“That’s why you didn’t fight for me,” she said softly.
“Would you have wanted me to?”
“At the time, yes. It was exactly what I wanted. I was hurt and confused, and I’d been in love with you for so long that it just made everything worse when I realized how empty your words were. I’d waited for a year for you to ask me to be your girlfriend, and when it finally happened, I think I was in shock. When I found out what you did, I felt so destroyed.”
I hated hearing her say that. Even though subconsciously I’d known all along that she felt that way, hearing the words on her lips made it ten times worse.
“What would you have done if I would have fought for you?” I asked her.
“As we were driving over here tonight, Amy called Troy and left him a voicemail because she knew he was at work. She told him he was a cheater and that they were over. She said she’d come get her things when he wasn’t home, and she didn’t want to see him or talk to him again. She told him not to call her back. Of course he didn’t listen, and he called a few dozen times tonight. She was strong at first, but I could see she wanted to answer her phone after a while. She’s hurt and confused and so angry with him, but she still loves him. I think she’s trying to be strong, but I know how hard that is. I also know that if she were to take him back, what he did would be a black cloud over their relationship. It would eventually wear them down and break them up for good, so taking him back would just prolong the inevitable.”
“So you’re saying that’s what would have happened with us?”
“Yes. I would have spent every night we were apart wondering who you were with and if you were being faithful.”
“And you don’t wonder that now?” I asked, not sure what she was going to say. We’d covered the trust issue already, but maybe she was right and it would always be something between us.
“I know you’re different now,” she said, bringing me some relief. “Van, it killed me to know that you were sleeping with other women while we were together. I hated it, because I wasn’t dating anyone else. But I knew how you felt about commitment. You didn’t want to be in a relationship. Now you–”
“Wait, you weren't seeing other people while we were together?” I asked, cutting her off because I was sort of in shock by what she’d said.
“No, I wasn’t. I couldn't do it. I’ve never really been that kind of girl, and I was too in love with you to be with anyone else.”
“Fuck,” I hissed. “I’m such a jackass. Why did you put up with me for as long as you did?”
“Because you were the only guy I wanted to be with. I held out hope that one day you’d feel the same way.”
“And then I went and completely screwed things up,” I said around a sigh. “No wonder you hated me for so long. Why did you even want to get back together?”
I was so mad at myself in that moment. I couldn't believe I’d ever treated her as bad as I had. I’d slept with anything that moved back then, and she’d been completely faithful to me. I was such a dick.
But then Elisa smiled. “I wanted to get back together with you because you were right when you said you’d changed. You grew up, Van, and you became exactly the guy I wanted you to be all along. I don’t worry that you’re going to cheat on me because I know how you feel, and I trust you with all my heart. We’re not the same people we were two years ago, and our relationship isn't the same. It’s not even close, but it’s like that because we both want the same things now.”
She was right. She was so right.
“I don’t deserve you,” I told her.
She turned and looked up at me. “You do. This version of you does. The guy from a few years ago, he didn’t.”
I smiled. “I think I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“Take it for what it is and know that I’m glad that you ended up being this guy.”
I leaned down and kissed her. “I love you so much.”
She snuggled closer to me. “I know you do, and I love you too.”
* * *
The next morning I was making coffee while Elisa was showering, and Amy walked into the kitchen.
“Hi,” she said softly.
“Hey there,” I told her, aiming for jovial, since I wasn’t sure what to expect after her less than warm welcome toward me the night before.
“I’m sorry about last night,” she said as she settled in at Elisa’s kitchen table.
“No sweat. I get why you were upset.”
“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have lashed out at you. You’re not Troy, and what you did wasn’t exactly the same as what he did. I know that. I was just surprised to see you and Elisa together, but she’s right. I told her months ago to give you another chance. I knew how she felt about you, but she didn’t want to admit it. I’m glad she finally came around, and I’m happy you guys are together. You make her smile.”
“I try,” I said honestly.
Amy smiled. “You’re a good guy, Van. I’ve always thought that.”
“Thanks Amy,” I said as I set a cup of coffee in front of her and settled in across from her at the table with my own cup. “How are you doing this morning?”
She sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Elisa said Troy called you a few times last night?”
She nodded. “Yeah, he did, and he called again this morning before he left for work.”
“Did you answer?”
She shook her head. “No, I didn’t. I can’t talk to him – at least not until I sort through everything. He cheated on me, he lied to me, and he wasn’t always nice to me. I’m not sure I can trust anything he says. He told me my sister kissed him, when in reality it was him hitting on her. And I’ve seen him flirt with other girls. It makes me wonder if that girl who said she slept with him was the first girl he cheated on me with or if there were others. A part of me wants to know, but I almost don’t want to find out that I was too stupid to see the signs.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Ames. From what I’ve heard about Troy, he’s a manipulative asshole. If he was hiding something from you, he probably made it so you’d never find out. Besides, you were busy this semester. Pre-med is no joke.”
