Crushed (Collided Book 2)

by Portia Moore

  She wrinkles her nose as she takes in my three-sizes-too-big, faded band shirt and messy hair, the remnants of mascara and eyeliner that I didn’t get off before Alex got me out of the shower the night before. “You look ready to take on the world,” she says sarcastically, and I roll my eyes.

  “It’s Sunday, Melissa. Not everyone wakes up looking like they’re ready to run a parent-teacher conference at a farmer’s market.”

  “Aren’t you chipper this morning?” she sings dryly in only a way that she can.

  “I met Alex’s family yesterday,” I say, not avoiding looking at the camera.

  “The sister right?” she asks after downing a swig of what I’m sure is decaf coffee.

  She arches a perfectly concerned brow at me. Melissa can read me too well not to know that something is up. “What went wrong?”

  I swallow hard. “Um…so turns out the dad I met before, John? That’s Alex’s stepdad. He has a whole other side to the family—his actual dad, his stepmom, and a half-sister. We wound up at her engagement brunch.”

  “Dressed more appropriately than that, I hope.”

  It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “And…” she says dryly.

  “Alex’s dad…”

  “Yes?” she asks, clearly losing patience with me.

  “I…it’s Jackson,” I say shakily.

  I’ve never heard Melissa screech before, but that’s the only way I can describe the noise that comes out of her mouth. It’s horrific. She’s staring at me goggle-eyed. “What!!! Are you fucking serious?” my sister, who rarely ever uses profanity, screeches at me.

  “Tell me you didn’t know, Madison,” she says, her voice strained.

  I throw my hands up. “Of course I didn’t! I had no clue, I swear!” I say as tears come to my eyes.

  “I met Alex in Miami, when I was there with Jackson, while I was out having lunch by myself. He was working as a bartender on the beach. They don’t even look all that similar unless they’re side by side. And why on earth would I think that the son of a millionaire would be slumming it in a tiki bar slinging overpriced mango coladas? And then when I met him again, he was saving pennies working at a catering company serving the same class of people his dad belongs to so he can open his own bar? Come on Melissa, there really wasn’t any clue. You can’t blame me this time.”

  Melissa lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Jesus, Madison…stuff like this only happens to you.”

  “The universe hates me,” I say covering my face.

  “What did he say when you told him?”

  I stare at her. “I haven’t. I’m calling you to help figure out what I’m going to do.”

  “I mean…you-you have to tell him.” She’s staring at me again with that judgmental look I know so well, like I’m a child that has to be told how to behave. “You can’t hide something like that from him, Madison. Jesus, you slept with his father!”

  “I know,” I sigh tiredly, looking down at my hands. “I know but the worst part is…”

  “That’s not the worst part?” Melissa is looking at me as if I’m crazy.

  “Alex and his dad have been estranged. Stuff with Alex’s ex-wife, all of that. And I know you don’t like Jackson, and I’m certainly not his biggest fan anymore either…but he was so happy to have his son back and see him. He thanked me for bringing the family back together. All of them—Alex’s sister, his stepmom…everyone was just so glad to be a family again. If I tell Alex, it’s going to rip them apart. Alex will hate us. Tiffany is going to be furious with her dad for sleeping with someone almost her age and of course cheating on her mom. Cassandra is going to know exactly why he’s divorcing her, and she’s going to be heartbroken…if he’s really going to divorce her, that is. And all of this right when Tiffany is getting married. It will wreck their family, and”—I spread my hands wide, my expression hopeless—“I left Jackson for exactly that reason.”

  Melissa sighs, and I see some sympathy in her expression at last. “I get it, Madison,” she murmurs. “This is really hard, I know. And it’s not fair for you, either, because you’re right, you tried to do the right thing back then. I know you did. But no, I don’t know how Alex is going to be able to see past this.” She sees my broken expression, and there’s true sadness on her face. “I know you love him, and I hate this, because I think he’s good for you. I think you’re good for each other. But you have to tell him and hope for the best.”

