Bittersweet Always

by Ella Fields

  “Oh, not much. Just wanted to make sure you and Daisy weren’t a thing.”

  “You never told me that,” Daisy said.

  “Why would you care?” Quinn asked her.

  I looked in the side mirror in time to see Daisy glare at him. “I don’t. I’m asking because it was about me.”

  “It was unnecessary. That’s why I didn’t tell you,” I said.

  “A thing,” Quinn scoffed, making me smother a laugh.

  “You need to quit it,” Daisy hissed.

  “Yeah, Burnell. Quit it already.”

  I raised a brow pointedly at Callum, who shrugged. “You’re a shit stirrer.”

  He guffawed. “A what?”

  “Someone who likes to stir shit,” Quinn advised a little too helpfully.

  Callum grunted. “Whatever.”

  Tugging on my seat belt, I turned to study him more. “Renee still gets to you.”

  His jaw clenched. “I don’t fucking think so.”

  “Renee,” I said.

  His nostrils flared slightly.

  I smiled. “Renee.”

  He shifted in his seat.

  “Ren—”

  “Pippa,” Daisy admonished, reaching over the seat to slap a hand over my mouth.

  “What?” I mumbled behind it.

  I licked her palm, and she squirmed away. “Ew.”

  I laughed. “You asked for it. And besides, I was making a point.”

  Quinn chuckled. “Point made.”

  “Let’s try a fun little game, shall we?” Callum asked.

  I scanned his stormy expression, a muscle in his jaw still shifting. “I don’t know if I’m gonna like this game.”

  Quinn snickered.

  “What is it?” Daisy asked.

  “Who can stay quiet the longest,” Callum said with exaggerated excitement.

  “Ha!” I slapped my palm on the dash. “We’re not five.”

  Callum grumbled something under his breath, then turned up the music and slammed his foot down on the gas once we reached the highway.

  Our merry gang of awkwardness reached the town of Glibson right before midday. Callum navigated the streets, listening to directions as I absorbed the quiet residential neighborhood, trying to imagine Toby growing up there.

  We passed a high school, then an elementary school, and I wondered if he attended them.

  When we pulled up outside 8 Rosebud Circle, my excitement dimmed so quickly, I thought I might stay rooted to the smooth leather seat for all eternity. “Um, so, anyone have a game plan?”

  No one answered. I thought we’d ride the high of coming to someone’s rescue until we at least got inside that blue painted door.

  Someone peeked through the curtains downstairs, and my heart froze.

  It wasn’t Toby. It was his dad.

  He came outside, raising a hand over his brows as he squinted at the car we were all still seated in.

  “We’ve been discovered,” Daisy whispered.

  Callum opened his door. “Let’s do this.”

  I wished I had his courage.

  Callum approached Toby’s dad, shaking his hand. Mr. Hawthorne looked like an exact replica of his son, only twenty years older with gray sweeping his hairline. And perhaps that was why I hadn’t realized I was still staring like an idiot until Quinn opened my door, bending down on the lawn to meet my gaze. “You okay?”

  Straightening in the seat, I unclipped my seat belt and gave him a short nod. “I don’t know. But we came here for a reason, right?”

  “Right.” He looked down at the curb, then back to me. “He might not …” He sighed.

  “Come back?” I offered.

  “Yeah.”

  “I know.” I blew out a huge breath, tucking my purse into the foot well. “But at least we’re trying.”

  “Exactly,” he agreed after a prolonged moment.

  After giving myself a mental kick in the butt, I got out of the car, closing the door behind me and soaking in the sight of the house. It was white with pale blue window trim and a matching blue door. Vines climbed over trellises, knotting and separating across the rendered paint of the exterior.

  It was a big house, but it was still charming in a way that invited instead of intimidated.

  “Pippa,” a voice knocked me from my observations.

  Shit. I tried to subtly wipe my clammy palms on my dress as Toby’s dad walked over, obviously done with greeting everyone else. “Hi,” I squeaked, wanting to smack myself.

