She Wants It All: Book Three of the Sheridan Hall Series

by Jessica Calla

  I shake my head. “And what do you know about love, Winston? Huh?” I poke his chest. “You had sex with me and then dumped me. On Valentine’s Day!”

  “I told you a million times that I’m sorry!” he yells.

  “A million times is a trillion times too little. It’s never going to make up for it. It’s never going to erase the hurt, or the way I thought the universe turned on me, or all of the loneliness I felt when you were right next door living your life and I was alone in my room.” I poke him over and over. He jerks back with each touch. “It’s going to be on my mind every Valentine’s Day forever now. The holiday of love. My favorite day. You took it away from me.” Damn, it feels good to yell at him, even with the tears I didn’t know were falling down my face.

  He grabs my wrists the next time I try to push him. “What do you want me to do?”

  I drop into a nearby lounge chair and hide my face. When I look up at him, he’s crouched in front of me, tears in his eyes too.

  “Winston.” I take a few breaths to calm myself. “I want you to be my friend. Can you be my fucking friend? Can you not, for one minute, try to manipulate my life, my new relationship, my friendships, or where I go for my freaking internship. For the love of God, stop trying to get me back.”

  Win shakes his head and grabs my hands. “I don’t know if I can.”

  I pull them back. “Then don’t you see? If you can’t do that, then you probably never loved me in the first place. Dave let me go. Why can’t you?”

  We sit in silence for a minute, sand mixing with my tears. I count the waves on the horizon over his shoulder. I get to fourteen and stand. My insobriety has turned to a hangover, and my head pounds.

  I sneak a peek at Win, sitting on the deck, staring behind me in a trance. I remember our first time in the tent back at camp.

  I extend him a hand, and he looks up at me.

  “I don’t want you to hate me,” he says.

  I shake my head. “I try not to. Every day I try not to hate you, Win. But it’s so damn hard.”

  Winston takes my hand, and I pull him to his feet. Then he wraps his arms around me. “I’m sorry. I’ll say it a trillion more times.”

  I let him hug me. I stick my cheek to that part of his chest where it fits. His arms feel different now. Like I’m hugging a piece of home.

  Home.

  I pull away from Win and look up at him. “Can you do me a favor?”

  He nods. “Anything.”

  “Can you book me on a flight home tomorrow?”

  “JFK?”

  “No. Home, home.”

  He smiles. “Sure thing, Mags.”

  “Thanks. I’d do it myself, but my head is throbbing. Stupid Rodrigo and his margarita recipe.”

  Win laughs. “He’s a master of the margarita. Hey, do you think Meg will let me stay through the weekend?”

  I shrug. “Call her and ask. I’m sure it’s not a problem.”

  Win follows me into the house. “What are you going to do about Dave?”

  I sigh and turn to face him. “Nothing. For the first time in my life, I have no plan. I’m going to do nothing.”

  When I lie in bed that night looking out of the skylight in the master bedroom, with Winston a few doors down in one of the guest rooms, I’m not sure how to feel. Physically, I drank too much. My entire body, head to injured foot, hurts. Mentally, maybe tonight was about closure with Win. Dave though? How can I get closure for a relationship with someone that I’m not ready to close?

  Worse, how will I get back to school and finish out this semester with Dave two floors up? Or in Connecticut with Amber?

  I twist Dave’s beads around my wrist and then run my fingers over them. Grit, Frank had said. You’re a farm girl. He’s right. I need to pull myself together and remember who I am. I am not some withering flower who hides from her problems and shies away from a challenge. At least, that’s not who I was. Even after Winston, I held my ground, knowing he wasn’t the right guy for me.

  I could do that with Dave too. If he’s going to run at the first challenge we face, even if it’s as big a challenge as a baby, then he’s not the right guy for me either. And should I sit here all wah wah wah like Frank had accused?

  Oh, hell no.

  This gritty farm girl is going back to her roots. Maybe being on the farm, surrounded by land, animals, and my nutty family will inspire me to finish this horrendous year with my head held high.

