by Shandi Boyes
My brows lower as the facts stack up. Jenni was the only person in the cabin with Nick. Is she responsible for his outburst?
My eyes stray to Nick, who is lying next to me. “Jenni?”
He throws his hands over his face, his words coming out in a sob. “I love her so much it hurts.”
I’m glad he’s finally admitting he’s in love, but this isn’t how it's supposed to be. You can have moments of jealousy; sometimes you may even have little tiffs, but if he’s in love with Jenni, why the fuck did he take a baseball bat to her car?
Everything makes sense when he murmurs, “She’s going to kill my baby.”
“She’s pregnant?”
When my eyes scan Nick's face, nothing but turmoil reflects back at me. We’ve never been overly close; he's the equivalent of an annoying younger brother I’m forced to put up with, but even I can comprehend how fucked up this is. He’s finally fallen in love, but the person he's in love with wants to terminate his baby. That’s fucked. He might be a player, but not even he deserves to be treated like this.
After scrubbing his cheeks, Nick locks his pleading eyes with mine. “Can you ask Emily to talk to her? She’s the only person Jenni will listen to. I don’t want her to kill our baby, but without your help, I won’t be able to stop it. Please, Noah. I’ll do anything you ask if you do this one thing for me.”
My eyes turn to the cabin. Emily is standing at the second-story window, peering down at Nick and me. Her face is marred with pain, and she's weeping. I stare at her, struggling to comprehend how I can force her to convince her friend to keep a baby she doesn’t want.
Once again, I’ve drawn the short straw. I won’t leave this dilemma with fewer scars than my previous scuffle.
Chapter 30
Emily
A Few Months Later...
The first few weeks of Noah’s West Coast radio tour were rough. He arrived home grouchy and frustrated, and our calls went from being over two hours of nonstop chatter, to strings of worthless sentences. His dour mood was understandable considering his time away was spent with Nick.
Misery loves company.
Weeks passed before we had a conversation that didn’t involve Jenni and what she was planning to do with the baby she conceived with Nick. Noah thought I had the answers he was seeking. I didn’t. I was as much in the dark as he was.
He’d never admit it, but I know my lack of knowledge annoyed him. It created tension between us and had me dreading our daily calls instead of looking forward to them. He was mad I stuck by Jenni’s side as I had pledged months earlier.
I’ve known Jenni over half my life, and even though I was shocked she’d consider having an abortion, I still love and respect her. She was being judged enough; she didn’t need me adding more angst to her life.
It was my support that led to me attending an appointment with her a couple of weeks after Nick demolished her car. Jenni wasn’t as pedantic about tracking her cycle as I was, so she had no clue how far along she was.
It’s funny how life is one giant circle. While waiting for Jenni to be called in, the lady behind the reception desk caught my eye. She seemed familiar, even though I hadn’t been to that practice before. It was only when she smiled did I realize who she was.
Noah got his dimples and dark eyes from his mother.
It was hard watching his mom be courteous to strangers when she was so callous to her own son. Noah isn't a man of many words, but the stories he had shared left no doubt on how cold and heartless his mom was to him when he was growing up.
You wouldn’t know that from watching her at her workplace, though. It seemed as if she was an entirely different person. When she noticed me staring at her, she offered me the same polite smile she had been giving patients all day. No matter how hard I fought, I couldn’t return her gesture. She caused Noah years of misery, so she didn’t deserve to pretend as if she had a perfect, happy life.
Thank god the doctor called Jenni in when he did. If I had to watch her fake act for a second longer, I wouldn’t have left the waiting room without ensuring everyone there knew what a terrible, two-faced bitch she is.
When Jenni’s doctor, Dr. Morgan, offered to do an ultrasound to see how far along Jenni was, everything changed in an instant. Her baby was only the size of a jellybean, but its heartbeat was robust. It only took Jenni hearing it for two seconds to know she could never destroy the precious gift growing in her tummy.
