A Season for Hope (Sarra Cannon) (13 page)

I panic, feeling like I can't breathe all of a sudden.

I try to climb off the bed, but he doesn’t let me run away. “Hey,” he says. “What’s wrong?”

I shrug and push him off so I can sit up. My throat feels like it’s closing up all of a sudden. I feel claustrophobic and enclosed in this room.

“I should probably get dressed and head home so I can shower and get ready for work.”

He sits up and watches me as I scramble to pick up my scattered clothing. “It’s only eight in the morning,” he says. “You’ve got hours before you have to be at work.”

I shake my head so my hair will drape over my face. I feel like I can’t breathe.

“I know, but I have to shower and I really should try to get some studying in before.”

He doesn’t say anything, but I feel the atmosphere in the room shift. I look up and see nothing but pure disappointment in his expression. Maybe the small hint of fear.

He moves to the edge of the bed and stands up. He takes my hand. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” I say, meeting his eyes so he’ll know I mean it. “Last night was amazing. I’m just…”

I don’t finish that thought. I can’t explain how I’m feeling. It’s uncomfortable. Uncertain.

Fucking terrified.

“So stay,” he says. “I’m making breakfast. I thought we could hang out for a while this morning, then tonight I could come by The Cup when you get off work.”

I step away, not even sure why I’m doing it. But suddenly I’m scared. I’m a cornered rabbit and I just need to run. This room feels very small and hot and oh god, I seriously can’t catch my breath.

“I’m sorry,” I say, backing toward the bathroom.

I dress as fast as I can, my heart going back and forth between the bravery I felt last night and the fear I’ve lived with the other 21 years of my life.

I know I’m stupid for not melting into his kisses this morning, but something about the way he told me I was beautiful scared the shit out of me. The way he looked at me. The way he touched me. Like he could see the deepest parts of me.

Like he loved me.

I’m used to having a safe buffer between me and my emotions. I’m used to being able to sit back and think about how I want things to go. With Judd, it’s all instinct and in the moment. It’s raw. And it’s real. There’s no time to think and I’m not sure I can do this. It feels dangerous.

I brush my hair with his brush, throw my clothes on, and head back out. He’s in the kitchen leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee in his hand. He put on a t-shirt and it feels like just another layer between us. My heart aches for the freedom I felt last night. I wish I could be that person for him now.

“I can’t even talk you into a cup of coffee?” he asks.

I frown and shake my head. “No thanks,” I say. “I had a really great time last night, though.”

“Did you?” he asks.

My head snaps up. Oh god, he’s going to do that honesty thing again. I glance toward the door, wondering how fast I could get there from here. I need time to think through what I’m feeling before I can talk about it.

“Yes,” I say, brightening my tone, trying to fake him out. “Of course I did.”

He narrows his eyes. “Because last night didn’t feel like this,” he says. “Last night was…really you and really me, you know? Then all of a sudden, there’s this wall here between us. What happened?”

I swallow. “I’m sorry. I’m used to a relationship with walls,” I say. “This is new for me and I need for you to give me some time.”

“Okay,” he says.

Tears spring to my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I say. There’s so much more in my heart that I want to tell him, but I’m scared he’ll think I’m crazy. I’m scared it won’t make any different and will just open myself up to more pain. “I’ll talk to you later.”

I walk over and lift up on my toes to give him a soft kiss on the cheek.

He’s tense and doesn’t smile or move to kiss me back.

I turn, a familiar heaviness in the pit of my stomach as I walk through the front door, putting yet another wall between us. It doesn’t hit me until I’m pulling into the parking lot at my apartment that somewhere along the way last night, I stopped comparing him to Preston.

Chapter Twenty-Four

All day at work I watch the door, waiting to see Judd walk in with that smile on his face. Wanting him to appear as if I hadn’t acted like a complete and total bitch to him this morning.

But as the hours stretch on, I start to lose hope. On a break, I check my phone. No messages or texts.

I want to punch myself in the face. What the hell did I do?

I freaked out, that’s what.

I knew I’d made a huge mistake by the time I got to my apartment this morning, but I couldn’t work up the nerve to turn back and knock on his door to apologize. He was nothing but amazing last night and this morning, and I treated him like crap.

I wouldn’t be surprised if he never wants to talk to me again.

I bite my lip and start a text to him.

I’m sorry about this morning. Are you still coming by The Cup?

I stare at it for a full minute before I send it. My hands are trembling. What if he says no? Or is distant from now on? What if I’ve ruined everything and have to spend the rest of my life haunted by how perfect last night was for us?

I knew I shouldn’t have slept with him. It was just too soon for me. I wasn’t expecting it to mean so much. I thought I was more closed off. More protected.

But Judd has brought down more of my barriers than I thought.

In the dark of night, it felt great. But in the light of day, I just felt exposed and vulnerable.

Please don’t let it be too late to fix it.

It’s close to the end of my shift and I’ve pretty much given up on Judd showing up to hang out when the bell over the door sounds. I breathe in, my heart racing as I turn.

My mouth falls open and my breath catches in my throat.

Preston’s eyes meet mine across the small cafe. Seeing him right now is like a punch to my gut. What is he doing here? From the way he’s looking at me, I know he’s here to see me, but why? It’s like guys have this sixth sense about things like this. It’s like they know the moment you’ve started to move on so they swoop in and surprise you, hoping to sweep your feet out from under you. Ex-boyfriends seem to know just how to hit you when you’re down.

I wipe my sweaty hands on my apron and force a smile as he walks over.

He kisses my cheek. “Hey,” he says. “It’s been a while.”