  If the roles were reversed and I found out Alex slept with my mom I don’t think I could see past it, get over it. How could I?

  “I know you’re right,” I whisper.

  “If you’re going to wait at all, I guess you should wait until after the wedding. But Madison…months of this? Of going to his family functions and pretending, lying to him…I just don’t think you can do that. And if you do…Alex may not see it in the end as this benevolent effort to get past his sister’s wedding without tearing apart his family. He’s just going to hate you even more for lying and leading him on long after you knew the truth.”

  I can always count on my sister for some good, old-fashioned tough love. Whatever Melissa’s faults, I know her advice is genuine, and I know she’s only telling me what I need to hear, but don’t want to admit.

  That doesn’t make any of this easier.

  “I don’t want him to hate me.” My voice breaks as tears start to well up in my eyes.

  “I don’t know the answer to this,” Melissa sighs. “I’m sorry, Maddy.”

  “It’s okay,” I whisper, but it’s not. It’s not ever going to be okay again, because I somehow managed to hurt the man I love more than anything in the world long before I even knew him.

  I call Parker next. I know Melissa is right. But she’s my sister, and right now I need someone who’s just a friend. I need someone who will maybe have my back in this a little bit more.

  Parker squeals the minute she sees me, and then immediately stops, taking in my appearance. “Okay, girl, either you got hella laid this morning, or you’re having a terrible day. So, which is it?” She purses her lips, reaching for the mimosa in front of her. She’s having brunch at the marble island in her kitchen, which is one of the most Parker things I’ve ever seen.

  “I got laid last night,” I say tentatively, and Parker squeals happily again but looks closely at me knowing something isn’t adding up.

  “Yes, but…but you’re also having a terrible morning? How? You and Alex fight?” She rolls her eyes.

  I don’t have the energy to beat around the bush this time or preface it with small talk, so I take a deep breath and blurt it out. “Jackson is Alex’s dad.”

  Parker almost chokes on her mimosa. She claps her hand over her mouth until she can safely swallow it, and then she stares at me for what feels like a full minute. “You’re telling me you slept with the father and the son?”

  “I did…”

  “Jesus, girl, you really went big and went home,” Parker chortles. “So, what happened?”

  I tell her the whole story in between sobs and my plans to tell Alex the truth after the wedding and she looks on astonished.

  “This is like a whole soap opera right here,” Parker says disbelievingly. “But why are you going to tell Alex? Didn’t Jackson say he wouldn’t tell?”

  “Yes, but I can’t lie to him.”

  Parker stares at me, much like Melissa did, like I’m a first-class idiot, but for an entirely different reason. “So you’re telling me that Jackson wants to go to the grave with it—hell, you could probably get him to pay you to keep the secret—and that it’s better for the family as a whole if it’s kept secret, and that Alex will almost certainly leave you if he knows…but you’re going to tell him anyway? Why?”

  “I can’t lie to him, Parker. I love him. Hell, I want to marry him. I’ve never said that about any man, ever. How would I get through years of family functions pretending like Jackson is someone I only know as a father-in-law, like we didn’t have this whole sizzling affair,
like he didn’t spend several minutes at his own daughter’s brunch trying to convince me that I still love him?”

  “He what?” Parker shakes her head. “What the hell is wrong with him!”

  “I think, or at least he led me to believe, he’s still in love with me. He thinks I’m still in love with him. This is going to blow up at some point, Parker, there’s no way that it won’t. No secret like this stays hidden forever, even in soap operas. Hell, especially in soap operas. And I can’t lie to Alex. The longer I wait, the more he’s going to hate me for keeping this a secret, for leading him on and making him think we have a future.”

  “You don’t think there’s any way he’ll get over it?”

  “Could you?”

  Parker considers it for a moment. “If Brad had slept with my mother? No, you’re right, I probably wouldn’t be able to get over it. And you’re right that I’d hate him more the longer he kept it a secret. But God, Madison, this sucks so much! You and Alex are perfect for each other.”