With news that she was a little over twelve weeks along, and pictures of their blob, Jenni flew to Nick to tell him her decision in person. I thought with their struggles over, things would improve between Noah and me.
Unfortunately, that hasn’t been the case.
Our relationship continued to slip as the band's schedule significantly increased.
For the first few weeks, Noah came home every weekend as he originally planned, but as their album climbed the charts, his visits began to wane. At first, he came home every second weekend, then his visits decreased to once or twice a month.
You don’t want to know how long it’s been now. My heart shatters like glass just thinking about it. I understand he’s busy. Just last week, “Surrender Me” snuck into the top twenty on the charts, and “Hollow” is following closely behind at number twenty-seven. I’m super proud of everything Rise Up has achieved, but I can’t help but feel isolated and alone.
Crystal’s transfer request was approved the month before Noah and I went to the cabin with our friends, so I’ve had my dorm room to myself the past five months. I had no idea such a homey-sized space could feel so lonely.
Thank god Crystal took me under her wing when she did. She introduced me to people with the same major as me and invited me to tag along with her and her friends when they went to parties. For the most part, it was a godsend, but it all came toppling down when Noah and I had a brutal fight in the middle of a frat party.
Crystal’s friends are lovely, but some of them get a little overzealous when they've had too much to drink. I had just started talking to Noah on FaceTime when Matt, a football player for Parkwood State, wrapped me up in a bear hug. He twirled me around while loudly declaring he had missed “his baby” at the top of his lungs.
That was nothing out of the ordinary for Matt. It was how he greeted every female friend he had. It was innocent... Regrettably, Noah didn’t take it that way. By the time I wrangled out of Matt’s grip, Noah had disconnected our call. I dialed his number on repeat. He didn’t answer one of my thirty-eight calls or return any of my many text messages.
I understood he was frustrated, but he wasn't the only one annoyed. The fact he expected me to wait around for him to show up pissed me off. I needed to interact with others, or I’d go stir-crazy.
When Noah finally returned my call later that night, it was apparent he had been drinking. He was slurring so severely, I barely understood a word he said. Our confrontation became heated pretty quickly. We both said a lot of things we didn’t mean, and our call ended without the terms of endearments we usually exchanged.
Thinking arguments like that are normal for couples our age, I tried my best not to let it affect our future conversations, but that was a woeful waste of time. Every call we’ve had since then has been cold and distant. I can only hope his visit home this weekend reignites the flame we’ve lost, as I don’t think I can take much more. It honestly hurts just thinking about how distant we’ve become.
While wiping my cheeks to ensure they’re dry, I drop my eyes to my watch. I've spent a majority of my economics class staring at it, impatiently willing the big hand to strike three. Only eight minutes to go, but they’re the longest, most torturous eight minutes of my life.
The big hand barely reaches the twelve when I leap up from my seat to shove my textbooks into my satchel.
“Eager to be somewhere, Ms. McIntosh?”
After bobbing my head at Dr. Kurt’s question, I gallop down the stairs of my economic class. I’m halfway out the door when he dismisses
the rest of the class for the weekend.
When I push open the double doors of my building, all the worries I’ve been having the past few months vanish in an instant. Noah’s truck is parked at the end of the concrete path. He’s waiting for me like he did when I began my studies last year.
My heart riots against my ribs as I break into a brisk jog. My dash is anything but glamorous, but I’m dying to see him again, so I’ll happily look unattractive while doing it. As I get closer to his truck, my confusion grows. Noah isn’t leaning against the front like he usually does. Maybe he’s worried about being recognized? He has caught the attention of the paparazzi lately. It’s how I’ve kept updated on all things band related—I cut out clippings from the magazines they’re in.
Pushing aside my disappointment for a more appropriate time, I leap in front of Noah’s partially cracked open window and scream, “I’ve missed you so much, baby!”
