I know the right thing to do right now is comfort her. To drop it. To apologize and ask her how I can fix the mistake I just made. That’s what I would do for any of my friends. That’s what I’ve always done for them. But I can’t. I have to know more. So instead of pulling her in, comforting her and dropping it, I slide the blade in further.
“What are those, Veronica?” My hand is still gently wrapped around her slender arm.
She uses the arm I’m not holding to clench the notepad closer to her chest. You would think by the way it’s pressed against her that she thinks I’m about to rip it from her hands and destroy it.
A tear falls from her eye. One single tear. I track its movement down the slope of her cheek, off her chin and onto the black sweatshirt she’s wearing. It drips right next to a paint stain.
“They’re imperfections,” she whispers, not looking away from me.
“Imperfections?” My mind reels with what she means. I look away from her crystal-blue eyes, glossy with unshed tears, and look at the book cradled against her chest.
“I draw—well, I prefer to paint—imperfections.” Her voice is stronger now, as though she’s gaining her composure back.
I know the moment of me getting information from her is fleeting.
“Why?” I ask, my voice gravelly and low, trying not to interrupt the fragile bubble we’re currently in.
She leans back against the bookshelf. “Because it’s what I do. I find imperfections. I paint them. I put them out into the world forever.” Her eyes glance to my lips for a split second.
For some reason, it sends a shock through me—something a guy in a relationship shouldn’t be feeling.
There could be a thousand people staring at us in this library right now, and I wouldn’t care.
I will rip this truth from her no matter what it takes, no matter who is watching.
“Whose eyes are they?” I know the moment it leaves my mouth that I have finally asked the right question—or the wrong one. Because we’re both staring into each other’s eyes, I can see the moment my words register within her.
They flash with despair.
With guilt?
She tries to step back, but she can’t. We’re in a corner, with nobody around and no space for her to retreat. She has the bookshelf against her back and me in front of her, and I will not waver.
It’s silent for a long time, both of us still staring at the other, testing to see who will be the one to break first.
“Connor’s.” It comes out a whisper, it’s so quiet.
If we weren’t in a library or if I wasn’t so close to her, I wouldn’t have even heard it. “Who is Connor?”
“Connor is my boyfriend.”
“You have a boyfriend?” I ask, bewildered by this information.
“I did. He died.”
A breath escapes my body, loudly and uncontrollably. I feel like the biggest dick in the world. I’ve made her tell me this secret of hers, expecting it to be something entirely different. I didn’t expect her to have lost somebody so close to her. She’s told me from the day we met that she wasn’t looking for something serious—ever. I thought it was because some douchebag broke her heart, but the little amount I thought I knew about Veronica was all wrong.
“I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. I’ve never had somebody close to me die. I haven’t ever had to face death, and I’m not sure what the appropriate way to respond is when someone tells me they’ve lost someone.
She steps closer to me. Those damn boots are on her feet again, making her already tall frame even taller. We aren’t completely eye-to-eye, but she’s definitely close enough to look me dead in the eye.
“Don’t be sorry, Maverick. I was the reason he died.” She stands there for a long moment.
I can’t estimate how long because my mind is too busy processing what she just said.
Just when I finally have my thoughts together enough to ask her what she meant, she steps away from me and disappears into the shelves again.
This time, I don’t chase her.
18
Veronica
Three Years Ago
“Do you love me?” I sit in the passenger seat of my car, tears streaming down my face. I don’t dare look over at him. I can’t let him see the tears rolling down my cheeks. I look out the window, at all the happy beachgoers. Even though the sun is setting, there’s still a fair amount of people spread out along the shore.
“Of course I love you. Why are you even asking?” He reaches over to rest his hand on my knee, and squeezes—a silent plea for me to look at him.
But I don’t. “I saw the way you were looking at her.” I try to hide the hurt in my voice.
“Looking at who?”
I don't answer, in disbelief that he doesn’t even know who I’m talking about.
“Damn it, Veronica, look at me.” His hand lifts from my knee and gently forces my chin to face him.
Luckily, the tears no longer fall. All that’s left is anger. “You know who!”
He jumps when I yell—the only thing that gives away his feelings. His face stays stone cold. Connor’s voice is a calm whisper when he says, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Louisa! Louisa Finn. I saw the way you were looking at her tonight. Is that what you’re into? A five foot, dark-haired, her?!”
His eyes widen, his fingers lightly strumming the steering wheel, which I know he does when he’s anxious. “I have no idea what narrative you’ve written in your head, but I have zero interest in her. I’m in love with you!”
I laugh—a shrill noise that fills the silence of the car. “Okay, Connor. Next joke, please.” I hastily unbuckle my seatbelt and force the car door open. Slamming it, I speed toward a secluded part of the beach. I know he’s following me when another door slams.
“Veronica! Don’t just walk away from me,” he yells, his own anger now filling in the spaces between each syllable.
Sand gets in my Converse shoes, irritating the hell out of me. I stop to yank both of them off, throwing them onto the sand.