  He was just a guy. A grown-up, very attractive guy, and the father of the young man who’d stolen something from me. I had half a mind to demand it back from his dad like I was a child who’d had their toy stolen.

  “Liam,” he said, offering his hand with a soft smile.

  I took it, nodding my head one too many times. “Sorry for just … showing up.”

  “I guess he didn’t leave you much choice.” His blue eyes twinkled as he gently let go of my hand. He knew his son. Probably better than any of us did.

  The knowledge had a dart of jealousy piercing my heart. Oh, come on. It’s his dad.

  I shook my head. “No, he didn’t. He’s here?”

  Liam blinked down at the ground. “He is. You’re welcome to come in, of course.”

  “I’m sensing a but,” I blurted, mentally slapping myself.

  Liam laughed quietly, though it quickly fled, breaking off into a sigh. Running a hand over his hair, he said, “He’s not … how do I put it? Himself right now.”

  Ignoring the warning that had my stomach tightening, we all followed Liam inside. The house smelled clean and fresh, and I let my greedy eyes absorb every detail they could find.

  The school photos in the hall as he led us into their living room and offered drinks. Of which I declined politely. The trophies lined up in a cabinet that matched and sat next to a dark oak entertainment unit. Magazines—sport related—underneath the coffee table. And only a few homey touches. Throw pillows, coasters—which made me smile—a knitted afghan blanket, and a plush gray rug covering the floors.

  Liam returned with soda and water. “I’ll go get him.”

  The fact that Toby would’ve known we were here and still hadn’t shown himself had all of us glancing at one another with mirroring looks of concern. I sat down next to Daisy while Quinn surprised me by sitting next to Callum.

  I had a feeling that despite the way Callum liked to rile him up regarding Daisy, the two were still firm friends. But I couldn’t care too much for that right now. Not when thumping sounded from upstairs, and Liam returned, a pinched expression on his handsome, slightly lined face. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.”

  He left, and I wanted to scream for him to come back with the apprehension that arrived as swiftly as he departed the room. I knew he was trying to make it less awkward, though. More comfortable for Toby, and so I kept my mouth shut.

  Daisy took my hand, Callum cleared his throat, and Quinn sat completely still and silent.

  He kept us waiting another five minutes before finally appearing, slouched against the doorway to the living room. My heart dropped and rose simultaneously.

  His hair was longer, a mused disarray that matched his short beard. I went to get up, to go to him, when Daisy’s hand in mine tugged me back down. I was about to pull it away but then saw why.

  He was staring at me with something burning in his eyes, something that didn’t ignite good feelings. “Toby,” I rasped out.

  He swiped his thumb over his lower lip as he continued to pin me to the couch with his harsh gaze. Then, finally, he removed it to let it jump over everyone else. “Whose idea was this?”

  “Toby,” Quinn cut in.

  Toby’s laugh was rough, almost bitter. “Save it. Let me just say something real quick before you guys get on with whatever plan you might’ve had.”

  My hand started to sweat, and I swore Daisy noticed, but she didn’t let go. Not even when I squeezed her hand painfully hard with
Toby’s next words. “I’m here and not there for a reason, yeah? Surely, you’ve figured out that much.”

  “Getting kicked off the team shouldn’t stop you from attending class,” Callum said, probably a little too harshly, judging by the way Toby’s fists clenched. He crossed his arms over his hoodie covered chest, his sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips.

  I looked away when he caught me staring and smirked. I didn’t like that smirk; it wasn’t the one I was used to, but still, I couldn’t help the way it made my stomach flutter.

  “Easy for you to say, Welsh, when you’ve still got your scholarship, don’t you?”

  Callum’s mouth snapped shut, and he directed his gaze to the coffee table.

  “Don’t be like this, man. Just … sit down. Tell us how you’re doing. We didn’t come here with any sinister plans,” Quinn said. “We just wanted to check in.”

