Something’s off.
Becca’s missing, and the air feels different. Like it’s been shocked into silence from the loss of her soul.
I set down my phone only to pick it up again as I stand. My movement is stilted. It’s hard trying to maneuver around the lead weight that’s dropped in my stomach.
Because I already feel it in my gut.
She’s gone.
The burn in my chest rolls through my system, bursting through my limbs. I throw my phone, watching it ricochet off the marble countertop, landing on the floor. My fingers rip through my disheveled strands, and I puff out a breath, trying to calm my racing heart.
“This is ridiculous,” I mumble, bending to pick up the broken screen.
I shouldn’t have told her I loved her, but I didn’t realize she wouldn’t love me back.
The thought barrels into my stomach and up my throat, expanding until I have to swallow against the pain.
The words she didn’t say slammed into my chest like a fist, my heart fracturing from her silence. I let the quiet linger because I didn’t want to push. Left the bed and gave her space so I wouldn’t break apart at her feet. So I wouldn’t beg her to just say the goddamn words and keep me glued together.
But to wake up and find her gone?
Fuck. That.
She doesn’t get to run from this. From me.
I hop off the barstool, my heart pumping determination through my veins, the adrenaline more potent than a hundred cups of coffee. Stumbling to my room, I rip open my dresser, throwing on the first thing I can find.
Then I’m out the door, on a mission.
My heart thunks against my sternum on the way to her apartment, my fingers tapping out a jittery rhythm on the wheel.
Why would she leave?
Slamming my car into park, I hop out, tripping over my shoes to get to her front door. Desperate in my need to see her. For her to soothe away this ache.
No one answers when I knock, and I bounce on the balls of my feet. Every second adds another brick to the layer of my anxiety.
As the door swings open, something loosens in my chest, a smile teasing the corner of my mouth. She’s here. Only, the relief doesn’t last, because it isn’t Becca’s beautiful face peeking at me. It’s Sabrina.
Her eyes narrow and I realize how awkward it is for me to be here. No one knows about us, after all.
“Hey.” My voice comes out gruff. I rock back on my heels, attempting to soften my tone. “Sabrina, right?”
Her brows draw together. “Yeah. Coach Carson, right? What are you doing here?”
I clear my throat. “I’m here to talk to Rebecca. Is she home?”
Her brows pull in further with the downturn of her lips. “Becca? No. I haven’t seen her since yesterday at graduation, and I barely saw her then.”
My heart stutters, the sickness of my thoughts infecting every beat. “Okay. Well, if you see her, let her know I stopped by, would you?”
Sabrina’s hand slides against the doorframe as she cocks her head. “Why do you need to see her anyway?”
Irritation flares in my chest. “That’s not really your business.”
She purses her lips. “I think it is. She’s my friend, and I’m not sure I should tell her you were here, unless I know your intentions.”
I chuckle, my teeth gritting at this girl’s audacity. “My intention is to find Becca and keep her away from people like you. Ones who parade around like her friend while holding a knife to her back. One her father provides.”
Her eyes grow wide, her face draining of color.
“Bee, who’s at the door?”
I peer around her, hearing Jeremy’s voice. He comes to the door, standing next to Sabrina. “Coach.” He tips his chin. “Nice to see you, you looking for Becca?”
I nod, suddenly unable to say the words.
Where is she?
He rubs Sabrina’s shoulder, whispering in her ear. She gives a curt nod, and he walks out, closing the door. Jerking his head to follow, he walks around the corner of the building, leaning against the brick wall, one leg perched behind him.
My chest pulls tight and my fists clench at the show he’s putting on. Like I have time to leisurely take a stroll. Like every second we spend walking isn’t a second further away from wherever she is.
“She’s gone.” His voice is as flat as his face.
The words form an arrow straight through my heart, damaging the already cracked pieces.
“What do you mean ‘she’s gone?’” I hiss, jealousy licking at my veins.
Of course, he already knows.