  Chapter 26

  Maggie

  Winston rides in the car with me to the airport Friday morning. Dave’s tried to call me, but I don’t care what he has to say. I’m starting new. Home is the best place to do that.

  When the car comes to a stop at the departure drop-off, Winston steps out and walks around to the sidewalk. He extends a hand and helps me out. “I know I barged in on you. Thanks for letting me stay last night and hang out for the rest of the weekend.”

  I hold onto his hand. “Thank Meg and Mr. Smith, not me.”

  “I will.” A playful gleam sparkles in his eye. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re going to be around for the summer. Even if you’re heartbroken over Second Floor Dave.”

  I ignore the sarcasm and answer it with my own. “I’ll be fine. Lucky for me, you already stomped my heart. It’s all full of scar tissue. Makes it tougher.”

  He smirks. “You’re kidding, right?”

  I shake my head. “Not really. I’m tired of getting dumped. In fact, I’m kind of tired of boys in general. I think it’s best for me to get back to my moratorium on the Y chromosome.”

  Win looks at his feet and then up to my eyes. “I’m sorry that I had something to do with that.”

  The driver pulls my duffel bag from the trunk and brings it to where we stand. “I know this will sound weird,” I say, “but I’m glad we got to talk. With this chapter of us closing, officially, we can start new ones.”

  He gives the driver the one-minute hand signal. “Chapters, huh? Is it all about the books with you?”

  “Pretty much.” I lift my bag over my shoulder and hang my wristlet from my arm. Then I kiss him goodbye on the cheek.

  He does the same and whispers in my ear, “I’ll try to be a better person.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper in his.

  But when I try to turn to walk away, I can’t yet. I don’t see him standing there on the sidewalk—not shitty college boy Winston of Sheridan Hall. The boy I see is Winston of Camp Carnival. The sweet boy who’d taught me how to fish one summer, how to row a boat the next, and practiced kissing with me the one after that. The boy who’d planned a first experience for us that we’d never forget.

  I drop my bag, jump into his arms, and I kiss him for the last time. I kiss him because he loved me and I loved him. I kiss him because we shared with each other something so sweet and pure that nothing can take it away—not our breakup, not his manipulation, not even my experience with Dave. I kiss him because he was my first love and because even though he broke my heart, he tried to put back together.

  I pull away and look into his stunned face. “Bye, Win,” I whisper. Then I pick up my bag, spin around, and make my way home.

  My mother leaves her second conference of the month early and meets me at the airport in her pickup truck. We drive the hour and a half to our farm. The first thing I do is run to the barn to meet Betty the Kid. Inside, Martha’s lying against a haystack, texting.

  “Hey, little nightmare.”

  Her eyes pop when she sees me. She drops her phone and jumps up into my arms. Her long hair blonde hair reaches her waist. Neither Mom nor Martha has ever taken scissors to that head. She looks good. Her tween awkwardness has been replaced with a fifteen-going-on-twenty-five look.

  She locks her legs around my waist, and I stagger under her weight. “I heard you were coming home. I’m so happy to see you. Now you can watch the baby goat.”

  From behind her, my mother rolls her eyes. “Kid, Martha. It’s a kid. And get off your sister.”


  “What about school?” I ask my mother. “How come you let Martha skip to take care of the animals. You never let me do that.”

  “I wasn’t in hot demand as a conference presenter when you were in high school. Now stop whining and come see the baby.”

  When Martha releases her body lock on me, she drags me to Betty’s stall. I peek at the mama and baby sleeping. “Oh my God, she’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Mom rubs my shoulders. “I feel bad I haven’t been here with her. The conferences took up so much time. I’m thankful Martha could help.”

  Martha picks up her phone again and tsks. “Yeah, yeah, it’s great. She’s cute. You can play with her later, Maggie. Let’s go inside and have some lunch.” She grabs my hand again. “I want to hear all about the rock star you’re dating.”

  “Rock star? Nobody said anything about a rock star.” My mother shouts into my ear, and my head may explode. I rub my temples. So loud. So hungover.

