Broken and Screwed (BS #1)(21)

“Eric Nathan.”

“Oh.”

What did that mean? Did it mean anything at all? My chest was tight as I asked, “What are you thinking?”

He snorted and pulled his shirt over his head. His movements were rough and he jerked his shoes on.

“Jesse?”

He snapped, “What’s your problem? We screw. That’s all we do. I don’t give a shit if you’re dating my replacement.”

“Your replacement?”

He started for the door, but I hurried and got there first. I pressed my back against the door and held the handle tightly behind me.

He stopped an inch from me, but stared past my shoulders. He refused to meet my gaze. He clipped out, “Let me leave.”

“What do you mean replacement?”

His hand ran over his head in a frustrated manner. He seethed, “Come on. Let me leave.”

My heart was pounding. When wasn’t it? And then I gulped. It was calm whenever I was in his arms. I almost groaned at that thought, but rasped out, “Jesse, you don’t mean for me? Do you?”

He chuckled and shook his head. Arrogance came over him. “Nah, Alex. I meant in basketball. He was second string forward, my alternate. The dipshit never played a game last year. He’s going to tank this year.” The smirk grew ugly. “Now I’m glad I ruined that sport for him. He can’t touch my records. I’d love for him to try. And everyone’s going to hope he’ll lead them to state champs. When he won’t, they’ll hate him. I couldn’t have planned that better.”

My heart sank. Of course he hadn’t meant for me.

He reached around me, but I didn’t give him a fight. I was shifted to the side and he slipped through. When the door was going to slide to a quiet close, his hand stopped it and he poked his head around the door. “Don’t let him screw you.”

Before I could ask what exactly he meant by that, he was gone. I went to the window. It wasn’t long before I saw him dart past my window and hurry to the Ferrari parked in front of the neighbors’ house. He’d left through the back door, which meant my parents hadn’t known he was there. I shouldn’t have been surprised. They would’ve torn the door down if they had. He was the closest reminder of Ethan. No matter how far they slipped into their numbed and dazed states, I knew they’d snap out of them for him. My parents loved Jesse more than they loved me.

It was something I learned after the funeral and I was okay with it now. Hell. I loved Jesse more than myself. I couldn’t blame my parents at all.

CHAPTER EIGHT

I stayed in the next day. Angie came over at one point to rant about the meaning of friendship, but she didn’t last long. Both of my friends had stopped visiting since Ethan’s death and I didn’t blame them. There was an empty feeling in my home. I had grown used to it and was now almost comforted by it. I knew that was sad and twisted, but it was beyond my control. So when Angie started checking her phone and glancing at the door after an hour in my room, I knew she’d felt the itch to go.

After she left, I huddled in my bed and stayed there. One movie turned into two, turned into three, and after the fourth, my stomach growled so loudly that I was forced to leave for the kitchen. Once I was down there, I stopped in the foyer.

There was no sound in the living room.

I circled through the first floor of our little house. Every room was empty. The basement was the same, and then, my heart starting to pound, I went upstairs. The bathroom was empty. My parents’ master bedroom was empty. The room Jesse always used was empty as well, and the last room was Ethan’s. His door was closed. It had been over a year now. My hand started to tremble, but I pushed open the door.

His black comforter was pulled straight over his bed. His pillows were piled high, along with the bag he had left on his bed that last day.

I drew in a shuddering breath.

It’d been a little over a year. I couldn’t believe it.

After entering the room, I shut the door again and backed up to the wall.

I hadn’t gone into his room since his funeral and I couldn’t make myself even look around it now. His presence was so overwhelming; I felt as if he was in here, maybe on his bed, and he had looked up at my arrival. He always did that when I’d push open the door for some question or a stupid excuse to see if Jesse was with him. Some days he’d tell me to leave, but other days he’d welcome my arrival.

I gasped out loud and tried to draw in another breath.

Then the tears started. Why did I feel him? Why did it seem as if he were right next to me? Then the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up.

I had to get out of there.

I shot to my feet and sprinted from the hallway. I grabbed my purse, my coat, and I was out the door within moments.

I still felt him.

As I got into my car, my fingers were clumsy and I dropped the keys twice. After the third time while I gritted my teeth, I was able to turn the engine on. And then my phone went off. I jumped and gasped again. My eyes grew blurry as I reached for it. When I read Marissa’s name on the screen, I sighed from relief.

Slowly, the world returned to focus and my heart stopped pounding in my ear. I was able to see once more.

As I hit the answer button, I collapsed against my seat and sighed, “Yeah?”

“Oh my gosh.” Marissa drew in her own breath. “Thank God you answered me. I’ve been calling you all night. I’m so, so, so sorry about Jesse. I really am.”