Use Somebody (55 page)

“You don’t understand. Whether or not you know the reason, it doesn’t change my decision. I can’t be your girlfriend. I don’t trust myself.”

“I trust you.”

At that I sat up straight and put some distance between us. “Well, you shouldn’t. I’ve already led you on, used you, and hurt you. Haven’t you had enough of my shit?”

“Not nearly enough,” The goober chuckled. “As long as it takes. Remember?”

His persistence was both maddening and wonderful.

“Besides,” he grew serious and took hold of my hand, “that’s not a reason to distrust you, it’s evidence of your commitment fears. And you’re right, you were honest about that from the beginning.”

I sighed and looked into his eyes, wondering if he’d be sitting here calmly if he learned the truth.

“You made some mistakes in the past,” he deduced. I nodded warily. “Do you trust me? Am I another mistake?”

I bit my lip. I did trust him. And that terrified me. But did I regret how far we’d come together, even if it caused nothing but heartache and complications? If I had the choice to go back and do it all over again, where would I draw the line? Would I have never kissed him? Never confided in him? Never thrown that first marshmallow or eaten that first pancake? How far back would I have to go? And which of those memories would I be willing to give up?

I went for vague again. “It’s complicated, Vance. It’s hard to explain.”

He waited patiently. “Can you try?”

Did I want him to know? Could I confess to him my greatest sin? Could I let someone else help to carry this burden? Could I open my heart and trust him to know about my fears and my failures? Could I risk losing the one person who had ever been a real friend to me, to judgment?

“I…”

Knowing what I was capable of… could I trust myself not to hurt him too?

“I-I’m not ready.”

He dropped his head and exhaled slowly through his nose. He was clearly disappointed, but he wasn’t going to push me any further tonight. He opened his arms and embraced me. I let him. We sat there in the truck, silently holding one another.

What was it about his hugs that gave so much comfort, yet brought so much ache? It was painful to know that after everything Vance had done for me, I wasn’t strong enough to give him this one thing.

I didn’t speak or move for fear of what would come next. Vance was leaving tomorrow, so one way or another, we were on the verge of goodbye.

“I told you I’d be patient, but that kind of went out the window tonight, didn’t it?” he chuckled sadly. “I don’t want to push you, but I can’t do the gray area anymore. And I don’t know if I can just be your friend.”

I nodded. I’d come to the same conclusion. It was unfair and unrealistic to continue the friends-with-benefits arrangement we’d created. And we couldn’t go back to being just friends after everything that had transpired between us. That left two options: all or nothing. An ultimatum with two extremes, both of which frightened me.

“So where does that leave us?” I asked, my heart hammering against my ribcage. Certainly we both recognized the answer, but nobody was willing to say it out loud.

He was quiet for a moment, then released a heavy sigh, gazing straight out the windshield. “We don’t need to decide right now. Two weeks apart. When I get back, we’ll talk.”

“Scarlett, is that you?” my mama called out the very second I walked in the house.

“Yes mama,” I replied, suppressing a sniffle and shutting the front door.

“Could you join me in the dining room, please? I’d like to speak with you.”

Worst. Timing. Ever.
Was I in trouble? Had I caused any trouble lately? I couldn’t remember.

I’d just walked in from an emotional goodbye with Vance in our driveway. The solitude of my bedroom called to me, along with my journal and a little emo music. I did not feel like a swan at the moment. I felt like a duck with its head pointed down in the water, haphazardly flailing its feet in the air.

In other words, definitely not in the mood for a conversation with my mother.

“One minute,” I replied, using the entryway mirror to clean up the mascara and straighten my scarf to conceal the hickey. I did the best I could with my hair. Steeling myself, I took a deep breath and joined my mama in the dining room.

She smiled at me when I entered. A good sign. “What a lovely scarf, dear. It’s so nice to see some color on you again.”

I fiddled with the tassels on the ends. “Thanks mama.”

“You’ve seemed to be in better spirits lately. I have to say it makes your father and I very pleased.”

Too bad I couldn’t channel some of those better spirits right now. In truth I’d been a little anxious as of late, but I supposed there was still an overall improvement. I smiled politely and nodded.

“Come sit,” she gestured, “I have some good news to share with you.”

I got the distinct impression she was buttering me up for something. Curious, I took a seat across from her and waited.

Finally, she could not control her enthusiasm any longer. “Congratulations!” she beamed, sliding over a thick envelope. “You’ve officially been accepted to Rockwall University of Dallas!”

Hesitant, I picked up the paper packet, skimmed the acceptance letter and flipped through brochures, glancing up at her between each one. Her grin continued to grow.