“She left me a voicemail this morning.” He rubs a hand over his mouth, blowing out a breath. “She asked me not to tell you anything, but she’s stock full of shit ideas, so screw what she wants right now.”
He pulls out his phone, pressing a few buttons. Becca’s voice floats to my ears, my soul tearing through the wounds in my chest to reach her.
“Hi, Jer.” Her voice is choked—soft, like she’s holding back a sob.
My nostrils flare at the sound, my breath whooshing out from the urge to soothe her sadness.
“I’m leavin’, Jer. I…” She sniffles. “I can’t stay here. Goin’ back with my folks. I know it won’t make much sense to you, and honestly, it don’t make much sense to me either, but it’s just what needs to happen. I need to.. To ge-g-...” Her voice breaks.
My hand comes up to rub my chest, trying to ease the pressure that’s building with every word.
“I need to get away fr–from everything here. I hope you understand. I’ll miss you so much, Jer. I love you, you know?”
My stomach heaves at her words, my head growing dizzy.
What about me?
“You were right. Everything you said.” She sighs. “You know, about that guy you love? Don’t… don’t settle for a man who won’t tell the world you’re his, Jer. Everyone deserves to b-be loved by someone who ain’t afraid of what it means.” She sucks in a stuttered breath.
My stomach flips and my eyes snap to Jeremy’s. The implication of her words are heavy in his stance. His face is wet, glistening from tear tracks that line his face, but he holds my gaze, his jaw tense and posture straight.
Jeremy’s gay.
I should feel relief, but with her gone, I find I don’t care.
“I love you, Jer. I’ll try to keep in touch. And don’t… don’t tell Eli, okay? I don’t want him to know.”
A piece of my crumpled heart breaks, the jagged edge splitting my insides as it falls.
Jeremy doesn’t speak, just slips his phone back into his pocket.
“She’s gone.” The words surprise me as I say them. Who knew a corpse could speak?
Jeremy nods, wiping his cheeks. “You gonna go after her?”
I huff out a laugh, shaking my head as I stare at the ground. I consider his words. I could track her ass down. Fuck an apology out of her, and force her to admit she feels this. Feels us.
But the thought of going back to Sugarlake chokes my throat until I’m gasping for air.
“I can’t,” I whisper.
Jeremy sighs. “Probably for the best. She’s not ready for you, Coach. I hate to say it… but it’s the truth. Maybe one day, she will be.”
His words pierce the space between us, slicing my chest and wrangling the mangled flesh left behind.
She was ready. I felt it in every touch. Saw it in every look.
She just didn’t care enough to stay.
I don’t drive home when I leave. The thought of walking into a place that still reeks of her betrayal makes my stomach roil with nausea. So I drive to Waycor Arena instead.
Walking onto the empty court, my heart spasms, pinching so tight my knees give out. Every inch of this place is soaked in a memory. I touch my face, then stare at my hand, my fingers glistening from my tears.
I’m not sure what I expected. Maybe a sense of relief? The court is the only place where I’ve ever felt at peace.
<
br /> But now there’s just this burn singeing through my veins, turning everything to ash.
Fuck her for ruining the one thing I had left.
And fuck her for leaving. Doesn’t she know she’s taking a piece of me with her? Doesn’t she care that she’s ruining my fucking soul?
Black rage surges through my gut, blasting a hole in my chest and mixing into my bloodstream.
I glance down at my watch. Five minutes. That’s what I’ll give myself. Just five minutes. And then… I’ll lock it up tight in the corner of my mind where it belongs.
With everything else.
31
Becca
Five Years Later
Becca
Swipe left. Swipe left. Swipe left.
My finger hovers over the face of an attractive dark-haired, green-eyed man. He’s the first one I’ve seen on this damn dating app that doesn’t have characteristics I do everything in my power to avoid.
I don’t use this app to “date” per se. More like a nice, free, uncomplicated way to find a nice out-of-town dick to ride, without having to deal with the town gossip, or the messy complications of someone wanting strings.
