The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1)

by Martin, R. C.

  “You didn’t see her face. And her silence—her silence says it all. Like I said, you don’t get it.”

  “Gray—the last time the two of you got into a fight, you were radio silent for days. How many times did she try and reach you anyway? This isn’t different.”

  “Yes, it is,” he mutters, dropping back down against his pillow. “She didn’t deserve my silence, but I deserve hers.”

  “Oh, for crying out loud.” I’ve never met two people who have been so good at standing in their own way. Addie and I were never like this. Then again, Addie and I never really got into huge blow-out fights where either of us didn’t want to speak to the other for days. We’ve just never been that way. I’ve never been as grateful for our ability to communicate with each other as I am in this moment. I don’t know what these two would do without us.

  I get up and leave him by himself, determined to put an end to this right now. I head out the front door and up the flight of stairs to the girls’ apartment. It’s just after five and I have no idea if anyone will be home, but it’s worth a try. I knock and wait. Addie answers the door less than a minute later.

  “Hey.” She greets me with furrowed eyebrows and a small smile cueing me into the fact that she’s both confused but not unhappy to see me.

  “Hey. Is Ave here?”

  Her brow softens as her smile turns into a smirk. “No. She’s got a concert tonight so she’s on campus.”

  I hum my disappointment as I run my hands up my face, pushing my glasses up so that I might rub my eyes before setting them back on my nose. “That’s too bad.”

  “I take it Gray is driving you as crazy as Ave is driving us crazy?”

  “Yes!”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t tried to come scoop her up earlier. She’s been stomping around our apartment like an elephant, which you may have noticed. When she’s not slamming every single door she touches, she’s crying. I have no idea what’s going on. She doesn’t want to talk about it.”

  “Yeah,” I say, shaking my head in bewilderment. “Neither does he.”

  She laughs as she rests her head against the door. “One of these days, they’ll learn to talk to each other when something hard happens.”

  “He thinks she’s going to break up with him.”

  She rolls her eyes, which makes me laugh. “He’s delusional.”

  “I agree—which is why I came to hunt her down.”

  “Maybe you could get him to come to the concert. Oh, maybe we could all ride together and then we’ll just leave without him! He’ll either have to ride home with her or walk home in the cold.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” I reply with a grin.

  “We’re leaving at six!”

  “We won’t be late.”

  Grayson looks like crap. I’m guessing, based off of his appearance and Avery’s behavior, that he’s in the dog house. Now I’m even more curious as to what happened. Through the duration of the concert, his eyes are trained on Ave. He doesn’t move a muscle. I would know, as I am his neighbor. But just after the last piece, he gets up and leaves. I reach over Sarah to tap Beckham, signaling that we’re suddenly a man down, and he goes to chase after him—but when he comes back, he’s alone and all he can offer is a shrug.

  Guess our plan didn’t work out the way we had hoped.

  After Beck takes the rest of us home, I decide to wait up for Avery. It’s time someone got the truth out of one of them. I’m in my room when she arrives and she announces herself by way of slamming the door. I shake my head as I go and meet her. She’s in the process of slamming her bedroom door with her foot when I stop it with my hand.

  “AJ—you’ve got to stop with the doors. Honestly.”

  “Sorry,” she mutters. I crawl onto her bed and snatch up one of her throw pillows, making myself comfortable while she starts changing her clothes. She’s been showering, which is good, but she has yet to wash her hair since Tuesday before the incident. “So, did you need something?”

  She sounds tired. I’m not surprised. Being continuously angry and sad is draining. “Yeah, I need my sister to talk to me. Think we could make that happen?”

  “I don’t know,” she says with a sigh.

  All of her clothes end up in a pile on the floor before she pulls on one of Grayson’s shirts. And he thinks she wants to break up with him? Like I said, delusional.

