“I was just saying that because I wanted you to care,” she says softly, her words laced with ice. “I’m on my period.”
I glance over at the test on the counter. Not pregnant. Pulling away, I take her pretty face in my hands. Everything about her is perfection. Her full, pouty lips. Her glimmering green eyes. Her soft hair that I used to love the feel of on my chest when she’d fall asleep. I memorize her as she is—because soon she’ll be a fading memory. A dusty box in my past stacked along with the rest. Only one box remains open and begs me to look inside. She’s nowhere near that box.
“Ivy,” I start, my voice low and husky.
Her green eyes brim with tears and she shakes her head. “Stop, Cope. Just stop, you cruel bastard.”
I kiss her forehead. “I’ll be fond of our times together.”
She jerks away as though I’ve struck her. “Fond?” Her voice is shrill. “Fond? Copeland, I love you. I have loved you for two years. All you have for me is fond?”
Clenching my jaw, I shrug. She knows who I am. She knows I don’t feel like everyone else. It’s a miracle we made it this long.
“How dare you come at me with fond?” she hisses. “You were everything to me.”
“You’ll find someone else who is better.”
She slaps my cheek, but it doesn’t hurt. The tear racing down her cheek looks far more painful. “Screw you. Is this about Jett?”
“You can do better than Jett.”
“Yeah, you!” she cries out. “I had you and now I have nothing.” More tears. Her entire body trembles with a mixture of fury and devastation.
My heart ceases to beat.
Times like these, I wonder if I’m already dead. Locked in some purgatory of my past—forced to replay in my lingering subconscious while my corpse rots six feet under somewhere.
“I’ll see you around,” I mutter. “Take care of yourself.”
Her hands shake as she pulls her cigarettes from her jacket pocket. She fumbles to pull one out and then puts it to her cherry lips. The lighter doesn’t seem to work for her and after a few unsuccessful attempts, I step forward and take the lighter from her. Liquid heartbreak leaks from her eyes, soaking her cheeks as I light her cigarette for her. Out of habit, she inhales it and then hands it to me. Absently, I take a drag, letting the nicotine numb me even more, before handing it back. I wish, for her, I could show an ounce of feeling to let her know she was more than just a fond memory for me.
She was a distraction.
A Band-Aid.
When I’d needed that, she was there to do the job. But she’s fulfilled her duty and it no longer works. I may be a dick, but I do care about Ivy, and I’ll be damned if I drag her along anymore.
I kiss her forehead once more and leave without another word. As I start for the door, her mother, Fawn, walks in with Ben. She gives me a fake smile—one that Ivy has perfected—and chirps out a hello. The smell of greasy fries from the diner she works at permeates the air. Her father hates me and her mother barely tolerates me. And still, they’re better parents to me than my dad. I’ll miss them in a way.
“See ya, kid,” I tell Ben as I leave.
I stoop once outside, to admire his handiwork. His tiger has teeth now and claws. Much better.
The trip to my car, there’s a lightness in my step. I’d assumed I was the one dragging Ivy down, but I can’t help but feel freer. My mind thrums with a million things I could do without my girlfriend clinging to me. Get another tattoo? Go for a swim? Go to the football game?
I snort at the last one.
There’s no way in hell I’m going to watch Penn play football. Too many memories I’d rather not uncover. Memories of us playing football in the park. Roughhousing so hard one of us always got hurt. Adults yelling at us to calm down.
My life’s too calm these days.
Annoyingly calm.
The urge to shake things up buzzes through me. Tonight, I’ll go to that party and see what kind of trouble I can drum up.
In the meantime…
I’m taking a nap.
Penn
“You going to Leah’s party?” Brett asks as I toss my gear into the back of my Jeep.
“Leah Collins?” Cocking my head to the side, I study my friend. His hair is still wet from the shower after the game and he’s wearing a goofy smile. “Since when does Leah have parties and since when do we go to said parties?”
He snorts and gives me a playful shove. “Don’t be a douchebag, McAlister.”
“I’m not,” I argue. “Leah just hangs with her own crowd. I didn’t even think she liked us.” I don’t tell him that my dad’s been on my ass to go out with her for years. Because her dad owns a lot of property my dad wants to develop. He thinks my dating her will soften old man Collins and my dad will get the strip center he’s been after.