Declaration (Preservation, # 3)

by Rachael Wade

  “You’re a pig, you do know that, right?” Whitney seethed, her fists tightening. “Month after month, flirting at Pete’s, and I was this close—” she pinched her fingers together in his face “to giving you a chance. Well, thank God I didn’t! All it takes is for one of your fuck buddies to show up, and poof! I’m invisible. Don’t even get me started on you and Kelly that weekend in Orlando.”

  “Oh God, Whitney, seriously?” he moaned, running a frustrated hand over his face. “You’re going to bring up Kelly again? Excuse me for not wanting to play any of your stupid games. I was sick of it, okay? That’s kind of what happens when you keep running hot and cold on someone. I never know which way is up with you. Now I’m here to set shit right, so why don’t you go get changed, and march your fine ass out this door with me, so I can take you on a proper date and we can quit fuckin’ around?” Ruben’s gaze danced over Emma, still wrapped in her robe and now shoveling chocolate ice cream in her mouth, and me, standing there awkwardly. “Unless you have something better to do,” he added on a sarcastic smirk.

  Whitney wasn’t just fuming mad now. She was boiling to the point of overflow, and seeing the rage while standing in such close proximity to her, I was actually concerned for Ruben’s wellbeing. If he didn’t get on his knees and grovel right that second, the dude was in for some serious shit.

  “Actually, I do have something better to do,” she hissed, whirling to grab at my hand. “I was busy dancing with Carter and was about to have a perfectly good dinner before you showed up. So adios, baby, and don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out!”

  Oh, shit.

  Before I could defend myself—and keep myself firmly out of what Whitney had just thrust me into—I was yanked to the side and dragged back into the middle of the living room, where she smashed the volume on the radio, bringing the music back to a blaring, near deafening level. She threw her arms around my neck and began to dance, and I didn’t miss the holes Ruben drilled into me as he took in the sight. Emma chucked her empty ice cream tub on the counter, dashed for her keys and purse, and hurried past us, out the door. Ruben burned me with a final accusing glare and stormed out after her, leaving the door wide open.

  Whitney waited until Ruben was gone to stomp over and slam the door shut. She walked back over to the radio and turned it off, letting the silence engulf us. Then she sank onto the couch and exhaled with a pout. “I’m sorry, Carter,” she said quietly. “That was really juvenile of me to drag you into that.”

  My arms still at my sides and mouth gaping slightly, I looked to the front door, then to Emma’s empty ice cream box, then back to Whitney pouting on the couch, wondering what in the hell just transpired here. “Don’t worry about it,” I finally breathed, making a move to sit on the couch with her. “I’ll clear things up with Ruben later. He’ll get over it. Emma took off. She was still in her bathrobe.”

  “Ugh, I am too worked up right now to chase after her. And no, you shouldn’t have to do that. I’ll…I’ll make sure Ruben knows nothing’s going on between us. I just can’t speak to him yet. Damn, he just makes me so mad! I turn into a crazy person with him, and it’s all his stupid fault.” She snuck a peek at me while I patiently waited beside her, letting myself sink into the sofa cushion. “Okay, well, maybe some of it is my fault, too. I do go hot and cold on him, and this little display might not have been the first time I’ve resorted to immature defense tactics.”

  Seeing her wallowing in a pool of pity inspired a small smirk to creep up on my lips. Or maybe it was just the childish pout that accompanied the pity party. “It sounds like he wants things to work out between you guys. What’s the problem?” It struck me that I wasn’t exactly sure why I was even asking her that question. For starters, Ruben did show up here acting like a complete wanker, and knowing what a player he was didn’t sit well with me, either. Whitney didn’t strike me as the type of girl to be okay with that. I didn’t have to know her well to recognize that she deserved better.

  “Emma tells me I’m a serial dater.”

  “Are you?”

  “Sorta, I guess,” she admitted, fidgeting with her fingers on her lap. “Only because my last relationship was pretty serious and he burned me, and well…I have legitimate trust issues. I can’t help it. Believe me, I try. Guys ask me out and I go. With Ruben, I really wanted him to like me, though. It’s pathetic, honestly. He’s the only one since my ex that I’d actually considered giving a chance.”