  “He was there, you know? At the concert.” She turns to face me and I watch as her eyes fill with tears. I pat the bed, indicating that she should sit beside me. She does so without further encouragement. “He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. You guys love each other so much—but I promise it’s easier if you don’t shut each other out.”

  “But he’s the one who owes me an apology! He’s being a total jerk.”

  “Have you given him a chance to apologize?” I ask tentatively.

  She huffs out a breath and folds her arms across her chest defiantly. “He’s texted me one time. One time, Addie! He obviously thinks he has nothing to apologize for.”

  “Oh, honey,” I murmur, reaching out to fidget with her braid. “It’s not as simple as all that. Sometimes you have to make the first move even when you don’t think you should have to. It’s not fair, and I get that, but it’s just the way that it is.”

  “He hurt me, AJ. And every day that goes by without a word from him hurts me even more. When he was upset with me, I texted him a million times and called him every day.”

  “He’s not you,” I remind her. “And I don’t know what happened, but I know he feels really bad about it because he looks awful—so you can’t judge the way he feels by comparing his reaction to this conflict to how you’ve reacted in the past.”

  Her tears come back, only this time with a vengeance. “We promised each other that we wouldn’t do this again and yet here we are, not speaking to one another,” she cries. “And I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what he’s thinking or feeling and what if he’s mad at me too? It’s possible—and if he is, then I really don’t know what to do. It’s like…it’s like he’s becoming someone else, or something. I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”

  “Maybe I’d understand if you told me what happened…”

  She shakes her head before she lays down and rests her head in my lap. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Oh, Ave. Will you please call him, then? Please?”

  Her answer comes by way of a sob. She’s not ready. As frustrating as that might be to everyone else, it’s her heart that’s hurting and no one can make her do something she’s not ready to do. So instead, I rub her back as she cries herself to sleep.

  I’m surprised that no one has to talk Avery into getting up and coming with us to the homecoming game. She even washed her hair this morning; although, I’m sure that had more to do with her hygienic preferences than Grayson. Either way, it’s good to see her looking more like herself. However, for the first time all season, she’s not in her O’Conner’s Shorty shirt. No one mentions it, afraid of what might happen if we do. In fact, no one even makes a comment about her willingness to go, given that she and her QB haven’t spoken in three and three quarter days.

  Since it’s chilly out, we decide to skip any sort of tailgating. Instead, we bundle up, knowing that when the sun goes behind the mountains the tolerable temperature will go with it, and make it to the stadium just a few minutes before the game starts. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous. The last time Gray and my sister were at odds, he played horribly. Seeing as how I doubt she’ll be up for any halftime-pep-talk, he’ll be left to his own devices.

  We win the coin toss and opt to defend the ball first and receive it at the beginning of the third quarter. Our defense definitely came to play, and we hold back the Aggies so all they can manage is a three point field goal. When we get the ball, I hold my breath. I look beside me at Avery and find her staring at Grayson as he takes the field. She doesn’t cheer or clap or anything. I’m half tempt
ed to grab my compact mirror out of my purse and put it below her nose to make sure she’s still breathing, but I don’t.

  The two of them are miserable for no other reason than their refusal to speak to one another. I had no idea how stubborn they could be. It’s almost intolerable. Especially because no one knows what happened. Neither of them will spill! It’s incredible how their intimacy can extend into their cold war.

  I give her knee a squeeze before I look at Beckham, who sits on the other side of her. I watch as his eyes travel from my sister to me and we share a knowing smile when our eyes meet. He shrugs and I know he means to say, “well—this is it; the moment of truth.” I nod and then we both direct our focus onto the field.

  The ball is snapped and Grayson catches it with finesse. He looks for a receiver, but no one is open, so he scrambles. Then Jack looks over his shoulder and Gray launches the ball down the field. Jack snatches up the ball and runs a few yards before he’s brought down. We start our game off with a forty yard gain. Not too shabby. Avery still doesn’t crack even a hint of a smile. The weird part is, as the game goes on, she seems to grow antsy despite the fact that Gray is playing a fantastic game—no, not just a fantastic game, a phenomenal game. He even scored one of our touchdowns. By the end of the half, the score is 21-3 Rams, and Avery acts like it’s the other way around.