  My stomach churns at the mention of Dave and the thought of lunch. They say a decent hangover stays with you all day. This hangover isn’t going anywhere. I need a nap. “Who told you I was dating a rock star?”

  Martha lifts her phone and opens her texts. “Win. I texted him when Mom told me you were dating a new guy.”

  I gasp. “Martha! That’s none of your business. And you can’t text Win anymore, okay? He’s not my boyfriend.”

  She sticks her tongue out at me. “Yeah, you have to give me the rock star’s number now. What’s his name?”

  I look to my mother. “Neither of you has to concern yourself with him anymore. We broke up.”

  My mother’s body sags. “Oh, Buttercup.” She pulls me into a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay. It was for a good reason.”

  She doesn’t ask, and I don’t offer.

  “Dammit,” Martha mutters. “You need to get back together so I can tell my friends. Hey, is he like Jacob from that book you loaned me, the singer who loses his voice and falls in love with the nurse?”

  “No—”

  “Wait!” Martha jumps up and down flapping her hands. “Will he play at my sixteenth birthday party that I’m going to have, even though Mom thinks I’m not?”

  Mom crosses her arms and glares at her youngest. I shove Martha. “I hate to tell you this, little nightmare, but rock star romances aren’t real.”

  She shoves me back. “Yes they are. Plenty of rock stars have real relationships.”

  I turn toward the house. “Not this one,” I whisper to myself.

  Martha babbles behind me. Mom seems to have figured out how to tune it all out. When I make it to the house, and then my room, I shut the door before she can walk in after me. Inside, I plop onto my childhood bed.

  I text Meg that I’m going off the radar for a few days. I thank her and tell her I’ll be back on Monday. I wish her a good time at the gala the next night and ask her to give Juliet my apologies for not attending. First Win’s skipping, now me. Juliet will be pissed. I wonder if The Randoms will play?

  A knock on the door pulls me back to reality. Mom pushes open the door. “I brought you some water.”

  “Thanks.”

  She places the glass on my nightstand. “I know you had a rough couple of days, but did you finish your paper for Olympia?”

  “It’s crap. I called New York and accepted. I know you’re disappointed but—”

  “Do you think that? That I’m disappointed?”

  I shrug. “I know how important my success is to you, and Olympia would be the best thing for my future success.”

  She shakes her head and stands over me. “How could I be disappointed in you? You got an amazing internship in New York, you’re smart and you make great grades, you care about people, animals, the environment, you’re beautiful and healthy and…” She sighs. “I couldn’t love you more than I do. No matter what you do this summer.”

  I reach up for her, and she leans down to hug me. “Thanks, crazy Mary mother lode.”

  She squeezes me. “You and your sister have to stop calling me that.”

  Dave

  Amber and I had big plans to tour New Haven on Friday, but since Yale is beautiful and welcoming, we stay on campus. Before we know it, nightfall is upon us. I buy her an ice cream cone from a street vendor, and we sit on a nearby bench.

  The sun sets over the campus as we laugh about the day. She offers me her cone, and I take a lick. Another passerby reaches for her stomach. “What the fuck is with everyone touching you? Isn’t it against the law?”

  She takes back her cone. “That one lady swiped my boob too.”

  “You could have her arrested for assault.”

  She laughs the giggle I remember from the dorm. I hope the baby doesn’t take after her with that.

  I watch Amber with a newfound respect. Do all men feel that way, watching women growing babies in their bellies? I say the words without thinking. “I had a nice time today.”

  She offers me another lick of her cone. “I did too. Thanks for being such a sweetheart about everything. How long are you staying?”

  I take her up on her offer, and she hands me the entire cone. “As long as you want me, I guess.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you’re due in a few weeks. I can help you get ready. I mean, I’ll have to bring the car back to Tuck. But I can get my parents to get me a car, and I can get a summer job—”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  Her question offends me, and I scowl. “Sure. I mean, it’s my baby too, right? I should take responsibility.”

