Finding Abel (Rebel Hearts Book 1)

by Stephanie Hoffman McManus

  My stomach lurched, and I pasted on my own smile, resisting the urge to dart my eyes over to Abel. Was he watching this?

  Coach, or I should say, Jason, sauntered over to me and smoothly curled one arm around my waist as he bent and pressed his lips to my cheek. “Congratulations,” I squeaked.

  Jason straightened, still beaming from the win. “Not a terrible way to spend our ten-month anniversary, right? Now we have another reason to go out and celebrate.”

  I swallowed dryly and nodded. “Mmhmm.” And at that moment I lost the struggle, giving in and flicking my eyes over his shoulder to Abel, who was definitely watching, his face hard and eyes dark.

  Jason turned, seeming to notice him for the first time. A stunned expression overcame him momentarily, and then he proceeded to have a fanboy moment. “Oh, wow! Hey, man, I’m Jason Richards, head football coach at Darlington, and a huge fan of yours.” He thrust his hand out. After an almost awkward length of time, Abel accepted it.

  “Nice to meet you, Coach. Congratulations on the win tonight, and, you said it’s your ten-month anniversary?” He looked between the two of us, something like accusation in his eyes when they met mine. Guilt made me looked away. Not for Abel, but for Jason.

  “Of our first date. That’s right, sometimes I still can’t believe I convinced this girl to take a chance on a lowly gym teacher and coach.” Jason curled his arm around my waist again and hauled me in tight, completely oblivious to the tension filling the space that everyone else was aware of. Scarlet heat suffused my cheeks. I was the lowest of the low.

  “Yeah, she’s something special, isn’t she?” Abel said pointedly.

  I cringed. No way would Jason have missed that.

  It was Aunt Jax who came to the rescue. “Well, we better be going. We have our own celebrating to do, and we won’t keep you two.” I wanted to hug her. And I did. I hugged them all, except Abel, and congratulated Aiden on the victory, and then I quickly got Jason out of there.

  Hand in hand, we made our way through the parking lot, thankfully in the opposite direction of the others.

  Halfway there, Jason bumped his hip into mine and squeezed my hand. “So I take it you and Mr. Rock Star were more than just friends growing up?” It never seemed like the right time to tell him we were ever more than that. I mean, how did you tell a guy that you used to date—correction—used to be in love with one of his celebrity idols? And that would have led to questions about how and why it ended. Most guys didn’t want to hear, “it’s complicated,” when it came to your ex. Omitting the whole thing seemed better than lying.

  But now I was worse than a liar, because there was something else I was keeping from him.

  Lowest of the low, remember? Pond scum. That was me.

  I slowed and then stopped all together, turning on my heel to face him. “I’m sorry I never told you, I just . . .” I let out a heavy breath, not quite knowing what to say.

  “You just thought I’d be incredibly intimidated? Because I am,” he let out a self-deprecating laugh.

  I cringed slightly, feeling even worse. I hadn’t kept it from him to protect him. I was more selfish than that. What was lower than pond scum? “I’m sorry. I should have mentioned it.”

  He ruffled a hand through his hair. “It’s okay. I’ll try my best not to be insanely jealous.”

  A relieved breath escaped when he wrapped his arm around me and we continued toward his Jeep and my Lexus, parked side by side.

  I nudged him in the side playfully and teased, “Jealous of him or me?”

  He chuckled. “You obviously. Man that guy is so cool. Was I a total dork back there, all hi, I’m a huge fan? It was like meeting his dad all over again.”

  “Not a total dork, just a little one,” I assured him. “At least you didn’t go gaga when you met his sister.” I was a pretty self-confident person, but Addelynn McCabe could make any girl feel unremarkable. It was hard having that girl for a best friend.

  “I’m not a total dummy. I knew better than that,” he smirked. “But if I had, would you have been jealous? Because that might make me feel a little better.”

  I gave him a shove as we came to a stop in front of our cars.