Amy’s gaze shifted to the tabletop where she was tracing a swirl pattern with her index finger, her coffee sitting untouched in front of her. “Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to be pre-med anymore.”
“Why not? You love medicine. It’s all you’ve talked about since I met you.”
She smiled halfheartedly. “You know, I think I love the idea of being a doctor, but I’m not sure I can get through the classes. I never thought it would be this hard.”
“I don’t believe that for a second. You’re one of the smartest people I know.”
She looked up at me. “I failed two classes this semester. That doesn’t sound smart to me.”
“It’s a setback.”
“It’s a failure,” she said dejectedly.
“So you’re just going to drop out?” I questioned, hoping I wasn’t pushing her too much.
“Elisa told you?”
“She’s worried about you.”
“I’m worried about me,” she echoed. “I don’t know, Van, I think I just need some time to figure everything out. I’ve been so laser-focused on being a doctor for so long that I haven’t really thought about whether it’s still what I want to do.”
“Are you thinking that maybe you want to do something different?”
She shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“Well, the good news is, you don’t have to figure everything out now. Take some time to decide what you really want to do. No one says you have to have your life planned out today. Take me, for example. I’m doing this Westside thing right now, and I’ll do it until it fizzles out, but after that, I’m clueless.”
“Elisa knew what she wanted to do. She got that internship with Katherine when she was a junior in college, and look at her now. She’s so successful.”
“You’l
l be successful too. Success means different things to different people, and it doesn’t always mean you’ll be happy. Find something that will make you happy and do it.”
“It’s that simple, huh,” she said teasingly.
“I never said it was simple,” I said, in as lighthearted of a voice as I could muster. “But you’ll thank yourself later if you do that.”
“What are we talking about?” Elisa asked as she came into the living room wearing jeans and a flowy yellow tank top.
“My shamble of a life,” Amy said wistfully.
“Any perspective in the light of a new day?” Elisa asked her.
Amy shrugged. “Not yet, but I’m sure I’ll get there.”
“One step at a time,” Elisa said, and it sounded like they’d talked about that the day before.
Amy nodded. “Yup, and the first step is to get my stuff out of Troy’s apartment. How soon do you think Dad can coordinate movers to get it all?”
“Probably next week.”
Amy made a face. “Well, as much as I don’t want to, I think I need to go over there today and pack what I’ll need, you know, some of my clothes and toiletries, basic stuff.”
Elisa nodded. “We can take you over there this morning. Troy’s not going to be home, is he?”
Amy shook her head. “No, he’s working today, so he’ll be gone until three. He had the early shift at the gym.”
“Then we’ll go this morning,” Elisa told her.
“Okay, sounds good. I guess I’ll go shower. Can I borrow some more clothes?” Amy asked her sister.
“Take whatever you want,” Elisa said sweetly. When Amy left the room, Elisa walked over to me and kissed me good morning. “Did you two make up?”
“We did. Apparently I’m a good guy.”
“You are a good guy,” she agreed as she leaned against the table. “Want to be an even better guy and help us get some of Amy’s stuff? I’m concerned about leaving it there. I wouldn’t put it past Troy to take his vengeance out on her prized possessions.”
I grimaced. “You’re probably right to think that. I’ll definitely help. We can bring my truck and put whatever she needs in there. I’m sure Marshall will be down to help us too.”
“Thank you,” Elisa said gratefully. “Amy’s going to move home for the rest of the summer, so we can take her stuff to my parents’ house. What time do you have to be at the studio?”
“Noon, so we should leave soon.”
“We’ll go as soon as Amy gets ready. And in the meantime, can I have coffee?”
I smiled. “Of course.”
She leaned down and kissed me once more. “You’re a great boyfriend.”
“I know,” I said, more than grateful to hear her say that after our conversation the night before. I never again wanted to be the guy I used to be.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Elisa
I should have known that things wouldn’t go as smooth as we’d planned. The goal was to go to Troy’s apartment, help Amy pack what she could and leave as soon as possible. She said Troy was working all day, so he wouldn’t be back, but we didn’t want to take any chances. I could see from the look on her face how hard making the trip was, and I didn’t want to make it any harder.
The longer we stayed at Troy’s apartment, the higher the risk was that he could come back, and I knew seeing him wouldn’t be good for her. He could end up saying something that would make Amy change her mind about staying away from him. So with that in mind, we planned to get in and out as fast as we could.
Amy had woken up in a better mindset, and I’d talked to her while she’d gotten ready, feeling more comfortable with the fact that she wouldn’t voluntarily go back to Troy. Now that she’d opened up about everything he did and how he he’d treated her, I think she was starting to realize that he wasn’t the great guy she thought he’d been. Of course, I also knew how hard it would be for her to see him again and how weak her defenses would be when it happened. I could only hope she’d stay strong when that time came.
Everything was fine for the first few minutes we were at the apartment. Amy quickly filled two suitcases and two tote bags of clothes and was working on filling another suitcase with toiletries and shoes. Marshall stayed with her while Van and I went downstairs to load things into his truck.
