This One’s For You Page 39

  A loud, barky cough rose in Amelia’s throat. It sounded like she was going to hack up a lung. I chewed on my bottom lip, torn with concern for her well-being, and angry at the audacity everyone seemed to have. She reached for the light blue Gatorade perched on the desk beside her, took a sip, and licked her lips.

  “You have to talk to him if you want to know,” she finally answered.

  I released a frustrated groan just as her phone started to vibrate. Which just set me off even more. I felt the veins in my neck bulging. I was sick of it. Sick of all of it. I wasn’t going to talk to him, and they needed to stop bringing it up. End of story.

  “It’s Owen,” Amelia said. “Again.”

  Perfect timing. It was like the guy knew when we were talking about him. It seemed like anytime a conversation was brought up about him, he’d text her. Was he camped outside our door, pressing his ear to it, eavesdropping on us and waiting until he was brought up? It was the only way to explain his impeccable timing.

  “He wants to kn—”

  I held up my hand, signaling for her to stop. “I don’t even want to hear it.”

  “What am I supposed to respond with?”

  I closed my eyes, trying to think of what she could say for him to get the point. We were done. Over. There was nothing left for us to talk about. It was time he moved on. I searched my brain for the right words to say. Then they came, slowly, steadily, but I discovered them nonetheless.

  “Tell him I made a mistake . . .” I whispered. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “And that I never should’ve broke my promise.”

  I listened as she clicked away on her phone. When I heard it clatter against the top of the desk, I opened my eyes again. A few seconds later, her phone vibrated. Amelia furrowed her eyebrows and snatched her phone off the desk.

  “What promise?” she read, her voice still hoarse, but I didn’t miss the irritation that was present.

  “The one I made to Reagan.”

  She started to type out the message before dropping the phone into her lap. “You know what, I’m not doing this. I’m not going to play the middleman for the both of you. I’m too sick for this shit.”

  She pushed back her covers and climbed out of her bed. She took slow steps toward the closet, her body weak from the cold that was wreaking havoc on her body.

  “Amelia,” I said getting up, feeling like a complete ass for upsetting her. She was right, she was too sick to play middleman. Not that she should anyways. “What are you doing? You should be in bed.”

  “I’m sick. The flumageddon is a serious bitch, but I’m not going to let it stop me.” She raised her voice. I cracked a smile. Though she was angry, she was still herself. Turning something as simple as the word “flu” into something more dramatic. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  She snatched clothes from the closet, turning to head back toward her bed. Her phone chirped again. She flicked her eyes toward me, knitting her eyebrows together. “You need to talk to him.”

  “I told you I’m done talking about this.”

  “You know what, fine,” she snapped. “You’re obviously going to be stubborn about the situation. So I’ll fill you in . . .” She paused, looking like she was second-guessing herself. She shook her head and continued. “You want to know why Owen freaked out that day when he saw you talking to that drug dealer? It’s because he had a girlfriend who died from a drug overdose just before spring break their freshman year. There you have it.”

  “What?” I spat out. What the hell was she talking about? Owen has never told me anything about a previous girlfriend. Let alone the fact that she had passed away. Is that what he meant when he said I wasn’t the only one who lost someone they loved? “What are you talking about?” I demanded.

  “That’s all you’re getting from me,” Amelia said coldly. “If you want to know more, you’ll have to talk to Owen.”

  “Amelia!” I shouted. She turned away from me. I wasn’t finished talking about it. She couldn’t just drop a bomb on me like that and then not tell me the rest of the story. She looked at me, fury lurking in her eyes.

  Time came to a stop. I stared in horror, as everything happened in slow motion. Out of nowhere, her knees gave out on her, and she crashed to the ground. I rushed over to her, kneeling beside her. I jerked my hand away as I made contact with her skin. It was scorching hot and burned me to the touch.

  “You’re on fire,” I said, helping her into a sitting position and leaning her back against her bed.

  “No shit, Sherlock,” she said. She started to cough again.

