Collide Series Box Set

by J. C. Hannigan

  “I know that.” Jenna sighed, biting her lip.

  “What makes you think that was Lucas’s problem? It doesn’t mention your name and you have to really look to see you in that picture…it’s too grainy.” I joined Jenna at the end of her bed, my body sinking into her soft mattress.

  Jenna tucked her fair hair behind her ear, her teeth sinking even lower into her lip as she worried it. “Well…remember how I said that Lucas knew the band? He’s known Cam for years.”

  “So you think Cam took these photos?”

  “No.” Jenna shook her head quickly, dismissing my question. “I think that Cam recognized me though. He’s probably seen me in countless photos on Lucas’s Facebook profile, and I think he told Lucas I was there and talking to Kyle.”

  “Hmm.” I paused to take a sip of water, mulling over her theory. “Well, in any case…what does it matter? You don’t want to be with Lucas anymore, right?”

  “Right, but…” Jenna trailed off, looking hurt and confused. “He was my first actual boyfriend, you know?”

  “Bullshit.” I could barely keep my jaw from flapping open. “You’ve dated before. You had to—you were friends with Callie and Tara: resident date-aholics.”

  “Yeah, well. No.” Jenna laughed bitterly, her eyes hardening. “I was holding out for…someone,” Jenna whispered and blushed, as if the mere thought was mortifying.

  “Okay, now you have to tell me who you were holding out for. And don’t give me that ‘the one’ bullshit.” I raised my hand, silencing her usual answer. I used to buy it, but in that unguarded moment, I sensed that there was something Jenna wasn’t telling me.

  She flushed a deeper shade of red. “Fine, but I warn you. I was young and stupid and I have matured a lot since then and it’s embarrassing to look back on.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Get to the point.” I smirked.

  “Fine. I liked Riley.” Jenna blushed, speaking about the spoiled popular guy from our English class in grade twelve. Riley had been a typical jock-type: focused on his sport (hockey), girls, drinking and throwing huge parties in his parents’ house on the hills. “Well, I liked him when he didn’t speak, anyway.”

  I snorted, nodding with agreement. Riley was good looking, but there wasn’t much in the brain department. He was too conceited, too self-centered.

  “Then the whole Andrew thing happened.” Jenna shuddered, her expression darkening. The party that had changed Jenna’s life drastically had happened at Riley’s house. In fact, I’d walked into Riley’s bedroom to find Andrew sexually assaulting Jenna.

  “Yeah, well. You would have clued in sooner rather than later that Riley only had his good looks,” I reminded her. “Didn’t he knock up Callie?”

  Jenna turned her laptop back around so she could type quickly into the search bar. “Yes, look,” she finally said, turning the laptop back so I could look at the new page she had pulled up. It was Callie’s Facebook. Callie’s page used to be full of pictures of her and her friends partying, but now it was dedicated to the adorable newborn baby. A little boy, by the looks of it. There were a lot of pictures of Riley and Callie with their son.

  “They look…” I tilted my head.

  “Mostly fake, right?” Jenna laughed weakly, her shoulders sagging slightly little. I knew she wasn’t thinking about her ex-best friend or her ex-crush, but her own pregnancy…her own baby. I watched as she stared at the images on screen, her jaw trembling ever so slightly.

  My heart hurt for her. She’d been through so much more than anyone should ever have to experience. It was bad enough to get raped, bad enough to have your virginity taken from you and bad enough to live with that shame and embarrassment…but to get pregnant from the rapist, dealing with a pregnancy and putting a baby up for adoption too? That was beyond cruel. The reminders were everywhere for her, and as much as she tried to force a smile and live without regret, I knew she hurt over the fact that her first pregnancy—her first child—had been conceived in such a terrible manner. I knew she looked at photos of Callie’s smiling face, holding her beautiful, wanted baby boy, and was angry, sad and broken.

  The secret I carried seemed impossibly heavy, weighing me down and crushing my heart. I hated that I kept this from Jenna, but I couldn’t make my jaw move. I couldn’t form the words to tell her something that I knew would destroy her—or at least seriously hurt her.