“Am I missing something?” I asked softly. “I never applied to Rockwall University.”

She sat up straight and smoothed the invisible lines from her skirt. “I know, dear. You weren’t in the right frame of mind to think about it this last year. That’s why I took the initiative to do it for you. You have to think ahead, Scarlett. The application process takes almost a full year and if we waited until now to apply, it’d be another full year until you’d be able to start.”

“You… applied to college for me?”

“The plan was always for you to return to school, was it not? Your father was very patient to give you this year off, but if you want to do anything worthwhile with your life, you need to finish that degree. That’s why if you take this acceptance and begin next semester, he has agreed to pay for your next two years.”

“He’s paying?” I all but shrieked. I couldn’t believe my ears. Sure, I currently lived at home and mooched off their refrigerator from time to time, but college was a huge expense. Never in my life had I expected them to pay for half of it. I hadn’t been financially dependent on my parents for years.

“Bring it down a notch, dear. And mind your posture. Think of it like tuition reimbursement. Many companies offer assistance with the cost of continuing education. Considering all the years you worked for your father, he’s adding this on as a delayed benefit, even though you decided not to work with him when you moved home. You’re very lucky he’s giving you this opportunity. Maybe you’ll remember that when you graduate.”

“But… where will I live? What about—”

“It’s all taken care of. Your dorm, your transcripts, your class registration, your plane ticket. Between your AP classes in high school and handful of courses at Ocean, you’ll be enrolling as a sophomore. Spring semester begins in mid January. You leave in three weeks.”

There was too much information to process, too many questions, I was speechless.

I could have it all. I could move to Texas. I could finish college.

I could leave behind the old Scarlett for good, along with all the memories and mistakes associated with her, and everything about this town that had become a hole I couldn’t climb out of.

I could start over.

“Why Texas? Why this school?” I’d always been under the impression that my parents never really understood me. Had she somehow known it was always my hope to return? Even during my senior year in high school, I kept that dream a secret when my friends convinced me to only apply to local colleges. Maybe if I’d told my mama back then, she would have encouraged me to make it happen, and I would have better off all along.

“Oh Scarlett… I think a change of scenery will help, don’t you?” She reached out and ran her hand lovingly through my mess of curls. It was strangely affectionate, coming from her. “I always believed you would’ve done well in Texas. A southern heart doesn’t always fit in the hustle and bustle of LA. It needs to be surrounded by clean, open air, and good people rather than nice things.” She smiled, and I smiled back, feeling like she really got me in that aspect. “Dallas is a great city for young adults. And this school has an excellent business program. It’s where I would have gone, if I had the opportunity back then.”

I looked up at her. “My major is journalism.”

“You can always change it later, of course,” she flicked her wrist dismissively. “But at least try these classes for your first semester. Your father and I thought you’d do well with a business degree, given your background. And don’t forget, he is paying for this.”

“So in other words, I better stick with the business program,” I muttered.

She put forth minimal effort to stifle a lofty smile. “I’m sure we can work something out. So long as you don’t earn a degree in something like art, or music.”

Oh I see. Hilarious.

Obviously, music had always been a hobby of mine. Though I never had any interest in perusing it further, like say for a career, my parents still liked to tease me about my little garage band stint.

My jaw set. “Not to worry, mama. The lady you raised is far too logical to have those kinds of dreams.”

She released a wounded sigh but stayed otherwise silent. My father may have been quick to put his foot down, but my mother had mastered the art of manipulation through passive aggression and guilt trips.

She was right, though. Considering everything they were offering me, I felt kinda bad for sassing her. It made sense; why should the business pay for classes not related to business? Maybe writing should remain a hobby, just like music. Given my years of work experience, numbers were what I knew, and what I was good at. And after graduation I’d have a guaranteed job. Perhaps this was where my most fruitful career would be, after all.

(Ever wonder where the manipulation and exploitation started for me? Well, now you know.)

Pensive, I flipped through the rest of the leaflets and photos without looking up.

“I don’t know what to say…”

“You know, James is being deployed right around the same time. Your father and I are going to be empty nesters. Won’t that be something?”

Maybe I could’ve been mad that they’d taken gross control over my life. I could’ve been hurt that my mother would rather send me to live 1,500 miles away than look me in the eye and ask me what happened. I could’ve been offended that she felt the need to bail me out, like she had done so many times with James.

But I wasn’t.

I’d made a mess of my life and I was nothing but grateful for the chance to start over. Opportunities like this rarely came around. Besides my pride, I couldn’t think of one good reason to turn it down. This was where I was meant to be. This was what I should have done two years ago.