That was when Troy had appeared out of nowhere. I looked up when I saw movement on the steps that led to his apartment on the second floor, and it took me a few seconds to realize it was him. He wasn’t supposed to be there, and I started to wonder if he’d been in the apartment while we’d been in there, hiding in a closet or behind the shower curtain, because we definitely hadn’t seen him. By the time I realized it was him, though, he was charging right for us.
“Van, look out!” I shouted at him, and he looked up at me in confusion.
That was when Troy shoved him from behind, slamming his forehead into the side of his truck. When Van turned around to see who had pushed him, Troy sucker-punched him, causing Van’s head to slam back against the side of his truck with a crunching sound as his skull connected with metal.
“You think you can move in on my girlfriend, huh?” Troy demanded as Van turned to him with a murderous glare on his face.
Van’s head was bleeding, the blood pouring down the side of his face and dripping on his t-shirt, but I don’t think he even noticed.
“What the fuck, man?” he asked, shoving Troy hard
Troy just laughed, because he knew he had the upper-hand. He was a personal trainer and an athlete. He worked out daily, and although Van kept in shape, his lean build was no match for Troy’s broad frame. Although you’d never know it with the way Van lashed out at him, catching a blow on Troy’s jaw.
“Stay away from Amy. She’s not available,” Troy spat at him.
“I’m not with Amy,” Van said, as he swung at Troy.
“Bullshit. I saw you put your hand on her back. I saw the way she was looking at you at that wedding. Tell me you’re not fucking her.”
“Fuck you,” Van growled as he charged at Troy, and both men tumbled to the ground.
I yelled at them to stop, but no one was listening to me. It was a fruitless effort, so as much as I didn’t want to leave Van, I ran upstairs to get Marshall. He charged down the stairs with Amy behind him, and within a few seconds he’d pulled Troy off of Van and was restraining him.
Van was breathing hard and had looked like he’d been through a war with his shirt torn in several places and dirt and blood staining his clothes.
“Call the police,” he barked at me, and I nodded, unable to do anything but listen to him.
“They’re on their way,” I told him as he sat down on the bottom step of the stairs that led to Troy’s apartment.
Amy brought him his hat that had fallen off in the melee, and he slammed it back onto his head and slumped down so his face was obscured from view.
“I’m going to get you some ice,” I told him.
He nodded, but he didn’t lift his head, and I looked up to see that a crowd had gathered. A few of them were shooting video with their cell phones. A sick feeling spread throughout me as I went upstairs, hating the sheer intrusion of privacy.
“Are you okay?” I asked Van when I came back downstairs and handed him the ice.
I spared a glance at the crowd of onlookers who refused to leave, glaring in disgust at the collective group of them. I couldn’t exactly worry about them. I felt like I had more important things to attend to.
“I’ll live,” Van said, his voice sounding gravelly as a police car pulled up in front of us.
“Do you need stitches?” I asked him, looking closer at his injuries, lifting his hat to see the cut that went into his hairline and examining the gash on his cheek. Neither wound seemed all that deep, but his head was still bleeding profusely, staining his favorite hat.
“I’m fine,” he said tightly.
“Okay, well, in that case, I’ll be right back,” I told him.
I figured with the police being called, the spectacle we’d caused was about to get that much more exciting. My PR instincts kicked into gear, and I crossed the street to the crowd.
“Can you all please give us some privacy?” I asked them.
“Is that Van Salvatore from Westside?” a girl in her late teens asked me, ignoring my request and not putting down her cell phone.
“What happened?” a guy asked me. “My roommate said he saw that guy punch that other dude out of nowhere. He said it was sick. He said the dude is famous or something. Who is he?”
I glared at him. “Why do you care?”
He shrugged. “Slow day. This is better than what I was watching on TV.”
I sighed. “He’s not famous. He’s no one. Can you all please give us some privacy while we deal with this situation?”
“Like hell he’s not famous,” someone else said.
Another girl said, “I think your privacy just went out the window.”
I looked up to see three black SUVs rolling up behind the police car and got a tight feeling in my stomach. The officer was now restraining Troy and shoving him into the back of the squad car, and the paparazzi who started to pile out of the SUVs were capturing the whole thing on film, including Van with his head down, and the ice pressed to his cheek. Marshall was doing what he could to block the photographers from getting a good shot of Van, but he was just one guy.
“Shit,” I cursed as I walked back over to the scene where the officer was now talking to Van.
“Can we take this whole thing upstairs?” I asked Amy as I glanced back at the photographers who looked practically gleeful.
“No, we can’t. Van already asked, but since it’s Troy’s apartment, and I’m not on the lease, we could technically get cited for trespassing if we did that. Troy said something about us being here unauthorized, so the officer warned us not to go back inside.”
“Did you explain that you’ve been living here?” I asked her. “That you have a key?”
“Yes, but it doesn’t matter since it’s not really my apartment.”
“But all your stuff is in there.”
Westside Series Box Set Page 73