  Toby swallowed, then glanced over at me. His head lowered as he exhaled a ragged breath. “Well, you’ve checked. Not to be an asshole or anything, but you can leave now.”

  He turned, walking down the hallway, and I let go of Daisy’s hand, my heart hardening with determination.

  I followed him up the wooden stairs. He knew I was behind him, yet he didn’t stop me or turn around.

  I had no idea what to make of that.

  We reached his room, which was dark. The curtains were closed, and his bed a rumpled mess as though he’d been lying in it for days unmade. Glancing around quickly, I noticed everything else was tidy. No clothes lying around, no dirty dishes or empty food packaging.

  Even at his worst, he maintained a level of control. “Go back, Pippa,” he said, stopping at his window and facing the closed curtains. “I’m sorry you wasted your time.”

  “It’s not a waste of time.” I closed the door but stopped moving when he turned, hitting me with a flat look of disbelief.

  “Don’t lie; it’s not flattering.” He smiled thinly, stalking forward.

  My breath lodged in my throat as he picked up a piece of my hair, bringing it to his nose and keeping his eyes on mine. He inhaled deeply, slowly letting it out. His broad shoulders sagged a little with the action. “Pippa James. You never did tell me your middle name.”

  “Come back and I will,” I whispered.

  He tsk’d like I was a child who didn’t understand a damn thing. “You don’t get it. There’s nothing for me there. Not anymore.”

  His words hit their mark with painful accuracy, digging grooves into my heart. But they were also a challenge. One he was goading me to meet. To tell him, me. I’m there.

  I couldn’t give him the satisfaction of saying those words. Not when he already knew.

  “Nothing?” I countered.

  “Nothing,” he said, twirling my hair around his finger before letting it go. “That doesn’t mean I won’t miss those creamy thighs of yours. The way you whisper and whimper your pleas when we both know you want to scream them.” His hands grabbed my hips roughly, skating over them to my ass. He squeezed it. “The curve of your plump ass.”

  “Toby, stop. What will you do now?”

  “That’s the thing about backup plans. They only work if you had one in the first place.”

  “Just come back. You don’t need a plan yet, but if you want one, I’ll help you.”

  His usual buttery scent was faint, sweat and something else intermingled with it. As though he hadn’t showered in a while.

  He ignored me. “Will you miss me, too?” His head lowered, lips drifting close to mine.

  I didn’t answer him. He knew I did just by being here now. My body warmed from both frustration and lust. A throaty laugh whispered past his lips. “You’re turned on, aren’t you? I can practically feel it.”

  “I’m not,” I lied. “I think you should really—”

  “I bet,” he murmured, “you’re soaked.” His teeth skated over my neck, then dug in, hard enough to make me yelp. He slapped a palm over my mouth, then shoved his hand up my dress and down, slipping beneath the confines of my leggings and panties.

  “Toby,” I panted, shoving at his chest. It was a futile effort, halfhearted at best.

  His hand fell away from my mouth, fingers digging into my hair as his tongue licked a trail from my chin to my cheek, stopping at my ear to whisper, “I bet you’d let me fuck you.” His laugh was low, wicked, his fingers rubbing me slowly. “You came here on some dumbass rescue mission, which failed. And still, you’d let me inside you, right here, against the wall, with every asshole sitting downstairs underneath this very room, wouldn’t you?”

  His words burrowed someplace deep inside, and I desperately tried to force them out. Because I missed him. Missed him so badly that no matter what state he was in, no matter what he said, I’d let him take what he wanted.

  The realization had my hands pushing harder until he stepped back, sucking his fingers with a bored expression on his beautiful face. “Go the fuck home, Pippa.”

  The tears arrived, but I held them back with every scrap of resolve I had left as I opened the door. I was about to close it behind me when I looked up. He was staring at the closed curtains again. “I knew you had your demons, Toby, and I know it’s got to hurt, but I never thought you’d let them hurt me too.”

  I was almost halfway down the hall when he said, “You can admit it now. Admit freely that you would’ve run away screaming if you knew just how bad it would get.”

