My gratefulness is sincere but I could barely maintain eye contact when I talked to him. It just hurts to look at him and not be able to touch him. Well, except for when I was hanging over his shoulder and ogling his fine ass.
“How could Inothelp you, Andi?” I hear the pain in his voice and the insinuation that I thought he wouldn’t help me.
I give him my ultimateDUHlook but I don’t feel the need to elaborate. He knows exactly why I would think that. My only consolation in this whole fiasco tonight is that hopefully he thinks my tear-stained cheeks are from my altercation with Brad.
“I should go.” I turn and walk away when I hear him call my name.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LUKE
“Andi,” I don’t even know what to say. I just don’t want her to leave. She stops in her tracks but doesn’t look at me. Yeah, I heard the words of the song she sang to me tonight. She didn’t sit in my lap this time but I know it was directed at me. I deserve every bit of her anger – I let her down when she needed me the most. She was right about one thing that night – she wouldn’t betray me.
“What do you want, Luke?” She’s trying to hold back tears. I know they’re tears because of me, even though the song she obviously sang for me says she’s moving on. I see her shoulders shake slightly and I know she’s really trying to not break down right here.
“Are you hurt? Do you need someone to drive you home?”
After a couple of seconds, she answers with a watery voice, “I’m fine.”
She walks off, quickening her pace so my words can’t stop her again. I stand frozen like a damn statue watching her drive away from me. I turn to see if Shane has killed the loser, Brad, and see Brandon glaring at me.
“What?” I ask defensively.
“Are you fucking kidding me? You just asked her if she needs someone to drive her home --after some guy just fucking assaulted her in the parking lot! How many fucking times have you been hit in the head?” Brandon is stalking off towards his car, shaking his head at me in disgust. I jump in my truck and speed off after Andi. Brandon’s right – of course she’s not ok.
Shane just told me a little about this douchebag Brad. When I saw him lift her up off the floor, I wanted to wipe the floor with him. After Shane told me why he hates douche-Brad so much, I wished I had done it. Andi went on a couple of dates with him but wouldn’t sleep with him. Shane said Andi knew almost right away that he was trouble. When she turned douche-Brad down, he tried to drag her off, just like he did tonight. No doubt to rape her but something else must be off in the guy’s head. He thinks if he just has time alone with her then she’ll change her mind.
I would’ve loved to been the one to give him a beat down. But when I saw him dragging her off and she was fighting with everything she had, I automatically went to her. I want to protect her and love her. It just felt natural to get her first when I knew Shane wouldn’t let douche-Brad get away.
I reach her house and see her bedroom light is on so I know she made it home. I scrape my hands over my face, force myself out of the truck and walk up to ring her doorbell. I don’t really expect her to open the door. I know she’ll look out the window, see my truck and tell me to fuck off. But I wait anyway. She doesn’t answer after a couple of doorbell rings and I sit down on the porch floor with my back to the door. I lean my head back and turn to look at the door knob.
“Andi, baby,” I say to the door, “I’m so sorry. I’m such a jerk and I fucked this up so bad. I should’ve listened to you. I should’ve heard you out. I never should’ve left you there. I should’ve drove you home tonight. So many fucking times I should’ve told you so many things. I want to be the one who always protects you. I love you – with all of my heart and soul, I love you. I miss you, Andi…I miss you so fucking much I can’t breathe.”
I sit here on the floor of her porch for I don’t know how long, hoping she heard me. Hoping she’ll open the door and let me in. But the door doesn’t open and there’s no sound behind it, so I begrudgingly leave. I’m going back to my apartment alone again and it’s on the drive there that it hits me hard that I’ve lost her for good. This isn’t me being pissed or being stupid again. This is me realizing the rest of my life will be spent without her.
After enduring two nights of no sleep, I stumble into the living room and turn on the TV for the Monday morning news. I flip through the stations until a familiar face catches my eye. The local news channel is showing a picture of Andi. It’s an older picture but it’s still her. I can’t move as my brain strains to comprehend what the reporter is saying.
“Andrea Morgan, daughter of the legendary Maxwell Morgan, will officially assume control her family’s various properties and, of course, their mass media conglomerate with assets estimated to be in the billions, tonight for her 25thbirthday. An elaborate, A-list, invitation-only gala has been planned for at the Hyatt Regency Atlanta Ballroom. If you were lucky enough to be on the invite list, you will definitely be in for a treat tomorrow night. If you’re like the majority of us who werenoton that list, you can count on us to bring it to you live.”
That’s my Andi the reporter is talking about. This is one thing my dad was right about. Andi’s birthday is a big deal and she never mentioned the first thing to me about it. But Brandon’s words keep coming back to haunt me –you know her. I didn’t trust in her when that’s really the only thing she ever asked of me. I let her down when she desperately needed me. I won’t make that mistake again. So no matter what the circumstanceslooklike, I will trust her.
The ringing of my cell phone jars me out of my haze. It’s my dad. Groaning to myself, I answer. He doesn’t even say hello.
“Did you see the news just now?” He barks out at me.
“Yes, I saw it.”
“Now do you see what I was talking about?”
“I see that she’s inheriting her family’s business on her 25thbirthday. Isn’t that pretty standard for something of this magnitude?”
“I guess so,” he mumbles, losing some of his bravado.
“But what I don’t see is where she’s done anything against me, Dad.” I know my tone is accusing and disrespectful, but I can’t figure out why my dad flipped out over this. “Something else you know that I don’t?”
“Son, it’s complicated,” his confidence is all but gone now.
I sit up on the edge of the couch, ready to pounce on what he means exactly. “What. Is. Complicated,” I ground out. I have a very bad feeling about this.
