The Heartbreak Cure

by Ashby, Amanda

I can’t get through to him.

  “Perhaps that’s a good thing.” He shrugged, refusing to look at her.

  “What are you saying?” The words burned.

  It’s not working.

  “You know exactly what I’m saying.” His voice was flat and calm, like he’d taken all his anger and emotions and stored them away in a box. Cat swallowed hard as the heady aroma of yeast and cheese threatened to choke her. “This always had an expiration date. It needs to end now.”

  “What about what I want?” Cat leaned forward. If she could only touch him, shake him, kiss him—it would remind him of how good they were together. That they could figure this out.

  Why is he letting this happen?

  Why isn’t he fighting?

  “Please. We can fix this. I don’t blame you.”

  “And what about your mom?” It was the same flat, lifeless voice. The one that matched his mask. “I know she’s not happy that we’re dating. I can’t even imagine how pissed she is after last night.”

  “I don’t care about that,” she said as her heart pounded against her ribs, echoing in her ears. Bang, bang, bang. It was so loud. Couldn’t he hear it? Couldn’t he see that this was the wrong way to do it? Heat rose up her neck, and her skin prickled.

  “I do. Hell, Cat. Your mom’s right. She’s only trying to look out for you. This isn’t one of your stories where you can change the ending to make it happier, or funnier, or cuter. My ending’s already been written.”

  She leaned back in the seat, his words like knives. He’d always supported her writing, but now he was talking like she was some stupid kid with clouds in her head.

  “Please, Alex,” she said, her voice not more than a croak as black dots flooded her vision. The room was too hot. Too overwhelming. Everything was wrong.

  This was wrong.

  He shook his head. “We can’t do this anymore.” Then, without another word, he got to his feet and walked out of the Shack.

  Cat wanted to go after him, but there were stones tied to her feet. Her legs were concrete. Nothing would work. She started to shake as she kept hearing his words, seeing his face devoid of emotion, his eyes blank and remote.

  She looked across the table to see if even the ghost of him lingered. But it was empty. Oh God. Understanding hit, and a jagged sob caught in the back of her throat. It had happened. The thing she’d been the most scared of had really just happened.

  Alex was just like her dad. Just like Bennet.

  He’d done the one thing she never thought he’d do.

  He’d left her.

  …

  Alex leaned against the hood of his car as he stared at the crash site where his mom and sisters had died. After the accident, people had placed a white cross and surrounded it with teddy bears and plastic flowers, but that had all long since gone. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need anything to mark the spot.

  I should’ve come back sooner.

  It would’ve reminded him of who he was and what he was capable of. Would have stopped him from believing he could have a happy ending like one of Cat’s stories.

  The night air prickled his skin, and the cloying scent of the shop-bought roses caught in his throat. He let them drop with a soft thump to the ground.

  Doesn’t matter anyway. Not like a bunch of flowers can change the past.

  He curled his hands into fists. He still had on the white button-up shirt from last night, though it now looked like it had seen better days. He didn’t care.

  Everything was so screwed up.

  Still, at least he’d done something right. Cat might hate him now, but in the long run she’d get it. Or at the very least, she wouldn’t have to be humiliated by watching her no-good boyfriend be hauled away in the middle of a ball. And what if she’d been with me when Clay had turned up at the apartment?

  She deserved better.

  Night birds sang in the background as cars passed by, the darkness broken by their headlights. Not that he cared. From now on, the only thing he was going to think about was keeping to himself and staying out of trouble. It was better that way.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Are you sure you want to go? I can call the school and tell them you’re sick,” her mom said as they sat in Martha in front of Franklin High the following day.

  It was tempting to just say yes. To let her mom turn around and drive her home so she could climb into her bed and bury herself under the comforter for the next hundred years. The only thing stopping her was that being on her own made it worse. At least she’d already had a text from Nikki. She’d searched the parking lot, and Alex’s car wasn’t there.

  Darker things whispered in her mind. Where was he? Was he okay?

  She slammed them down. He’d dumped her, which meant she wasn’t allowed to think about him anymore.

