Impossible Love, The Complete Before You Go Series

by James, Clare

  “This,” I say grabbing her hand while we lay in bed. “Just this.”

  “I have a lot to learn about what it means to be a parent,” she says.

  “Well, you’re about a million times better than my mom,” I tell her.

  “She’s trying too, Tabby. She really is trying.”

  Chapter 39

  After Christmas, I go back with Jules back to Mud Puddle. I sip my coffee cautiously as we gather around a table in the back room, afraid I’ll spill with my trembling hands. This is my third time joining the group, but I have a feeling something’s up. I think it’s my turn to do the talking.

  “How are your butterflies?” Becca asks the group.

  We all show them off. They’re still living.

  I have three, but only show the one on my arm named Michael.

  I have two others on my ankle.

  Noah and Jules.

  We sit and sip our coffees, making small talk before we dive into business. Reece doesn’t beat around the bush.

  “So Tabby, are you ready to tell us your story?” she asks.

  No, but it’s time.

  My face burns a little and my teeth chatter as I surprisingly say, “Okay. Where should I start?”

  “At the beginning,” she says quietly. “Why are you here with us, Tabby?”

  I gulp down some air, let it out, and begin at the beginning. “Well,” I say, wringing my hands.

  “I…I had a really hard time at my old school.” I stop and take a drink of my coffee. I’m not sure I can let Jules into all of this, but I don’t know how I can avoid it.

  I try again. “I slipped into major depression last year, after I lost everything—my friends, my boyfriend, my dance career. I became the biggest loser in school. After…I was sexually assaulted at a hockey party.”

  And there it is, as simple and as complex as that. I just say it, finally ripping off the Band-Aid. I wait for the sting. I wait for the gasps and stares. There are none. There are only concerned faces encouraging me to go on. So I do.

  “My friend talked me into performing this dance for my boyfriend at the party. It was just this innocent routine we were doing to be funny, but someone slipped something in my drink and the innocent dance turned into a strip show. At least that’s what I pieced together after.”

  Reece nods and Jules leans in. I drink more coffee.

  My voice starts to waver and Jules puts her hand on mine. She wills me her courage, I can feel it.

  “Some of the guys touched me and made me dance for them. They took pictures and circulated them all over campus. I tried to press charges, but it looked like I was just a slutty girl who got out of control and wanted somebody to blame. Everyone found out about it, my family and the entire school. I was kicked out of the dance show. Everyone dumped me, all my friends, the other dancers, even my mom. I guess I dumped myself too.”

  The more I talk, the lighter I feel, but the sadness is still there. So I cry big, fat, ugly tears. The kind that makes your face swell up and get all blotchy. The shame kicks in and I can’t handle the way they are looking at me. The way Jules, my only friend, is looking at me.

  What if I can’t trust her? What if she tells Noah?

  Panic takes over.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell them. “This is too hard. God, I need to go.”

  Before they can protest, I rush out of the backroom, through the hall, and into the coffee shop. A row of cabs waits outside the door.

  I go out into the bitter air and jump in.

  ***

  Later that night, I recover in my room. I read some of Maya Angelou’s poems and come across one that couldn’t be more perfect, Still I Rise.

  It’s about racism, slavery, and poverty, which I know little about. But I know what it’s like to be abused and treated like trash. I know what it’s like to be silenced. I know what it is like to be broken and forgotten. I also know, thankfully, how to rise. So I don’t think Maya would mind me taking her poem as mine.

  I read it again and again, like a prayer, and let the words fill the last of the holes in my heart.

  Chapter 40

  The holiday break continues and, surprisingly, I’m okay. Better than okay. I talk to Noah each night and for once, I begin concentrating on me. My feelings, my therapy, my studies, my workouts and…my family. What’s that old saying, “You can’t love someone else until you learn to love yourself?” Well, that’s exactly what I’m trying to do.

  Jules has called a few times. I don’t talk to her. Despite her gossiping ways, I do trust her and know she’ll keep my secret. I’m just not ready to face her yet.

  What I am ready to face, though, is my dancing career. Michael’s been sending me links to local auditions and I’ve been following the Minneapolis dance scene on my own. There is a small company hosting auditions today and at the very last possible moment, I decide to go.

  ***

  Inside the theater is a mass of lithe bodies wearing numbers on their chests. I pin mine on and take a spot on the floor, blocking out the chatter all around me.

  I can do this.

  “Ladies,” the choreographer calls out from the wings. “I am Kevin and I’ll be teaching the steps today.”

  Kevin is small, rail thin, and dressed in all black. He doesn’t walk; he glides as he makes his way downstage.

  “Let’s begin,” he says.

  And when the music fills the room, we follow Kevin through our warm up.

  After flowing through all the positions, he shows us the combinations. I’m a little rusty at first, but settle into a decent groove. Not great, but pretty solid. Some of the girls let their nerves get the best of them and I know from experience, they won’t make the next cut. The instructors in the audience frantically take notes on our progress.

