Happenstance 3 Read online

  "What happened?"

  "He sized his class ring. He wanted me to wear it. He had it all planned out and wanted it to be special, but I freaked out and ruined the whole thing. I think he broke up with me."

  Julianne's cheeks filled with air, and then she slowly blew it out, looking to be in deep thought. "Whoa."

  "Yeah."

  "Well..." She climbed the stairs. Her white satin robe caught the moonlight coming in from the window over the door. "Gosh," she said, sitting a couple of stairs below me.

  "Yeah."

  "Want me to wake up Dad?"

  "No," I said, hating the whiny sound in my voice. "We've had such a good summer. And I've told Weston everything he wants to hear. I think we can make it work. But none of that is good enough. He wants a necklace around my neck and a ring on my finger. And now, he's talking about real rings."

  "Real what?"

  "Not until later," I clarified.

  Julianne nodded, relieved. "Oh my, he's got it bad."

  "Literally. And not in a teenage colloquialism way either."

  Julianne breathed a laugh out of her nose. "I don't know about that, but it does seem like you keep having the same conversation."

  "Ad nauseam."

  "Okay, so maybe he's right. Maybe it's time to take a break. You'll be busy packing for the next couple of days, and then you'll be moving to Stillwater. Once you're settled in and comfortable with your classes, you can give him a call."

  I frowned. "I feel like that's what he wants. I feel like he's pushing me away--unintentionally, yet he's doing it on purpose."

  "He's testing you."

  I pointed at her. "Yes."

  "Because he's insecure."

  "Yes." I thought about that for a while. "You're right. We need some space. He has to figure this out. I can't do it for him."

  She leaned her cheek against my knee. "I'm in his boat."

  "You mean that he's a fixer, too?"

  "He wants all the ducks in a row in a way that makes sense to him. Like your dad said, he's trying to control the only thing he can because everything else feels so far out of his reach."

  "I shouldn't fault him for that. Shouldn't I love him through it?"

  "You can but not at the expense of your needs."

  I felt sick. "This is all way too grown-up for me. I don't feel equipped to handle this."

  "Oh, you are. That's the problem. Things would be so much easier on him if you behaved like a typical eighteen-year-old girl in love, put the ring on your finger, and begged for a diamond sooner rather than later. He needs a little while to catch up, to see things from a reasonable perspective, but it'll happen."

  "I feel sorry for him," I said. "He deserves someone that can be all giddy about this stuff."

  "I don't," Julianne said without hesitation. "You're being smart about this. He'll respect you for it later."

  "You think so?"

  "I know so. He's panicking. It'll pass."

  I hugged my mother, and then I hurried up the stairs, falling into bed with my cell phone in hand.

  You're panicking. It'll pass.

  After several minutes with no response, I put my cell phone on the nightstand.

  Rain began to thump against the window. The thunder rumbled first, far off in the distance. Before long, lightning crackled beyond the borders of my window, flashing in pulses into my bedroom.

  I tried not to think about Weston, but it became impossible. A few regrets but mostly sweet moments kept popping into my mind. Once, I had fantasized about what it might be like to be loved by Weston Gates. Now, time had turned inside out, and love was a ridiculous roller coaster, an ultimatum, an impasse--at least, what was left of it.

  My heart broke as my thoughts turned just as dark as the night between the lightning. He'd just wanted to give me his ring. It was such a puppy-love thing to do.

  Why have I acted so offended by his every attempt to hold on to me?

  It seemed like we were having two very different conversations. Rings, necklaces, and promises aside...I was jeopardizing our relationship for refusing to love him his way instead of mine.

  Can I really say good-bye to the boy I've dreamed about since before I knew what love was?

  A horrible realization hit. Is it already too late?

  A soft knock on the door prompted me to lift my head.

  "Any word?" Julianne whispered from the doorway.

  "No. Have you heard from Veronica? Is he home?"

  She nodded. "He's home."

  I lay back against my pillow. "Good."

  "He'll come around. Try to get some sleep," she said with her soft mom voice. She disappeared into the dark hall.

