Clean Break (A Little Like Destiny Book 3) Read online

  Her words remind me a lot of Mark’s reason for running away from me.

  “How?”

  “I’m not cut out for a relationship. I’ll sleep with someone else and pretend it was because we haven’t labeled anything yet or I’ll push him away or I’ll do something stupid.”

  “Maybe you just haven’t met the right person yet.” I say the words softly to lessen their blow.

  She lifts a shoulder and she won’t meet my gaze. “Maybe not.” She blows out a breath. She isn’t one to allow people to see her vulnerable side. She can talk about sex all day, but when it comes to emotions, she gets uncomfortable.

  It isn’t until the next morning that I bring up the whole reason I asked Tess over in the first place.

  We both fell asleep on my couch watching a marathon of romantic comedy movies, and I wake up with a stiff neck and a headache from too much vodka.

  As soon as I stand up, Tess jerks awake. “Fuck,” she mutters as she rolls her neck.

  “What?”

  “My neck hurts.”

  “Have Jason massage it out,” I mumble.

  She rolls her eyes. “Let a girl wake up before you start in on that shit again.”

  “You could’ve slept in the guest room.”

  “You could’ve slept in your own room,” she shoots back.

  “Fair enough. Speaking of which, I have a favor to ask. It’s actually why I invited you over last night.” I stand up and use both of my hands to attempt some self-shoulder massaging.

  She raises a brow then leans her head back against the couch. “What?”

  “Can I crash with you a while?”

  “Sure. Why?”

  “Jill’s moving in with Becker and our lease is up.”

  “Of course.” She sits up a little straighter. “My guest room is yours. My place is small, but we’ll make it work.”

  “Thanks.” I head toward the kitchen to get some coffee going.

  She stands and stretches. “I should get going.” She disappears down my hallway, presumably to use the bathroom. I’m glad to have a place to live, but I’m already wondering how this will change the dynamic between us.

  * * *

  I spend the weekend packing boxes. Jill let our rental company know we won’t be renewing our lease, and they offered us our full deposit back if we move out a month early. We jumped at the chance, so I only have a couple weeks to get packed and moved just as a new school year begins.

  It’s Sunday night, the night before teachers go back to school, when the doorbell rings. I’m in the middle of pulling everything out of our kitchen cabinets and the place is a disaster—as am I. The counters are filled with cups and bowls and plates as I put Jill’s things on one side of the kitchen and mine on the other. I’m not expecting anybody, and I’m surprised when I open the door to find my ex-boyfriend standing there.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, opening the door and motioning for Justin to come in.

  “Tradition,” Justin says. He hands me a binder. “It’s your turn.”

  I laugh, take the binder from him, and motion him in. He steps into my home—a place where he used to be welcome, where he used to stay all the time like it was a second home to him.

  We worked together at DLHS for two years before we started dating, and I remember the first meeting when we started to get to know one another. We were forced to group with teachers from other subject areas, bored stiff at a faculty training as we learned nothing new. He passed me a note, and I wrote back. Then we started coming up with actual methods for critical thinking we could both use in our classes, and a few weeks later, I put all our ideas in a binder and had a student drop it off in his classroom. Over the years, we both added new ideas to it—things any teacher could use in any classroom, regardless of the subject matter. We’d add silly notes or doodles, too, and we’d send someone over to deliver it. It became tradition to drop it off at the other’s house the night before we returned to school, filled with all sorts of ideas we came up with over the summer.

  And now it’s sitting on my counter and I sort of wonder what new content he’s added to it.

  “What’s with the boxes?” He nods toward the wall lined with them.

  “I’m moving,” I say.

  “Why?”

  “Jill’s moving in with her boyfriend and I’m moving in with Tess.”

  His brows draw down. “With Tess?”

  I chuckle. “I forgot how much you never liked her.”

  “I never said that,” he says defensively.

  I tilt my head to the side and narrow my eyes at him. “Actually, you did once. You had way too much beer that night, but I distinctly remember you telling me she was loud and obnoxious.”