  I swallowed hard, trying to work up the courage to just spit it out. But what good will that actually do? The adoption is finalized. The baby is happy and loved.

  “I know, it’s stupid.” Jenna sighed, finally breaking our heavy silence.

  “It’s really not,” I argued. “It’s a trigger for you. I just wish I knew what to say…”

  “You could tell me to delete Callie off my Facebook,” she pointed out with a tiny grin.

  “Okay, you should delete Callie off your Facebook, and anybody else from that horrid town.”

  “Wise advice.” Jenna nodded solemnly, as if my repeated words were completely my own and full of wisdom. “So…what’s going on with you?” Jenna closed her laptop, keeping her eyes on my face.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re home late. I’m guessing you went to the gym?” I nodded in response. “Well, usually when you head straight to the gym after class, something happened. And you had Creative Writing today, didn’t you? Did Mr. Sharpe make you feel uncomfortable?”

  My eyes narrowed. I resented the fact that Jenna had the perfect recollection of everything I’d ever said. One time I mentioned how good looking Professor Sharpe was and how all the female students in the class were obsessed with him. One time I told her he (or rather, his attractiveness) made me a little uncomfortable. I didn’t go into detail and assured her that Mr. Sharpe was not trying to get in my pants.

  Jenna’s gaze was unwavering, and I knew she wouldn’t stop pestering me until I told her. Sighing heavily, I gave in. “Not this time,” I admitted, picking at the comforter. I realized I hadn’t filled Jenna in on what had happened with Professor Sharpe a few weeks previously. “A couple classes ago…he pulled me aside to basically tell me that he loved my outline and couldn’t wait to read the first draft. Then he told me I should try and get it published, blah blah blah.”

  I was aware how similar what Professor Sharpe said sounded to what Iain said. The entire time I’d worked out, I worried about that. Did Iain really mean what he said when he told me I had talent, or was it just his way of opening the door for something more? Did Professor Sharpe mean it, or was he looking to get extra time with me?

  Even though I knew it was foolish and stupid, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe the details of the North Bay scandal had leaked, and Professor Sharpe had found out about it and wanted to see just how far I’d go to get good grades. It was that sneaky, evil voice of depression, lying to me and urging me straight into the spiral of anxiety. In turn, that anxiety fed the depression and it became hard to see clearly and breathe easily.

  I’d coped with depression and anxiety for as long as I could remember, but separating what was real from what was in my head was getting harder and harder. I knew I needed to talk about my feelings to someone, anyone…I just didn’t know how. I could only offer the smallest bits of myself, the smallest truths. I didn’t go into details on the inner workings of my mind—I couldn’t. I didn’t want to revisit those memories any more than anyone around me would want to hear them. Some thoughts were better left unsaid.

  Jenna was silent as she watched me. After a few moments, she gave me a small smile. “Now you’re wondering if Professor Sharpe meant those things, or if male English teachers just have a preference for you—and not because of your writing talent?” Hearing my muddled, complicated thoughts presented in such an easily spoken sentence was disconcerting. I nodded blindly and Jenna reached out to touch my arm. “You do have talent, Harlow. I would read anything you write, even a scary thriller novel.” She said this sincerely, her eyes wide with promise.

 
It was a big promise for Jenna to make; she hated scary thriller novels. She preferred the soft, light and fluffy romances that always had happy endings. Jenna needed a happily ever after in her books because a small part of her felt that she’d been robbed of her happily ever after.

  She’d said as much to me once. Once. I made sure I stomped out that stupid notion. Jenna had a lot of life left to live; I was certain she’d find her happily ever after. She was too sweet not to.

  “Of course I’m going to doubt myself,” I confessed. “I wish that Professor Sharpe didn’t make me uncomfortable, but he does. I’m dealing with it, just like I’ll have to deal with seeing Iain on Wednesday.”

  “Why would you have to deal with that?” Jenna’s confusion reminded me of the fact that I had yet to tell her about Lucas quitting (or getting fired from) The Bean.