  Thunder rolled over our house, louder than it had been since the storm began. Part of me wanted to stomp across the rain-soaked lawns and pound on his door until he listened, but we had gone back and forth for nearly three months. He was desperate, and I was beginning to think I was broken.

  Despite the heavy thoughts bouncing around in my head, the rain slowly sang me to sleep. I dreamed of emerald-green eyes, soft fingertips on my skin, and a lonely empty dorm room.

  When my eyes opened, I waited for relief or the feeling of a second chance, a tiny shred of hope. It never came.

  I rolled over onto my side, ignoring the chipper birds on the branches outside my window and the sunshine pouring through the sheer curtains. Everything Weston had ever said to me scrolled through my mind like credits, read in his soothing deep voice. I already missed him. My hand shot out from under the blanket and took my phone from the night table. I was almost afraid to look.

  But I did, and the display read exactly the way I'd expected it to. There was nothing. I wondered what he was doing at that moment--if he were awake, if he were keeping busy, if he were wondering about me or trying not to, if he regretted molding his ring into the shape of my finger.

  "Erin?" Sam called from downstairs. "Up and at 'em, babycakes! We've got a big day!"

  The hours dragged on with organizing, packing, and shopping. It would have been nice if packing had kept my mind from Weston, but the more I tucked away, the further he felt.

  On moving day, Sam stacked Julianne's SUV with boxes and bags, rearranging it all at least twice until he was satisfied with the way it fit.

  "I'm not going to cry," Julianne said. "It's just a car ride. We've driven to Stillwater a hundred times. This is no different. We're just...taking our only child to...I'm going to cry," she said, her breathing suddenly labored.

  "No, you're not," Sam said, handing her a tumbler with a straw. "Chamomile. Sip and think of how brilliant your daughter will be and all that money she will make to help keep you and me in the finest retirement home."

  I smirked.

  "Well? It's time, kiddo," Sam said.

  Julianne's lips pressed into a hard line as she retreated to the passenger seat and slammed the door.

  "Is she going to be okay?" I asked, looking around.

  "Yes. Are you?"

  I walked a few steps out into the yard and glanced each way. Weston's truck wasn't in the drive.

  Sam waved me back with an understanding expression. "Come on, honey. It's time to go."

  I nodded, deflated. "I thought he'd at least say good-bye."

  "He still has time. Maybe he'll come out tomorrow or something. He doesn't leave for a few more days."

  "I have orientation tomorrow," I said, opening the door of my BMW.

  Sam watched as I sat in the driver's seat. He pushed his round tortoise shell glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Try not to worry about it, honey. It's best to focus on school now. Today is what you've been dreaming about for a long time. I just want you to think about that."

  I nodded.

  Sam walked to the SUV and slid in next to Julianne. He backed out of the drive and then pulled up a bit until I did the same. We paused briefly at the Stop sign, and then they pulled onto Chrysler Avenue, turning east.

  BEING ALONE IN THE CAR for an hour and f
ifteen minutes did nothing to help keep my mind off of Weston. It was the day I'd been dreaming of, but things were very different than I had imagined. Leaving wasn't an escape. It was good-bye, and I wasn't sure how I should feel about it.

  The radio seemed to know how low I was feeling, the DJ playing every sad song on his list. Then, the upbeat songs just reminded me that I couldn't cheer up, and that only made me feel worse.

  Sam pulled into the parking lot of my dorm. Most of the parking spaces were already taken, so he parallel-parked next to a tree that I was pretty sure was not a legal spot. He hopped out and directed me to park behind him.

  "They'll forgive us today," he said with a reassuring smile. It faded when he saw my expression. "Sweet pea, come here."

  He pulled me into a hug, and then Julianne's footsteps stopped next to us.

  I looked up at her, and her eyes were as red and wet as mine. I sniffed and then wiped my eyes, and Julianne did the same.

  She nodded. "Okay. We can do this." She lowered her chin and cupped my cheeks. "This is a good day. This is a great day."

  After I checked in and received my paperwork and key, I returned to where my parents stood at the open SUV.

  "Here we go. This is it. This is the day," Sam said, holding a laundry basket full of various items above his head.

  Julianne began to giggle, and then I did, too.

