Graham (Scandalous Boys Book 2) (17 page)

In my defense, I’m not having the best morning. My mom volunteered my services to help Mrs. Wixer get her cat down from a tree. Could she have called someone else? Yes! Did she? No. She called my mom after she called our nosy neighbor.

Okay, I also spent a good five minutes arguing with my mom that she can’t just tell whoever calls that I’ll help. I’m on time restrictions. But whatever. Guess this is part of the punishment of disappointing my mom.

I got the damn cat down. What ticked me off the most about it is that it’s a cat. It obviously climbed its chunky ass up the tree; it could get it back down. They land on all fours when they leap. Plus, the little furball clawed the shit out of my arms and almost my face. He or she—I didn’t bother asking what the sex was—really didn’t want my help.

To top it off, Mrs. Wixer just snubbed her nose at me. “Cotton really doesn’t like you,” she said.

Really? No shit. Cotton sliced me up pretty good. But she didn’t thank me. Just that dumb obvious observation and a door slammed in my face. Well, screw you too!

Now, I’m three minutes late pulling up to the church where my AA meeting is being held. I slip through the doors, slink down the hallway, and head to the entrance of the basement. As I near the door leading to the meeting, a flash of red hair catches my attention.

No! It can’t be …

I stop dead in my tracks. Sarah whips around the corner. My heart pounds like crazy. The back of my neck is slick with sweat as I nervously try to wipe it away.

Damn it! I’d love to skip, but I can’t. This damn punishment has me by the balls. It’s bad enough I’m late. Hopefully I won’t get tossed into the slammer for it. But to miss completely … Well, I know my ass will get sent directly to jail.

Maybe if I hurry to the door she won’t see me. I can slip inside and hope there’s a seat beside Carl. And he’s sitting on the opposite side of the room from Sarah. His big body will hide me.

I start to make a break for it, but my luck seems to be total shit. “Graham?” she says in a sweet voice.

I glance over at her, my hand on the knob. So damn close. “Oh. Hey. What are you doing here?”

“My paper. Well, research. What are you doing here?” she asks with a soft smile.

That is the dreaded question of the hour, isn’t it? My face must say it all because she closes the space between us and whispers in a harsh tone, “What did you do? Tell me what you did right now, Graham. Because in a minute I’m going back into that room and I’m going to listen to everyone’s stories. Including yours. And I will not be blindsided like I feel right now.”

I slowly draw my gaze down to meet hers. I can’t lie because my fucking hand is on the door handle that leads to the AA meeting. Besides that, I need to get in there right now. I’m already close to seven minutes late now. Fuck!

“I’m really late. If I don’t get in there soon and get my paper signed I’m going to be in some very serious trouble.”

She nods. “Okay. But this isn’t over.”

Yeah, I figured. We enter the meeting, and I head up to the front of the room and toss down my yellow sheet. I sign in and then head to the middle row to take a seat. The meeting drags on. Just like all the others. I continue to listen but still haven’t spoken.

Justin elbows me and whispers, “Isn’t that the girl from the grocery store?”

I nod.

“Wow. I think these meetings just got a whole lot more interesting.”

I clench my fists. “Don’t.”

“Calling dibs on her? It’s cool. I get it.”

“Not calling anything,” I say through gritted teeth. “She’s my girlfriend.”

He snorts. “Are you kidding? You brought your girlfriend to an AA meeting?”

I roll my eyes. What’s he take me for, an idiot? I groan inwardly. “Nah, man. I’ll tell you later.”

“Whatever you say.” He slouches in his seat. “Jasmine invited us to a party this weekend. Wanna come?”

I shake my head. “Not this weekend. Sorry.”

He shrugs, and we don’t talk again for the rest of the meeting.

***

Sarah finds me after the meeting.
Well, I guess it’s now or never.

“So …” she starts.

“Not here. Come on.” I pull her into the congregation room. Once we take a seat on the bench, I sigh. “The reason I’m not in school is because I got into some serious trouble.”

“What was it?” she asks in a breathy tone.