  “Lucas is no longer an employee. Jamie gave most of his shifts to Crimson but he needs my help on Wednesday, Crimson has an appointment. It will be the second day of his book signing.”

  “Seriously? That’s so not like him.” Jenna’s brow furrowed with concern. “He loved that job and needed it.”

  “Maybe he got a new one.” I shrugged. “I don’t really care about Lucas. Because he can’t be a man about things, I now have to take over his shift on Wednesday.”

  Jenna was quiet for a moment, lost in thought. “Maybe nobody will show up and Iain will leave,” she finally offered, trying to provide comfort.

  I didn’t like that possibility. Despite our complicated history, my complicated feelings for him, and my anger over the fact that he supposedly wrote a book about us, I wanted Iain to find success and happiness in his life. Anything else would just make that guilt that resides in my heart even more overwhelming and all-consuming. Because of me, Iain had lost his teaching career. I wished him nothing but the best for his writing career; he deserved it. “Or maybe nobody will show up, and he’ll start talking to me,” I pointed out instead of voicing my thoughts. “The more people there, the less chance of us being alone together.”

  “And what would happen if you’re alone together?” Jenna asked.

  I swallowed again, thinking Jenna’s question over. My thoughts instantly drifted to the day Iain had showed up at the apartment shortly after Andrew’s attack, and how he’d kissed me and I had responded, even for a moment. A moment was too long; I should have shoved him off me immediately, but I didn’t. Now, I could only torture myself by trying to understand why.

  “I don’t know,” I replied honestly.

  Jenna gave me a leveled look. “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit,” she huffed, crossing her arms. “You are completely in love with Jax. I can see it in your eyes even when I mention his name. That’s real and you know it. So why are you worried about the past?”

  “Technically, the past paves the way for the future, or something along those lines.” I sighed, running a hand through my hair. I’d left it down after my quick shower at the gym. It was tangled from the walk home, and my fingers got caught. I tugged them out, growing aggravated and restless. I didn’t do the whole sit around and talk about feelings thing, and when I did, I always felt like a caged animal: frantic and desperate to escape. It was bad enough I couldn’t escape my own thoughts; I hated to say them aloud and make them real.

  “I’m not going to tell you to get over it,” Jenna said, her eyes serious, “but I do think you need to focus on the future and the present. You need to close the door between then and now permanently.”

  “I know.” I pursed my lips, resisting the urge to echo her sentiments to her. They were incredibly different situations; the past that Jenna lived in couldn’t be escaped and I knew that. “I am, I just feel…stuck.”

  Silence followed my admission. Jenna knew all about that horrible stuck feeling; it was difficult to move forward when each foot felt as if it was encased in concrete. It was a constant struggle to merely try.

  Jenna reached out again, gripping my hand. She gave me a comforting squeeze. “I know.” She sighed shakily. “I guess all we can really do is try to move forward, anyway.”

  “Yeah,” I said, gently freeing my hand from Jenna’s. I stood up. “Jax is coming over tonight. I was hoping to catch a nap before he got here.”

  “That’s probably a good idea.” Jenna smirked, humor making the dull edge of sadness fade from her eyes. “You guys don’t get to sleep much when you’re together.”

  “Ugh, please tell me you don’t hear anything,” I grumbled, shaking my head. These walls really were too thin.

  Jenna grinned and shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I bought headphones,” she replied, reaching over to her end table to show me.

  * * *

  Later that night, I was sitting in the living room on the sofa with my legs crossed, mindlessly flipping through the channels and waiting for Jax. It was nearly ten o’clock, and I was beginning to worry. It wasn’t like Jax to be late. Still, if he was late, he probably had a good reason so I tried to ignore the urge I had to pick up my cell phone from the coffee table and text him. I settled instead for watching a re-run of CSI Miami.

  Jenna’s gentle voice drifted down the hall, and every now and then I could hear her giggle. I knew she was likely talking to Kyle, so I left her alone.

  Every couple of minutes, my eyes would dart to my phone on that blasted coffee table. Just when I was about to give in to the urge and text Jax, the sound of a heavy footfall ascending the stairs drew my attention to the door. The sound stopped in front of my door, and was followed with a sturdy rap of knuckles against wood.

