Hatefully Yours

by Callahan, Kelli

  “Thankfully, they didn’t see me.” She shook her head. “I got the fuck out of there to the sound of Hannah saying I’m-sorry-daddy-I’ll-be-a-good-girl.”

  “Holy shit.” I reached for my drink. “Was she like—into it? I mean… was he hurting her?”

  “Oh she was into it; trust me.” Jessica nodded quickly.

  “Wow, now I’m going to be thinking about that the next time I see her—god, I hope I can keep a straight face!” I lifted my glass to my lips and nearly spilled my drink because I was laughing so much.

  “Seriously though, please don’t say anything.” Jessica put her hand on my arm. “I don’t want to kink-shame her, even if it did make me laugh.”

  “I’ll keep it to myself.” I nodded and put my drink down on the table.

  “Alright, my boss is glaring at me. I need to get back to the bar.” She started to stand. “Find a guy—preferably one that has his own place or will be out of the apartment before I get off work.”

  Jessica’s departure seemed to paint a target on my back because I barely had a chance to look around the room before a couple of guys walked over to the table. I wasn’t feeling either of them, so I excused myself to go to the restroom. I talked with a few more people after I got my third drink from the bar, and while it was nice to mingle, I just didn’t feel a spark with anyone. Sadly, I found myself thinking about the one guy that I should have been permanently erased from my thoughts—Trent Rigsby. The shift in his demeanor had reminded me too much of who he used to be before he broke my heart, and I couldn’t shake that feeling—no matter how hot the guys were that I talked to.

  Maybe tonight just isn’t the night.

  I switched to water and waited for my buzz to wear off before I went home. Jessica seemed a little disappointed that I wasn’t leaving with anyone. A night in a stranger’s arms just wasn’t going to cut it if I wasn’t into it. Maybe it would have been easier if I didn’t already know that my roommate had slept with a lot of them. I did like to know that there was a chance, even if it was a small one, that the guy I was with was going to be there longer the one night. All of the ones she pointed out seemed to have already failed in the call-the-next-day department, otherwise, she wouldn’t have written them off when she started looking for something more serious than a one night stand.

  I miss my college days when I felt like I was allowed to be wild and free—it was what I needed to mend my broken heart. Now I have no idea what my heart wants…

  Hannah was still up when I got home. It was really hard to look her in the eyes, and I said goodnight as quickly as possible. I barely got my door closed before I started laughing. It was going to take some time before I could look at her and not immediately think about the story Jessica told me. It definitely made me look at her in a different light. I realized when I got to my bedroom that I need to use the bathroom, but I held it until Hannah was in bed—just to avoid accidentally laughing in her face if I ran into her in the hallway. It would be easier to hold it together once the alcohol was fully out of my system.

  Even though I didn’t hook with anyone, it was nice to hang out with other people—people that I didn’t have to stress over so much.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Trent

  I left the office on Friday with the weight of the world on my shoulders. I was doing my best to hold it together at the office, but I didn’t like how things turned out with my team. Fulton assured me that it wasn’t a demotion and it was a huge opportunity, but it didn’t feel like one—not with so much of my future riding on the success of a team that consisted of me and a woman that would rather throw me off the roof than sit across the table from me. The worst part was that I brought every bit of that misery on myself. I was the asshole, and fate was handing me my comeuppance with no shot at redemption. I just had to suffer without knowing if I would be executed or pardoned.

  Self-reflection is a horrible thing when you hate the man in the fucking mirror.

  I had a lot of time for self-reflection when I went back to my empty apartment and poured myself a drink. I had so much going for me—a good job, a nice apartment, a car that was probably too expensive for me to drive, but I cut corners to get the one I wanted. I had the luxury of doing that—I could make bad decisions if I wanted as long as they didn’t ruin me. I had to come to terms with the biggest one of all because it couldn’t be changed. I chose to go on the attack when Brooke showed up at Remington Global because I was afraid that her hatred would run-through my team like poison—when I was the one spitting venom.

  “What the fuck is wrong with me,” I muttered under my breath and stared at the face in the mirror as I poured myself another drink.

  It was too late for an apology, but I was going to have to give her one anyway—not an offhanded comment or a sarcastic response—something genuine to let her know that I truly did want to move past our rocky reunion. I fucked up. It had happened so many times that I let it become a pattern. I turned the sweetest, kindest, most caring girl the whole world into a symbol of hatred for my very existence. It started on the night of her graduation party, and time let it linger until it was time for that hate to grow. I allowed time to turn my frustration into my own version of disdain, and I had no real reason to do it. There was never a point where I was right—I just kept making the wrong decision over and over.

  She probably won’t even believe the truth—I don’t know if I would if our roles were reversed.

  * * *

  I got to the office early on Monday morning. My calendar was full of appointments for the Xavier Wholesale marketing campaign. Mr. Remington must have sold them on Brooke’s ideas because they were stepping things up considerably. I wondered in the back of my mind if Mr. Remington was possibly financing some of it. He had his hands in a lot of different businesses—shares of companies that would have surprised a lot of people. It wasn’t outside of the realm of plausibility for him to buy part of Xavier Wholesale when he had a big opportunity to grow the company, especially if it would grow his empire. He wanted to be mentioned alongside Warren Buffett and Bill Gates before he retired.