This guy, John, lives in Chattanooga and looks like he’d be a good distraction.
Swipe right.
I toss my phone to the side, leaning back on my lounger, soaking up the Saturday morning rays. It’s summer here in Sugarlake, and the Tennessee sun is hot and delicious on my skin. I’m not a fan of many things in this town, but I do love relaxing on the back porch of my little one-bed, one-bath cottage. I rent, of course. Don’t want to be too tied down in case I actually get the balls to leave.
I have about an hour before meeting Lee for brunch at Patty’s Diner.
It’s a thing—our Saturday morning brunches. It has been ever since I moved back five years ago, and realized Lee wasn’t any better mentally than she was when I left for college. Somewhere between me being in Florida, and her other best friend, Jax, being on the road all the time, she’s regressed into this melancholy state where we have to force her to be among the land of the living. I think she’d rather slip away to be with her momma’s ghost.
I don’t mind focusing on keeping Lee afloat. If I submerge myself in other people’s problems, then I don’t have to focus on my own.
Probably why I became a social worker for the high school.
Never mind the fact I’m twenty-six and back in the town I always dreamed of escaping. Or how I’m still under my old man’s thumb, worse now than I ever was back then, because now, I don’t put up a fight.
Better the devil you know.
Sabotaging your own future is something I excel in. Too bad there wasn’t a major in that. I would have passed with flying colors, and taken over the world. Until I inevitably fucked it up, of course.
But I have my little cottage, my own money, and my career. All things Papa can never take from me. I’ve learned to stay afloat through compromise, wading slowly toward a life of independence. I don’t know if I’ll ever get there, but at least now I know better than to dream.
I glance at my phone to check the time. I want to get to the diner before Lee. She’s been avoiding me again. No surprise there. Chase Adams is back in town. The boy who broke her heart and hung her out to dry, just like I always said he would. She doesn’t have a clue I know, so she doesn’t realize her energy at avoiding me is wasted. But I don’t blame her. I’ve been firmly in the ‘hating Chase camp’ since the moment he blew into town when we were eleven years old, making Lee’s naive little heart swoon in curiosity and wonder.
I know at brunch she’ll spill the beans. She’s shit at holding in secrets, and if I ask her point blank, she won’t hide from the truth. There’s nothing Lee hates more in the world than a liar.
My stomach turns at the thought of things I keep from her. Things I’ve been keeping from her. Things I have no plan to ever tell her.
Omission is not a lie, Becca.
Maybe if I say it enough times, I’ll start to believe it.
An hour later and I’m sitting on the patio at Patty’s Diner, texting Lee. She’s running late, and I’m wondering if she’s even planning on showing the hell up. Normally, Jax would be here, but he’s in high demand out in California being the car guru on movie sets, so he leaves a lot. It’s a shame he’s gone now, because he’s the one that usually wrangles Lee, making sure she actually comes.
“Hey, girl.”
I glance up at my long-haired, honey-blonde best friend as she plops in the seat across from me. Despite the dark circles that line her eyes, and the sorrow swirling in her baby blue gaze, she’s gorgeous.
“She lives,” I deadpan.
Lee grins, waving my snark off and diving into a story about her new job at some dance studio in Sweetwater. I let her ramble, knowing her filter is nonexistent and sooner or later she’ll vomit out the truth. Her body is practically vibrating, and I’m sure it’s from her nerves of telling me what I already know.
The air around us quiets as she sips from her mimosa, fidgeting in her seat.
I arch my brow.
“Chase is back,” she blurts.
“I know.”
She groans, throwing her head in her hands. “Dang it, how’d you know about that already?”
“Ran into him the other day. He let it slip you knew he was back.”
She sighs. “I just didn’t know how to bring it up.”
Her shoulders relax like all she needed to relieve the weight was to speak it out loud.
A spark lights her eyes as she talks about him, and my chest warms at the sight. It’s something that’s been missing ever since her momma died. Ever since Chase tore her up and disappeared in the first place.