  A tear forms in her eye, and I turn away and concentrate on the ice cream, pretending not to see. I can’t believe the words I’m saying are coming from my mouth. Every instinct is telling me to run. Away from Amber, to Maggie, to anywhere but this bench in New Haven. But I can’t do it. I was a dick the first week of school, and now I’ll have to pay the consequences. I think my dad has said that to me. Shit. I am going to be a dad.

  Amber’s voice shakes, and she twists her hair in her hand. “What about your band? Tuck told Suzi you’d be touring with The Dregs this summer.”

  I grab her hand to steady it and stop the twirling. It’s making me as nervous as she seems to be. “No. I can’t do that now. I don’t want you to feel bad about that or anything, it’s just… I want to be here for you. For him.”

  She pulls her hand away and stands. I’m face to face with her baby belly. “You can’t do that. What about Tuck and the rest of the guys?” She paces in front of me.

  I toss the cone into a nearby trash can. “We weren’t going to get the gig anyway.”

  “I don’t understand. Tuck said—”

  I explain about the music execs coming to the gala. “Poppy, one of the girls from the basement, said her contact was a fan of ours. Tuck was being optimistic that if we put on a good show at the gala, they’d sign us.”

  Amber paces faster and faster, shaking her hands in front of her. “What about the girl from the basement?”

  My chest constricts when I think about Maggie, pure pain piercing my heart. “That’s over.”

  She stops in front of me. “When did you break up?”

  “Huh?”

  She squats in front of me and grabs my hands. “When? Just tell me when?”

  I hold her hands and stand, pulling her up with me. She looks like she’ll topple over crouched in front of me with that belly. “I don’t know. A little while ago.” She paces again, and I follow her. When she spins, I almost crash into her.

  “Because of the baby?”

  “No, because…” Because I’m an asshole. Because I don’t deserve someone as loving and smart as Maggie. Because there’s no way it would have worked out with us anyway. “…because of me.”

  Amber groans and moves past me again. “No, no, no,” she murmurs, rubbing her belly as she moves.

  Her weirdness is freaking me out. I talk to her back. “Did I do something wrong?”r />
  She spins again. “It’s not supposed to happen like this. Suzi said your life wouldn’t change.”

  I block her path again. “What did you think I’d do? Be like, ‘hey, yeah, have our kid, and I’ll see you after graduation?’”

  She nods vigorously. “Well, yeah. That’s exactly the impression I got of you. That Suzi got of you. You’re nice and sweet and social, but you never went to classes. You never had a girlfriend. You never seemed serious about anything, except maybe the band.”

  “Damn.” The words sting, even if they’re true. “I guess that’s fair. But I’m serious about this.”

  Amber sucks in a loud inhale and starts hyperventilating. It reminds me of when Maggie got stung by the bee. “What’s going on?” I ask. “Are you okay? Sit down.”

  I lead her to the bench, and she sits, tears flowing down her face.

  “Amber! Tell me what’s wrong.”

  She rests her head on her hands, her elbows on her knees, the baby in between. She sniffs, and I don’t know what to do.

  I rub her back as she pants. “Breathe.”

  She takes a deep breath. “I’m all right.” But she’s sniffling. She doesn’t look all right. “It’s just—”

  I hand her the napkin I’d shoved into my pocket when we bought her ice cream cone. Her erratic breathing turns into normal crying sobs. She takes the napkin. “Thanks.”

  “Is this the hormones? You’re scaring me. A second ago, we were laughing.”

  “That’s before you said all that stuff.” The crying starts again. Her back shakes with her sobs.

  I look to the sky. Maybe it is hormones? This is going to be a long few weeks.

  I rub her back and wait for her to calm down. She peeks at me, around her curtain of hair. “I can’t do this.”

  I push her dark hair over her shoulder so I can see her face. “Um… I don’t really know what I’m supposed to say here. Of course you can do it?”

  “I can’t do this.” After a long look, she stands and walks again. This time she doesn’t pace. She keeps going.