  Even if it’s not for his own gain, it’s still a pet project, and I have to treat it like it’s the most important account we have.

  I was standing at my window when Brooke stepped off the elevator. I could already tell there was a difference in the way she walked—the way she carried herself—just her general demeanor. She was no longer worried about my wrath. She knew that the power dynamic was shifted enough that I was going to have to work with her. Things might not have been as tense as they were before she met with Mr. Remington, but I still felt like the air needed to be cleared. It was the perfect day to do it because Fulton was out of the office, and the rest of the team had been relocated to the other side of The Great Divide.

  “Good morning.” I stepped out of my office and waved to Brooke as she got to her desk.

  “Morning…” She gave me an apprehensive glance.

  “Can we talk?” I motioned to my office.

  “Sure.” She nodded and put her stuff down on her desk.

  I was prepared to eat the shit I had been shoveling, even if I didn’t like it. We had already managed to make it through one day without blowing up at one another, but I didn’t know if that would last. As she put it—the elephant never left the room. It had been lingering in the corner, ready to stomp us out of existence if we looked at it the wrong way. I wasn’t going to be able to put Brooke in the past by walking her out the door, and I didn’t even want that anymore. I just wanted to find a way to coexist without the tension hanging in the air, and it was there because I created it. I was the only one that could set things right. Sure, they would never be perfect, but we could find out what the present was supposed to look like instead of living in our own twisted version of the past.

  “Did I do something wrong?” Brooke looked up at me as I pulled a chair over and sat down.

  “No.” I shook my head back and forth. “I’m the
one that did something wrong—a lot of things, actually.”

  “I can’t argue with you there.” She nodded.

  “I want to apologize, Brooke. I’m sorry. I mean that…” I looked down and sighed.

  “It actually sounds sincere this time.” Her voice had a level of apprehension in it, but it wasn’t laced with anger.

  “It is.” I lifted my head slowly. “I know that no apology can undo what I did to you all those years ago, but I’ve acted like an asshole since you started working here. I hope we can move past it—if you’re willing to forgive me.”

  “The way I see it.” She tilted her head slightly. “There are two sides to you. There’s the sweet, gentle, caring boy I knew—and the evil bastard he became. If you want me to forgive you for what you’ve done since I started working here, then prove that you still remember who you used to be.”

  “It’s hard sometimes.” I grimaced. “That boy was an asshole too. You just never saw it—until the night of your graduation party…”

  “Why did you do it?” She narrowed her eyes. “I’ve always wondered—why did you give me hope? Did you just want to break my heart?”

  “No.” I exhaled sharply and shook my head. “I’ve thought about that night a lot, especially since you started working here. I can’t put the blame on anyone else, but I didn’t go upstairs with Keely because I was interested in her. She told me you were up there—that’s the only reason I went.”

  “Did you think she was me when you kissed her?” Brooke scoffed at my explanation. “When you put your hands all over her…”

  “Like I said, I can’t put the blame on her. I knew she had a thing for me. I got tempted once or twice, but you were the one I always wanted.” I felt my heart sinking into my stomach as the memories rushed back. “But then we were alone in that room, and I was weak…”

  “Well at least she got to live out her fantasy on graduation night.” Brooke shook her head and sighed. “If you were that weak, then it turned out for the best.”

  “Do you really think I went back to her after you walked in on us?” I blinked in surprise. “Realizing that I hurt you practically destroyed me. I even came to your house the next day…”

  “I may have had a few nights in college that I don’t remember, but I’m pretty sure I would remember that.” She tilted her head suspiciously.

  “Boone stopped me from seeing you. It was the right call, even if I didn’t want to admit it at the time.” I leaned back in my chair. “He put things in a perspective that I was too blind to see on my own.”

  “What did he say?” Brooke’s eyebrows shot, and a shocked expression spread across her face.

  “Things I didn’t want to hear.” I sighed. “I knew I hurt you, but I wanted a chance to make things right. Boone was quick to tell me that I was a fool—and you deserved better. I mean, would you have even given me another chance? I doubt it.”

  “I don’t know. My emotions were all over the place back then.” Brooke shrugged. “I think I would have still left Cabot Beach with a broken heart, but I might not have sent you that letter…”

  “You needed to write it.” I nodded. “I needed to read it. Sure, it fucked me up to find out that the girl who looked at me like I was the only guy in the world was carrying so much hatred because of what I did, but that letter allowed both of us to move on with our lives.”

  “Too bad we only made it five years.” Brooke almost smiled, and a hollow chuckle made its way out.

  “Fate is fucking cruel.” I exhaled sharply. “Or maybe we just couldn’t escape the past without revisiting it one more time.”

  “I thought I had…” Brooke looked towards the window for a moment. “I went as far away from Cabot Beach as I could—this was supposed to be a whole new world.”