And in one fell swoop, it solved all the problems I’d created for myself here in California.

Moving.

I tossed the idea around in my brain. Chewed on it a little.

This could be a good thing. This could be a very good thing.

* * *

Drenched in sweat, throat aching, and my hands covered in red, I awoke.

No. Not again.

Trembling, I rubbed my hands on the sheets again and again and again. Despite my blurring vision, despite telling myself over and over that it wasn’t real, all I could see was his blood.

“Don’t do it love,”
echoed in my ears. Why hadn’t I listened?

Desperation brought me to my knees, hyperventilating, shaking on my bed.

My fault. My fault.

My eyes squeezed shut. I needed to see him to know he was okay. But he was already gone. He’d be gone for two weeks.

I groaned and clutched the blankets in quivering little fists, knuckles turning white. A jumble of obscenities raced through my mind. How the hell was I supposed to survive the next two weeks without seeing him for myself?

Screw it. I grabbed my cell phone and dialed. It wasn’t like I had much of a choice. If I had to go without contact for the next fourteen days I’d lose my shit.

After three agonizing rings, he answered brightly. “Good morning!”

At the sound of his voice, I collapsed in relief, falling back to the bed as silent tears leaked from the corners of my eyes.

He was okay.

“Rosie? You there?”

My mouth opened and shut, afraid that if I tried to speak, my emotions would escape. I shouldn’t have called him—what was I thinking? I couldn’t let him hear me like this.

“Hey,” I whispered into the mouthpiece, throat tight.

“There you are.” I could hear his smile through the phone. “I thought maybe you butt dialed me.”

I slapped my forehead, wishing I’d thought of that.

“You still there?” he said after a few seconds had passed.

I concentrated to make my voice sound normal. “Sorry for calling already, I just wanted to, uh…”

“Yeeees?” he said, drawn out and expectant.

“I just—” my voice broke.

Shit.

“Everything okay?” Instantly he sounded concerned.

I tried to breathe. This was fine. All I had to do was clear my throat, play it off and hold it together long enough to explain. But explain what? My mouth opened again, but no sound came out. The anxiety was rising again, climbing higher with every second.

“Talk to me, Rosie,” he pleaded in my silence. “You’re killing me here.”

Like an idiot, I let out a sob.

Vaguely, I heard him calling out my name. I just clutched the cell to my ear with both hands, apologizing over and over between shaky breaths. All I could picture was my bound and bloody hands as I huddled over his lifeless body.
My fault.
I squeezed my eyes shut to fight the tears, but somehow they kept slipping out.

“Breathe, Rosie,” he said calmly, the sound of his voice soothing my cries. “Deep breath. In… and out… I’m right here.”

Little did he know, that was exactly what I needed.

I inhaled deeply, then let it all out. Again. And again. In tandem with his words. His reassurances helped me regain my grasp on reality. As the fear from my dream began to seep away, shame took its place. Why had I called him in such a state?

“I’m okay,” I breathed.

“You sure? That almost sounded like a panic attack,” he said gently. “I wish you wouldn’t cry when I’m not there to hold you.”

“It’s stupid, really. Just a bad dream.”

“A bad dream?” His voice was sympathetic, without an ounce of the sarcasm or laughter that I totally deserved.

“Uh-huh,” I sniffled, feeling like a child, but grateful he was humoring me.

“Want to talk about it?”

My eyes squeezed shut, unable to admit that I dreamt of his brutal death. A flash of his eyes, dull and lifeless, found me in the darkness. Gasping, I opened my eyes to focus on the bedroom before me, letting reality chase away the lingering visions. Tears threatened to spill over again.

I let my features crumple, but only because he couldn’t see me. “I lost you,” I admitted, my voice cracking again.

“You’re not going to lose me. Are you still worried about our fight? That doesn’t change the way I feel, Rosie. As long as it takes. I love you, to the stars and back. Never forget that.”

I could breathe more evenly now, using his comfort to fill the cracks in my armor. The more strength I gained, the more I realized how ridiculous I was being. “Sorry for interrupting your trip.”

“Aw, they were getting tired of looking at my mug anyway. I just stepped outside.”

“Outside? Isn’t it freezing up there?”

“Nah. It’s not too bad. There’s only, like, two feet of snow.”

“Vance!”

He chuckled. “No worries, Rosie. I’ve got my boots on. It’s really beautiful here, actually. I wish you could see it.”

“Me too,” I said faintly, picturing the white Christmas he would experience in the mountains. Only an hour away yet he was in a completely different world. “Sorry for calling you like that… go enjoy your vacation. I promise not to bug you while you’re up there with your family.”