  He’s playing like he’s got nothing to lose. I’ve never seen him play with such reckless abandon—reckless? Maybe flawless is a better term. I’m really surprised, considering the mood he’s been in the last few days. The odd thing about it is, Avery acts like she’s going to be sick every time he does something good. I simply don’t understand what it is with these two, but I’m done trying to figure them out; it’s too confusing.

  By the end of the third quarter, we’ve pretty much annihilated Utah’s team. CSU fans are downright obnoxious when the score climbs to 35-10.

  “Good god, he’s on fire!” says Logan as she sits back down in the seat beside me. “I swear, he’s never played as well as he’s playing right now.” She leans forward and talks around me, directing her next comment at Avery. “He must have gotten laid last night.”

  My back stiffens and I immediately turn to make sure Avery’s okay. I wish I had known what Logan was about to say so that I might have shut her up, but the damage is done. Avery’s stricken face drains of all color—another opposite reaction I can’t definitively interpret—before she launches herself across my lap to claw at Logan. She almost connects with her intended target, but I wrap my arms around her and pin her to my chest. I share a shocked glance with Addie just as Avery crumbles into a ball of tears against me.

  “Logan—just watch the game, alright?” I mutter before leaning down to whisper into Avery’s ear. “You know it’s not true. He’d never do that to you.”

  “Oh!” she huffs as she pulls away from me and stands on her feet. “I wish everyone would stop defending him!” She storms away before anyone can say anything to stop her.

  “I was just kidding,” murmurs Logan.

  I shake my head at her, indicating that now is not the time. Somehow, she just made everything worse.

  Four days.

  We haven’t spoken to each other in four days.

  She’s definitely going to break up with me.

  I thought that the game would help dull this ache that seems to be all consuming, but I was an idiot to think that football could fix me. I wish that she would just put me out of my misery, that she would come storming through the door and tell me that we are over—that I have pushed her too far and that she finally understands why I believe I’m not good enough for her—because I’m not.

  I thought that I could discard my past. I thought that if I was forgiven from my indiscretions that I could forget about them and move on. Isn’t that what they are always telling us in church? That once we choose to believe that Jesus is God, that we are covered by His grace; that our past is forgotten; that our sins are forgiven; that we are a new creation in Him? That may be true, but that doesn’t mean that I have forgotten my past or that I can see myself as a new creation. Who I am is made up of good parts and bad; I thought that I could press forward—press forward with Avery—and be better for her. Apparently not.

  Thinking back, I can’t even pinpoint the moment when my trigger was pulled—I was just so desperate to show her. I didn’t stop and think. I didn’t stop to consider how my past was encroaching on my present, seeking to destroy the one thing that matters the most to me—the one person I love more than anyone else.

  The look on her face when she pushed me away...

  I hurt her. I hurt her.

  Four days.

  We haven’t spoken to each other in four days.

  She’s definitely going to break up with me.

  And I deserve it.

  “Big Red, come on. You can’t stay here. It’s homecoming, we won, you’re depressed, you need to be out,” says Jack as he and Claire come to fill my doorway.

  “We’re going to Generation Ink so that Jack can get a new tat before we hit a party or two,” Claire pipes in before I can respond. “At least come and hang out with us for a little while. Please? I can't in good conscious leave you here in this state.”

  I’ve never been out with Claire and Jack on a Saturday night. Parties aren’t usually my scene—but I’m not normally in need of a temporary cure for the most intense pain I’ve ever felt, either. Who knows, maybe I can put myself out of my own misery for a couple hours. Perhaps a frat house filled with loud music and obnoxious partiers will drown out that still small voice that's been trying to remind me that she loves me and then convince me that I still might have a fighting chance. It's not true; lies like that are what make me feel worse. I knew from the beginning that she deserves better. It's what kept me from pursuing her in the first place. I tried to prove myself wrong and it ended up being at her expense.

