Now I was back aboard the Athena.
Two weeks and three days and two hours. That was how long it had been since I’d set eyes on Landon. I was exceptionally proud of those two hours since we’d been back on board. I’d barred him from our room, which I knew could only last temporarily with all the Renegades running around.
“See Leah yet?” Penna asked, flipping through my adoption file and glancing at her laptop screen.
“No, she flew back with Wilder,” I said, fidgeting with my highlighter. I hadn’t talked to my best friend since that night in Tahoe, which was killing me. “See any of the others yet?”
Penna shook her head and chewed on her pen for a moment. “Nope. I needed the time away, and they understood that.”
“As evidenced by the ten bajillion missed calls.”
“Hey, I didn’t see you answering any of Leah’s once she got to Aspen.”
“I didn’t want to talk about Landon,” I said with a shrug. Or hear his voice in the background, or chance that he’d use Leah’s phone to call me.
“I didn’t want to talk about stunts or the documentary.”
Touché. I knew that Penna missed her Renegade family. Her self-imposed exile was taking a toll on her, but just like talking about Landon was off-limits for me, her distance from her team was where she drew the line.
There was a knock at the door, and I looked over from where Penna and I sat at the dining room table.
“I’ll get it.” Hugo sighed, having just restocked our coffee machine. “Hey, man,” he said after he opened it. “Uh, any change on the status of letting Landon in?” he asked carefully.
Penna raised her eyebrows at me in question.
“Nope,” I answered. “Not since he asked an hour ago.”
“Are you sure?” Penna asked, looking up from her notes.
“Yes!” I snapped. “There will always be an excuse. Always some reason. I was stupid for listening in the first place.”
She gave me that look—the one that told me she thought I was being a moron—but I didn’t care. I was in self-preservation mode, and if that meant I looked like an idiot to everyone because I wouldn’t give him a chance to talk himself out of another bullshit lie, then fine. At least I was still breathing, still functioning.
“Sorry, dude,” Hugo said, then shut the door. “Are you ever going to—?”
“Don’t fucking start with me, Hugo.” I waved a finger in his direction.
“Fine, but tomorrow’s class is hands-on, so you can’t get out of seeing him.”
I shrugged. “Then at least I have today.”
That was my motto since he’d crashed my world. I would handle everything one moment at a time. I could get through the next four days with Landon. Then we’d be in Hong Kong, and then I’d be leaving for Korea, and he’d be on his way to Nepal for a week. One whole week without trying to dodge him or constantly having to talk myself into staying put.
The problem with loving Landon was that it didn’t stop just because I realized he’d never really loved me—that I’d always been a tool for him. No, I was that sad, sorry girl I always swore I would never be, itching to see him, desperate to hear his voice.
I wasn’t avoiding him because I was pissed…well, partly. The main reason I couldn’t see him was because I was terrified that I would melt with his first excuse and I’d find myself right back where I started—madly in love with the guy who only used me.
I was a lot of things, but a masochist wasn’t on that list.
The sliding door opened, and my heart stuttered until I saw that it was Leah. Her hair was a little windblown and her cheeks pink beside a wide smile. For the slightest second I resented that she was so fucking happy, but then I shoved those evil little feelings far away. Out of all of us, Leah deserved a happy ending the most.
“There you are!” she said, running over to hug me.
“I missed you,” I said as I squeezed her extra tight, wishing I didn’t always have to share her with the enemy camp.
“Well, you wouldn’t have if you would have picked up the phone any time in the last few days.” She took the chair next to me and leaned back, folding her arms across her chest.
“Yeah, well…” I struggled for a moment and finally shook my head. “You know what, I don’t have a good excuse. I just didn’t want to hear his voice, or his excuses.”
“Speaking of which, you don’t have the whole story. You need to talk to Landon.”
“Good luck on that,” Penna muttered while typing something.
“Not interested,” I said.
“He didn’t know that they were renegotiating the Gremlin contract. Nick was handling it all, and Zoe told him that you weren’t together, so Nick never thought it would be a conflict of interest.”
I scoffed. “Yeah, and if you believe that, I have a gorgeous bridge to sell you.”
“I’m serious, Rachel. Landon is devastated.”
“Yeah, okay,” I said sarcastically. “Landon is a master of lies when he needs to be.”
“Paxton even told me—”
“Wilder lied to even get us on this ship, Leah. He’s not at the top of my trustworthy list, either.” My hand tightened around my highlighter, and I flipped the page of the textbook I was currently studying.
“Okay, well, he even called your dad.”
My attention darted toward her. “Wilder?”
“Landon,” she said with an exasperated hand flail.
“Oh, yeah? Did they discuss how much I was worth this time? I mean, I loved him more, so I should be worth more, right?”
“Holy shit, it’s like trying to talk to a brick wall,” Leah muttered.
I slammed my hands on the tabletop. “Landon lies! When will you realize that? That’s all he’s ever done to me. Lie and leave. It’s what he’s good at. I know you love Wilder, but you’ve known him for all of five months. I’ve known them for years.”
“That’s not entirely fair—” Penna interjected.
“He turned down the Gremlin offer!” Leah shouted.
A tiny kernel of hope flickered in my stomach. I squashed it mercilessly. “Right. If he actually did that, I’m sure he’s just holding out for more money.”
“Can’t you believe me?” she asked.
“You, I will always believe. But no, I don’t believe anything he says.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both. If I even open myself to the possibility, give him any benefit of the doubt…” I shook my head. “Look, I’m holding myself together by a thread. It’s killing me to know that he’s just down the damned hallway. Hell, I can’t even sleep without him creeping into my dreams, and I can feel the madness, the heartbreak, the utter destruction hovering, waiting for me to break down and let it in. All I have is this tiny thread, and I’m not giving him the scissors. Or you—as much as I love you.”
Her eyes and posture softened. “We can’t talk about this, can we?”
“No,” I said quietly, knowing I was drawing a line in our friendship that had never been there before.
She dropped her gaze to her lap, her eyes darting back and forth, which I knew meant she was weighing her options. Leah was nothing if not logical. Finally she looked up and forced a smile, but it was sad. “Okay. If that’s what you need.”