  “Even though you know how he is with women?”

  She groaned and tossed her head back, looking up at the ceiling. “Yeah, even then. It’s hard to explain, but me and Ruben…we just have this chemistry. Whenever I’m with him, we both disappear into our own little world, and for a second—just for a second—I really start to believe that maybe, just maybe, he’d be different with me. That maybe I’d be different to him, different from all the other girls he runs around with.”

  I swallowed hard, not liking what I was about to say, but saying it anyway to give the guy the benefit of the doubt and to hopefully ease Whitney’s burden a bit. “Maybe you are different.”

  “No,” she said, with all the conviction in the world. “What I said to him earlier? About being invisible the second another girl’s around? It’s true.” She lifted her head and stared straight ahead, eyes falling on the kitchen counter, level with Emma’s ice cream container. “I become so, so invisible.”

  My breath faltered a bit as I glanced over at her face, seeing the hurt there.

  “Has anyone ever made you feel that way?” she asked on a wistful sigh.

  “Yeah,” I said, dropping my gaze to the ground. “All the time.”

  I knew it wasn’t fair of me to think that about Kate. She couldn’t help that she didn’t love me. She’d been nothing but an amazing, compassionate, sincere friend, and one I missed more than I could possibly admit right now. She was genuine in every way that counted when it came to being my friend.

  But that didn’t change the fact that I always felt like she was looking right through me whenever I was near her. As if I were glass. As if she couldn’t hear me screaming on the inside, couldn’t hear my longing for her to look at me the way she looked at Ryan. As if I wasn’t really there at all. In reality, I couldn’t fault her for making me feel that way. It was me allowing myself to feel that way. Even after she’d made it clear she never wanted me, even after she chose him, I made the decision to torture myself and stick around. I must’ve been a glutton for punishment.

  Still, a thick bubble of resentment had risen, and it threatened to destroy the remaining shreds of our friendship. I could feel it simmering, could feel it slowly building, and I didn’t like it one bit.

  So, I told Whitney the same thing I’d told Kate the last time I’d seen her, and the only thing I could think to say under the circumstance. “Hey, I know this probably isn’t what you want to hear right now, but someday, there will be someone else. Someone who makes you happier than Ruben. One day, you’ll be with someone who will never make you hurt the way he does, okay?” I reached over and gently took her hand. “Just remember that.”

  Her head slowly shifted then rolled against the back of the couch cushion toward me, her bright, green eyes pinning me with soft sincerity. “I’m so glad you’re here, Carter. Thank you.”

  Those rich, green pools chased the sadness away and a faint smile tickled my lips. “Me, too.”

  Chapter 5

  Volume

  After Ruben and Whitney’s showdown, Emma thankfully returned to the apartment in one piece, easing Whitney’s worry. After Whitney had cooled down on the couch, she was determined to get dressed and head out in search of Emma, so I was relieved to see Emma shuffle back through the front door before she had the chance to run off.

  Emma toted two bags of chocolate ice cream with her, and her big, fluffy robe was disheveled—as was her hair—but neither Whitney nor I commented, instead watching silently as she grabbed a spoon and retreated into h
er bedroom with the ice cream. We heard the door lock click and knew that would be the last we’d be seeing of her for the rest of the evening, so we’d resumed our pasta dinner, and decided to watch a movie and call it a night. I spent most of that pasta dinner wishing I could’ve danced with Whitney again. I just wanted to be near her, wanted to touch her. During the movie, I couldn’t stay still. Her warmth was so close, all I’d wanted was to put my arm around her and hold her close. The space between us crackled as we watched from the sofa, my eyes occasionally straying to get a peek at her soft skin under the dim light.

  The next day, I’d hung around Emma’s while Whitney was working at the hotel. She stopped by on her lunch hour to give me a lift home so I could make my shift at the boat shop. We’d agreed to meet up again after her night shift at the diner, and after my shift at the shop. She wanted to pick me up, but I insisted on taking a bus to her place after work. She’d been running non-stop enough as it was, there was no way I was going to let her continue to give me rides.

