Buried Castles
By Monica Alexander
Copyright 2012 by Monica Alexander
ISBN: 978-1-4764-7818-0
Smashwords Edition
Cover image: Copyright 2012 by Monica Alexander
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or personals, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Epilogue
About the Author
Playlist
Chapter One
Emily
“Angry much!” Rachel yelled over the music I was blaring.
I glared at her as she took it upon herself to turn down the Halestorm album I was listening to at top volume. She hadn’t been home when I’d arrived at our apartment at school, and faced with unpacking and the memories of the summer that I knew would surely flood me as soon as I opened my suitcase, I’d turned up my iPod player in the hopes of drowning out everything I wanted to forget. I hadn’t even heard her come in.
“It’s my new anthem,” I said blandly.
“And it’s not the least bit rage-filled,” she said, and I just stared at her. “You’re making fantastic progress, I see.”
“Grrr!” I growled, basically proving her point. I hadn’t made one bit of progress, but I was glad to have at least moved beyond depression to anger. It was a much more preferable state to be in, and at least I wasn’t crying.
I shook my head at Rachel as I threw the two t-shirts I was holding onto the floor. She recoiled away from me.
“All I wanted was a freakin’ summer vacation where I could just let go!” I yelled, as I yanked random clothes from my suitcase and threw them on the floor in a heap. “I wanted to relax, get a tan, read some books. I did not want to meet a guy, I definitely wasn’t looking to fall in love, and I sure as hell wasn’t planning on getting my heart broken!”
“Well, you did,” Rachel said, settling onto my window seat, far enough away from any projectiles that might leave my hands.
Thank you, Captain Obvious, I thought, as I shot her a derisive look.
“Hey, if it’s any consolation, your tan looks amazing,” she said in a poor attempt to pacify me.
“I’m done,” I said definitively, ignoring her comment.
“With?” she prompted, not following my thought process.
“Guys,” I said, yanking another handful of clothes from my suitcase.
Everything was dirty and smelled like the beach. I needed to wash it all. I hadn’t opened my suitcase in the week since we’d been home from the Outer Banks – the week I’d spent at my parents’ house crying my eyes out and avoiding anything that reminded me of the summer. I hadn’t been able to look at my clothes that I knew would remind me of Zack, let alone anything else that reminded me of him, so my suitcases had remained packed.
But Rush Week started tomorrow, and tonight I had to model my outfits for a panel of my sorority sisters who would deem them appropriate or not for the week’s events. I’d received the list of Rush events and suggested outfits via email the week before, along with an invitation to be at the house at 7 pm that night. There was a sundress I knew would be what they had in mind for our garden party theme on the first day, so I was being forced to unpack and do laundry.
I seriously hated this part of Rush, where five of my sisters judged and scrutinized everything down to the jewelry I picked out or the shoes I paired with a certain dress. It was a little archaic to ensure we all looked like little homogenous puppets with no sense of a personal style, but I guess we were representing Gamma Pi, so personal style went out the window. We’d all march out of the house with big smiles on our faces, dressed in some variation of the same outfit, all in the hopes that we’d attract the best pledge class on campus by the end of the week.
Bitter, party of one? Oh, that would be me.
Truthfully, I’d never really had an issue with outfit approvals in the past, nor had I really argued for diversity within the house, but this year, things were different. I was different. The summer had changed me, and I suddenly had the urge to set myself apart from the masses. I was honestly half-tempted to arrive in my black leather skirt and platforms just to make a statement, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to stomach wearing that outfit for a while. There were too many memories attached to that skirt and that night. I knew it would most likely remain buried in the back of my closet until I was sufficiently over Zack enough that I didn’t feel like vomiting every time I looked at it.
“You’re really done with guys?” Rachel asked. I could tell she didn’t believe me.
“Oh, I’m done,” I said, crossing my arms in front of my chest, appraising her as she lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out my open window. “I do not like feeling this way. I did not like being led on, and I do not feel like I can actually trust another guy ever again, so yes, I’m done.”
Rachel pulled her knees up to her chest. “Not all guys are like Zack, Em,” she said, and I knew what she was doing. I just didn’t want to hear it.
I put my finger up to stop her. “I don’t care. I am not interested in dating anyone – ever.”
She raised her eyebrows at me. “Yeah, I’m not buying that
. You’re just hurting right now. Give it time. In a few weeks, I’m sure you’ll be saying yes to one of the many guys who will be waiting in line to ask you to their Woodser or Biker Bash now that you’re single.”