  Next up is the floor work. The dancers make six lines on stage right and start turning and leaping across the floor while Kevin claps the beat. One of the assistants begins pulling dancers out of the lineup. Their time is done, and our group is shrinking.

  The rest of us get back in line while Kevin puts us into groups of three for the next combination. I’m with a tall brunette and tiny redhead. They are both amazing.

  We work our way through all of the drills, no problem.

  The assistant begins pulling dancers again. But I’m still alive.

  The next sequence is for a solo performance, so we split up and wish each other luck before we do our final dance.

  I am home.

  Chapter 41

  The New Year comes in with a blizzard while I’m at Dad and Amy’s. Two feet of snow pours down over three days—which creates quite the extended holiday vacation. We are totally homebound and there is a whole lot of togetherness going on. Dad spends the day helping neighbors by using his snowblower to clear driveways and sidewalks, while Amy and I cook up recipes a la Cuba.

  “We need some spice up in here,” she tells me. I help her make her grandmother’s tamales and some corn stew thingy. It’s to die for.

  We play Scrabble and read books during the times our cable is out, watch bad TV when the cable is working, and eat like it’s our job. By the third day, we all have cabin fever and when school finally resumes, it’s a welcome change to get out of the house and back to normal activity.

  The first day back, I’m bursting at the seams to see Noah. He got home yesterday, but is on deadline with a huge story for the newspaper—one he said could put him on the map—so we didn’t have the romantic welcome back night I was hoping for. My body is literally in pain, aching for him.

  When I get to the commons, Noah is waiting for me. His lip twitches, but he tries to cover it with a smile. He doesn’t have gloves on and is rubbing his hands together so fierce I think he’s going to start a fire. I watch him and melt. I cover his hands with my gloves. “You are not dressed appropriately for this weather, Mr. Adler,” I scold.

  “I know,” he says as he moves in, resting his head on my shoulders. He whispers in

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sp; my ear, “I was running late and didn’t want to miss you. I barely remembered my shoes.” He

  smiles his Noah smile, a dimple sinking deep in his cheek. “Shit, you are even more beautiful

  than I remembered.”

  I plant a loud kiss on his lips because I can’t help myself.

  He, in turn, takes the glove off my hand and kisses each finger. His thoughtful motion stirs something deep inside, something in me that I thought was lost for good. Something I wasn’t sure I had the right to claim. Then the devil slides one of my fingers into his mouth and my stomach turns ten somersaults.

  “How was your vacation?” I ask, trying to pull myself together.

  “Terrible,” he answers. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too,” I admit.

  We huddle together and walk to class. Actually, Noah walks me to each and every class.

  I’m sure he’s late all day.

  I’m so happy that when Jules corners me in poly sci, I’m ready to face her.

  “Are you okay?” she waits for me just outside the door before the class starts.

  “Yeah,” I meet her eyes, ashamed about the way I acted at the coffee shop. “I’m so sorry, Jules. I shouldn’t have run out like that, or ignored your calls. I guess I just panicked.”

  “But you’re okay now?”

  “You know,” I tell her. “I really think I am. So do you think you can forgive me?”

  “Maybe.” She gives me an evil grin. “If you do something for me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Come out with me tonight.”

  I start to protest, but Jules immediately cuts me off.

  “I was at the paper earlier today and I know Noah has a deadline,” she says. So hang out with me. I’ll keep your mind off of the boss man and you can distract me from Foster.”

  I tip my head, considering.

  “Please,” she whines, reaching out for my hand.

  I’m in such a crazy-good mood, I happily give in.

  ***

  The party is at that rugby player’s house—the guy Jules pointed out to me at the taco place. I've seen him around and he is pretty cool. Definitely no Noah, but who could compete with perfection?

  I wish he was here tonight.

  We reach the house and my knees buckle a little, remembering the last time I was at a party. Still, I know I have to do this—face my demons once and for all. I’ve come so far with Noah and I’m ready to be with him completely. I can just look at this as another step toward my recovery.

  I am in control.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, Tabby,” Jules says. “I needed to get out, without the temptation of going home with Foster. If he shows or calls, your job is to make him go way.”

  “Why can’t you just say no when he makes his booty call?” I ask.

  “Have you seen the man?” Jules raises an eyebrow to me. “As good as that boy looks, he’s even better in bed.”

  Her words make me blush, thinking about Noah.

  “You know what I mean, don’t you?”

  “No comment,” I say, following her to the keg.

  Jules grabs a glass, but I can’t. I’m sure it’s safe. They guy manning the keg would have to be better than David Blaine to slip something into the beer without anyone seeing. But I won’t take the chance. I take a bottled water from the cooler instead.

  We chat with some people from the newspaper, I watch Jules flirt with a cute boy from class, and I even indulge her by dancing to three songs in the living room. The place smells like cigarettes and stale beer, the carpet is sopping, and the music is so loud we have to communicate with hand signals. It’s surprisingly fun until I feel eyes burning into my back.

  Jenna is in the corner, watching us. The look she gives both of us is deadly. The girl is downright frightening.