  And that means not worrying about him, either.

  “I’m sure.” She grabbed her backpack and climbed out. The weather hadn’t got the memo, and buttery lines of sunshine sprung out to meet her rather the dark storm clouds Cat had requested.

  Not getting what I want seems to be my thing.

  All around her kids turned, their eyes curious. News obviously travelled fast.

  And to think, six weeks ago, she’d been scared of the fallout from Bennet Miler and his YouTube clip. But this was worse. So much worse. Because now she wasn’t just humiliated or ashamed, she was heartbroken. Ironically, by the guy who was meant to help her show the world she wasn’t heartbroken.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Nikki appeared by her side, closely followed by Parker. “Retract that statement. I know you’re not. Have you heard from him?”

  She shook her head because speaking out loud could be a problem.

  “Perhaps that’s a good thing.” Nikki nudged her toward the school. “Here I was thinking he needed time to clear his head, but you do, too.”

  “Or, you could write a really great death scene for him,” Parker added in a helpful voice before Nikki shot him a dark look. “Sorry, I don’t think I was meant to know that.”

  “It’s okay.” Cat finally spoke. “Well, it’s not okay. I feel bad. Like I’m dying. I don’t even think killer ants will help me out.”

  “Which is where I come in,” Nikki said, her voice bright and her hand gestures over the top. “After school, you’re coming back to my place for a moviefest with ice cream and all you can eat Red Vines.”

  She opened her mouth to explain that, while she did plan to wallow, it was going to be on her own, with the blinds closed, and wearing Alex’s old T-shirt he’d left at her place last week. There she would binge on 80s love songs and movies, and eat her body weight in donuts. She was saved from answering when Nikki’s eyes widened, and she nodded to something in the background.

  “Mackenzie, hey,” Parker said, saving Cat the bother of turning around. At the sound of the editor’s name, she stiffened. Oh, yes. As well as losing her boyfriend, she was certain her dreams of editing the newspaper were ruined. Talk about a two-for-the-price-of-one deal.

  “Good morning.” Mackenzie gave Cat the full benefit of her laser sharp focus. “We need to talk.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Nikki growled, but Cat shook her head. Might as well get it over and done with. She was pretty sure she’d already hit bottom. Mackenzie would have to work extra hard to top what Alex had done to her.

  “It’s okay. I’ll catch up with you in English,” she said and then waited until Nikki and Parker reluctantly walked way, hand in hand, before forcing herself to face Mackenzie. “I’m sorry about the ball. I know how pissed you must be.”

  “Relax. I’m not here to read you the riot act. The sheriff personally contacted the organizers yesterday to apologize and explain Alex didn’t do anything. Unfortunately, from what I heard, Summerset Trust didn’t care and pulled him anyway. How’s he holding up?”

  She closed her eyes.

  Seemed like the only person who didn’t believe in his innocence was Al
ex himself. When she opened her eyes again, Mackenzie was staring at her intently. Like she was waiting for an answer.

  “We broke up.” She was still in awe that three words could even attempt to sum up the maelstrom of conflict raging through her.

  “Oh.” Mackenzie’s eyes flickered, before she shrugged. “I’m sorry to hear that. Anyway, I wanted to discuss the paper with you. Louisa turned in the most pathetic feature story I’ve ever read in my life. On bugs. Do I look like an editor who’d publish a story on bugs?”

  “Er, no,” she said as it occurred to her Mackenzie wasn’t mad. “A-are you saying you want me to keep writing for the paper?”

  “Unless you’d prefer to mope around the house feeling sorry for yourself,” Mackenzie said just as the first bell rang. “But if you’re still on my staff, then I need a new feature story by the end of the day. Can you deliver?”

  You mean bury myself in writing to the point that I forget about the disaster my life has become?

  She nodded her head. “I can.”

  “Good.” Mackenzie walked away with a flick of her hair. Cat blinked. It was a long way from the “not on my watch” speech Mackenzie had given her earlier in the year. It was hard to tell if it was because of her scholarship to Stanford or she was mellowing. Still, whatever her reasoning, Cat was grateful. It was a lifeline and a reminder she needed to focus on what really mattered.