I gently tuck a piece of stray hair behind her ear. For some reason touching her is easing my nervousness. “I need you to know what I’m about to tell you is not pretty. You’ll hate me. You’ll want nothing more to do with me. But I won’t blame you for never wanting anything to do with me ever again.”

She blinks those ocean-filled eyes at me. “Just tell me. We can get past it, whatever it is. I promise.”

“When we broke up, I told you I played the field a lot. I really wanted to heal. Each time though, I was high or drunk. It was the only way my imagination could convince me that whoever I was with was you. Sober me knew that wasn’t true. Drunk and high self didn’t care.”

She takes my hands into hers and squeezes.

“One night during rush week, I got really high and drunk and pissed off some head asshole in a frat. They took interest in recruiting me. Told me about the parties every weekend, made it sound right up my alley. Kyle warned me not to pledge them, but I didn’t give a shit.”

“Kyle likes his big brother role,” Sarah says, “sometimes a little too much.”

“Yeah, well. I didn’t listen. One night, I got dragged to this other fraternity’s party. I played a game of beer pong. And after I won three games, I started feeling unstoppable. Started becoming a real cocky asshole. It’s not new. I always turn into a real ass when it comes to anything competitive. So during the games, a girl flirted with me. I didn’t know at the time that she was dating the president of that fraternity. Anyway, during the flirting and drinking, something happened. The whole night became a blur.” I get off the bench and begin to pace. I can’t have her near me when I divulge this story. She’s going to run. How could she not? I’m a monster.

“There was a video. It got leaked or something, and when I saw it I didn’t know that was me. I beat up my coach. I punched a few guys in my fraternity. I yelled.” My gaze lands on her. “I lost my shit. Bad. There was a girl screaming. Said I broke into her room. I honestly don’t know how the hell I got there. I blacked out. But the video shows me there. Shows the girl’s room. So I was there somehow. The school took into account my record of being a decent student and never having a history of being in trouble. But I’m on academic suspension for a year and have to get counseling and do rehab. So that’s why I’m here.”

Sarah leaves the bench but not the room. She places her hand on mine. “Graham, people do things they aren’t proud of all the time. Some show remorse. Some don’t. Like my parents. I don’t think they really care that they stole that money. I don’t think they even care they made some of their employees homeless.”

“If you don’t want to be with me, I get it,” I say.

“That’s not it at all.” She squeezes my hand again. “Graham, be honest, would you ever knowingly hurt someone?”

“It depends. If someone was hurting my mom or you or someone I cared about, no questions asked, I’d definitely hurt them.”

She smiles. “Okay. Let me rephrase. Would you hurt someone who did nothing to you or anyone you care about?”

I shake my head. “No. I would never do that.”

“And if you saw that girl walking down the street, would you attack her? Blame her for getting you kicked out of school? Would you attack the fraternity that was hosting the party?”

“No. It’s not their fault. What happened is on me. I probably wouldn’t approach that girl, because I wouldn’t want to bring up bad memories. Even if I am really sorry and can’t remember shit.”

“That’s why you’re different. You could easily blame the whole world for being against you. But you aren’t. You messed up. You’re owning it.”

She’s right. “How did you get to be so smart?”

“I don’t know. Hanging around Madison rubs off.”

I laugh. “It sort of does.”

We leave the room hand in hand.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Sarah

Graham is an addict. Maybe dating him isn’t the best idea. My mind keeps telling me to run. My heart, on the other hand, is begging me to stay. But how will I know that this, whatever this is turning into, will be good for him? And did my cheating cause this? All I know is I love him.

With exams and the due date for my project coming up, I’ve been super busy. And don’t get me started on work. If it weren’t for coffee I’d probably be dead from all the sleepless nights. This also means I’ve had no time to see Graham, and it’s really got me on edge.

But we’ve been texting and chatting. He’s been busy helping his mother decorate the outside of the house. He said if I thought the inside looked bad I should see the outside. He said it looks like someone threw up Christmas in his yard.

As I’m sitting in the library, poring over the materials for my math exam tomorrow, my phone buzzes next to me. I peer over at the screen and hit ignore. My phone lights up again with the same number, which I don’t recognize. I continue to hit ignore. After the third time, I finally answer and huff out, “Can I help you?”

