As the car makes its way to the Upper West Side, I focus on the need to call Autumn. My mind flits to the orders given to me by the man I’ve allowed myself to trust with my future. The thought of moving away, of not seeing Autumn for I don’t know how long, it makes my chest ache.
When we pull up to the house, I’m out of the car and heading to the door without taking leave of our driver. Inside, I slam the door shut and lean against it. I should’ve grabbed a burner phone somewhere, but he’ll have eyes on me.
Racing up the stairs, I make it to my room and grab my suitcase to pack. Once it’s open on my bed, I stand back and stare at my closet. My heart isn’t in this. My mind isn’t even in it. Frustration burns in my veins when I think about my father’s cold words. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and when I pull it out, I see my girl’s name on the screen. It would take a second to respond, but I know the moment I do, she’ll be in danger. So, I don’t open her message. I don’t even look at her words because I’ll get myself into trouble. And I’ll put her in the firing line.
Instead of opening the message, I focus on packing. But even as I move around my bedroom, the glaring phone sits on my bed. Shaking my head, I pull out the clothes I think I’ll need. No suits and shirts, no fancy shoes. I’m heading to training, so it’s jeans and tees along with sneakers I’m not bothered about getting dirty.
My gut churns with every alert on my phone, and soon enough, I pick it up and open the first message.
Autumn: How did it go? I was thinking about getting a milkshake before the show. Did you want to join me?
Autumn: Where are you?
Autumn: Is everything okay? Did your dad give you grief about wanting to meet with Jackson?
Autumn: You’re scaring me now, JD. Please tell me you’re okay. All day I’ve had this bad feeling in my stomach. If you don’t respond, I’ll know it’s because he’s making you ignore me.
Each message, every word slices another gash into my chest. But it’s the last one that breaks my heart completely, and I know she’ll never forgive me, and she will always hate me.
Autumn: I guess our friendship has finally come to an end. I didn’t think it would end with you ignoring me. Even after I spilled out my feelings like an idiot. I should’ve known better. Take care of yourself, JD. Remember, you’re nothing like him. Goodbye.
Rearing my hand with a growl, I fling the device against the wall, watching it shatter into pieces as it falls to the floor, just like the pieces of the heart I once had. Because the moment she hit send on that message, I know I lost the best thing that ever happened to me.
Through the searing pain that rips into my chest, I breathe, I focus, and I close my eyes. I haven’t ever cried. I don’t remember as a child feeling the need to cry. Even when we buried family members—my uncle, my grandfather, my grandmother, and even my sister—I stood in solidarity alongside my mother as she bawled her eyes out. My father, ever the stoic man I grew up knowing, never shed a tear, and neither did I.
Perhaps Autumn is wrong. In her perception of me, she always believed I’m good, that I’m nothing like the man who raised me. Maybe she didn’t see me for who I truly am.
I’m my father’s son—cold, aloof, and broken.
Chapter Seven
Autumn
No response.
Nothing at all.
It’s been hours.
I don’t know why this hurts so much, but it does. It feels like I can’t breathe. It’s as if my chest has been ripped open. My stomach feels like there’s a heavy weight inside it, dragging me down.
I haven’t stopped crying. My eyes are puffy, my chest hurts so badly, and I can’t breathe properly. It’s the first time I’ve ever had my heart broken because I never gave it away to anyone but JD. And now he’s gone. I don’t know why he’s decided to do it on my birthday, but my gut instinct is that it’s his father’s doing.
I don’t believe for a second JD would hurt me like this. Curling farther under the covers, I pull the blanket over my head and close my eyes. I want to run away, to go to him and ask him what the hell he’s doing. I want to punch him, to make him hurt just like I’m hurting, but I know nothing can ever ache as much as a broken heart.
“Sweet girl,” my momma calls to me from the doorway, but I can’t bring myself to lift my head. I don’t want to see the sunlight. Being here in the dark is where I want to spend the day. I don’t care if it’s my birthday, and I definitely don’t care if I’m finally eighteen. Nothing feels real anymore. Perhaps just focusing on school, like I have done all my life, is the way to go.