison: Just got in the cab. Be there in twenty.

  I just need him to be okay. Please be okay.

  That’s all I can hope.

  26 PRESENT DAY – December

  London, England

  GARRISON ABBEY

  Age 21

  An excruciating delay, an eight-hour flight, and twenty-minute cab ride later, I’ve finally arrived at Wakefield. The snow-blanketed quad in front of Bishop Hall is filled with inflatable jumping houses that little kids have for birthday parties. Music thumps the cobblestone path.

  Willow warned me that since this is the one and only party on the quad it’s a bit extravagant, but it feels more like some strange carnival. People dressed in all white, some have angel wings on their backs.

  College is weird, man.

  I tip back a small travel bottle of vodka to my mouth. The liquor slides easy down my throat. In first class, they were handing me these almost every fucking hour.

  Okay, I asked for them.

  It’s been a shitty day. A shitty year.

  A shitty life.

  Each step towards the brick building is heavy. A couple of people shoot me weird looks, eyeing my clothes. Red T-shirt. Black hoodie jacket. Dark pants. If I came here to blend, I’m failing at critical levels.

  My small duffel is slung on my shoulder. Cold wind bites my face, and I press my phone to my ear. No gloves. Forgot those on my hurried course to the airport. My fingers sear from the chill.

  Willow picks up on the first ring. “Are you here?” she asks, urgency to her words.

  “Yeah, present.” I spin around, trying to find her. But everything suddenly blurs. My head tilts. Sickness rises in my throat. Shit.

  “I’m waiting in front of the building,” she says. “You can’t miss me. I’m in green.”

  She didn’t dress up for this party. She’s been waiting for me. I don’t know why that makes me feel like worse shit.

  I rub my eyes. An angel passes me, laughing shrilly with her friends. I blink hard. Jesus. Where am I? I down the rest of the vodka and toss
the little bottle off to the side. It lands in a deeper patch of snow.

  “Garrison,” Willow says, still on the other line. “I think I see you. Turn to your left.”

  I turn in a circle again.

  “Your left,” Willow repeats.

  I stop, close my eyes, take a breath. Open them, but as I follow her instructions, she says, “I’m coming to you. Don’t move.”

  Finally, I see her. Green puffy winter jacket. Glasses perched on her nose. Hair blowing in the wind. She’s pocketing her cell so she can walk faster.

  People wave to her like they know her. And I realize…she’s popular here. Has a bunch of friends. Is loved and wanted. She brushes them off with a perfunctory smile, her course on me.

  What the fuck am I doing here?

  What the fuck am I doing to her?

  My chest blazes in pain. I stumble back, almost falling onto my ass, but someone catches me by the arm.

  I jolt, the touch pushing me to panic, and I shove at the person on instinct.

  “Whoa!” The guy steps back, eyes confused and angry. “Just trying to help, man.”

  His voice. His accent is so familiar. And then I really look at him. Windswept hair and wide jaw. White sports coat, white pants and angel wings on his back. You’ve got to be shitting me.

  “Salvatore.” Willow jogs over, out of breath as she lands next to her friend. She waves to me. “This is—”

  “Her boyfriend,” I say. It doesn’t come out right, though. I feel like a jerk.

  Salvatore looks between us and he nods slowly, connecting the dots. I don’t know what she’s told him about me, but the way he’s appraising me like I’m exactly what he pictured has me on edge.

  “What are you looking at?” I snap at him.

  “Garrison,” Willow says and reaches for my hand, but I pull away. My focus is on Salvatore. All my rage pooling into this one goddamn thing.

  Salvatore narrows his eyes at me. “Are you drunk?”

  I wave my arms around. “Look around, Salvatore. We’re at a college party. Everyone is drunk.” I hate his name. It’s cooler than mine. It still reminds me of that vampire TV show that Willow and I used to watch together. Gif sets that we’d send to each other.

  It’s like the universe is mocking me.

  Here he is.

  In fucking angel wings.

  I mean, come on.

  “Garrison,” Willow says, but she doesn’t try to reach for me again. “Let’s just go inside.” She hugs her arms to her chest.

  Salvatore shakes his head and under his breath, but loud enough for me to hear, he says, “I don’t think you should be alone with him, Willow.”

  “Fuck you, man,” I growl. “I’m her boyfriend. Who are you again?” My voice accidentally grows louder, and people close by stop their conversations to watch us. Willow takes a step back as if she can physically avoid the attention.

  My whole body tenses like my brother just slammed a fist into my gut again.

  The world around me spins. I touch my pocket, hoping for a cigarette, but I think I ran out in the cab.

  “I’m her friend,” Salvatore refutes.

  “Salvatore, you don’t understand,” Willow says quickly, sticking up for me.

  “I understand that he’s drunk and obviously angry and you shouldn’t be near him right now,” he says. That really rubs me the wrong way. Him dictating who she can even talk to. I don’t care if it comes from a place of concern. Willow and I have been through more together than he’ll ever know.

  “Hey, she can make her own decisions,” I snap and move towards my girl. She lets out a breath of relief.

  But then Salvatore says something. I think hold on. He puts his hands on my shoulders to stop me from walking to Willow. It’s a light touch, but it feels like someone descended fifty tons onto me. And I just swing.