  “Ride with me?” he asked. “I’ll bring you back to your car later.”

  I acquiesced and let him open the door for me.

  It was a short ride to one of my favorite little restaurants in Roxbury. We discussed the game and some of the upcoming teams the Panthers would face. Jason was excited and optimistic about their chances of going to the playoffs. I thought that meant we were done talking about my history with Abel.

  Silly me.

  The waitress seated us and handed over menus. She left, and I didn’t get two seconds to scan mine—not that I really needed to since I always ordered the same pasta dish—before Jason not so casually brought it up again.

  “So, how long did the two of you date for?”

  I looked at him over the top of my menu. “Are you sure you want to spend tonight talking about my ex-boyfriend?”

  He shrugged. “I’m just curious. He didn’t seem overly fond of the idea of me with you.”

  I set my menu down carefully. “It’s hard to say how long we were together. We were friends from birth, and at some point it just became more. I guess you could say we started dating when we were fourteen, at least that was the first time he kissed me and called me his girlfriend, but we were just kids.”

  “Was he the one you were getting over when we met?”

  This is what I’d been avoiding. Jason and I hadn’t talked much about my relationship history, or why I’d turned him down the first half-dozen times he asked me out.

  It was on the tip of my tongue, the whole sordid truth, but at the last second, I chickened out.

  “We broke up toward the end of our senior year. He was going to New York for his music and I was staying here for college. We’ve just been friends since.”

  That was the truth as I wished it was. Meaning, it was a big fat lie.

  It could have remained a sweet memory, something pure and innocent. Young love. High school sweethearts. Something to be looked back on with fondness. Instead, we’d tainted it with everything that happened after, and now there was no part of it that didn’t make me want to cry over what we let ourselves become.

  If Jason noticed that I hadn’t exactly answered his question he didn’t say anything, and I was relieved when he didn’t bring Abel up again.

  Five

  Abel

  Her house was dark. Not a single light on. Was she asleep?

  Was she alone? There was only one car out front. Hers.

  Quit being a stalker and either go knock or go home.

  How long before a nosy neighbor reported the dark sedan lurking in the neighborhood?

  At least Dad’s car was less conspicuous than a red Ferrari. Should probably get around to rescuing my baby from impound tomorrow.

  I eyed the houses around Abbi’s, most of them as dark as hers. I could only hope everyone was in bed. A second arrest in two days because some well-meaning neighbor got the wrong idea about me sitting out here at midnight was not what I needed. I was in enough trouble as it was with the current charges, fines, and required community service. Not to mention that if I so much as got a speeding ticket, I could say bye-bye to my license. It was fun being the celebrity they wanted to make an example of.

  That was the least of my troubles, though. Got a new cell today. Wished I hadn’t after speaking to the label, my manager, my publicist, and Gabe. Gabe was the only one not looking to carve a chunk out of my hide.

  Quit stalling coward.

  I gripped the wheel tight and brought my gaze back to Abbi’s house.

  Quaint, I guess you would call it. Cute, but unremarkable, like most of the houses around it. A little yellow single-story set back from the road, fenced in by chain link. A few trees in the small yard lent a cozy, charming kind of appeal. Couldn’t have been much more than a thousand squar
e feet, less than half the size of my penthouse in New York. It would look like a dwarf cottage next to my parents’ home in Brookline, or even the house she grew up in just a few miles away. Yet it wasn’t difficult at all to picture Abbi curled up in the cozy living room on her plush sofa with a book in her hand. What I didn’t like to picture was the coach stretched out beside her watching Sports Center.

  Ten months.

  That was almost a year.

  How did I not know about her coach? How had my mother or sister never mentioned it?

  Maybe they just thought it was none of your business dickhead because you’ve been lying to them for almost eight years.

  Didn’t explain why Abbi hadn’t told me. She should have told me.

  But she didn’t. And we . . .