I nod and smile, holding it together by a thread. “Yeah,” I say. “What brings you in here?”

“Oh,” he says, pulling his hands from his pockets. “The Christmas Memories Charity Ball this coming weekend. You didn’t forget, did you? I kept meaning to call, but things have been crazy busy.”

My heart stops and dizziness washes over me. What is he saying?

“I just stopped by to give you the details on the plan,” he says, as if it’s just completely normal that he’s talking to me about this for the first time in weeks.

“O-of course,” I stutter, completely caught off guard. I grab the side of the table to steady myself. My ears are ringing and huge warning sirens are going off in my brain.

“There will be six of us in the limo,” he says. “Penny and Mason were going to join us, but she wants to get there ahead of time, so it’ll just be us, Summer and Ben, and Krystal and Park.”

I’m in shock. I can’t speak, so he just keeps rattling off details like it’s no big deal.

“Would you rather come by my place before or should I have the limo swing by your place to pick you up? Or did you have plans to meet up with Summer and Krystal first?”

My mouth is just hanging open. I have no words.

“Is everything okay?” he asks. His face goes white and his eyes widen. “You were still planning to go, right? We made these plans ages ago.”

I shake my head, finally finding my voice. “Preston, I don’t know what to say.” My heart is urging me to tell him I can’t go, that I’ve met someone else, but I can’t seem to form the words in my mouth. I’m trapped. “I didn’t realize you were still planning on taking me. I figured—”

“Shit,” he says, running a hand through his dark brown hair, which is a little longer on top than normal. It looks really good on him, and I hate myself for even thinking it. “I’m sorry Bailey, I should have called or something, but I just assumed we were still on for this. I’m really counting on you coming with me.”

I breathe in and out through my nose, unable to think clearly.

“Sure,” I say. “Of course I’m still going. What time again?”

He smiles, but I want to cry. I never could say no to anything he asked of me. It’s a sickness, really. I have no idea how I’m going to tell Judd. If he even talks to me again.

“Everyone’s coming to my place around five,” he says. “Then the limo is supposed to be there around five-thirty to take us to dinner at Ray’s. The dance starts at seven.”

I nod and press my lips together.

“So you’ll come by my place?”

“Whatever works best for you,” I say, smiling. I think of how Judd’s apartment looks out over the parking lot. How am I going to explain this to him? This is turning into a huge mess, but I can’t bring myself to say no to Preston. It’s a long-learned habit, impossible to break no matter how much he hurt me.

“Okay, then, I’ll see you around five at my apartment,” he says. He takes my hand in his and his thumb caresses mine. “I’m looking forward to spending some time with you.”

I stand there staring after him for several minutes before I finally pull myself together enough to clean the rest of the tables and close out my shift. I don’t even know what to make of that. Is he really looking forward to spending time with me? Or is that just something you say to your ex-girlfriend when you need her to do something for you?

And how am I going to break this to Judd? Will he care? Or is he mad at me already?

I glance at the clock and realize my shift should have ended fifteen minutes ago. He never came in like he said he would, anyway. There are no messages on my phone, either.

I clock out and pull my coat tight against my body. I walk the whole way home in the cold evening air, unsure of what I want anymore.

Chapter Twenty-Five

I try Judd’s cell phone a few more times, but he never picks up and he never calls back.

Maybe it’s for the best. We had one amazing week together. One unbelievable night together. And now it’s over. He gave me just enough to make me realize there’s hope for my future, but we don’t have to go through the painful parts of a relationship that come later.

But even as I’m saying this to myself, I know it’s complete bullshit.

If I can never be with him again, it’s going to hurt.

Bad.

I’m falling for him. Yes, I got scared this morning, but isn’t he the one who said we should talk through these kinds of things? Well, if he wants to talk, he’ll call.

And if not, then I’ll move on. I’ll find a way to get up every day and keep breathing.

Over the next few days, I have to give myself constant pep talks to keep from completely falling apart. I stopped calling and texting him, sick of feeling desperate. The whole thing reminds me of how things went with Preston after the summer. It was always me chasing and him running away.

I can’t go through that again.

I throw myself into my studies, head to my final classes and do the best I can on the exams. My statistics test was the worst, and it’ll be a miracle if I passed, but everything else seemed to go alright.

In order to keep myself from falling back into my old pattern of sleeping all day and crying every waking moment, I spend a lot of time in the art studio, working on a new series of paintings in a Christmas theme.

I’m scrubbing red paint off my fingers with scalding hot water when Monica pokes her head into my bathroom doorway on Wednesday afternoon.

“Heya,” she says. “Any news?”

I shake my head. “Nothing,” I say.

She frowns. “I really thought this guy was different,” she says. “I don’t get it.”

“You and me both,” I say, holding back tears. “I guess I freaked him out by the way I acted the other morning and he just doesn’t want to see me again.”

She grips the edge of the doorframe. “I don’t know. I still think it’s weird,” she says. “Especially after he rushed right over here the second you didn’t answer your phone that one day. Hey, maybe he’s just waiting for you to come by his place?”

I lift my head, wondering if that’s what I should do. Should I fight for this? Should I make him listen to my apology and see what he has to say for himself?

My stomach feels sick just thinking about it. “I’ve got to go to work for a few hours this afternoon,” I say. “Maybe I’ll try stopping by his apartment after that. If he doesn’t talk to me, then at least I’ll know it’s over for good.”

Monica sighs. “I really thought he was special.”

“Me too,” I say again. I wipe my clean hands on a towel, then get dressed for work and head out into the cold afternoon.

Chapter Twenty-Six