  My fist connects with Salvatore’s cheek. Hard enough that he goes down on the ground.

  Some other guy with jet-black hair is pushing me back like I might go in for a kick to the stomach. I wouldn’t. I don’t…I don’t even know why I punched him.

  My head throbs now.

  My knuckles burn.

  “Garrison!” Willow yells, but I can’t see her.

  “Get off!” I say to the guy trying to push me back. “Get the fuck off!” I hold up my hands, showing him I’m not going to start in on Salvatore.

  He steps back.

  People begin to clear a path, and I notice Salvatore rising to his feet, his angel wings bent from the fall. Willow stands near but her eyes flit around the crowds, searching for me. Two girls flank her sides and whisper to her. Their lips move hurriedly. I recognize them instantly: Sheetal and Tess.

  Sheetal’s hands gesticulate angrily and she waves them in my direction.

  I can imagine what they’re saying to Willow. Don’t go with Garrison. He’s jealous, dangerous.

  Willow’s gaze finally finds mine. Her brown eyes sink with pure concern. She’s not scared or hurt or mad at me.

  She should be.

  I’m not a good guy.

  Hasn’t tonight proven that?

  I take a step back and glance towards the street. Maybe I can catch a cab…

  “Garrison.” Willow’s voice draws me in; she’s already moving towards me, despite her friends’ protests. She reaches my side and almost tries to touch my hand again, but she stops herself short. In a whisper, she breathes, “Can I hold your hand?”

  “No.” My answer is quick and caustic.

  It knocks her back. But she blinks and nods. “Okay.” She crosses her arms over her chest like she’s cold.

  “I’m going to go,” I tell her.

  She shakes her head adamantly. Hurt and confusion bunching her brows. “No. You’re not leaving.”

  I can feel the cellphones whipped out, recording us. I don’t even know if they realize who we are, or if they’re just doing it for the internet. People are cruel like that.

  One of the worst nights of my life will be out there for public consumption. For their entertainment. Hell, I used to be one of them. Feeding the gluttonous, cannibalistic internet at someone else’s expense.

  I can’t tell if it’s the cold, but it’s harder to breathe all of a sudden. The wind stabs my lungs.

  I lean closer to her.

  The music picks up near the party.

  “Willow,” I whisper. “I think we should…” Break up. I can’t even force out those words without my eyes reddening. Pain searing. It’s selfish of me not to end this.

  I know that.

  She glares as tears run down her cheek. “Don’t you dare. I love you, Garrison.”

  “I love you, too.” I’ll always love her. I stuff my chilled, burning hands into my pockets. “It’s why I have to go.”

  We stand in the middle of her college campus. Phones pointed at us. And I feel like I’ve grabbed a shovel and buried us both under.

  “You’re not breaking up with me,” Willow says in defiance. Like it can’t be done. “I won’t let you.”

  I don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve her. God, I don’t. But I’m ruining her. My eyes sear, cold stinging the water that threatens to spill. “Willow—”

  “You want to go,” she says. “I heard you. So we’re going to get in a cab and drive to the airport and you’re going to fly home. But I’m coming with you to the airport. You don’t have to talk. We can just sit. And then when you’re back in Philly and sober, you’ll call me. You’ll tell me what’s wrong.”

  I don’t know if I will.

  But I nod.

  “I love you,” she says again. Wrapping her arms around herself because I won’t let her touch me. If she touches me, she’ll know I bruised…or broke my ribs. Or rather, my brother broke them.

  Maybe she already knows. It’s probably on her list of possibilities. Still I can’t bring myself to mention what happened. It doesn’t excuse me punching her friend. It doesn’t excuse how I ruined tonight.

  Yeah,
I should let her go. Reject her offer. But I feel like the inked skeleton, fingers slipping from the one thing still alive in its hand.

  And I hold on.

  I’m holding on.

  But I don’t know where we go from here.

  * * *

  Thank you so much for reading Whatever It Takes! We hope you enjoyed the beginning of Garrison & Willow’s romance. Their story continues and concludes in Book 2 of the Bad Reputation Duet, which still follows both past and present storylines. It’s all going down in Wherever You Are!

  FURTHER READING

  Ready for the next generation? Lily & Lo’s son Maximoff Hale is all grown up and has an epic love story in Damaged Like Us.

  DAMAGED LIKE US

  Don’t date your bodyguard.

  It was the one rule he had to break.

  M/M Romance

  * * *

  Want to learn more about how the Calloway Sisters and their families became famous? The entire Addicted & Calloway Sisters series are now available! Start with Lily & Loren Hale’s story in Addicted to You.

  ADDICTED TO YOU

  Two addicts (a female sex addict & an alcoholic) pretend to be in a relationship to hide their addictions from their families

  New Adult Romance

  Also by Krista & Becca

  ADDICTED SERIES

  Addicted to You

  Ricochet

  Addicted for Now

  Thrive

  Addicted After All

  The Addicted Series Box Set

  BAD REPUTATION DUET

  Whatever It Takes

  Wherever You Are

  CALLOWAY SISTERS SERIES