  And that’s looking after myself.

  Something easier said than done. Still, since Alex had stopped her from having a say in their relationship, she didn’t really have a choice. Working on the paper would just have to be enough for her.

  …

  “Ah, you’re still alive. Your principal was starting to doubt it,” Joe said as Alex walked into the garage fresh from doing a night shift at the canning factory. His plan to cut back on his hours there had changed, and he’d been taking on as many shifts as he could, even if they were during school hours.

  It gave him cash and left him too tired to think about Cat.

  In theory, anyway.

  In reality, she was everywhere, like fragments of a dream he couldn’t forget.

  The upturn of her mouth as she patted Martha’s hood. The pitch of her laugh when she was watching a movie. The hitch of her brows as she tried to decide what was weirder: camel unicorns or gorilla teddy bears. Both, for the record.

  She was everywhere.

  And it sucked.

  “There’ve been extra shifts, but you can relax. The season will be finished in a couple of weeks,” Alex said, not sure why he was bothering to explain anything. He walked over to where his overalls were hanging and wondered whether the coffee from Joe’s ancient percolator would help him stay awake for the next eight hours.

  Probably not.

  “My point exactly. The season lasts for a few weeks. Why mess up your chances of going to college for a couple of lousy bucks?” Joe growled, and before Alex could even open his mouth, he shook his head. “And don’t give me the BS about what happened at the ball.”

  He busied himself with sorting out the worksheets for the day. It wasn’t enough to ignore Joe’s unrelenting gaze.

  He sighed. “Not that it’s any of your business, but college is off.”

  “Well, then we have a problem. I let you stay here because you were a kid who wanted to get ahead. To study hard and make something of yourself. That’s what you told me.”

  “Are you kicking me out?” His mind spun. Even with the extra shifts he’d been doing, he doubted he had enough money to get an apartment of his own. Crap.

  Joe folded his arms. “You keep applying to colleges and stop skipping school and you’ve got a place here. If you want to throw it all away just because you were falsely accused of something, then you can go.”

  He pushed the work sheets aside as something in his chest began to crumble. “It’s not that simple. It wasn’t just the Summerset Trust. I’ve had three more rejections. Don’t you get it? I might’ve been the kid who wanted to college, but finding a college that wants me is proving a problem. No one’s interested.”

  “So, go to a different one,” Joe retorted. “What about the one here at Franklin? That’s where Maggie went, and she turned out okay.”

  “Community college?” Alex blinked.

  “Crap, Alex. Get down off your high horse. You think everyone at the canning factory would be there if they had the chance to do something else? You have a chance, so stop feeling sorry for yourself, and do it.”

  “I meant it was here. In Franklin,” he said catching the stony look in Joe’s eyes. “Okay, fine. I’ll keep applying. Happy?”

  “Pretty contented.” Joe gave a slow smile Alex suspected had more to do with Cat’s mom than anything. “Oh, and by the way, you owe me twenty bucks for dry cleaning.”

  “Dry cleaning?” He followed Joe’s gaze to where the tuxedo was hanging over the door of the garage office. It was draped in plastic, and Alex suspected if he lifted it up, it would be free of all the wrinkles and stains and trauma that had covered it when he’d dumped it into the trash last week. “Are you serious?”

  “Do I make many jokes?” Joe deadpanned. “I figured you never know when you might need a tuxedo. What’s that motto about always being prepared?”

  “I’m hardly a freaking Boy Scout,” he growled, but all the same he dragged out his wallet and took out some bills. “And you might think going trash surfing is some great way to get me to change, but it won’t work.”

  “Hey, you’re the educated one, not me. I just figured a nice suit was worth hanging on to.” Joe shrugged. “Now, that Honda needs a new battery, and I need a decent cup of coffee. Think you can manage it?”

  “Sure.” Still, it could’ve been worse. Joe could’ve talked about Cat, and then he really would’ve had to storm out.