  As she started to gag, she motioned for me to grab the wastebasket from under the desk. I turned away, trying to block out the sound of her emptying out whatever contents were left in her stomach. She groaned, pushing the basket away from her, and tried to lift herself off the floor. I took the brunt of her weight.

  “I’m taking you in,” I told her, as I sat her down on her bed.

  I grabbed her drink from the desk and handed it to her. She swallowed two big gulps before handing it back to me. She shook her head and started to lie down.

  “I just need to sleep it off,” she mumbled.

  “Nuh-uh.” I said, grabbing her slippers from under her bed. I slipped them onto her feet. “I’m taking you to the hospital. You need to see the doctor.”

  “Unless you plan on driving, I don’t think you can carry me the entire way there. And I’m too weak to walk.”

  I groaned. What was I going to do? There was no way I could drive the beast. I’d have a panic attack and probably crash the car. And she was right, there was no way I could carry her the entire way there.

  I went to my bed, grabbed my phone, and pulled up Callen’s name. The phone rang several times before going to voice mail. Great . . . I grabbed her keys off the desk. There was only one other option left.

  “All right, beautiful,” I said, helping Amelia off the bed.

  I draped her arm over my shoulder, supporting as much of her weight as I could, and wrapped my arm around her waist. We took slow steps across the room toward the door. She leaned up against the wall as I locked the door behind me. I took her in my arm again. Inhaling a deep breath, I closed the few steps to the room across from mine.

  “Brenn?” Amelia’s voice was hazy.

  I ignored her, raising my other hand to knock on Owen’s door. I looked around nervously as I waited to see if he would answer. The door opened, but it wasn’t him, rather his sister.

  “Is Owen here?” I asked, shifting my weight and trying to keep my balance under Amelia.

  “No,” Aspen said, her voice was soft and sweet. “He’s off with Callen.”

  So that’s why Callen didn’t answer my call.

  “Shit,” I muttered under my breath. I looked down the hall, debating if I should just call the ambulance instead. I instantly dismissed the thought. Amelia would kill me once she was able to stand on both feet.

  “Is there something I can help you with?” she asked, glancing over at Amelia.

  I stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out what to do, when a lightbulb went off in my head. “Do you have a license?”

  She tilted her head to the side, staring at me like I was crazy. “Yeah . . .” she dragged out. “Why?”

  I pulled the keys from my pocket and dangled them in front of her face. “Could you drive the both of us to the hospital? Amelia’s really sick and needs to be seen by the doctor. I would do it but . . .” My words trailed off. I wasn’t sure how much Owen had told his sister.

  Aspen grabbed the keys out of my hand without hesitation. “You don’t have to ask me twice.” She smiled. I moved the two of us aside, allowing her room to step out into the hallway. She closed the door behind her and looked at me. “Let’s go.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  I RACKED MY MEMORY, searching for the words that I was looking for, but my mind went completely blank. Amelia was squeezing my hand so tight that I thought my fin
gers were going to break off. I glanced between her and the tall, slender woman standing next to the bed with a clipboard. Amelia’s face was void of expression, but her grip was all I needed to know how she felt.

  “Pregnant?” It was the only thing I could think of saying. The nurse nodded. I cast my eyes down toward Amelia, who was lying on the hospital bed looking like she was about to get sick. And not because of some flu bug. “How did this happen?”

  “Well, it usually happens when a man and a wo—”

  “I know how it happened.” I cut her off. My eyes were glued to my roommate’s. “What I’m asking is how it happened.” I directed my words to my friend. “Amelia? How are you pregnant? Who’s the father?”

  The curtains slid open. I jerked my head up, not expecting to find Owen’s wide eyes staring back at me. He swallowed the lump in his throat before shifting his focus onto Amelia.

  “You’re pregnant?” he asked, walking to the other side of the bed.

  “Excuse me,” the nurse said, “but you can’t just barge in here like that.”

