Everything: A Singed Wings Novel (29 page)

“And did you use to look at me like I was ‘your ticket?’ Is that what you thought of me when Jobu’s Rum started taking off? Is that why you put up with me and all my bullshit? Was I taking advantage of you when you were eighteen?”

His questions needed no answers, but she shook her head anyway, and murmured, “No.”

Realization of what I’d done sliced through me so sharply, so quickly, that I doubled over in pain and sucked in a deep breath. I’d fucked up. Big time. I’d let my pride and my ego cloud my thoughts, and consequently, accused the girl I loved of lying and being manipulative. Even though my instincts had told me she wasn’t. That she really loved me too.

“So what do I do now?” I asked him, suddenly feeling much more like a child than the adult I’d tricked myself into thinking I was.

Clearing his throat, Dad rolled his shoulders back and regarded me. “You apologize. You tell her you were wrong and ask her to forgive you for being an immature dumbass,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Then, if you’re lucky and she does, you tell her that you care about her enough to not want her to get in serious trouble, so you have to put things on hold between you two until after school lets out and it’s no longer an issue. However, like I reminded you before the San Antonio trip, we leave for LA literally the night you guys graduate. They want us there earlier, but I told them not until we watch y’all walk across that stage. So, I’m not sure what kind of relationship you guys can maintain while you’re on the road and she’s in Houston. It’s not an easy life, son. Your mom can attest to that, but I think the important thing right now is clearing things up with whatever happened between y’all this morning. Then, let the rest work itself out.”

My head bobbed up and down as hope once again filled me. “Okay, I can do that,” I breathed as I picked my phone up off the table and opened up the text messages. “I’m not sure if she’s on a plane or at the airport or what. She left a couple of hours ago and said she was going home.”

“Go ahead and try to call her or find her. Maybe you’ll get lucky and she won’t have left yet,” he urged, tipping his chin toward the lobby of the hotel, “but don’t you dare get on a flight back to the States. You
will
be at that racetrack tomorrow morning to sing the national anthem.”

He hadn’t even finished his sentence when I was pushing back from the table and standing up, eager to go find my girl and tell her how sorry I was. Praying she’d forgive me for acting like a fucking tool.

“And Everett,” he added, before I walked away, “the next time I find out you lied to me or your mom about something as serious as this, just like the warning about the way you spoke to me earlier, I’m not gonna be such a nice dad. I will not put up with this kind of shit. You want to be treated like an adult on this tour, you best learn how to act like one. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir, I do,” I replied, looking him in the eye to prove my conviction. “Thank you.”

“Good, now go fix it.”

As I turned to move away from the table, I heard him say to Ashlynn, “Now, young lady, you want to tell me what you were doing in that hallway and with who?”

I didn’t stick around to hear her answer; I just knew I owed her a huge thank you for whatever
— or whoever — she was doing there. Without her having seen what happened, I might’ve never believed Belle’s version was the truth. And ruined things forever between me and Belle.

TO ADD BAD
luck to my already shitty-ass day, I arrived at the airport literally a half hour after the direct flight to Houston took off
— the flight Belle was on. Her phone had been turned off since I’d started trying to call and text, which was the moment I walked out of that restaurant with my family. Well, that, or she’d already blocked my number. Either way, she was gone, and for at least the next eleven hours, she’d be in the air without cellular service anyway.

Defeated, I caught a taxi back to the hotel, wanting to kick my own ass the entire way. Never had I hated myself more. I’d finally found someone I connected with, someone I couldn’t get enough of, someone who all I had to do was look at to make me smile… and as soon as I found out she definitely felt the same, not a day after she told me she loved me, I fucked it all up. Destroyed my everything.

After hanging out in my room the rest of the afternoon, hosting a first-rate pity party where I laid in Belle’s spot on the bed, creepily sniffing the sheets, my parents insisted I go to dinner with them and Ashlynn, despite the fact I had no appetite. But I went and picked at things on my plate, even cracked a smile a time or two as Dad recounted his and Mom’s afternoon sightseeing tour on horseback. Apparently, Mom’s horse had an agenda of his own and had taken off, galloping down some street with her on him, and the guide had to go save her. I knew they were trying their hardest to cheer me up, so I did the best I could to not be totally ungrateful.

We arrived back at the hotel a little after 10:30, and after one glass of wine with them in the piano lounge, I excused myself to my room, knowing Belle’s flight was set to land in a little while. There was a good chance she wasn’t going to answer when I called, or respond to my texts, but I had to try. I couldn’t let her go without a fight, and definitely not without an apology.

I struggled to stay awake as I tracked her flight all the way to touchdown at Bush Intercontinental Airport, the mental and emotional fatigue weighing heavy on me, but as soon as I saw her plane was at the gate, I picked up my phone and dialed her number. Her voicemail picked up on the first ring, so I messaged her, begging her to answer so I could talk to her. No reply. So I tried again. And again and again and again. For the next hour or so, I called and texted every few minutes, hoping she’d finally cave, but finally, I passed out, teeming with disappointment and frustration.