  …

  “I can’t decide whether to buy the one with the frog or the one with the elephant. It’s for my boyfriend,” a woman with dark hair declared as she studied the two cards in her hand.

  Don’t buy either, because he’ll only be all sweet and kind and then decide his issues are too dark and it’s his duty to push you away. Men suck.

  “You could just get both,” Cat said in her sunniest voice. “That way you save a dollar.”

  “Sold.” The woman grinned and then fumbled around in her purse for some money as Cat slipped the two cards into a paper bag.

  She waited until the customer left before collapsing back onto her makeshift chair, which was two packing crates stacked on top of each other. She made a mental note to never again work a craft booth while suffering from heartbreak. Selling uplifting messages accompanied by cute artwork was painful and more than a little annoying.

  Or it could just be me.

  It had been a week since Alex had unceremoniously dumped her, and it had dragged on for eternity. Longer, if she cared to exaggerate the matter.

  Even worse, he’d been ditching classes, which meant she’d only caught a glimpse of him twice. Each time his head was bowed and his eyes fixed firmly on the space in front of him.

  “Hey,” someone said, and Cat reluctantly stood up, expecting another customer. Instead it was Isabel.

  She braced herself for Bennet’s smug face to appear, but there was no sign of him. Her frown increased.

  “Hey,” she cautiously replied. Lately her emotions were constant—annoyed, sad, frustrated. She wasn’t quite sure where Isabel fit into the equation. “Are you here for a card or something?”

  Isabel shook her head, and her long brown hair tumbled down around her shoulders. It really was quite something.

  “No. I wanted to speak to you, and I figured it might be better to do it here than at school.”

  “Worried that someone might see you associate with me?” she said before she could stop the words from tumbling out. Great, now I’m reverting to my fourth-grade self. “Anyway, if you’re here to say, ‘I told you so,’ let me spare you the breath.”

  �
��No.” Isabel’s eyes filled with hurt and her mouth hung open in a small circle. “God. I would never think that. I know how awful it is to break up with someone. I just wanted to check you were okay.”

  “Oh.” She wrinkled her brow. At least she knew the emotion she was now experiencing. Confusion. “I didn’t expect you to say that. I guess you should come behind the booth.”

  “Thanks.” Isabel gave a graceful nod and walked past the tables of greeting cards as Cat lifted the second packing crate off and offered it to her as a seat. Isabel carefully smoothed down her skirt and lowered herself onto the crate as Cat followed suit. “I wanted to say how sorry I was for everything Bennet did to you. I feel partially to blame.”

  Despite herself, she leaned forward. “How do you figure that?”

  “Because I broke up with him at the start of summer.”

  “What?” She sucked in a sharp breath. “You and Bennet were dating? Since when?”

  “Spring break.” Isabel dipped her head, and the amazing hair fell forward. When she looked up, her cheeks were red. “We kept it a secret, which I know must sound so stupid to you. After all, you’re so brave. You don’t care what people think about you. I wish I’d been more like that.”

  Cat shut her eyes and opened them again. Isabel was still there, twisting her hands in her lap. Salvador Dali had nothing on this picture. Since when was she brave? Or friends with Isabel?

  “I’m not sure I follow.”

  Isabel sighed. “Trying to keep up with my friends is complicated. There are all kinds of rules. Like where to get your hair cut. What clothes to wear. And who to date. Or, should I say, who not to date. I was so worried that my friends would dump me if they found out about me and Bennet that I decided to end it with him just before summer break. He didn’t take it very well. I guess you know all about that.”

  The whole hall seemed to fall silent.

  This was all because Isabel was too scared to stand up to her friends? The same friends that she’d dumped Cat for all those years ago?

  Hysterical laugher caught in her throat.

  Her disaster with Alex could be traced all the way back to Bennet and his YouTube clip. If none of it had happened, she wouldn’t have had her heart broken—once in public, which had been more embarrassing than painful—and for a second time in a pizza store with steamed up windows, the air infused with pepperoni, and only an old bicycle to bear witness.