  Climbing the stairs to my flat from the shop after a long day of Emma sitting and working, I released a loud, long sigh before stripping my t-shirt off and falling face first onto the bed. I needed some sleep and a shower before I hopped the bus to head to Emma’s place.

  I groaned when there was a knock at the door.

  “Carter, it’s Jackson, open up.”

  Pulling my tired body from the bed, I pushed up and walked to the door, letting Jackson in. “Hey man, what’s up?”

  “You gotta talk to Boss Man. I’m hurting for money, and he just permanently cut the remainder of my weekend hours to give them to you.”

  “Wait, hold up—what?”

  Jackson strode inside, combing his fingers through his hair in a display of frustration. “I don’t know. He caught word I’ve been picking up extra hours elsewhere and said something about you needing the hours more than I did. I don’t see how that’s fucking fair, but whatever. The point is, I lost my hours because of you, okay? I need you to talk him out of this.”

  I stuffed one hand into my jeans pockets and shut the door, trying to work through this. Jackson wanted me to give up more work hours that were being offered to me? I couldn’t do that. I needed those hours. Especially when I was just about to put a stop to the checks my dad had been sending me. Like I knew he would, he fought me to the bone over me trying to get a second job. He wasn’t having any of it. Said he’d had the extra lying around and that he wanted to help. I agreed, telling him I’d only accept the help until I got settled in and found a second job I could manage, or until I found one full-time job that would cover everything. If this was a chance for me to stop taking my old man’s money, then I wasn’t passing it up.

  “Uh, look, Jackson, I don’t think I can do that. I’m sorry, but I do need the money. I know you’ve been in a bind, but I can’t turn those hours down if he’s gonna offer them to me.” Despite my certainty, the guilt kicked in as soon as the words left my mouth. It was because of Jackson that I even had this job.

  Jackson’s hopeful expression shifted into a scowl. “Carter, you don’t understand. I need those hours, too. I didn’t want to say anything…I mean, Ruben and Jeff know, but…the less people who know, the better.”

  “What is it?”

  “I wasn’t evicted. Not exactly.”

  “You weren’t?”

  “No. I chose to move out.”

  “You did? Why would you hide that?”

  “Because it’s…embarrassing. No one would believe I’m trying to get my shit together. They’d think it was a fucking joke. The truth is, I decided to try and save some money. I figured if I can live on the boat for a while and skip paying rent, I can funnel that money into savings. And I’ve been picking up more hours at the club because I need to turn shit around. I need to get a place—like, a real place, somewhere I can settle down. I know there’s no chance for me and Emma, but I still have to try…have to try and prove to her I’m serious about cleaning up my act. I wanna try to buy us a house or some shit, I dunno.”

  “A house?” My eyes bugged from my head on their own accord, not because I didn’t think Jackson could do it—hell, I fucking admired his ambition—but because after what he pulled, sharing a house was probably the last thing on Emma’s mind at the moment.

  “See?” Jackson sighed, waving his hand and letting it fall and smack his thigh. “That reaction right there is the reason I have been trying to keep this on the down low. Me trying to save money or do anything worthwhile with my life is laughable to everyone on this island.”

  “Whoa, wait a minute.” I shook my head. “It’s not to me. You’re misreading me, man. It’s just that Emma’s still pretty upset. I don’t know if making house-buying plans will help you right now, that’s all. But that’s your business. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m still going to try. I have to do this, whether she ever becomes mine or not. Hurting her…the way I fucked things up, God, it made me realize how much I need to fucking wake up, man. I need to wake up. But I need to make that money, and I can’t work full time at the club.”

  “You can’t?”

  “Hell no, are you crazy? It’s hard enough keeping Ruben and Jeff from running their mouths about it all over the island. If Emma knew I was working there? She’d never trust me again. Not that she trusts me now. And if I were working there full time? Are you kidding me?”

  “She doesn’t know you’ve been working at the club?”

