How is that any different from changing your whole life for two kids that aren't yours?
Whatever happens, I know this to be a fact: Brooke Overland is a hell of a lot stronger than I am.
Even my angriest metal music can't help me. A cascading fall of guitar riffs and clattering drums can't take the shock of pain and anger away. I scream the lyrics along with the lead singer until my voice is gone and my throat hurts, but it makes no difference.
I am fucking livid. And sad. Really, really sad. I feel like this is the thing with Anthony all over again. Obviously, it's a very different scenario, but I see parallels here that bother me more than I care to admit. Anthony said he wanted me to be his perfect wife, but all he really wanted was a showpiece for his parents, somebody on his arm to play the good Christian with him.
Zayden … I invited Zayden into my bed and into my life, but he was the one that kept pushing my boundaries, weaseling his way into my heart. He said he was only up for a casual fling, but what he really did was charm the hell out of me.
So one guy says he wants me but doesn't and the other says he doesn't but clearly does.
“This is so shitty,” I say as I pull up to a Dutch Bros and grab some coffee. Now that I don't have a job, I probably shouldn't spend the money, but screw it. I need this right now.
I pull over a few blocks away to take the lid off and blow steam away from the dark liquid. Out of habit, I pick up my phone and check for messages. Several from my friends back in Berkeley, the sight of the familiar names in my contacts sending a pang of loneliness through me.
So how could I blame Zayden for not wanting to stay here with me? He hates this town as much as I do, and he's right: there are hardly any jobs here. His friends are back in Las Vegas. Hell, he owns his own place. And if I'm having this much trouble changing my whole existence for two girls that are my own flesh and blood, how can I expect some playboy dude to do the same?
I test my coffee and then put the lid back on, pausing for a moment as I take a sip. I want to go home and curl up on my bed, but at the same time, I don't want to go home. The thought of Zayden leaving turns my insides into this gaping, yawning hole. If I have to head back there and watch him pack his things … I think I'll go crazy.
I put my coffee in the cup holder and start up my car, deciding to head over to my parents' place. I have the keys, and I'm supposed to water the houseplants anyway. I haven't done it once in the last two weeks, but oh well. I had more important things to worry about.
Like losing my virginity.
I cringe as I pull back onto the street and head towards Wildwood Community Park, a fancy name for the gated old folks neighborhood that my parents live in. They had me when my mother was forty-three, so even though it doesn't feel like they should live in a place like Wildwood, they do. Yet another reason why my parents couldn't take care of the kids; nobody under age eighteen is allowed to live on the premises.
I pull up to the front gate and key in my parents' code, heading over to their perfect oil spot free driveway and the manicured yard that the homeowners' association takes care of. When I get out and let myself inside, the quiet darkness settles over me and I take a deep breath, tossing my purse onto the counter and moving over to the couch to lie down.
Without realizing I'm doing it, I slide my phone from my pocket and look at my texts for any messages from Zayden. Once it dawns on me that I'm doing it, I delete his number from my phone and put the damn thing away.
Hopefully he'll be gone when I get home tomorrow morning.
Hopefully he'll still be there when I get home tomorrow morning.
I sigh as the dueling thoughts fill my brain, turning onto my back and putting my forearms against my forehead as I listen to the almost disturbing silence of the neighborhood. When I close my eyes, the scene from the club replays over and over again on the screen of my eyelids.
As soon as I saw Zay in the darkness beyond the stage, I … I don't know what I felt, but it was powerful. And emotional. And so intense I could barely breathe.
“Crap.” I put my hands over my face and try to think about all this in a logical way. It's best that Zayden goes home, really. I have a degree and two little girls and an ailing father to worry about. I don't need a man in my life. No way, no how.
But I want one. No, no, I want this one.
I take several deep breaths and let the pain of the evening wash over me. It's stifling, ten times as intense as the emotions I felt when I caught Anthony cheating on me. And I was with him for three years. Three years of hanging out and laughing and going to parties and restaurants, snuggling on the couch.