Pain stabs my heart when the dark eyes I’m anticipating aren’t there. These eyes are blue and full of remorse. “I’m sorry, Em, Noah couldn’t make it.”
Jacob peers at me from the driver’s seat of Noah’s truck, praying my tears stay at bay. He hates when I cry just as much as Noah—if Noah even cares anymore.
As I beg for my tears to remain in my eyes, I walk around to the passenger side door to climb inside. My steps are more sluggish than moments ago. Noah usually calls first thing in the morning when he’s canceling, so when 7 AM came and went without a phone call, I was certain my disappointments of the past few months were finally coming to an end.
How stupid was I?
Just as I finish buckling my seat belt, my phone rings with the “Surrender Me” ringtone I have set for Noah. I consider answering his call, but with disappointment still raring through my veins, I hit the decline button instead. After shutting down my phone, I throw it into my satchel on the floor of the truck then shift my focus to the scenery whizzing past the window. Jacob watches me cautiously but remains silent. What could he possibly say? He doesn’t deserve to be in this predicament any more than me.
The tunes pumping out of the radio keep my mind off my swirling stomach for the first twenty minutes of our trip. Jacob has always had a lead foot, so we’re nearly halfway home in the time it generally takes for Noah to exit the parking lot.
My throat works hard to swallow when the introduction of Rise Up’s song “Surrender Me” comes over the radio. As memories of how that song used to make me feel filter through my head, a massive sob tears from my throat. I’m beyond devastated, meaning I’m no longer capable of concealing my heartache.
Although I try my hardest to keep my sobs to a bare minimum, Jacob must hear them. He switches off the radio before turning his remorseful eyes to me. “Noah would be here if he could—”
I cut him off by swiping my hand through the air. As much as it would be nice to believe what he’s preaching, weeks of disappointment don’t award me the privilege. It’s been so long since I’ve seen Noah, I’m beginning to forget what he smells like.
Gut-wrenching heartache rings true in my tone when I finally submit to the feelings tearing me in two. “I can’t do this anymore, Jake. I love Noah, but I can’t hold on to someone who’s no longer there for me to grasp.”
I’ve wondered for weeks if this is the outcome Noah was hoping to achieve from his absence. He’s always said he'd never break up with me, so maybe this is his way of forcing me to break up with him? I love him, but perhaps I need to let him go so he can live the life he wants without continually worrying about me.
“Em...don’t...you need to think about this.”
Jacob’s plea is interrupted by his ringing cellphone. When he peeks at the screen, I know who is calling. It’s Noah.
“I have to answer him. He’s probably freaking the fuck out.” After giving me a sympathetic look, he hits the connect button then raises his phone to his ear. “Hey... calm down... She's sitting next to me. She’s safe.”
They talk for a few more seconds before Jacob shifts his big cornflower blue eyes to me. “He wants to talk to you.”
I nearly reach out for his phone before my backbone rejuvenates. I deserve better than how I’m being treated.
Tears fling off my cheeks when I shake my head, denying his request. Jacob wordlessly begs for me to take his phone, but I refuse. This hurts, but it’s not any more painful than what I’ve experienced the past few months.
After a tense staredown, Jacob reverts his focus to his cell. "She doesn't want to talk to you."
Chapter 31
Noah
I stare at a speck of dust floating in the air, sure I heard Jacob wrong. What does he mean Emily doesn't want to talk to me? We've coasted over a couple of rocky bumps the past few months, but even during our hardest battles, Emily has always answered my calls—even the ones she knows will leave her disappointed.
“Put her on the phone, Jake!” My racing heart is heard in my low tone. I do not mean to sound angry with him; I'm just panicked, which generally means I'm irrational.
I hear Jacob’s muffled voice before the static on the phone clears. “I’m sorry, Noah. She’s adamant she doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“Put her on the fucking phone!” I kick a steel chair in front of me, sending it flying across the room. It stops just to the side of Marcus, who is watching me with concern. “I need to talk to her—please.”