  He has the grace to look a little embarrassed. “I said that?”

  I nod. “It’s a fair assessment, but I love her anyway.” I get back to work in the kitchen as I sort through a bunch of shot glasses we don’t even use anymore.

  “Do you need some help?” he asks.

  I lift a shoulder. “If you want to make me some new boxes, I wouldn’t say no.” I nod over to the tape gun and the flat cardboard. “You want a drink?”

  “I’ll take a beer if you have one.”

  I nod and pull out a beer for him and a bottle of water for me. He sets to work on the boxes. We’re both quiet for a while as we work. I finally clear my throat and blurt the only thing I can think of. “Tell me about your new girlfriend.”

  His eyes light up, and he doesn’t even need to say a word before I know he’s in love with her. She’s the lucky girl he’ll marry someday. “Her name’s Alex and she works at the science center. She’s a program specialist.”

  “She’s a science nerd like you?”

  He laughs. “Yeah.”

  “How’d you meet?”

  “She organized our entire science summer camp. We’d talk while the kids explored the science center, and I asked her to dinner on the second day.”

  “Cute.”

  “We’ve spent every day together since.”

  “Sounds pretty serious.”

  He tapes another box, the loud sound of the tape gun interrupting another beat of quiet between us.

  “It is. I’m pretty sure I’m going to marry her.” He blows out a breath and looks up at me.

  “You are?” I ask. “After a couple months?”

  He nods. “Crazy, right? But it just feels different.”

  I give him a small smile. Sometimes it doesn’t take long to fall all the way, and I was just there. “I’m happy for you.”

  “I’m sorry about how things went down between us.”

  “It’s okay, Justin.” I’m not sure I would’ve said that four or five months ago, but everything is so different now. “I moved on. We both did.”

  “I’m glad. But can I ask what happened to you?” he asks.

  My first inclination is that I don’t want to talk about it with my ex. But my second thought is that I could use a friend. When I look at him, I see a lot of good memories, but I don’t feel love in the pit of my stomach or the searing heartbreak any longer. I only see a person who cares about me, and I can’t see anything wrong with confiding in someone who’s just a friend. Some male perspective might help me wade through the hurt swimming in my chest.

  My eyes fill with unexpected tears. “You broke my heart. It started to heal, and then I met someone new, and then he and his brother proceeded to shatter it.”

  Justin drops the box he just taped. “He and his brother?”

  I nod and keep my focus on the plates on the counter. “It’s a long story.”

  “I’m sorry you were hurt,” he says.

  I draw in a deep breath. “Thank you.”

  “And I’m sorry I hurt you first.”

  I tilt my head as I stare at my ex. He’s still handsome. I wouldn’t want to be a teenager in his class—I’d be embarrassed I suck at science as much as I do in front of a guy that good looking. But I don’t feel th
at spark, not anymore. All my sparks are reserved for one rock star I can’t have. “I’m glad you did.”

  He looks surprised. “Why?”

  “Because if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have met Mark.”

  “Mark?”

  “One of the brothers.” I leave out the fact that it’s Mark Ashton we’re talking about. After I told my mom, I realized I can’t talk about him and have an unbiased conversation when I toss his name around.

  “What about the other brother?”

  “Brian. He turned out to be someone I never thought he was.” I think of the pumpkins sitting in my jewelry box on my dresser. I need to go cash those in, but they also symbolize the fact that it’s possible Brian isn’t as bad as I’ve made him out to be in my mind.

  “Sounds like an adventurous summer.”

  “It was, but I’m ready to leave Reese’s Summer of Sin behind me.”

  nine

  School starts, which also keeps my mind off my issues...sort of. Mark is always present, always in my mind, his name always the word on the tip of my tongue. I throw myself into lesson plans and my new leadership position as I try unsuccessfully to forget about him and everything I went through this summer.