  My head was a mess and I needed to talk to her. I needed to man-up, get out of this car, and go to her door.

  I needed her to tell me it wasn’t serious with Coach What’s-his-face. I needed to know that under all that anger and hurt, she was still mine, because that was the secret no one knew. Abbi Cross had never stopped being mine.

  I’d screwed up too many times to count, but I’d told her I would never be anyone else’s. I meant it then as much as I did now.

  How did I make her see that? How did I get her to forgive me? Again.

  It felt like that day in high school all over.

  No matter how much time passed, I’d never forget the look on Abbi’s face when I came home from New York and found her sitting on my bed, tears in her eyes, and a ruined corsage in her hands.

  I froze in the doorway. She looked up from her place on the edge of my bed. One look into those watery blue eyes and I knew she knew. I’d spent the last twelve hours trying to figure out how I was going to tell her, but I should’ve known the media gossip would reach her before I could.

  “Why?” Her voice cracked, and she looked at me pleadingly. I was gutted in that instant. I wished I could die, because that would be better than seeing her like this.

  I stepped just inside the room on shaky legs, and nudged the door closed with my foot. “I don’t know,” I mumbled pathetically. Abbi’s blue-grey eyes swam with pain. I cast my eyes downward and let my head hang in shame.

  What was wrong with me? Why had I let that girl climb onto my lap? Why had I let her kiss me? Why had I kissed her back?

  Only it wasn’t just some girl. It was Sabrina Diaz. Pop star. Someone at the after party caught the moment on camera. Now it was out there for all the world to see. Abbi had clearly seen it.

  “Did you . . . do more than kiss her?” she could barely get the words out.

  “No, we just made out,” I confessed as if it was any better.

  An awful sob pierced the room and split my chest open.

  I fell onto my knees at her feet. “I’m so sorry. I was drunk, and I know that’s not an excuse . . . It was a stupid, meaningless mistake. I was so stupid. She kissed me, and it got carried away, but I swear I didn’t sleep with her.” But it went further than it should have, and I didn’t know how to explain why I let it. I never should have let her touch me. I was still trying to understand why I did. New York was . . . it wasn’t what I expected. In some ways it was, but others . . .

  She blinked and twin rivulets of tears slid from her eyes.

  “Abbi,” I whispered in anguish.

  She dropped her head and her shoulders began to shake. On instinct I pushed up and went to her side, pulling her into my arms. “I’m sorry. So fucking sorry.” Even to my own ears it sounded lame, but there was no excuse that wouldn’t. No excuse that would make what I did even a little okay.

  She pulled free of my arms, and, wiping at her eyes, met my pained gaze with her own. “Do you like her?”

  “No, Abbs,” I brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “I don’t even know her. She’s nothing. It was a moment of weakness. Please believe me.”

  “I do,” she hiccupped and pulled away from me. “But it’s almost worse. How could you do it? Trade us for something that meant nothing?”

  “I didn’t trade us,” I croaked, panic rising. “You’re everything to me. You’re all I want.”

  She turned her head away and whispered, “Obviously not.”

  “Please don’t do this, Abbi. I screwed up. I know I did. It didn’t go all the way. I swear I stopped it before it got that far, because I knew it was a mistake. A horrible mistake. It won’t ever happen again.”

  She slowly returned her gaze to me. “What about when you go back to New York?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, my heart punching violently against my ribcage. This was the question I’d asked myself over and over all weekend, the one that brought up a horrible fear that was now playing out before my eyes.

  “You’re going to leave again,” she said matter-of-factly. “Is this what it’s going to be like when you do? Girls throwing themselves at you? Moments of temptation and weakness that you say don’t mean anything? Am I just going to be out of sight, out of mind? Because I can’t do that, Abel. I can’t sit here and wait for you to come home, wondering if you’re missing me at all, or if you’re with someone else. I’m so jealous I feel sick right now, and I can’t be that girl, the one too stupid to know she’s being left behind,” she sniffed.