  “No, no, it’s fine.” Amelia finally spoke for the first time. “He’s my friend.”

  I tore my eyes from the guy who broke my heart, to my best friend. Amelia stared into his eyes, sharing a quiet moment. Owen picked up her hand in his. I was entranced with how his thumb grazed over hers.

  “You have to tell him,” Owen said, as if they were the only two in the room.

  “I’ll give you guys some privacy,” the nurse said. She closed the curtain behind her

  “I-I can’t.” Amelia’s voice cracked.

  Owen sighed, releasing her hand, and rubbed the back of his neck. “You can’t keep this from him, you know that.” I stared at the two of them, confused as to what was playing out in front of me. Apparently, Owen knew exactly who the father was of Amelia’s child. “What are you going to do?”

  Amelia fell silent. She fiddled with her hands in her lap, picking at the thin blanket the nurses had given her. She was hooked up to an IV that fed her fluids to rehydrate her. Resting on top of the counter was a small white pill that was supposed to help with the nausea. Not only was she fighting a mean bout with the flu, but she was pregnant. Pregnant!

  “Can someone fill me in here?” I spoke up. Owen’s eyes met mine briefly. I broke away and glanced down at Amelia. “Who is Owen talking about?”

  Amelia hands were shaking. She looked absolutely terrified. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she looked like she was going to break at any given moment. I was not ready for the bomb she was about to drop on me.

  “Callen.” Her weak voice was as clear as day.

  My mouth fell open. So many questions started running through my head. When did they hook up? How many times did they sleep together? Not that it mattered. It only took one time to get pregnant. More importantly, why didn’t she tell me? Why did Owen know?

  I let go of her hand, my eyes falling to the floor. It hurt that she didn’t feel like she could confide in me. It yanked on my heart that she would keep something so big from me. It only lasted for a moment, that feeling of disappointment. Right now, it wasn’t about me, it was about Amelia.

  I leaned down, kissed the top of her head, and brushed her hair aside. She needed a friend. She needed me . . .

  “What are you going to do?” I asked softly. I sat down on the edge of the bed, rubbing her leg in effort to calm her racing heart. I watched the heart monitor, searching for any indication that it was working.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted.

  Owen cleared his throat, and the both of us looked at him. “Well, you better figure something out quick, because he’s on his way here now.”

  “Owen!” I exclaimed, jumping to my feet. “You had no right to tell him she was here.”

  “He was with me when my sister called,” Owen said, defending himself. “He had to do something with the team and said he’d be here as soon as they were done. He just sent me a text to let me know he was on his way now.” He held up his phone, waving it in the air.

  My cheeks warmed with embarrassment. I had forgotten that he was off with Callen when Aspen drove us to the hospital. Owen and I stared at each other for several long seconds. I finally turned away when the magnetic pull between us became too much to handle. I hated that it was still there.

  Amelia’s face was wet with silent tears. “Hey, it’s going to be okay,” I tried to reassure her.

  “I need a minute before he gets here,” she responded.

  I nodded, looking up at Owen, before rising to my feet. I slipped past the curtain, fully aware that he was following behind me. I walked down the hall and back out into the waiting room. Callen was standing at the nurses’ station, arguing with the large man who sat behind the desk. I skidded to a stop.

  “I’ve got this,” Owen said behind me. He brushed past me, my body jumping at the electric jolt that rushed through my veins.

  My chest tightened, and I struggled to catch my breath. It was the first time I had seen him since that night two weeks ago. All of the feelings—the good and bad—came rushing to the surface. I needed fresh air.

  I turned, heading toward the automatic doors. As soon as I stepped outside, I inhaled a deep breath. I pulled my jacket closer to me as a breeze kicked up. I looked to my left, spotting a bench next to the building, and walked over toward it. I sat down and closed my eyes.

  “I thought I’d find you out here.” Owen’s voice startled me, and I let out a small yelp.