  The Summer of Sin wasn’t as fun as I thought it would be. It was more like the Summer of Heartbreak.

  A few days into the school year, I find an envelope addressed to me in my mailbox with a return address from Chicago.

  I tear it open, and the front of the card simply says Thanks in scripted font.

  It’s from Gram.

  The words inside bring every single feeling right back to the surface, and I’m in tears by the time I’m done reading.

  Reese,

  Thank you for the flowers. Your thoughtfulness is appreciated. I wish you could’ve been there for the boys, but I understand what happened. Mark confided in me, and I have to tell you, I’ve never seen him look at a girl the way he looks at you. You hung the sun in his sky. I know there are complications, namely Brian, but take it from someone who recently lost the love of her life. You don’t have time to waste. Another second apart from the man you belong with is one more second you don’t get to share with each other, and that’s a downright shame.

  Hugs,

  Gram

  I tuck the note into the middle of a notebook and shove it in my desk. I can’t deal with her words right now. I have a stack of essays to look through and I’m facing forward. Allowing her words to percolate in my mind will only take me back to the past.

  * * *

  “Oh my God, Billy, put down the glue stick. Are you serious right now?” This is not something I should have to say to a damn senior in high school on the second Friday afternoon of the school year as he decorates a girl’s entire arm with glue. I barely restrain myself from actually using a curse word.

  I hate my job this year. I don’t blame the kids, or the school, or my rigorous schedule—really, I don’t. If it were any other year, I’d be fine. I’d be loving Beowulf and argumentative writing.

  I blame Mark.

  I haven’t stopped thinking about him even though I left Chicago over a month ago. I never refollowed any of his social media, but I also never unfollowed his Snapchat. Even though he proved to me he doesn’t post to his own Twitter account, I still pull it up every now and then to torture myself...or to see what’s going on in his life—to see how his publicist is portraying him.

  Lizzie has kept in touch with me, despite my efforts to distance myself, and we’re friends even after what went down with her brothers. She texts me almost every day, usually checking in, sometimes funny memes, sometimes just an emoji. She’s been a good friend to me, but I can’t say I’ve been the same to her. I should consider myself lucky she keeps putting forth the effort, but she just reminds me of everything I could’ve had.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket just before lunch with a new text. I have exactly four minutes before the bell is going to ring. I hate waiting, but it’s unprofessional to take my phone out to read my texts when I have students sitting in front of me.

  I’ve managed to shut everyone in my life out, including Jill. I’m thrilled she’s happy with Becker, and I’m happy she’s in love. But seeing her around Becker is a stark reminder of everything I don’t have. When she’s not home, I blast my favorite Vail songs on repeat. It’s masochistic, but it makes me feel like he’s with me, and that’s the one thing that makes me feel better. I’m moving in with Tess this weekend, and I’m hoping living with someone who’s around more often will help.

  Billy puts away the glue stick, the bell rings, and I’m released to my half hour of quiet time.

  I slide my phone out of my pocket to check my text.

  Lizzie: I’ll be in Vegas next weekend for my bachelorette party. I’d love to see you and celebrate with you.

  Seeing her will only drag up all the memories I’ve been trying to push away. It takes me all of five seconds to invent a lie.

  Me: I’m heading home to Phoenix next weekend. Sorry! Would have been fun. Too bad it’s not this weekend.

  Lizzie: Good, because I lied. It’s this weekend and I’m already here in town. You better not flake on me.

  I let out a chuckle despite myself. I have to give the girl credit. She knows me better than I realized.

  Me: What’s your plan?

  Lizzie: We’re staying at Cosmopolitan. Cabana today, buffet for dinner, club tonight. Drinking, necklaces with plastic dicks all over them, the whole works.

  Me: Who is “we”?

  Lizzie: A handful of my girls. You’re one of them.

  Me: I work until 3:00 today.

  Lizzie: Can you meet us around eight at the buffet at Cosmo?