Is it that easy to forgive her heartbreak?
Hope that has no place living inside me makes a home, digging in deep and planting its roots. Ideas perch on my shoulder, whispering that maybe my mistakes aren’t a permanent tarnish. That maybe forgiveness is a family trait.
“I get it, I guess. We all have secrets.” I shrug, attempting to shake off the notion. But the thoughts are always there, lingering like a song stuck in my head, driving me insane even though no one else can hear. They scrape against my scars, the sting reminding me they haven’t fully healed.
I doubt they ever will.
Up until this point, I’ve been a master of avoidance, the years having only strengthened my ability to push things down to the darkest corners of my soul.
“Oh, and you’ll never guess what else,” Lee says, while I pick from the breadbasket.
“Does it have to do with you, Logan, and a bottle of lube?” I grin, wiggling my eyebrows. Logan is her fling of the moment, and a fine specimen if there ever was one. I never miss a chance to try and get her to dish the dirt on his abilities.
Lee’s cheeks flush pink and I tamp down a laugh. She’s so easy to rile up. So innocent in her acts, even as an adult. As sweet as cherry pie and as shiny as a whistle. I’m sure when Papa prays, he tacks on a favor from God, asking to make me more like her.
She rolls her eyes. “No, you deviant. Eli’s comin’ home.”
My heart stammers so violently in my chest my body physically jerks, causing my fingers to fumble my champagne flute. I watch in despair as the alcohol-infused orange juice sloshes over the sides. If I heard her right, I’ll need all the drink I can get.
“What?”
Lee’s lips move, but I can’t hear a thing over the blood whooshing through my ears, or the bang of my heart slamming against the icy cage it’s been frozen in.
“What?” I repeat.
She nods, her nose scrunching while she sips from her glass. “I know. Get this, he’s gettin’ married.”
The knot forming in my chest surges up, lodging itself in my throat, my stomach spiraling against the turbulence of my body.
“What?” I rasp.
Her eyebrows draw in. “Are you broken? Is that all you can say?”
I’m surpr
ised I can even manage that. A knife to the gut would hurt less than her words. Years of shoddy patchwork burst apart at the seams, the wounds I’ve tried to cover bleeding out.
My hands fly to my stomach, and I fold in on myself. The agony so deep, so visceral, I don’t know if I’ll survive the pain.
Married. Eli’s gettin’ married.
He’s moved on.
He’s loved again.
Thick, green jealousy oozes through the cracks of my heart, coating my lungs, and weighing down every breath.
I’m a coward. Too afraid of ending up chained down and miserable. Scared of being the spitting image of my momma. Only... I ended up in that life anyway. Shackled to my old man instead of being with the one who wanted nothing more than to love me. The one who only wanted to give me a piece of his soul.
And now he’s giving that piece away. Letting someone else stake their claim.
I did it to myself. A fact I remind myself of as I lay in my bed that night, speaking to a God I don’t believe in.
For the first time since I was thirteen years old, I pray.
I pray that whoever she is, she’s able to love him the way he deserves. The way he’s supposed to be loved. The way I can’t.
I take solace in those simple truths. But before I fall asleep—my pillow damp from my regrets—the darkness creeps in, and I’ve never felt so alone.
32
Eli
“Are you sure this is what you want?” I ask for the thousandth time.
“Yep.”
I blow out a breath, my hands hanging between my knees as I try to keep from cringing at Sarah’s answer. Not that it would matter anyway, we’re already on the plane to the one place I never wanted to be.
Sugarlake, Tennessee.
It’s been eight years since I’ve been there, and even longer since I’ve spent more than a weekend. Now, I’m headed back for the foreseeable future—courtesy of my fiancée, who just had to have our wedding there. Said it would lend “small-town charm” to the big day.
Beneath the Stands: An Enemies to Lovers, Best Friend's Brother Romance (Sugarlake Series, Book Two) Page 14