  “No, and I want to keep it that way. In case you haven’t heard, dude, most daddies around here lock up their daughters and wives when I’m within a mile radius. Between that and my royal screw up with Casey, the last thing I need for Emma to know is that I work around tits and ass all day. It will undoubtedly be the final nail in my impression’s coffin, and it’ll make her the talk of the town on top of it, if she were to decide to be with me. I can’t drag her into that. She doesn’t deserve that shit.” He started to pace. It was making me nervous, and it was also tugging at my heartstrings because once again, I felt sorry for the dude. But I couldn’t budge on this.

  Not this.

  “I know you got me this job, man. I know I owe all of this,” I gestured to my flat, “to you, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough. Seriously. But I need the work just as much as you do. I can’t keep taking money from my old man. I’ve been looking for a second job, but no luck, not with anything that will work around the hours I have here, at the shop.”

  “Please, please, please. I make good money at the club, but I don’t wanna stay there long—just long enough to bank and put a few grand away. It’s only a temporary solution, so I can clean up and then split before the news hurts Emma. Which is why I need the extra hours at the shop as a backup, man. I owe some people at the club some money and it’s just a fuckin’ mess…Carter, I’m begging you.”

  “Shit,” I mumbled, my shoulders falling in defeat. “Fine. I’ll talk to Boss Man.”

  He grabbed me and clapped my back, nearly tackling me. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” I wanted to say no problem, or glad I could help, but I wouldn’t have meant any of those things. It was straight back to the drawing board, looking for a second job and cashing my dad’s checks. “Shit,” I said again, reaching for my cigarettes.

  “Dude, I swear I’ll do whatever I can to help you find another job. If the club were hiring, I’d hook you up, but I don’t think Rick’s looking for anyone else right now.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something out. I should’ve thought about all of this before I jumped on that damn plane and moved my happy ass here.”

  Jackson was more relaxed now, all the tension washed from his face. He walked to the fridge and helped himself to a beer. “So have you heard from the girl? What’s her name, Kate?”

  “Yeah.” My pulse involuntarily accelerated with his question. I so wasn’t in the mood to talk about Kate. “Damn it!” I winced, remembering that I didn’t call her back when I promised her I w
ould. Knowing Kate, she’d automatically think I was still purposely avoiding her.

  In a way, I guess I still was.

  “What’s wrong?” Jackson asked, sitting on the sofa.

  “Nothing, you just reminded me I was supposed to call her back, and I didn’t. I was busy helping Whitney.”

  The beer Jackson was drinking stilled at his lips. “Helping Whitney?”

  And for the 40th frigging time that day, I cursed myself. “It’s nothing. Hey, I gotta grab a shower and catch a bus. I’ll see you at work tomorrow?”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Jackson sprang up from the couch and powered after me as I made a move for the bathroom. “Helping Whitney what?” He slipped past me and stationed himself in front of the bathroom door, blocking me.

  My shoulders fell, once again in defeat. There was no getting around this, I had to tell him. I’d just have to skimp on the details. “Since I drove Emma home that night, she’s been having a rough time. I’ve just been helping Whitney keep her company, that’s all.”

  A flicker of pain flashed over Jackson’s face and his jaw muscles tightened, his ashamed look focusing on the floor near my feet. “I can’t believe this.”

  “She’ll be okay, dude. She just needs some time.”

  “I did this to her.”

  “She’s dealing with a lot more than what happened with you, Jackson. Don’t carry all of the weight, okay?”

  He started to flex his fists at his side, his guilt forming little anxious creases around his eyes and brow. With a heavy breath, he started past me toward the door, setting the beer he’d hardly touched on the counter as he went. “Take care of her for me, okay, man? Thanks for…everything.”

  “Jack,” I called out after him. “Damn.” The door shut and he was gone, but I couldn’t waste time standing there. I couldn’t fix this. I couldn’t help him. It wasn’t my business, and it was all beyond me. Right now, I had to get to Emma’s to help Whitney. I hurried into the bathroom to grab a shower, wondering when I’d squeeze in that call I owed Kate.