  Jules notices and quickly she leads me away to the kitchen. But once she starts up the flirt session again, Jenna moves in.

  “Don’t worry, I’m alone,” I tell her, hoping she’ll continue on her way. “Noah’s not here tonight.”

  “You know, I don’t care one iota about you and Noah,” she says—her voice is sweet and scathing all at the same time.

  “You shouldn’t,” I interrupt. “It’s none of your business.”

  “Oh really?” she slurs, obviously partaking in the keg as well. “Then why was Noah forced to tell you all about me, our past, and the fact that we’re no longer involved?” She ticks off each point on her long manicured fingers.

  Then she proceeds to answer her own question, “To keep you from getting psycho jealous, that’s why. But let me tell you something, Tabby. If you think your little fuck fest is going to change how he feels about me, you’re even more stupid than you look.” She leans in close but keeps the smile on her face. “It’s not like he hasn’t tried before. It’s funny though, the girls never seem to stick.”

  “Jenna,” I say, knowing I have to do something to calm her to prevent a scene. “I don’t expect Noah to change his relationship with you.”

  Okay, so I lie to do it.

  “I’m not the enemy,” I tell her.

  But Jenna is, and I know it’s best to keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

  “Right, you’re just another charity case Noah’s trying to save,” she snaps. “It’s pathetic.”

  “It seems to me that you’re the charity case, Jenna,” I blurt. So much for preventing a scene. I get in her face and don’t back down. “Why can’t you just let Noah go?”

  “We have a history that you’ll never understand,” she slurs again, placing a hand on the wall to steady herself. “You can’t change that. He would never let that happen.” She seems unconvinced by her own words.

  Jules joins me now as Jenna’s friends crowd around us.

  “You mean you would never let that happen,” I say, unwilling to let her intimidate me this time.

  “I don’t really care who he fucks, Tabby.” She’s swaying so much it’s making me dizzy. “It will be over soon enough. In the meantime, just stay out of my way.”

  There’s nothing I want more.

  “Done.” I nod at the request, hoping she isn’t right about me and Noah.

  Chapter 42

  Last night, was quite a breakthrough for me. I handled a party and Jenna all in one night without losing it. I called Noah when I got home to give him all the dirty details. He was less than thrilled. He offered to come over, but I knew he was swamped with the paper so after assuring him that I really was okay, I told him I’d bring coffee in the morning.

  When I get there, he’s at his desk wearing his black-rimmed glasses, looking all Clark Kent sexy, but something isn’t right. His face is strained.

  I know just how to fix that.

  “How’s is going?” I ask him when I come into his office, pushing his papers aside to settle in between him and the desk. “You look like you could use a stress reliever.”

  I grab his belt buckle and wiggle my eyebrows. I’m dying to get my hands on him.

  “Tabby,” he grabs my fingers, his face is ashen.

  “What?” I’m suddenly worried. “Is everything okay?”

  “Not really.” He exhales.

  “Is it the article?”

  He swallows and nods, unable to meet my eyes.

  “Why have you been so secretive? What’s the article about?”

  “I didn’t mean to be secretive, Tab,” he begins. “The article is about sexual assault and college athletes. Pretty disturbing stuff. Not exactly something I wanted to talk about during our…time together.”

  My stomach drops.

  “It’s also about the way universities are helping to cover up the crimes,” Noah continues, running his hand through his hair. “I’ve been working with student journalists from all over the country to get information to include in the piece.”

  No. No fucking way. This has nothing to do with me.

  “Today, I got a package from Illinois.�
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  This can’t be happening.

  “I never expected the reporters in Chicago would cooperate,” he starts to blabber. “I had a lead and I tried contacting them, but nobody would talk.”

  My knees buckle. If I wasn’t leaning against the desk, I’d be on the floor. Noah reaches out for me, but I swat his hand away.

  “I didn’t know, Tab. I swear I didn’t. I just found out today.”

  “What are you talking about? Noah? What happened?” I ask.

  But I know. I know exactly what he’s talking about.

  He pulls out the stack of papers on the desk and it’s all there. The articles from the university paper. The student blog postings. The response from the university.

  I hold still. It’s like my organs are shutting down one by one.

  Noah stands, pushing his laptop out of my view. His eyes narrow and the crease between his brows deepens. He knows.

  He knows.

  “Baby,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

  My arm snakes over him, flipping the laptop so I can see what he was looking at.

  Or to confirm it.

  When I see the screen, it’s like looking at my own reflection. It’s my face and body in a slideshow of disgusting photos. I begin hitting the arrows to flip them. Over and over again.

  Noah’s expression is unreadable, a cross between murderous and devastated. “What exactly happened, Tabby?” His voice is hollow. “Did these assholes rape you?”

  He needs to know how damaged I really am. Or maybe what diseases I’m carrying.

  “The doctors said no,” I whisper, ashamed I don’t know the answer on my own. “I wasn’t violated in that way.”

  I can’t do this. I can’t discuss this with him. It feels like it’s happening all over again. The questions, the suspicion, the judgment.