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By now, I’m sure that Maddox knows I escaped, judging by the missed calls I had on my phone. But I don’t want to speak to him—not just because I’m upset with him, but because I have other things on my mind, other battles to fight that are far more pressing at the moment. And perhaps some space from him will help me get my head on straight.
Blowing dust off the dark leather, I stare down at the photo album, and all the memories it brings up slam into me at once.
Feeling my eyes well with tears already, I take the photo album over to my bed and sit down in the middle of my comforter, criss-cross applesauce style. I brace myself for what I’m going to see when I open it and then turn the page, coming face-to-face with the only boy I’ve ever loved—until now.
Jacob’s smile blinds me as the picture from our first date stares back at me—his spiked hair with bleached tips, our braces catching the light from the disposable camera, his blue eyes that were so bright, they gave the sky a run for its money in hue.
His arm is wrapped around my shoulder as he pulls me into his chest, and both our chins are cut off by the bottom edge of the picture since back then we had no idea if our picture was a decent one until we got the film developed.
I turn the page, fighting back tears as I see the next picture, the one from our sophomore Homecoming, the first dance he took me to. I remember him picking me up from my house, shaking my dad’s hand as I came down the stairs in my red dress, my hair in ringlets that really would be a crime to wear nowadays.
I just keep flipping through past years of memories—football games and pictures of him in his uniform, hugging me after he won; holidays when we would buy each other bottles of cologne and perfume as gifts or the year he got me a promise ring that I wore until a year after he died; and high school graduation, when we smiled so proudly and optimistically, thinking we had nothing but our future ahead of us.
With each passing picture, the images grow blurrier until I finally collapse and curl up in a ball as sobs rack my body. I cry for every mistake I’ve made since then. I cry for not having the courage to go back home and face the town I left behind that’s full of all these memories. And I cry for the man I hurt over and over again for the past three months because I felt guilty for wanting the same things with him that I wanted with Jacob.
I cry until I can’t open my eyes. I cry until I finally pass out.
And when I wake up the next morning on the anniversary of Jacob’s passing, I cry some more as I dial the number for the grief counselor, schedule an appointment, and book a flight to the place I vowed I’d never return to.
Then I turn off my phone for the rest of the day, wanting to grieve one last time in peace.
Chapter19
Maddox
“Taylor!” Liam’s voice comes through the line at an alarming volume.
“Jesus, Liam.” I sit up in bed, running a hand down my face as I try to wake up. I passed out earlier after being up all night, trying to get a hold of Penelope. I’d seriously fucked up, and I knew it. So I’d barely slept, and with no reply from her by mid-afternoon, my body finally succumbed to the adrenaline rush that peaked and then crashed with my anxiety. “What the fuck? Why are you yelling?”
“Penelope isn’t answering her goddamn phone.”
I know that, but I can’t tell him why, so I deflect. “Okay. How is that my problem?”
“You two leave for Texas in two days, and I can’t get a hold of our PR rep. What the fuck is going on?”
“Like I would know?”
“The woman is a flake. I don’t understand why the team hired her or even allowed her on this account.”
I sit up straighter as fury runs through my veins. “You’d better watch your tone, Liam. I’m sure there’s a reason why you can’t reach her, and it has nothing to do with her work ethic, all right?”
Who are you trying to convince there, Maddox? Him or you?
As soon as I left Penelope handcuffed to my bed yesterday, I felt like I took things too far. But dammit, she shut down on me again, and I was done. The next time I see her, we’re going to talk, I’m going to tell her how I feel, and then we’re going to make a decision about going public with our relationship.
That is, if I can get the woman to talk to me. At this rate, I wonder if she’ll even follow through with going home with me.
I fucked up. I pushed her too hard. Now, all I want is to apologize and move forward, but I’m scared that pushing her to talk to me too soon might make matters even worse.
I called her so many times yesterday that I lost count, but each time it went to voicemail, so I finally gave up.
She’s obviously pissed at me and doesn’t want to talk. But after this conversation with Liam right now that’s making me want to punch something, I think I might just have to show up at her house andmakeher talk to me—because now I’m getting worried.
Did something happen to her? Did her phone die when she was on a mountain, hiking somewhere to clear her head? Did she walk on the beach at night and get kidnapped?
My mind is running through a hundred different scenarios at the moment, none of which I like at all. But Liam’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.
“There’d better be a reason she’s not fucking answering my calls, because if the owner catches wind of this, it’s her job on the line. Training camp starts next week. The last thing we need is for her to go rogue right now.”