“I will say no to each and every one of them,” I said, crossing my arms defiantly in front of my chest. “I do not want a boyfriend. I don’t need the hassle. I’m just going to focus on school and that’s it.”
“That’s it?” she asked, and I knew she was goading me. “You mean we can’t even go out and party? Come on, Fun Emily just made her debut. Don’t take her away from me already.”
“Fine,” I said, throwing my hands up dramatically. “I’ll hang out with you, but no boys. I refused to get my heart stomped on by another asshole.”
“Can Chase come with us?” she asked pleadingly, pouting for emphasis. “He’s a boy, but since he’s your brother, and he’s madly in love with me, he’s not a threat to you.”
I rolled my eyes at her. Ever since she’d come clean about her relationship with my brother, she hadn’t shut up about him, and it was starting to teeter on annoying.
“Fine, you can invite Chase, but if any other guys come around, he’d better show them the door, because I’m tapping out.”
I tapped my two fingers against the lip of my suitcase for emphasis.
She sighed. “Sweetie, maybe you can just have some fun – you know, enjoy some time with a guy and move on. You don’t have to commit to every guy who comes along. Maybe if you don’t get attached, it won’t be that bad. You can make the rules.”
I raised my eyebrows at her. What she was describing was exactly how she used to be with guys until she fell for my brother and decided she was done sleeping around. But she knew me better than that. I’d never been anything but monogamous. Casual sex didn’t interest me, and I wasn’t exactly sure I was capable of it – especially since I’d tried it with Zack and ended up falling in love with him. Stupid asshole.
Reaching back into my suitcase, I suddenly froze, my hands poised above the one item of clothing I’d completely forgotten about. There, stuffed in a corner, was Zack’s gray Duke University sweatshirt. I picked it up slowly, my fingers gripping the soft material as if it might disintegrate before my eyes. Aside from a few pictures and his guitar pick, it was the only thing I had to remind me that Zack and the summer had been real. Even though it had only been two weeks since I’d seen him last, it felt like months, and sometimes I found myself wondering if our brief time together had been real at all.
Yeah, it had been real. I had a heart that was cracked in two as a souvenir of just how real it all was. I’d fallen hard and fast for Zack Easton over the summer. And I’d thought he was falling for me too, but I was wrong.
My mind flew back to that last perfect night we had together before he disappeared on me. Sitting under the stars, making love and listening to him play his guitar. He’d given me his sweatshirt to wear when I got cold, and I’d never given it back. It still smelled like him, and the memories flooded back to me with reckless abandon. I tried to push them away.
I didn’t want to think about that night and what he’d said and how he’d held me, because not a week later, he’d completely negated everything he’d insinuated that night when he broke up with me. He made me think he’d never really felt anything for me at all, and for that, I didn’t want to think about him.
Not able to hold onto my resolve a second longer, I doubled-over and fell to my knees, clutching the sweatshirt to my chest as the sobs I couldn’t hold back racked my body. Within seconds, Rachel was beside me, her arms around me, but it did little to fill the hollow ache that was now all too familiar to me.
So much for moving past the crying stage.
“Shh, shh, it’s okay, sweetie,” she said, stroking my hair as the tears streamed down my face.
Two weeks. It had been two weeks since I’d seen Zack, since he’d let me go, since he’d told me that, essentially, he didn’t love me. Two weeks since I’d looked into his brown eyes so light they looked translucent at times. Two weeks since I’d kissed him and held his hand and felt the warmth of his body so close to mine. Two weeks since I’d felt that first pain in my chest; the tightening that told me we were over. Two weeks, and it still felt as fresh as it had that rainy day on the front porch of our beach house.
I curled tighter into a ball, falling forward onto my knees, the sweatshirt, pressed between my legs and my body, as in my mind I heard Zack tell me goodbye, and I watched him walk away from me.
Bastard! I wanted to scream, but doing that only told me I was being selfish. Zack was dealing with so much, and I couldn’t hold that against him. I could hate him and miss him and wish things had turned out different for us, but it didn’t change the fact that his mother was sick, and he was hurting because of that. Of course what stung the most was that now I had no idea how she was doing or how he was doing. Zack had cut ties completely. He hadn’t even wanted us to be friends, and that might have hurt worst of all. That was what made me think that even though he’d alluded that he wanted to end things because his mom was sick, there was another reason, but I would never know what that reason was.