  “I know,” I say miserably. “Trust me, I know.”

  “What I will say though. If it was me and Brad and my mom…did the deed before. I would not want to know!” she says adamantly. The thought of Alex and my mom…

  “If you’re going to say something, can you at least not say anything until after my wedding?” Parker’s tone takes on a slightly pleading note. “I really, really want Alex to do the bar menu for it. His drinks are so unique…I’ll have the most Instagrammable menus and drinks of any wedding ever!”

  “Are you kidding me Parker?” I ask angrily.

  “There’s no sense in ruining two weddings, right?” she says innocently with a shrug that makes me crack a smile. “This suck intergalactic giant monkey balls.” She sighs.

  I laugh shortly. “Yeah. It really fucking does.”

  5

  I make up my mind that I’m going to tell Alex.

  I’ll talk to Jackson and let him know we need to tell him together after Tiffany’s wedding. Until then I plan on trying to go about life as if everything is normal, but everything we do seems charged with meaning, a possible last time—from ordering takeout to watching an episode of our favorite show together, even cooking breakfast in the morning seems poignant. I never realized how I took the little moments for granted and I promise myself, as I stand next to him in our small apartment bathroom brushing my teeth, that if we somehow miraculously make it through this that I’ll never take even the tiniest second we spend together for granted again.

  I lie in bed next to Alex the night after I’ve talked to Melissa and Parker, sleepless and staring up at the ceiling. If this goes to hell I’m going to have to start over from scratch. It’s not financially frightening—I’ve saved up an impressive amount of money from working for the catering company—but it’s so different from the last time. When I left Ryan, all I could feel was an overwhelming sense of freedom. Freedom from expectations, freedom from having to wonder when things were going to get fucked up, freedom from the surety of a boring, stale, everyday routine life. This feels like a disaster, like my world is going to implode around me the minute Alex says the words “it’s over.” It doesn’t matter that I can take care of myself, that I can do literally anything I want once I’m single again. Nothing is worth losing the man I love. I don’t want that freedom. I don’t want to be without him.

  Then there’s the devil on the other side of my shoulders presenting the attractive choice of just lying to him, making it seem innocent. Not telling him the truth technically isn’t lying.

  But it is.

  I can’t do that. I lie awake all night, turning every scenario over and over in my head until I’m drained and exhausted.

  I’m eating an English muffin at the island, hoping for the perfect scenario where this all works out—Alex is working again this morning and I have a job tonight—when a knock comes at the front door. My heart drops into my stomach…all I can think of is that it’s Jackson, that he’s come to find out when and how we’re telling Alex. Or to tell me that he plans to tell him, that he can’t keep the truth from his darling son. Or something equally ridiculous, like he’s here to convince me that we should be together again.

  Who else would it be, besides Jackson? Anyone I know would call. I prepare by taking a deep breath before I open the door, and when I do a blur of human whizzes past me, letting out an exasperated sigh and throwing a messenger bag onto the couch. All I can do is stare as she turns towards me, hands on her hips. “Who are you?” she demands.

  She’s beautiful, maybe twenty-one or twenty-two at the most. My stomach is in knots wondering how she knows Alex. Another ex-wife he hasn’t told me about? An ex-girlfriend? A current girlfriend? No, I’m being ridiculous!

  “I’m Madison,” I say carefully. “Alex’s girlfriend. And you are…?”

  “Alyssa.” She sticks one hand out—the nails are bitten short and she’s wearing chipped black nail polish with burgundy sparkles. “Alex’s sister.”

  Oh, thank god. I take her hand and shake it. I’m stunned that this is Alyssa. Alex has never exhibited a wild streak in how he dresses or behaves, and his parents are certainly your usual middle-class, typically conservative types—ranch house, picket fence, all of that. Alyssa is a wild card for sure. She’s wearing low-rise jeans that look as if they’ve been painted onto her, an electric blue crop top that stops just below her ribs and shows off her impressively flat—almost concave—stomach and sparkling belly-button ring, Doc Martens, the aforementioned chipped nail polish, and her long blonde hair is streaked an electric blue that matches her top. Her nose is pierced, and her overall air is one of a girl who has entirely stopped giving a fuck about the judgements of literally anyone else.