  I slowly opened my eyes and turned toward the direction of his voice. He stood a few feet away from me, his hands tucked in his pockets, and he rocked on his heels. I gasped when I finally noticed it—he had cut his hair off. How did I miss this the first time?

  “Your hair looks nice,” I said, offering him a slight smile. “I like it.”

  It was a lie. I hated it. I hated how close it was to his scalp. I loved his Bieber-style hairdo, and I loved teasing him about it. Without it, he looked like an entirely different person.

  “Can I sit?” he asked. I nodded my head to empty spot next to me, and he sat down.

  A stone-cold silence fell over us as we watched the cars drive by on the busy street. My body hummed with how close he was. The wind picked up again, surrounding me with his scent. I couldn’t help but think that one of us needed to speak up. And I wasn’t so sure it was going to be him.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, deciding to make the first move.

  “Sorry for what? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  My stomach twisted into knots. “I know about what happened your freshman year.”

  He took a deep breath and sighed heavily. “How much do you know?” he asked.

  “Only that she died from a drug overdose.”

  I turned to him, studying his face to gauge his reaction. He gave nothing away. “Her name was Camryn,” he started.

  “Owen, you do—”

  “I met her at freshman orientation.” He talked over me. “I fell madly in love with her, almost instantly. She was beautiful, funny, sweet . . . everything I wanted and more.” He paused. “It was the week of finals. She had been cramming as much as she could before the exams. She had arranged with one of her teachers to take her final earlier so that way she could come down to San Diego, where I already was, waiting to introduce her to my family.”

  I heard his voice break and saw the tears fall from his face. I reached over, placing my hand over his. He jerked at the touch, but didn’t move away.

  “You see, the thing is, I had kept her up all night the night before, leaving her no time to study. Getting in as much time as I could before I left. She was tired . . . and decided to get a little pick-me-up.” I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “She bought some drugs. I didn’t even know she knew where to get them, and well, you know the rest.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” I said softly.

  “I know that now,” he admitted. “It only took losing you to realize that.�
� I inhaled a sharp breath. “I’ve spent all this time blaming myself, thinking that if only I had let her study like she had asked, then she wouldn’t have felt the need to do what she did.”

  I intertwined my fingers with his, squeezing his hand lightly. “So when I saw you that day, talking to the guy, and overhearing your conversation . . . I freaked out.”

  “It wasn’t like that. The guy creeped me out, and I was trying to keep him busy until you appeared. I didn’t want to leave and have him following me.”

  “I know that, too,” he said, looking into my eyes. “But it’s no excuse for what I did. You’ll never understand how sorry I am. I don’t blame you for hating me.”

  “I don’t hate you,” I retorted quickly. “It’s just . . . I can’t do this. I can’t do us.” The words stung as I spoke them.

  Though I now had a clear picture of what set off the events that day, it still didn’t make it okay. I would forgive him, but I doubted I’d ever forget. It was better that way. Or that’s what I kept telling myself.

  Owen pulled his hand free of mine and stood up. “Why?”

  “Owen,” I sighed heavily. “You know why?”

  He knelt down in front of me, taking my hands into his. “I’m sorry, Brennan. I know there’s nothing I can say or do to turn back time. It doesn’t make it right. But you have to give me another chance. You have to give us another chance. I’m begging you.”

  His voice was full of sadness. I pulled out of his hold, one hand reaching for my necklace. I looked away, unable to stare at him in the eyes. “I can’t,” I barely said, unsure if he heard me.

  “Tell me why . . .” he pleaded. The despair in his voice tugged at my heartstrings. I felt like I was going to break down at any moment. “I know I don’t deserve an explanation, but please, just tell me.”

  “Because . . .” I sighed, turning back to him. “I made a promise. A promise to my best friend, and I need to keep it.”

  “What about the promise you made to me?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. I was hoping he wouldn’t bring up that promise. The one where I said that I wouldn’t give up on us, even if he managed to screw it up. I agreed with him. Yet, here I was, breaking another promise for a second time.