When I woke up the next morning, my phone was still in my hand, but adding salt to the wound, there were no missed calls or texts from Belle. The dark circles under my eyes mocking me, I begrudgingly showered and got dressed to go to the racetrack then packed my stuff up in my suitcase, ready to get the day over with so I could get back to Houston. She couldn’t ignore me when I showed up at her front door.

The singing of the national anthem went off without a hitch and I did my best to enjoy the race, mostly for my dad’s sake. I knew what a dream it was for him to be able to meet some of the drivers and tour the garages, even though my heart wasn’t entirely in it. At one point, I’d gone off in search of a bathroom and stumbled upon Ashlynn in a heated lip-lock with none other than Milan Barcelo, one of the top drivers in the sport who was also known for his wild ways, but I didn’t have it in me to give her shit about it. All I cared about was getting back to Belle, and finally, that night, thirty-six long hours after she’d stormed out of the hotel room, I boarded a flight to take me to do just that.

I slept almost the entire flight, trying to pass the time as quickly as possible, and when the wheels of the plane touched down on American soil Monday morning, I nearly cheered out loud, crick in my neck and all. The hour we stood in line to clear customs was brutal, and waiting for our luggage was even worse. I was antsy, borderline irritable; I just needed to get home to my truck.

As soon as I dropped my suitcase off on my bed to deal with later, I snatched the keys off my nightstand and headed out the front door. It was almost noon, I was starving, and I needed a shower in a bad way from the night of traveling, but I didn’t give a shit about anything until after I saw and talked to her. Since she wasn’t supposed to be coming back in town until today with me — she had previously asked for the day off — I expected to find her at her apartment. But as I hauled ass to her place from my house, a drive that happened to take me right by the school, I noticed her red bug in the parking lot in the vicinity she usually parked.

Puzzled, I continued driving to her place, thinking maybe it wasn’t really her car, but when I discovered her driveway empty, I realized she must’ve gone in to work anyway, since she came home early. “Fuuuuuck!” I roared inside the cab of my truck, as I slammed my palms against the dashboard.

I couldn’t very well march into the school, especially on a day I was officially absent, and beg for her forgiveness in front of everyone. Glancing at the time on my phone, I saw that I still had three hours before she would be out, so my only option was to go back home and wait for her to get off. More fucking waiting…

Trying to keep myself preoccupied as I watched the clock creep around to 3 p.m., I ate some lunch, took a much-needed shower, changed into some clean clothes, and then sat down with my guitar and notebook and lost myself in the only other thing that could keep me from losing my mind
— my music.

Finally, it was time. Time to face her. Time to tell her how sorry I was. Time to grovel if I had to. Time to man-up.

Back in my truck with my sweaty palms gripping the steering wheel, I followed the same route as I had a few hours before, glancing over at the school as I passed by where her car had been parked earlier. And my heart lurched in my chest.

The car was still there. And she was standing next to it… with Mr. Carroll. Hugging him as he kissed the top of her head.

Shaking with fury, I made a sharp right at the next street then slammed on the brake and threw the transmission into park. I couldn’t believe how wrong I was. I was a fucking idiot. My instincts had allowed me to fall in love with her, not telling me that I couldn’t trust her. My instincts were shit. Like a chump, here I was worrying myself sick about apologizing to Belle, choosing to listen to Ashlynn and my parents and their lines of bullshit, when she was here obviously having no problems moving on as she snuggled up with Mr. Carroll in the fucking school parking lot.

Fuck her.

And fuck him.

As a matter of fact, everyone could just go fuck themselves.

I was done.

MONDAY NIGHT, I
finally braved turning my phone back on, and immediately erased all of the missed text and voice messages, as well as the call history, not wanting to deal with any of it. I called my parents and gave them an abridged version of what had happened, leaving out the part about the person I was actually in Buenos Aires with was one of my students. They worried about me enough after everything that had happened with Jonah the first time; they didn’t need anything else to add to that. Plus, now that Everett and I were finished, it really didn’t matter anymore. Lindsey, however, wasn’t buying my bullshit short story about how it was all just a big misunderstanding and that I was fine.

“I know there’s more you’re not telling me, Belle,” she huffed into the phone, “but I also know you’re only going to do it when you’re ready. So damn stubborn sometimes, I swear.”

I rolled my eyes as if she could see me. “Linds, please just drop it. I’ve got killer jetlag, and I really just want to go to bed. I promise you I’m more than fine and we’ll get together for a glass of wine soon,” I placated her.

“Mmhm. There’s that word again… you’re so
fine
,” she mocked. “Don’t forget I’m a woman too and know exactly what that means, but I’m gonna give you your time and space. You know where I am when you need me.”

God, I really loved her. A good enough friend to call me on my shit, but even better was that she was letting me handle it my way. I just wasn’t ready to relive it again so soon. The wounds were still too fresh.

“Thanks, babe. I’ll call you soon, okay?” I said, as I finished picking at the turkey sandwich I’d made for dinner. My stomach still wasn’t too accepting of food, so I thought it’d be best to play it safe with something bland.