  Shit. Jack is right. I need to get out of here.

  “Yeah. Okay. I’ll come.”

  He's not sorry. If four days with no apology wasn't proof enough, the game I watched him play earlier said it all. My heart feels like it’s been jammed into a shredder and then discarded into a recycle bin and then left on the side of the road. Lying here in my bed, I can honestly say that I’m too confused to be in any state of mourning. I just can’t wrap my mind around what’s happened. With the hell week that was my period and mid-terms and my fight with Grayson behind me, I find that I can now focus all of my energy on trying to dissect and decipher every single piece of this mess. The more I think about it, the more confused I get. Everything seemed to come crashing down in one moment; and the fact that we haven’t come close to even trying to put the pieces together fills me with so much doubt and plagues me with so many questions. With every day that goes by, the gravity of our inability to work our way through this issue settles in a little bit more.

  I wonder what it says about us? What it says about our love? What it says about our future? What it says about him? What it says about me?

  I wonder, what is he feeling? What is he thinking? What is he doing? What does he want?

  Has he changed his mind about wanting me?

  I wonder if I should stop being so stubborn and talk to him like AJ suggested, or if seeking him out would somehow make what he did okay? I wonder if I shouldn’t have stopped him at all…is this wretched feeling worth my decision to say no?

  I’m pulled from my thoughts at the sound of my phone. It’s in my pocket so I dig it out and discover that it’s Claire who is trying to reach me. It’s also after midnight, which makes me wonder about the legitimacy of her call, so I ignore it. Two seconds after the ringing stops, it starts again. Figuring that one time might be an accident and two times is more likely on purpose, I decide to pick up.

  “Hello?”

  “Ave?” I can barely hear her over the background noise of whatever party she’s at. “Ave, are you there?”

  “Yeah. I can hardly hear you.”r />
  “Sorry. Hold on.” I listen and imagine her as she makes her way through a crowded room. I hear a sliding door open and close and then the music fades to a quite hum. “How about now?”

  “I can hear you. What’s up?”

  “You need to come get Grayson.”

  I sit up slowly as I let her words sink in. They don’t make any sense. Grayson doesn’t go to parties—then again, Grayson is pretty unrecognizable to me recently. In need of clarification I ask, “Are you at a party?”

  “Yes, I’m at a party—and so is your boyfriend. Ave, you need to get down here.”

  My heart rate speeds up as a slew of horrible scenarios contaminate my mind. Logan’s comment from the game resounds like a clanging cymbal, but I push the thought away. Before I have a chance to dwell on anything my imagination has conjured up, I force myself to speak. “Why? You know we’re not speaking right now and—”

  “Avery! He’s drunk. Get your ass in your car and come get your man!”

  I’m on my feet in a fraction of a second. I don’t even have to think twice about it. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. There’s only room for two thoughts in my head just now. One—Grayson, my Grayson, is drunk! Two—where are my shoes?

  “Text me the address. I’m on my way.” I end the call before she can respond. I slip on the first pair of shoes that I can find, throw on the nearest warm cover-up I can reach, snatch up my purse, and then I’m out the door. I’m halfway to my car when it dawns on me that I might need help. If Claire called me to come get Sonny, it means he’s so far gone that they don’t want to have to worry about him for the rest of the night. I have no idea what he’ll be like intoxicated. No one does! I turn back to our building and find my way to the boys’ apartment. I bang my fist against the door as loud as I can and wait.

  It’s freezing. When I look down at myself, I realize I’m in a pair of pink running shorts, a white t-shirt, and an olive green wool cardigan—the one with the tan elbow patches. I also notice that I’m wearing two different color Toms on my feet just as Hammy answers the door.