  I stacked two of the smaller boxes and lifted them into my arms.

  "Thank God there is an elevator." Julianne huffed as she lifted a box. "This is Bennett Hall." She smiled. "It's the best. Boone Pickens Stadium is just right there, and they have the best food."

  I shot an appreciative smile at Sam. "You know how much I love food."

  "That wasn't my call," Sam admitted. "You can thank Mom for getting the inside scoop on that one."

  I turned my charm on high and pointed it straight at Julianne.

  "Didn't I tell you we've got you taken care of?" she said, pleased with herself.

  "Let me carry that, Julianne," a smooth deep voice said from behind the SUV.

  Weston stepped around, holding out his arms. My stomach sank, and my heart leaped.

  Julianne lugged the box over to him and then stacked another one on top of that. "Nice of you to show up, Wes."

  "Yes, ma'am," he said simply.

  Julianne grabbed a couple of bags and followed Sam toward the building.

  "Hi," I said, instantly feeling stupid over my simple greeting.

  His eyes didn't give anything away. "I wasn't doing anything else today. I figured I'd be a complete dick if I didn't come help you move."

  "Thank you," I said, my voice sounding small.

  "It doesn't mean anything. I'm just being a friend."

  I nodded, and we walked together across the lot until we got to the lobby. Sam was holding the elevator while Julianne held the papers that told us which room I was in and the directions to get there.

  "Second floor," Julianne said. "Two thirty-seven."

  Sam pushed the button, and Weston and I did our best to fit inside with our full loads. Our arms were pressed together, and I ached for his warm soft skin.

  The elevator opened. Weston walked out into the hall, looking in both directions. Sam passed us and led the way. Julianne followed him, and Weston brought up the rear.

  Once inside, Sam lowered his boxes, and Julianne put the bags on the floor. She pulled out a stack of folded sheets, handed them to me, and tossed the memory foam mattress to Weston.

  "Get to work!" Julianne said with a smile.

  The single bedroom suite had a full kitchen and a washer and dryer, and it seemed to go on forever.

  "I'm feeling a little overwhelmed," I said.

  Sam put his hands on my shoulders. "You mean overjoyed. This is a great day, remember? We'll go get more of your things."

  "I'll help," Weston said, taking a step.

  Julianne put her hand on her chest. "We helped pack. You can help her unpack."

  Weston nodded once.

  After a few moments of awkward silence, Sam took his wife by the hand, and they shut the door behind them.

  Weston unzipped the clear plastic bag that held the memory foam and unrolled it over the mattress. I unfolded the fitted sheet, and he held out his hands.

  "Thanks again," I said as we worked together to make the bed.

  "This is a nice place."

  I couldn't think of anything amazing to say, so I didn't say anything at all.

  "Seems like a lot for just you."

  My cheeks flushed. "Are you insulting me or trying to make me feel guilty?"

  He sighed. "Neither."

  We finished the bed and began unpacking boxes. Sam and Julianne were in and out. Weston hooked up a lamp and then unpacked the organic cleaners and the rest of the kitchen while I put away clothes.

  Once everything had been brought upstairs, Sam began helping Julianne hang up pictures, making the suite look a little more like home.

  Weston ambled about until he finally sat on the couch. "Did you guys rent this?" he said, spreading out his arms and resting them on top of the cushions.

  "No, it's furnished," Julianne said.

  Weston tried not to be impressed. "I'm pretty sure my apartment in Dallas will look nothing like this."

  Sam chuckled. "I'm going to guess your parents will make sure you're living safe and well."

  "I'm not going to Duke anymore, remember?" Weston smirked.

  "So I've heard. Peter also mentioned he was proud of you for making a choice and standing by it. He's also bragged on some of your charcoals, specifically the one of my daughter."

  I held my breath. Weston looked like Sam had just punched him.

  "Yeah...that's not up anymore."

  At that moment, I felt like the one who'd been punched. I found the closest seat and sat down.

  Sam looked around. "We, um...we forgot a few things."

  "Like what?" Weston said. "I'll go grab it."

  "Trash bags, for one," Julianne said. "Sea salt and black pepper granules for the grinders."

  Weston looked at me. "Is she serious right now?"

