It Was You (29 page)

“But he did, Abby,” she said, staring down at the bed again. “He did.”

The knot in my stomach started to form again and I pulled the brush harder through my hair, forcing the bristles through the tangles, wincing at the pain.

“I’m not sure why I did it,” she said slowly. “You probably don’t believe that, but I really don’t know. I wanted to meet him. I hated that you were keeping a secret from me. Because I’m so nosy. Not saying that’s right, just that’s the way it is. So I wanted to know who he was. And I found out.” She picked at a seam on the bedspread. “So, me being me, I thought I’d just go meet him. I’m not sure why. Probably because I didn’t like that you had a boyfriend. I don’t know.”

I switched the brush to the back of my hair, coming it down and smooth it out, feeling the drops of water trickle down my neck.

“So I found out where he lived,” she said. “You were gone. I went to a party, had too much to drink. Got all brave and bitchy. I just thought I’d go be a bitch and tell him he was with the wrong sister, something stupid like that.” She shook her had, still working at the seam on the bed. “But he answered the door and he looked at me. And he looked at me like no one has ever looked at me.” She glanced up at me, tears in her eyes. “Because he thought I was you.”

The knot tightened again. I couldn’t stand the image of them together, no matter what it looked like. I just didn’t want to envision it, but she was making it hard not to.

“He just looked at me differently,” she said. “And he thought I was you. So I let him think he was right. Because I wanted to be looked at like that.”

I finished with the brush and set it on my nightstand. I leaned back against the pillows, propped myself up against the headboard. Part of me didn't want to hear another word but listening to her was like watching a train wreck. I couldn't look away.

“But he knew, Abby,” she said, shaking her head. “He knew. He knew something was wrong. I may look exactly like you, but I’m not you and I couldn’t fake it. I tried. I’m not going to lie. But I couldn’t fool him.”

I sighed and shook my head, trying to stem the tears that threatened. I hated that she could make me cry. And I hated that she liked doing things to upset me. She always had. And I was pretty sure she always would, despite how sincere her confession sounded.

“He didn’t know exactly what was going on, but he knew something was off,” she said. Her voice was soft and she spoke slowly, like she was choosing her words carefully. “He was irritated that I was drunk. He was questioning where I’d gone drinking, why I’d gone drinking. And it wasn’t that he disapproved. It just wasn’t what he was expecting from you. And it bothered him. Like he was worried or something.”

As much as I hated the image of them together, I was glad that he’d sensed something was different, that something was off. It didn’t eliminate the pain, but it took some of the sting out of it.

“So, then….then we just started…doing things,” she said, glancing at me nervously, working hard at the seam now, trying to get her nail beneath it. “But he held back. The whole time. He held back. Like he knew it wasn’t you. And no matter…what I did…he held back. And then he finally pushed me away and asked me what the hell was wrong with me. That I wasn’t acting like me.” She paused. “Only he meant you. He didn’t mean me. He meant you.”

I stared out the window, my eyes blinking back tears. I would not let her see me cry.

“And I got pissed,” she said. “Really pissed. Because I couldn’t fool him and because he very obviously loves you.”

I allowed those words to settle over me. They sounded hollow, coming from her, but I clung to them, anyway. My eyes drifted from the window back to her. “Why do you say that?”

She couldn’t pull her eyes up to meet mine, but a smile flickered at the corners of her mouth. “Because he cared. He thought something was wrong with you. He was worried.” She turned her face to mine,  and I was surprised to see her eyes were red, tears spilling out of them. “I would’ve slept with him, Abby. I would’ve. We both know it. But he wasn’t interested. At all. He was just worried about me.” She hesitated. “About you.”

I looked away from her again. The knot was still there in my stomach, but I could feel it loosening. Trying to unravel. It wasn’t trying to weigh me down or make me sick. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but the knot was changing into something else.

“So anyway, I got all bent and left,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “I don’t remember what I said, but I’m sure it wasn’t nice. But I left. Because I couldn’t stand that he was turning me down. Because he was turning me down for you. I know it's all fucked up, but that’s what it was. He was turning me down for you. And I went home and just cried. Because I’m not sure anyone will ever look at me like that.”

I wanted to feel sorry for her, but what she’d done, she’d done to herself. It wasn’t my fault. I hadn’t done anything to her. I felt a twinge of sympathy because no matter what, she was my sister. But I didn’t think I’d ever be able to completely forgive her.

She stood from the bed and wiped at her eyes again. “So, I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever said that to you, but I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I wouldn’t if I were you. But I am sorry. It was a stupid thing to do and there’s no excuse. At all.”

I watched her, then nodded, but I couldn’t find any words for her. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say to her. It was going to take some time for me to find the words, if I ever did.

“But you shouldn’t blame West,” Annika said. “Don’t hold it against him. Because he knew, Abby. He knew. There was some bell going off for him, something, somewhere telling him. He knew.” She stared at me for a moment, then headed for the door. She paused there in the doorway, then turned back around to face me.

She looked smaller than I’d ever seen her. Younger, too. Different.

“Because he loves you, Abby,” she said, smiling, but her eyes still holding the sadness. “He loves you.”

FORTY SEVEN

West opened his door and couldn’t hide his surprise. “I thought you were going to call?”

Annika had left and I’d decided I didn’t want to wait. I didn’t want to start over-thinking things, like I was capable of doing. So I’d taken my dad’s car from the garage—my parents often drove to their office together—and driven to West’s place.

I pushed past him, walking through the doorway and into his living room. “Is this a bad time?”

He shut the door behind me and shook his head. “No. I’m just surprised. Didn’t know when I’d hear from you.”