  “No,” I said, my voice low. “You’re worth it all. And hopefully one day, you’ll see that. See yourself the way I do. The way those assholes downstairs do too.”

  Through the thin sliver of a crack in the curtains, I watched as they all filed into Callum’s car. Pippa got in the front next to Callum. Was he in the habit of collecting people’s leftovers? The guy had some nerve showing up here if that was what he was trying to do.

  My breathing shallowed at the thought.

  There’d be other guys.

  I’d have to get over it. Get over her. Eventually, she’d move on. She didn’t really want me anyway.

  Someone else would touch her, kiss her, and sure as hell treat her better than I ever would.

  But that seemed incomprehensible to me when I could still feel her sticking to my fingers, and her minty scent filling my room.

  Callum did a U-turn, and right before they disappeared, Pippa glanced up at the very window I was looking out of.

  Come back, I wanted to scream.

  Come back. Stay here with me. Be here with me. Always with me.

  I continued looking out the window long after they were gone until my dad’s knuckles rapped on my door. “Yeah.”

  “You okay?”

  I didn’t answer. It wasn’t only unexpected that they’d shown up here, but it was also fucking with me too much to even remember what day it was, let alone how I felt about it.

  Though, when you’ve done nothing but lay around in bed for weeks on end, watching shitty TV and sleeping all the time, losing track of what day it was, was perfectly understandable.

  In my opinion.

  For hours, I’d sat in a bar after the epic-ness that was me throwing my career in the trash and setting it on fire. The bartender eventually took pity on me and discreetly handed me Jack and Coke for a few hours. Coach had called me in the next morning, telling me what I already knew, and that was it. Over.

  I had to get away. I could no longer breathe easy on that campus the way I had before. What had been my happy place—a place of hope, dreams, and new beginnings—would now be tarnished with my failure at every turn.

  And I had no one to blame but myself.

  My dad had taken me to a new doctor the following week. More pills I didn’t take. More sessions I didn’t attend. Instead, I frequented an old friend’s house from high school and got high with him in his basement.

  I thought I could appease him by taking the medication, which seemed to be working.

  Too bad he didn’t know they were currently swimming thro
ugh the pipes of the house instead of in my bloodstream.

  “You know,” he said to my back after a minute, “your uncle left that inheritance for you.”

  “Can’t touch it till I’m twenty-five.”

  “Unless it’s for college.”

  I turned then, scowling at him. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just attend community college here and get a job or something.”

  His sigh was full of defeat, and it almost made my chest hurt worse than when I watched Pippa drive away. Almost.

  “You’ve got some great friends. Some great opportunities still available to you. At least think on it over Christmas.”

  Christmas. Right.

  He left before I could say anything.

  Not that I was going to.

  The drive back to campus was filled with the kind of silence no one dared to comment on.

  It sucked, but I was still grateful they all tried with me, no matter how severe the defeat.

  If I was being honest, I was shocked more than anything. The entire visit felt like a nasty dream that bordered on nightmare territory. And so I treated it as such by pushing it to the back of my mind in hopes it would fade away.

  The campus was already half empty when we returned. Everyone was heading home for Christmas, which was the following week.

  Daisy helped me pack even though she knew I liked things a certain way and therefore would prefer to do it on my own. I knew she wanted to help in some way, so I let her.

  We hugged, and I swallowed back my tears as I watched her drive away in Quinn’s truck the next morning.

  My mom picked me up at lunchtime, hefting my suitcase into her small SUV like it was full of feathers instead of bundles of winter clothes and two pairs of shoes.

  “You’re too quiet,” she said once we hit the highway. “I don’t like it. Makes me feel like I’ve forgotten you.”

  Laughing, I tried to think of what to say that would appease her. “I still need to go Christmas shopping.”

  “Oh, good Lord. Your anxiety must be through the roof.”

  “Tell me about it,” I muttered, rolling my head against the cool glass of the window. My breath clouded it, and I trailed my finger through the moisture, drawing a heart split in two.