  I shrugged.

  Sam tugged on his wife. "Let's go, honey. We can beat the rush of other parents who forgot things."

  They scurried out the door, leaving Weston and me feeling too much in a big suite boiling over with tension.

  I covered my face. "You don't have to stay. You can leave."

  "Thanks," he said, standing.

  "You don't have to," I said, panicking. "I just meant that if you didn't want to stay here...I wanted to say good-bye, but I didn't expect you to help us move. I appreciate it."

  "We've already said good-bye. You've been saying it for months."

  I sank into the back cushion of the chair. "That's not true."

  "You're still wearing it."

  I touched the necklace, feeling my cheeks catch fire. "Should I take it off? I don't really know how this works."

  "Do what you want," he snapped.

  I crossed my hands over my stomach. It had been so long since I needed to protect myself against anyone trying to hurt me that I was out of practice.

  Weston's hands went up and then fell to his thighs. He was wearing his typical basketball shorts, red, with a navy T-shirt and a backward red ball cap, his shaggy brown hair peeking out. "I don't want to fight. I'm just going to..." He pointed to the door, and then he scooped his keys and walked toward it.

  "You can't keep leaving," I said, standing.

  He turned around, his jaw set. "What?"

  "You can't keep breaking my heart and then blaming me for it."

  His eyebrows shot up, and he pointed to his chest. "I broke your heart?"

  "This is the last time I'll let you come here. If you quit on me, I quit, too." A hot tear burned down my cheek, but I wiped it away.

  Weston shook his head with a disgusted look on his face. "I don't even know why I came." He reached for the knob.

  "Because you l
ove me!" I said, my voice breaking. "And you know I love you! So, why? I still don't know what I did wrong!"

  Weston stared at me like I was on fire.

  I took a step. "Because I didn't put your ring on my finger? Because I don't want to move in with you? You're wrong," I said, pointing. "I don't know the first thing about love, but you're wrong. You're the one hurting me...and you...for no reason. We were happy. We were together, and now, we're not. I didn't do that," I said, breathing out a faltering breath. "You left me."

  Weston's eyes fell to the floor. His Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed, and he gripped the knob. "Enjoy Stillwater." He paused. "I mean that."

  As he walked out the door, I grabbed the closest thing to me--a frame--and out of pure frustration, I chucked it at the door. It shattered, and I covered my mouth. Julianne had bought that because it looked a lot like our family frame, but it said Happy. Now, happy was lying in pieces all over the floor.

  He'd left me.

  I walked over to the window. Sam and Julianne stopped Weston in the parking lot. Weston's fingers were hooked on his hips, and he was shifting his weight from one leg to the other as if he couldn't stand still.

  Sam put his hand on his shoulder, and Julianne hurried toward the building. Weston turned his ball cap around, pulled it low over his brow, and then hung his head. Sam pulled him closer, and Weston hugged him tight.

  The thought of my new frame lying in fragments on the floor made me rush over to the entryway, but I wasn't sure where the broom was, and Julianne was already knocking anyway.

  I slowly opened the door, feeling ashamed the moment her eyes fell on the broken remains at her feet.

  "Oh, Erin," Julianne said, joining me on the floor. She helped with the large pieces and then walked to the hallway closet.

  "I'm so sorry," I said. "I might have thrown a small tantrum."

  "What did he say to you?"

  "Not much. I did most of the talking. He did the walking out. He's gotten pretty good at that."

  Julianne frowned. "He's so lost and confused. I'm sorry he's taking it out on you."

  Sam knocked on the door, still opened a bit from when Julianne had come in. "You've got it?" he said.

  He retrieved the dustpan from the closet, and then he held it in place so that Julianne could sweep up the last bit of shards.

  Minutes later, the floor was clean, and the remnants of my anger had been thrown away in one of my new trash bags. It was like happy had never happened.

  "I know it's hard to believe now," Sam said, "but he's hurting--mostly himself. He's trying not to care if you care anymore. Boys aren't as tough as our counterparts. We flail around like toddlers learning to walk, taking out everything around us while trying to get to where we're going. Anything that's halfway scary makes us wail like banshees."