I keep walking until the water hits my feet. The wave rolls in, engulfing my feet for a few short moments before it retreats back.
Connor’s hand wraps around my elbow, spinning me to look at him. “What have I ever done to make you think I want anyone other than you? I love you so much. I don’t look at other girls. All I want is you.”
His eyes are sad and pleading, the greens of his irises popping against the freckles that dust his nose and cheeks. I want to kiss him so badly, to forget about this stupid fight, but I don’t because I know what I saw when I saw him looking at her.
“And Louisa Finn,” I retort.
He lets out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes as he does so. I can tell he’s annoyed when he runs a hand over his face, pulling the skin. “What do you want from me right now?”
His chest heaves up and down, his gaze penetrating my own. I won’t back down and neither will he.
When I take a long breath in, I smell the sweet salty scent of the ocean. Every few seconds, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore fills my ears. “I want you to not look at other girls!”
He laughs. “Holy hell, Veronica. I don’t! You’ve come up with this bat-shit crazy idea in your head that I’m looking at other girls, so you can have a reason to be mad at me. You want me to grovel at your feet, to apologize and tell you every reason I love you, so you feel better about yourself. Why are you so insecure? Don’t you see how perfect you are?”
When I don’t respond, he turns around and starts to walk right into the ocean—away from me. He’s running away from me. I feel my lip start to tremble, an easy indicator that I won’t be able to hold back the tears much longer.
“I do not!” I snap, but it comes out as more of a whine. I think about arguing with him, trying to convince him he’s wrong. But I know deep down he’s right. I am insecure and I need to find ways to fight with him to have him s
ay sweet things to me and make me feel good about myself.
“Yes, you are! If you would just step out of your head for two seconds and think about someone other than yourself for once, you would see that I’m head over heels in love with you. I love every bitchy, insecure, selfish part of you. Because I know the real you. The one who’s sweet and funny and passionate. I love both sides to you, but I’m not going to let you attack me for something I didn’t do.” He’s even farther from me now, his clothes starting to stick to his skin from the water.
“Fine! If I’m so insecure and such a bitch, then let’s end it,” I yell.
I can’t see the look on his face, but I do notice the way he freezes. The way his lean muscles tighten underneath his shirt. His shoulders rise in a deep breath before he turns around and a sarcastic laugh passes through his lips as his eyes widen maniacally. “Holy shit. That’s what you’re latching onto from everything I just said? I’m done, Veronica. Done!” he yells.
My stomach turns at his last word. He’s my life. I can’t lose him. But I’m too stubborn to actually say that.
“Then go!” I walk deeper into the water. The warm water laps against my knees. “This was never supposed to be serious anyway, right? You just wanted to find out what’s behind East Point’s princess. What really makes her tick. If she’s really such a bitch or if she’s just damaged. If it’s all a persona she puts on to keep people away. Well congrats, Connor Liams, you found out. You cracked open my shell and discovered what’s really underneath.” I have to yell even louder than before so he can hear me with how far away he is. I start to slow clap as I engulf myself even deeper into the water. Now, I’m all the way in, the water lapping against my belly button.
“Get out of the water, Veronica,” he says, taking a few steps closer to me so he doesn’t have to yell as much. Even after a few steps toward me, we’re still a good distance apart.
“You first, Connor. Why should I get out if you’re still in?” I know it’s childish, but I turn my back to him and walk in even deeper. “You know, you did good. Not only did you get to see what was beneath the surface, you got me to fall in love with you. Veronica Cunningham, the heartless bitch, actually can fall in love. Make sure to post it to Facebook! And don’t forget about Instagram, Twitter, and Snapchat.”
“Turn around,” Connor begs.
I turn around and find him closer than he was before. I don’t hide the tears that roam freely down my cheeks. “All I wanted was a fairytale. But the villains don’t ever get that, do they?” My voice cracks. I’m not sure if it’s possible, but I hate myself even more in this moment. I’m not even a good villain at this point, I’m just a whiny and insecure girl.
“Just talk to me.” His voice is hoarse, defeated—and I feel his pain straight to my bones. “I love you. I don’t care that you aren’t perfect, I just don’t want you accusing me all the damn time.” Even though the sun is setting, I can see his green eyes under the blond lashes that frame them. I can see the anguish on his face.
It makes my heart hurt, but it makes my needful brain happy. I want to drive him crazy. I want to make him hurt. I want him to prove his love to me.
I can almost feel my heart reaching out for him from inside my chest. I almost get out, hoping he’ll follow me, but I’m stubborn and he’s embarrassed me. Maybe I had overreacted, letting my insecurities get in the way of our relationship, but I won’t admit that.
So, I take one last look at him, capturing the way he looks right now, feeling the itch to paint him.
The despair on his face is beautiful.
Am I fucked up for thinking it’s beautiful?
Call me a bitch, but I think it is.
I take the mental snapshot and fall back into the water. I hear him yell right before my face goes under water, but I take my time coming back up.
When I finally do break the surface of the water, Connor is racing toward me—the water now up to his hips—and gaining on me fast.