I turned to face him. He was still in his jeans and torn T-shirt, the tattoo peeking out of the short sleeve.

“My sister says I shouldn’t be mad at you,” I said, staring at him. “She says it’s all her fault.”

He shrugged and made a face. “I don’t know. I thought it was you. Then I was confused. Because you weren’t acting like you.”

“How?” I asked. “How did you know?”

“
I don’t know that I did know,” he said. “She was just acting weird. It wasn’t like you.”

“
But she basically threw herself at you,” I said, stepping closer to him. “She threw herself at you. Why did you turn her down?”

He looked down at me, stared at me for a long time. Then he put his fingers on my cheek. “There was something missing in her eyes, Abby. They weren’t your eyes.”

I reached for him and kissed him. Hard. He kissed me back and pulled me into him. I pressed into him, let my mouth drift from his mouth to his ear. “Is Griffin here?”

He shook his head.

“Take me to your room,” I said, pulling back and looking at him. “Please.”

He met my gaze for a long moment, then nodded. He lifted me up and wrapped my legs around him, kissing him as he walked me back towards his room. He kicked the door shut behind us and laid me down on his bed.

I pulled his T-shirt over his head and threw it away from us. I kissed the smooth skin of his chest and his weight came down over me, pushing me down into the bed. My fingernails dug into his back and he pushed his hips into mine.

West slid down my body and his lips found mine, warm and soft. His tongue flicked against my teeth and I opened my mouth, letting him explore. His hand slipped under my shirt and he pushed it up, lifting it over my head. My bra followed. His hands covered my breasts and I arched up into him as he kissed my ear, then sucked at my neck. His mouth traveled farther down, his lips brushing against my throat before his mouth covered my breast. I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down, wanting him to swallow all of me. I'd never felt so completely desired, so wanted.

His hand found the button on my shorts and deftly undid it and the zipper, too. He pushed them down and I finished kicking them off. His hand slid between my thighs and I gasped as his fingers pressed into my soaked panties.

“
I want you,” he whispered, kissing the area between my breasts. “You. Only you.”

I wanted him, too. I wanted to erase the memory of him with Annika and this was the way I knew I could. To put myself back in his arms, back in the place where I belonged. To feel him, to taste him, to love him completely. It was what we both needed.

“Then take me,” I said, tugging at his hair and lifting my hips up into his waist.

He rested his chin on my chest, gazing at me, his eyes glassy. The fire between my legs grew hotter.

His hand slipped inside my panties, pushing them down my legs, and I kicked them off the same way I’d done with my shorts.

I was naked. Completely naked. Nothing to protect me or hide me.

And I felt safe. With West.

His mouth traveled down my stomach, leaving a trail of light kisses. He stopped at my waist, his tongue tracing circles along my heated skin. Then he dropped lower, kissing the insides of my thighs before moving to the middle.

He pushed his tongue inside of me and I gasped again, stunned by how good it felt. The fire surged up my body and my fingers tightened in his hair. I wrapped my legs around his bare torso and his tongue moved faster, the throbbing and heat growing by the second.

I was inexperienced. I was new to all this. I wasn’t sure what to expect.

But it all felt right. Insanely, deliciously right.

I writhed beneath him and pulled him up toward me, tugging on his hair.

He hovered over me, grinning devilishly. “Don’t you want me to finish?”

I shook my head and undid his shorts, pushing them down. He wiggled out of them and his entire warm, naked body leaned into me. I reached down to touch him and found him, hard as a rock. I wrapped my fingers around him and he groaned and slid against me.

“You're sure?” he whispered.

I answered by pulling him down with my one free hand, using my other to guide him inside of me.

There was a short burst of pain as he eased himself into me and I tensed up, a cry strangled in my throat. He stopped, his mouth on my neck, kissing me gently. And then, almost immediately, the pain was replaced by something else. The feeling of being filled up, of being consumed. By him. He moved slowly against me and my hands roamed his back. He kissed me again and suddenly everything felt different, like we were connected in every way possible. I wrapped my legs around him, wanting to pull him into me as far as he could go.

He looked down at me as we moved and his hand touched my cheek. Our eyes were locked like magnets, unable to pull away.

“I love you, Abby Sellers,” he whispered.

I couldn't find the words to speak. I could barely find enough air to breathe. So I just nodded, my eyes focused on his.

His long, slow pushes into me became shorter, quicker and something rose inside of me like a dam about to burst, with nothing to stop it. His hips moved faster against mine and his arm slid beneath me, lifting me up into him, our skin melting together.

The dam finally burst, an explosion of heat and light and spasms exploding ricocheting through my body. I screamed and he thrust into me again and it felt like all of him was inside of me. He groaned into my ear and his thrusts became ragged, desperate as I held onto him, clinging to him, trying to catch my breath, never wanting it to end.

My body went limp against his as his thrusting slowed and he lowered me again to the bed, his damp body collapsing on top of mine. His chest heaved against mine and my heart hammered wildly, my entire body tingling, every nerve ending finding new life. I hugged him close to me, his breath tickling my ear.

“
I love you, Abby,” he murmured into my ear, his voice heavy and thick with exhaustion. “I love you.”

And I knew I loved him, too.

FORTY EIGHT

West was waiting for me at the bottom of the steps and I was finally able to breathe again.

I’d stayed for awhile at his place the previous day, lying in bed with him, unsure of what to say. I was happy, content, completely at ease with my decision, but there was still a certain awkwardness in lying naked with him in bed after we’d had sex. He was sweet and cute and exactly the way I’d hoped he’d be after we’d made love. But after I left, the doubt crept in.