“Rach, I’m back,” my brother called from the front hall.
I heard the door slam and the grocery bags he was carrying fall to the kitchen counter a moment later. Chase was staying with us for the week. He didn’t have to be back in New York for school until the following Monday, and Rachel didn’t have anything to do this week, having quit Gamma Pi over the summer, but they’d both wanted to come back to school with me. I knew they hadn’t wanted me to be alone and were tag-teaming their efforts to cheer me up or at least keep me from spending the entire week in bed with a tub of Ben and Jerry’s.
“In here, baby,” Rachel called out, her arms still around me, as my tears slowly stopped falling, and I was able to sit up.
“I’m not sure I’m ever going to get used to you calling Chase ‘baby’,” I said, and she hugged me tighter. We both knew it was a good sign that I was making jokes.
“What happened?” Chase asked, dropping to his knees next to me, the concern apparent on his face.
I glumly held up Zack’s sweatshirt, and my brother sighed.
“Give it here,” he said, reaching for the sweatshirt that I clung to like a lifeline. “I’ll burn it in the fireplace.”
“No!” I said, pulling away from him and narrowing my eyes. How could he even suggest that?
Chase rolled his eyes. “Come on, Em. Holding onto things of his won’t help you get over him.”
“Chase,” Rachel said, putting her hand on his arm and shaking her head. “She just needs time. You can’t rush getting over someone, and as cathartic as burning artifacts of your relationship might be in the moment, it doesn’t make things better in the long run.”
“She’s right,” I said, looking up at my brother who was staring at us both like we were aliens. I wiped my nose, feeling silly that I couldn’t keep it together. I wanted one day where I didn’t cry over Zack, just one day, but so far that day hadn’t come. Hopefully tomorrow would be the day, but I doubted it. “I just need time.”
“Well, can I at least take this stuff down?” Chase asked, standing up and walking over to my desk where three pictures of me and my other ex-boyfriend, Ben, sat in frames.
My shoulders sank as I looked up at them. Ben. I hadn’t thought about him in weeks, and now reminders of our failed relationship, one I’d sabotaged so I could hook up with Zack and be carefree, were staring me in the face.
I hadn’t been back to my apartment in three months, and when I’d left school at the beginning of the summer, Ben and I had been together, and we’d planned to get engaged and move in together after graduation. The traces of him and our five-year relationship were all over my room, mocking me, telling me that I’d thrown away a great guy just so I could have some fun. And look how great that turned out for me.
“I never should have let Ben go,” I sighed, leaning my h
ead on Rachel’s shoulder.
She pulled back from me. “Uh, yes you should have.” Then she directed her attention to Chase. “Take them down – now.”
I looked at her in panic, afraid she and Chase were going to burn my memories of everything Ben and I had together.
“Relax,” Chase said, as he unceremoniously grabbed all three pictures, leaving three empty, dusty spaces that were a cruel reminder of everything I’d given up, everything I’d lost. “I’ll put them in a box, we’ll put it the top of your closet and eventually you can pull it out and remember that you made the right decision in breaking up with D-Bag Ben, okay?”
I nodded, but I didn’t agree with him – about the break-up or Ben being a d-bag.
“Come on,” Rachel said, standing up and extending her hand to me. “Let’s get your laundry done, so you can go before the firing squad and hear what a complete fashion failure you are.”
She tried to sound cheerful, but I could hear the mocking in her voice. Rachel had had it with sorority life and was loving that she didn’t have to partake in the finer parts of Rush Week. I was envious of her. It definitely wasn’t my favorite part of being Greek either. Luckily, I had gotten out of prep and practice the week before. I’d lied and told Brynn, our president, that I was still away with my family. So tonight, along with Ellie Scott and Lindsay Winters, I had to go to the house for a crash course on the week’s events. I just couldn’t wait.
Chapter Two
Zack
God dammit! I wanted to scream as I let the screen door slam behind me. I wanted to punch something and curse until my throat was raw, but I couldn’t. She’d hear me, and I never wanted her to know how much I was hurting. I couldn’t let her see how much pain I was in.
Hospice had brought in a bed and an IV and a heart monitor and every other friggin’ contraption to hook up to my mother just that morning. They’d practically met us at the door, and I wanted to tell them to back off, let us get settled, but I could see how tired my mother was, how ragged her breath was just from the short walk from the car. I couldn’t fight them.
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