  “I tried.” I pulled out my wallet, opened it, and pulled out a piece of paper. “But I never really did…”

  “Is that…” Brooke blinked in confusion and leaned forward. “No fucking way.”

  “I don’t know how many times I’ve read it over the years. Enough to memorize it—not enough for the words to stop stinging.” I unfolded the letter.

  “Can I see it?” Brooke held out her hand. “I’d love to say that I remember everything I wrote, but it has gotten blurry over the years—except for how I ended it.”

  “Sure.” I put it in her hand.

  I studied Brooke’s expression as she read the letter. I wasn’t surprised that she didn’t remember the words that were written in an emotional haste back then. I felt every one of them a thousand times. I could even tell that she got angrier as she wrote it because the ink was darker towards the bottom like she was pressing down. It was a miracle that the paper survived until the last line of ink spelled out her name.

  “One part of it was a lie…” She handed me the letter back.

  “I hope it’s the part about spitting on my grave.” I folded the letter.

  “No—it’s the part about crying my last tear.” She sighed. “I had a lot more of those after I sent that letter.”

  “I truly am sorry.” I shook my head and felt my emotions trying to overwhelm me. “For everything.”

  “I forgive you—the best that I can.” Brooke blinked a couple of times, and I could see that she was struggling. “We should try to get some work done today.”

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “Good call.”

  There’s not much else we can say about the past anyway. At least she knows the truth now…

  Chapter Sixteen

  Brooke

  I made it to my desk and managed to hold back the tears. I hadn’t felt that vulnerable in years. No guy had ever been able to tear me apart as easily as Trent Rigsby. I thought I was immune to him, and the hatred was strong enough to endure the test of time, but it wasn’t—not anymore. The fact he kept the letter for all those years, tucked in his wallet, obviously read quite a few times based on the creases in the paper—that left me with emotions that I didn’t know how to process. I believed he truly was sorry, but was that enough? The teenage girl that got her heart broken wanted him to suffer. Had he? The pain I saw in those ocean-blue eyes when he confessed how much pain the letter caused him certainly seemed authentic.

  I don’t think I’ll ever see him through the innocent eyes I used to have, but I’m willing to let the elephant in the room die so we can move on.

  Trent was willing to admit that he fucked up, and I assumed it took a lot for him to swallow his pride so he could do that. I could forgive him for treating me like shit since I started working at Remington Global. I didn’t know if I could ever truly forgive him for breaking my heart. Being able to move past it didn’t erase the pain, nor did it replace the agony I suffered when I saw him kissing my best friend. The fact he didn’t sleep with her had removed some weight, but not enough to remove the scar from my heart. It cut too deep—it healed wrong—it was not something that words could mend.

  A part of me was still glad that he suffered. I used to dream that my letter sliced him open and made him bleed. I never knew if it actually did until I saw the words I wrote five years after my pen left the page. Did I want him to hurt as long as he had? I couldn’t answer that question honestly. The teenage girl I used to be certainly did. She felt like he deserved to suffer for the rest of his life. I was willing to draw a line in the sand and say that his suffering should end—whatever he did with the rest of his life wasn’t my concern. I just needed to be able to rely on him as a member of the team and as my boss. If he was genuinely sorry, that was the least he could do. Nothing else mattered between us. It was the past.

  Being able to admit that to myself is a good way to make a fresh start.

  * * *

  Trent and I managed to work together for the rest of the week without revisiting our discussion. There were times when I thought he was going to bring it up—times when I thought it was on the tip of my tongue—but neither of us managed to say anything that wasn’t related to work. I didn’t really know what e
ither of us could say. He apologized. I had told him that he was forgiven in every way that I could. I think we both understood what part I couldn’t forgive, even if I didn’t have the ability to elaborate on it. I was looking forward to the weekend. Hannah was out of town. Jessica was working. I had some time to myself, and I was definitely ready to unpack my vibrator for a single girl’s version of a passionate Friday night.

  “Can I borrow your black shoes?” Hannah stormed into my room without knocking while I was getting ready for work.

  “Hannah!” I grabbed my towel. “I’m not even dressed…”

  “I don’t swing that way, Brooke.” She pulled my closet door open.

  I know which way you swing—great, now I’m thinking about what Jessica told me.

  “My black shoes are in the left corner, behind my sneakers.” I walked closer and pointed them out. “I thought you already had shoes for your sister’s wedding.”

  “They don’t fit.” She grabbed the only pair of heels I spent a decent amount of money on. “Can you lose weight in your feet? I don’t fucking know. I just need shoes!”

  “Yeah, okay.” I shrugged. “Take them. I’m not going anywhere this weekend.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled. “Make sure you check my Facebook over the weekend. I’ll be posting pictures!”

  Yeah, I’ll make sure to click it religiously, hoping for an update—not.

  I had to avoid Hannah’s mad dash back and forth across our apartment as I walked into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. She was in a frenzy because she didn’t take time to prepare for her trip until she was hours away from leaving New York. That was mainly because she was spending so much time with her new guy friend. It didn’t help that he had decided to be her plus one at the last minute, which just seemed to increase her stress level. I said goodbye when I left, but she barely acknowledged me.