I hate that Jacob is in the middle of this, but he’s the only one close enough to Emily to force her to listen.
My tone is less harsh this time around, but it does little to hide the knot in my stomach. “Please, Jacob. Even on speakerphone. She doesn’t have to talk to me; she can just listen.”
A stretch of silence crosses between us before Emily’s faint sobs come down the line, adding to the heaviness on my chest. “Em, baby, are you there?”
When her sniffles increase from hearing my voice, I flop onto the sofa in the green room to cradle my head in my empty hand. "I'm so sorry, Beautiful; I would have been there if I could..."
My words trail off when I realize what I’m doing. It’s the same pathetic excuse I’ve given her the past couple of months. She deserves better than bullshit excuses. I need to stop lying. I fucked up. I got so tied up in the band’s success, I thought canceling on her would be okay because she’d be there waiting for me once the hype died down. I miss her every fucking day, but I wanted to ensure our album was a surefire hit. I told myself it would be okay to disappoint her now as long as I made up for it once I was filthy rich.
Now I may not get the chance.
“Em... please talk to me.”
My heart cracks more with every sob that bellows down the line. It also reveals what I’ve always known: I’m a fucking idiot. She’s supposed to be my number one priority, yet I fucked it all up for someone who has only ever cared about himself.
I stop staring at my clenched fists when Emily whispers, “I can’t do this anymore.”
I’m grateful she’s finally spoken to me, but it doesn’t linger long. I don’t know what to be more panicked about: what she said, or the fact she disconnects our call immediately after saying it.
While gripping my phone in a white-knuckled hold, I redial Jacob’s number. My teeth grit when my call goes to voicemail.
I redial again.
And again.
And again.
Jacob answers on my fifth try. “You need to give her some time.”
What he is saying makes sense, but isn’t a majority of our problem because I haven’t given her enough of my time? So how will giving her more space help?
While running a shaky hand over my hair, I deliberate. It doesn’t take me long to separate the pros and cons of Jacob’s suggestion. As much as it hurts to admit, he’s right. I need to give Emily time.
With that in mind, I push my phone close to my ear. “Tell her I love her, Jake, and that I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt her.”
Hating that the cracks in my heart are heard in
my voice, I disconnect our call by throwing my phone onto the tiled floor. It shatters on impact, proving not only were Jacob’s assumptions right over a year ago, they’re just as factual today.
“What the fuck?” Missing the first half of my conversation, Slater bends down to pick up my broken phone. I’d laugh at him trying to piece it together if I weren’t on the verge of having a meltdown. “We’re due on stage in thirty minutes, don’t go fuckin’ it up by acting like a diva. We’re rising stars, not Hollywood Walk of Fame famous.”
Even though he’s joking, all I hear is angst. I can’t be playful with the dark shit creeping into my veins. I’ve once again let Emily down, and for what? A chance to get “Surrender Me” into the Top Ten of the billboard charts.
That’s what today is about. Delilah pulled some strings allowing us to snatch up a lucrative spot when another band canceled last minute. We’re hoping our live performance on MTV will help “Surrender Me” sprint toward the number one spot we’ve been aiming for the past few months.
“Is everything okay?”
My eyes float up from the ground to Marcus, who is crouched next to Slater. "I don't know. Em said she couldn't do this anymore; what does that mean?"
Marcus is good with his emotions, so if anyone knows what Emily meant, it will be him. When remorse settles in his misty green eyes, it dawns on me that he took Emily’s statement the same way I did.
The love of my life just broke up with me.
My heart slithers into my gut as the pain in my chest turns crippling. Desperate to drown away the despair clutching my soul, I grab the closest bottle of brown liquid I can find. It burns my chest when I unscrew the cap and swallow down several big mouthfuls, but I don’t hold back. The burn of whiskey is nothing compared to the pain stabbing my heart..