“Get away from me! We’re ending this right now. You can leave now.” I slowly begin to walk backward, my toes squishing in the sand beneath my feet. I’m good at faking things, so the forced boredom in my tone hits home judging by the look on his face.
He runs a hand through the long, curly waves of the mop that is his hair. “God, you’re so crazy sometimes.”
His words send a spear right through my heart, and in that moment, I swear I can feel my chest being stabbed over and over. Rage quickly replaces the hurt—my favorite defense mechanism.
There she is.
I almost smile. I’d rather be pissed off than hurt any day. “Then leave, Connor! Turn around and get in your car and never speak to me again because I’m so damn crazy.” Tears escape my eyes even against my sheer willpower to keep them in. “I am crazy! Loving you makes me absolutely crazy and you’re right. I can’t explain it, but I am crazy.”
He steps closer to me, his hand outspread and reaching for me.
I almost let him touch me. I almost give up the fight and run into his arms—the only place I ever want to be anymore.
“Veronica…” His voice is just a whisper above the waves.
All I hear is pity. Not love, not hurt, just pity. And that’s the worst thing of all.
So just before his outspread fingers find my skin and make me forget why we were even fighting to begin with, I dive my head under the water, letting the cold wash over me.
When I resurface, he’s in the same spot, glaring at me. There’s so much anger on his face. I hate that I put it there, but I don’t hate it as much as he’s made me feel.
“Fine, Veronica. Two can play that game.” He swims into the water, but instead of diving toward the shore, he goes deeper into the ocean. Away from me, and even farther then I am from the shore.
I dive in to find him, but I can’t see anything. The sun has now set, making it almost impossible to see a thing. I want to find him, to tell him he can’t go that far into the ocean when the tide is like this. He knows better. We’ve been told about the dangers of the ocean since we were learning the alphabet. Kids that live by the water are always told these things.
My eyes burn from the salt water as I try to find him. My chest starts to feel heavy, alerting me to the fact that I need air. I stay down a few seconds longer and look around before I finally push against the squishy ocean floor and send myself up. My head breaks through the water. I push my long hair out of my face, looking around in the dark for him.
“Connor?” I ask quietly, while treading water. I keep moving forward until my feet hit the ground. I keep walking until half my body is out of the water. “Connor!” I say louder this time, scanning the expanse of the beach and the water as I search for him.
My heart starts pounding in my chest. I don’t see him anywhere. I calculate in my head if he had enough time to get out of the water and make it all the way back to his car in the minute I was under water.
It’s possible, but in my gut, I know he wouldn’t leave me like that.
Where is he?
There is a loud splash and I quickly spin to see him break through the waves. My heart plummets.
“Ronnie!” he yells, struggling against the water. His arms wave in the air, slapping against the water in a torturous sound.
I’m making my way toward him as fast as I can when he goes underneath again. I scream, quickly pumping my arms and legs in the water to try and make it to him.
But he doesn’t come up.
It’s taking too long for him to come up.
Where the hell is he?!
I frantically dive below the surface of the water repeatedly, feeling the water around me for any part of his body. Each time, I come up with nothing.
My eyes are stinging from opening them so many times in the water. My lungs are burning from screaming and from holding my breath for so long.
Something bumps against my foot. When I go under the water, I find that it’s a body. I tug on it with all the power I can muster while sti
ll treading water. I don’t know how I do it, but somehow, I pull and swim hard enough to get him onto the shore of the beach.
It’s there that I find a mass of people standing.
“Call nine-one-one!” I plead, dragging Connor up the shore enough to get him out of the strongest part of the tide.
A man comes to the other side of Connor and helps me pull him. We both look down.
He isn’t breathing.
No part of him is moving.
His clothes are wet on his skin, clasping to every inch of him like they themselves are trying to suffocate him.
“Oh my god,” I say, when it fully registers to me that his chest isn’t moving. My knees drop to the sand. Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m pushing against his chest. I count the beats in my head. Once I’ve reached the amount of chest compressions I’ve been taught to do, I tilt his head back and breathe air into him.
When nothing happens, I start back over.
Over and over.
Over and over.
Push, push, breathe, breathe.
Nothing, nothing…
There are people around me, where a large crowd has now gathered. They all watch as I desperately push against Connor’s chest. I’m trying so hard to bring life back into him. To get him to breathe.
I just need one breath. He has to wake up. He has to come back.
Push, push, breathe, breathe.
Nothing, nothing.
Tears stream down my face now, a torrential downpour of tears mixing with the salty droplets of ocean that are all over his body. My arms are shaking, starting to give out from my endless attempts to save him. “Damn it, Connor!” I scream, pushing so hard against his sternum I’m convinced I’ve broken something by now.
And still, nothing happens.
The love of my life is lifeless in front of me.
A strong hand lands on my shoulder and I look up to see the face of a paramedic. Someone else from his team pulls me off Connor and resumes the compressions I was just frantically giving. I scramble in the sand, trying to find my way back to Connor.
The Consequence of Loving Me: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Aftershock Series Book 1) Page 9