  I got up, crossing over to the door and opening it in one fluid, quick movement. Jax stood before me, looking apologetic and haunted. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, distractedly running a hand over his jaw. I’d never seen Jax look so preyed upon.

  Standing aside, I looked at him curiously. “Jax…what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he said curtly, coming into the apartment. I closed the door, still watching him out of the corner of my eye while he paced towards the kitchen. It certainly didn’t look like nothing. Jax’s entire body was rigid, as if he was ready for a fight. His eyes were a storm of so many different emotions.

  “Bullshit, Jax,” I told him, crossing my arms over my chest. I was deeply affected by this strange mood he was in. My anxiety was beginning to bubble up, and my throat felt as if it was constricting. Insecurities consumed me, and I couldn’t help but wonder if what was eating Jax up would destroy us both.

  Jax noticed my stance, and he approached me quickly, his arms going around me. He tugged me against his warm body. “Whatever you’re thinking, whatever you’re worrying about…that’s not it. I promise.”

  “Why won’t you just tell me?” I asked, my voice muffled against his cool jacket. I clenched the material in my fist.

  His hand came up to tip my chin gently. I wanted to close my eyes, to lean in against the feel of his warm, large hand on my skin. I wanted to urge him to touch me more. Instead, I kept them open, watching as his eyes flicked across my face as he drank me in.

  When we finally made eye contact, I could feel the turmoil rolling around in him. “Well, I had this whole night planned out—and it didn’t really involve a lot of talking, if you know what I mean,” he explained, his eyes lighting up with desire at his own suggestion. In a flash, his eyes sobered, as if hit by the reality of whatever troubled him.

  “Jax…please, just tell me,” I said, desperately trying to keep the pleading tone away from my voice. My heart was frantically beating in my chest as I envisioned all of the worst case scenarios, like some kind of continuous loop. Jax cheating on me, Jax no longer loving me, Jax finding out he was deadly sick. I would have laughed at the absurdity of my own thoughts if he didn’t look so pale. He always glowed, between his sun-kissed skin tone and his general personality and mood.

  He wasn’t glowing now.

  Jax released me and walked over to the small island in the kitchen. He turned to face m
e again, but avoided looking directly at me. He spoke to the floor. “My mom called.” He sounded as if he couldn’t believe the words himself. He appeared stunned. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He looked up for the briefest of moments and his eyes reached into my soul, pulling me out from the shell I’d tried to hide in. “I haven’t heard from her since before I left home.”

  He dropped his gaze, his jaw tense. I could tell he was shaken, conflicted. His fists kept clenching and releasing, the muscles straining in his forearms with the slight, distracted action. My eyes sought out Jax’s, the anxiety that had been twisting at my stomach releasing with a flood of relief. This wasn’t about me—about us. This was about Jax and his past…his past that I knew very little about.

  I approached him without further thought, my arms wrapping around his waist. I pressed myself against him, turning my cheek to the hard muscles of his chest. His heart thudded loudly in my ear. After a moment, Jax’s arms came up to embrace me and hold me even closer. His chin rested on the top of my head and he inhaled deeply, breathing me in.

  “What does she want?” I whispered. I wanted to look into his eyes, to see exactly what emotions he was feeling, but I got the sense that he needed me to stay just as I was.

  “Money.” He chuckled without humor. “She wanted access to my inheritance.”

  “That’s weird,” I managed, hesitating. “Did she say why?”

  Jax nodded, his jaw clenching and releasing. “She said dear old dad got them into serious gambling debt and she needs to pay it off before they lose the house.”

  “Did you…?” I let my voice trail off, the remainder of my question unspoken between us.

  “I told her that if she left him, I would give her money in a heartbeat. I would help her get situated here, with her own place. I would help her clear her name and start over.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She said that wasn’t what she wanted. She wants to be with him. So, I told her to figure it out for herself. That I wasn’t going to give that abusive son of a bitch a dime,” Jax spat with venom.