I’m just finishing up the laundry when I glance over at my mom to see her watching me. There’s something unreadable in her expression, causing me to drop everything and go over to her.
“Mom, is everything okay?” I place my hand on her forehead, feeling the coolness of her skin, and my worry dissipates slightly, but I need verification. “Are you feeling okay, Mom?” I ask.
Her face softens. “Daniella, please sit down for a minute, sweetheart.” Her frail hand reaches for mine, and I take it, lowering myself on the couch beside her. She looks at me with those tired eyes, worn from years of carrying pain that she never let me see. I squeeze her hand, silently reaffirming a promise—to make a difference in her life by being here for her and allowing her to rest. Tomorrow is her first appointment with the cancer center, and I cling to the hope that this marks the start of something better.
I haven’t had much time to think about Vic, or maybe I'm just intentionally avoiding it. And I am hopeful that things can be better. But deep down, I know that something is wrong. He won’t return my calls, and my text messages go unanswered.How does someone go from being your everything to nothing overnight? I have the day off tomorrow, and I will try again. Brandon’s words keep playing on a constant loop in my head, because I need to tell him the truth. I just hope it’s not too late.
THIRTEEN
VIC
Seeing her with him confirmed every suspicion I had. Every fear. My worst nightmare came true. Dani is—was—my everything, except now she is with someone else. Watching her in his arms was the worst thing I’ve had to experience, and that says a lot, considering the hell I already lived through.
I know I should talk to her. I should let her explain. I should have a conversation with her. But my anger is too much. I’m afraid that I will say something that I cannot take back. If I take her call, then the hope that I have can’t linger on. The call will be final, and I am not ready to admit that.
So I won’t. Not until I am strong enough to listen to everything she has to say, even if it isn’t something that will tear me apart. I left that night, and ever since, I’ve been a wreck. My grades are slipping. I’m losing focus. But I can’t afford to fall apart and blow this chance I’ve been given to make something of myself. So I shut it all off. The pain. The memories. The love I have for her. Any side of me that feels, I disengage. Existing on autopilot, I try my best to carry on.
Just waking up, going to school, studying, and then repeating it all over again.
I plop onto the bed, just when my dorm mate Simon strolls in, looking like he’s seen better days. He mirrors my position, collapsing onto his bed with a groan. “Damn, that exam was brutal,” he moans, rubbing a hand down his face like he’s trying to erase the trauma of taking that test.
“Yeah,” I grunt. “It kicked my ass.”
He snorts. “Sure, it did. That’s why you finished first, and walked out while everyone was left in the room sweating bullets.”
I glance over at him, smirking. “Really?”
“Bro,” he says, sitting up and pointing his finger at me, “you ace every test. Don’t act like you don’t know that. The least you could do is sit there a little longer so the rest of us mere mortals don’t feel so fucking inferior.” He pounds his chest dramatically with his fist.
My smile stretches a little wider, almost sinisterly. “Nah,” I say, leaning back on my elbows. “I think I’ll just do what I do best.”
He rolls his eyes, grinning. “Being a pain in my ass?”
“Exactly.” I don’t hesitate to reply.
Simon plops one hand up against his head. “You know what you need?”
“Is this where I am supposed to ask what that is?” I groan, throwing a pillow over my face.
A moment later, I hear Simon’s footsteps approach. He rips the pillow away and tosses it against the wall. “You need to come out with us. There’s a party tonight.” That’s the last thing I want to do, but instead of saying that, I just lie there silent, deciding if maybe I should go. Perhaps a part of me wants the distraction. Maybe I’m just tired of staring at the ceiling, feeling sorry for myself.
Simon must sense the crack in my resistance, because he jumps on it. “You know," he says, trying to play it cool, “Chloehas a thing for you.” He hesitates briefly. “I hear she wants you bad.”
Chloe is the last thing I want. One night outside the library, I saw her climb out of her boyfriend’s car. Her face was pale, and his voice was a vicious snarl as he spat expletives, exiting his car and following her. When she tried to walk away, he lunged after her, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. The fight spilled into the night, drawing a few onlookers who were curious about the cause of the commotion.
I stepped in, and only then did he back off, cowering under the presence of someone bigger than him, and the piercing, judgmental stares of the surrounding students. He retreated to his car, venomous words thrown over his shoulder, before getting into his vehicle and peeling out. I walked Chloe back to her dorm, though I never wanted to. I also made sure her ex-boyfriend would never carry out his threats. From that moment, I’ve been on her radar.
Still, Chloe’s interest means nothing. My thoughts, my body, my blood coursing through me, will only belong to one person. She is the only one who truly owns me, even in her absence. The only one who can make me hard with just one glance and ignite every nerve in my body is Dani. But I don’t say that aloud.
“You’re not with your girl anymore, right?” Simon presses.
I shrug, because who the hell knows anymore? We never had the actual breakup conversation, but after what I saw and her behavior, what else can I assume? I should never have confided in Simon about what I saw when I left for Texas to surprise her.
Simon takes my silence as acceptance. “Okay then. Get ready. We’re going out.” I groan, but push myself to my feet, accepting my fate for the night. He grins, victory at my acquiescence. “Alright,” he smiles, rubbing his hands together like he’s been waiting for this moment. Then he crouches under his bed and pulls out a bottle, extending it outward for me to take.
I glance at it. “Whiskey?” It’s harsh, like it could really kick my ass, and I welcome it. Taking it from his grip, I pull the top off and cock an eyebrow at Simon. Its pungent smoky scent hits me first, curling under my nose, and I pull away instinctively. His smile spreads wider.
“Take a drink and let’s get ready.” He grabs a towel from the closet and heads toward the door. I take a swig. The liquid burns a warm trail down to the pit of my stomach, where it settles. The heat replaces the cold feeling that I’ve had since the day I left her behind. I savor the taste, smacking my lips before eyeing the bottle with a little more interest than before. Is this why people drink? To fill the hollow ache? I replace the knob and set it carefully on the desk.