“Is this Sarah Morris?”

“Might be. Who is this?”

“This is Kelly Lane from WBX news. We were wondering if we could have an exclusive interview with you? Regarding your mother’s recent suicide attempt.”

I feel my blood draining. I’ve avoided the press for nearly a year. I ditched my cell as soon as I moved in with my auntie and uncle. The calls died down after Auntie Heather changed the house phone. But this woman claims my mother tried to kill herself? My panic rises in my throat. I close my eyes to try to calm down. “How the hell did you get this number?” I whisper with so much venom it makes my own skin crawl.

“It took a lot of digging. You’re not an easy person to track down.”

“Don’t call me again!” I hang up the phone. Suddenly the library doesn’t feel safe anymore.

I call my auntie. “Sarah?”

“Did they call? Did she really try to kill herself?” I ask as I gather up my things to leave.

I hear the choking sobs. “Yes. She tried. They put her under a seventy-two-hour watch.”

I don’t know if she’s doing this because she’s trying to gain attention or she really can’t handle being in jail. Should I feel bad? Why do I not feel anything but anger? She did this. All of this shit to those people. To me. And now what? She feels remorse? Impossible. The only thing that woman cares about is herself and the bottom dollar.

“Sarah?” my auntie says.

“I, uh … I’ll be home in a little bit.”

When my parents were arrested, I had options. I could have moved to Denver, where my uncle Jackson lives. I could have moved in with Auntie Sally, who lives in Los Angeles. But I chose Auntie Heather. This small-ass country town sounded like the perfect outlet. Plus, Auntie Heather helped create me. So I needed to be here.

But now my whole protective bubble feels popped. Oh God, what if they can track me?

I shut off my phone and rip out the battery. I toss it in my purse. Where can I go that no one will find me?

***

The wind whips around, causing the air to chill my skin. I can feel the goose bumps prickle and erupt down my arms and legs.

No one is here. No humans anyway. Plenty of birds.

I take a seat on the cold stone ground. Moving here and pretending I could have some kind of normal life was a mistake. It’s only a matter of time before they camp out in front of the lawn. This is why I needed that trust fund. Those funds could have kept me away from those damn reporters.

I just … I want to forget.

My ass is frigid. I push myself off the ground and begin to pace, hoping to put some circulation back into my body. What am I going to do now? Should I visit her? I don’t want to visit her. Our relationship is broken; she can never repair it. No matter how many times she calls. No matter how many attempts she makes on her life.

But what if she succeeds? You’ll feel even worse.

Damn it! My inner voice is right. I hate her for making me feel guilty. Like all of this is somehow my fault. I haven’t seen her since they threw her in the slammer. I refused to watch the news whenever her and Dad’s scandal would appear. The phone calls are always brief because it’s just a reminder of what kind of shitty parents I have.

What makes matters worse is that I can’t talk to anyone about this. I mean, yeah, I kind of talk to Madison. And a little with Auntie Heather. I had some professional help in the beginning, but here’s the thing, they can only help so much. They aren’t going through this strange game of tug of war. My parents want forgiveness, and I’m not budging. My parents want me to understand their stupid, twisted reasoning behind stealing from others. I can’t.

And now that my mom’s opened up a new wound, a new line to a story, the reporters will soon litter our lawn. Demanding my thoughts. I can’t escape. I can’t protect Maddy, Kyle, Auntie Heather, or Uncle Paul from them. Unless … I give in.

I don’t want to leave. I … can’t. So many questions and so few answers. It’s utterly maddening really. I kick a stone and watch it skip across the packed dirt. I pick another up, look out at the calm lake water, and inhale deeply. I let the stone loose and watch it hop along the lake. One, two, three, four times. Then it drops somewhere under the water.

“Bet you can’t get it a third of the way across the lake,” a voice bellows behind me.

Startled, I turn. “How did you know I’d be here?”

Graham closes the space between us and wraps his arms around me. “You look cold, sunshine.”

I nod slightly. His lips press into my forehead. “Babe, what’s wrong? I tried calling your phone. We were supposed to have a late dinner. Remember?”