  I sort of admire that.

  “Well, aren’t you going to say anything about how I’m dressed?” Alyssa stares at me with her hands on her hips, practically daring me. “Or why I’m not at work or in class?”

  “Why would I say anything about your clothes? I’m not your mother.” I shrug.

  Alyssa purses her lips and looks me up and down appraisingly.

  “You sure as hell aren’t Holly.” She giggles and lets out a relieved sigh. I laugh.

  “Thanks,” I say sarcastically.

  Alyssa bursts out laughing. “I like you! God, I hated Holly. She was such a fucking bitch.” She laughs again and then spins on her heel, heading towards the kitchen.

  I follow, feeling slightly dazed.

  Alyssa opens the refrigerator, pulls out a log of cookie dough, and sits on the counter, pinching pieces off of it as she talks. “So, uh…Alex isn’t really expecting me. I sort of didn’t tell him I was coming over.”

  “I bet you didn’t,” I mutter under my breath as I sit back down at the table, looking at my English muffin. It’s cold now, and even more unappetizing than before.

  “Weeeeelllll….” Alyssa stretches out the word. “See, I kind of dropped out of school…”

  “Like…college?” I ask her confused.

  Alyssa snorts. “Yes, college. How old do you think I am?”

  “Nineteen?” I settle for the safe side.

  “Twenty One,” she says flatly. “I hate it. I don’t want to do anything that requires a degree. I want to paint and make art and design things. My parents are paying so much money for me to get a degree that I don’t even want and I’m not doing all that well at, and I want them to just give me the money. I’ll use it to fund a studio. But it’s not ‘practical’”—she uses air quotes as she speaks—“and they say I have to graduate, that I’ll regret it if I don’t.” She shrugs. “So, I dropped out. I thought they would see how serious I am, that I really meant it when I said college isn’t for me. I mean, hell, Alex is a bartender and they’re proud of him!” She looks slightly wounded. “I don’t know why they can’t be proud of me.” I look at her completely speechless.

  Slow down, my brain is not primed for this shit.

  I rub my temples.

  “Do
they know you dropped out?”

  Alyssa nods, looking slightly sheepish. “Yeah…they’re furious. They said I have to talk to the dean and beg them to let me back in, or they’re cutting me totally off. Rent, food budget, everything,” she says, not looking as nearly as terrified as she should be.

  “So, are you going to try to get back in?”

  “Hell no!” she says, aggressively pulling off a large hunk of cookie dough and stuffing it into her mouth. “I’m going to prove to them that I don’t need school, that I can make it on my own.”

  “Do you have any money?” I ask remembering how broke I was in college. It’s an intrusive question but hell she’s pretty much laid her entire life out in front of me.

  “Not exactly…I was sort of hoping I could crash with Alex for a while.” She chews another piece of cookie dough pensively. “I can make some money here in New York, stash it away until I have enough to get a studio going. Maybe do some of those bartending gigs he talked about.”

  Fuck. This is a disaster I’m not ready to deal with.

  Alex is working day and night and is carefully saving his money to open his own bar. This girl thinks it’s as easy as putting on her thick mascara—I try to be optimistic and think the entrepreneurial gene runs in the family, but Alyssa seems like she just might be wanting a free ride.

  But this is none of my business.

  “Is that okay?” She looks at me worriedly, interrupting my inner dialog. “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this, I didn’t even realize he had a girlfriend. I didn’t know he lived with anyone. I know this must be a lot…do you mind?”

  I take a deep breath. Aside from the logistics of it being small and having a barely-in-her-twenties-year-old girl living with us, I have so many other things to worry about. What can I tell her? Hey, I’m about to blow up the whole other side of Alex’s family with this crazy revelation, and he’s probably going to hate me afterwards and kick me out, so yeah, this isn’t the best time.