  I think of my best friend who I’ve barely seen lately. This could be the perfect chance for a girls’ night out.

  Me: I’ll see you then. Can I bring a friend?

  Lizzie: Bring whoever you want. I can’t wait to squeeze you, my friend. XO

  I don’t reply, but her simple response brings tears to my eyes. She’s my one link to the two men who fucked me up so royally.

  * * *

  When I walk into the Cosmopolitan with Jill a little before eight, I’m attacked by the memories of the last time I was here. I was with Brian. We gambled, we danced, we almost had public sex, and the entire time, I was thinking about Mark. Funny how much has changed, but one thing still remains the same: Mark is on my mind.

  I spot Lizzie right away. She’s wearing a short, tight, white dress with sequins all over it, a pink sash declaring her the bride to be, and a veil. Six other women stand behind her. She runs to me and grabs me up in a hug, and that’s when I notice the plastic dicks all over her veil.

  “Classy veil,” I tease, though my heart races as my mouth speaks the homophone for her brother’s band. I draw in a sharp breath. I can’t help but wonder: Why the Cosmopolitan? Why do we have to be here, of all places, when I have memories here with one brother and memories directly next door with another?

  The Mandarin Oriental loomed large beside us as we pulled into the Cosmopolitan. Is Mark here in town tonight? Or is he off living his life, performing for a screaming crowd or recording new songs or charming the panties off women everywhere?

  Lizzie pulls back and holds me by my biceps. “How’ve you been?” she asks, giving me a long once over.

  I lift a shoulder. I refuse to cry. I won’t cry. Why the hell is one simple question from her making the heat sting behind my eyes? “Been better, been worse.”

  She nods and presses her lips together. “About the same as him, then.”

  I brush away a single tear that refused to listen to me.

  “Oh, honey.” She pulls me back into a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

  One of her friends tugs her arm. “Let’s go get in line.”

  She gives me another long look. “I’m here through Sunday. We’ll find some time to talk, okay?”

  I force a smile and nod, then Jill falls into step beside me as we make
our way into the restaurant. One of the girls in the group hands Jill and me each necklaces with candy shaped like penises.

  “You okay?” Jill whispers as she nudges me.

  I nod without looking at her, because I know if I look over at her, I’ll just see all the concern in her eyes and then I’ll fall apart. I pull the penis necklace over my head and bite off one of the dicks.

  Tonight’s supposed to be fun, not about tears, hurt, and dredging up the pain of the past.

  Jill and I sit at the end of the table. We all get our food in shifts, one of the downsides to eating at a buffet, so there’s less chatting. Mostly I talk to Jill because Lizzie is busy with her other friends—friends who traveled from all over the country to celebrate with her in Vegas. I know she’s doing her best to talk to everyone, but I’m just glad I brought a friend with me so I wouldn’t be the odd one out sitting at the table where I only know the bride.

  When Jill excuses herself to the bathroom, though, that sentiment is blown to bits. I stare down at my plate quietly. “You’re Reese?” The girl across the table from me asks.

  I look up at her and nod.

  “I’m Julie, one of Lizzie’s bridesmaids.”

  “Nice to meet you.” I take a sip of water. I didn’t get an alcoholic beverage, and I wish I had one in my hand. Well, if I’m wishing for things, I wish I was home in my pajamas. Or if I’m really wishing for things, I wish I was in Mark’s arms—wherever he is.

  “Are you the one who dated both brothers?”

  I duck my head in some combination of shame and mortification. “Yeah.”

  “Julie, stop it!” Lizzie’s voice interrupts us.

  “I’m just saying she’s a lucky girl to land both. How many other people can say they’ve done that?”

  I can’t deal with this. A month has passed since I left Mark, but nothing has changed. This girl is judging a situation she knows nothing about. I turn hard eyes on Julie as my nostrils flare.

  “I didn’t land either,” I say through gritted teeth. “They both fucked me over, and I ended up so broken that I can barely function. But I guess some people might consider that lucky.”