  “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that,” I begged.

  “There’s this whole other world out there for you, one that I’m not going to be a part of.”

  I grabbed her hand. “You’re always going to be part of my world. You are my whole world.”

  She shook her head and tugged her hand free. “No. I’m going to be here, going to college, and you’re going to be chasing your dream all over the world.” I’d been thinking the same thing all weekend, wracking my brain for a way to make it work, but hearing her voice those fears out loud made me desperate.

  “Abbi, you know my dreams have always included you.”

  More tears poured like a river down her face. “Maybe you only think that because we’ve only been with each other.”

  “What are you saying?” I asked hoarsely.

  “You hooked up with someone else, Abel. On some level that must mean you want to know what else is out there.”

  “It doesn’t matter what else is out there, because you’re right here. I made out with her and it got carried away, but I promise it was nothing,” I argued and grabbed her hand, squeezing it too tightly. I couldn’t help it. She couldn’t do this.

  “If you really believed that, you wouldn’t have touched her.”

  “Please don’t do this.” My throat constricted, strangling my words. My eyes filled with hot pools of moisture.

  “I didn’t do this. You did.”

  “No,” I shook my head furiously.

  “Abel, if we can’t be honest with each other, then what we have doesn’t mean anything.”

  “I am being honest. What do you want me to say or do to prove that I love you, that you’re everything to me?”

  “You don’t have to prove it, but can you honestly say you haven’t thought about what it would be like to live your dream out, and be a rock star, with the freedom of not being attached to anything or anyone here? Without having to worry about a girlfriend back home.”

  I was silent. I wanted to deny it, but she’d asked for honesty, and the truth was I had thought about it. Not because I wanted freedom from Abbi, but how would it work with her here and me . . . wherever in the world I’d be night after night? This deal was the life-changing kind, but it wouldn’t come easy. I’d have to bust my ass, and give everything to my music, not to mention that it meant I could end up touring all over the world, so damn far from Boston. And Abbi. How could I give the label one-hundred percent and pour everything into the music if I was trying to give her one-hundred percent as well? And she deserved all of me, not just scraps. And she would be going to college . . . how could it possibly work? And if it didn’t, what would that do to us down the road? Those were the thoughts that
had plagued me since the label put the offer on the table and the reality of what it would really mean hit me. It was that dread that had driven me to get drunk at that party and . . .

  “You can’t, can you?” she whispered miserably.

  It was on the tip of my tongue to deny it, to tell her she didn’t know what she was talking about, but I swallowed it back, and instead choked out, “I love you.”

  “I know,” her voice broke.

  “I love you so much.” So much that it was shredding my insides. “But . . . we’re only eighteen, and what if . . .” God, it hurt to say it.

  “What if, I’m just holding you back?” She looked away and I felt it in that moment, the tearing of something vital from inside me.

  “No, God no, but what if I hold you back? What if I stop you from living your life because you’re always waiting on me to come back? What if we’re supposed to let go and have separate adventures? Just for a little while? Learn, and grow, and experience life in a way we never have . . .”

  She bit down on her lip and her shoulders began to shake harder with her silent cries.

  “I just mean that we’ve barely begun to live, and the whole world is open to us, and we get to discover what we want out of life and who we really are.”

  She jerked her head in a rough nod, but still wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I get it.”

  “Abbi,” I tipped her chin toward me, “I don’t mean forever. I could never accept that I’m not meant to be with you. I know that, without a doubt, but this could be good for us. But no matter what, no matter where I go, I’m always going to be yours. There won’t ever be anyone else for me. That’s not what this is about, so please don’t think it is.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut tight, but the tears still managed to escape.

  “We can explore the world and still find our way back to each other. I don’t believe this is the end, Abbs. It can’t be. We won’t let it be.”

  Her eyes blinked open, filled with the same anguish I felt.

  “Are you always going to be mine?”

  She looked away again, but nodded subtly.