Author: Cheryl McIntyre

She bites her lip, shaking her head. She brings her hands up to rub her arms like she’s cold and I see something that has me across the room before I even realize I’ve moved.

I put myself between Annie and Loden and place my hand on her back, ushering her toward the door.

“What are you doing?” she asks incredulously. If she could see her arms the way I can, she wouldn’t even ask me.

“We’re leaving.”

“I can’t—”

I stop and take her face into my shaking hands. “It’s taking everything in me not to beat his fucking ass. Just come with me.”

Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

“Fucking go,” Loden yells. “We’re done.”

Perfect. I drop my hands, wrapping one around Annie’s and pull her out of the room. I take Kayla’s wrist in my other hand and I don’t let go until I have to open the car door.

17

Coming Undone

Annie

The bass from the speaker thrums against my side. My cheek is pressed to the cool glass as I stare out the car window. I angle my face up so I can watch the stars blur past. I love autumn. The sky is always so clear.

Other than the music—I recognize this song as one Chase loaded on my iPod so long ago—the car is silent. Nobody talks—not even Kayla, though it’s obvious she has questions sitting on the edge of her full ruby lips. I feel my hatred for her burn through my chest. She’s everything I’m not. Beautiful. Carefree. Happy.

And she has Chase, who I know doesn’t have much more to offer her other than a hot body and fun times, but at least he will never tear her heart apart. He just doesn’t have it in him.

I’ve made one mistake after another with Loden. Nothing I do is right. Nothing I do is good enough. Everything is wrong. Everything. I couldn’t even make it a month this time.

Failure hurts. Literally.

The first week had been great, but it quickly escalated, everything going right back to where it was when we had decided to take the break. If I’m not being accused of wanting to sleep with any male that glances my way, then I’m not dressing sexy enough, or I’m dressing too sexy because I must want the attention of every guy in a ten mile radius. Or I’m chewing in an unladylike manner, talking too softly, breathing too loudly.

The lyrics pulse in my ears—“I’m coming undone, too late, I’m coming undone”—and I feel the tears sting my eyes. Taste the salt in the back of my throat.

I don’t think I’ve ever related to a song so strongly before. I let my eyes flutter shut and just listen. And breathe. And try not to feel whatever it is that I’m feeling.

The car pulls to a stop and a door opens. I force my eyes open to watch Chase get out. He leaves the car running, music playing. My gaze tracks him as he walks around the front of the car and stops beside the passenger side door. His eyes lock with mine in the backseat before he tugs the handle, opening the door for Kayla.

I can’t seem to look away as she takes his offered hand and they walk up to the apartment building. Chase leans in and kisses Kayla on the lips. My stomach pulls tight as I watch her fingers dig into the back of his neck, prolonging the intimate moment.

I think I drank too much because I feel like I’m going to vomit.

After an exchanging of words and Kayla wangles one more kiss, Chase comes back to the passenger door, opening it widely. He pushes the seat forward and pries my hand from my lap. I look up at him and he presses his lips into a straight line. Not smiling. Not frowning. Just a flat line devoid of any one emotion.

I can relate.

“Sit up front with me,” he murmurs.

I let him pull me out and guide me into the passenger seat. He tries to buckle me, his hair brushing lightly against my cheek, and I smell the scent of his shampoo. It snaps me out of my stupor. I yank the strap from his hand and shove the buckle into place with a click.

All my senses recognize his scent. Everything inside me screams “safe, familiar, home.”

I want to throw myself into his arms and hope he hugs me. I want to burrow into his embrace and pretend everything is all right in the world.

That I’m all right.

I can feel Chase’s stare pressing into me. I finally look up from the seatbelt and he touches my face. I cringe. It takes a moment before I register his thumb drying the moisture under my eye. Even longer to understand the moisture is from tears. I’m crying?

“Shh,” he soothes. “I won’t let it happen again.”

I shift away, startled by his vow. Afraid of the way I believe him. Sickened by the way I can’t tell him the truth.

I swore I’d make this work this time around and I can’t get it right. God, I’ve been trying. I’ve been trying so hard. But I just keep screwing it up. Just like my mom. I’m just like her and I don’t know how to change it. Nothing I do is working and it’s only getting worse.

Chase falls into the driver’s seat beside me. He sighs, rubbing his face roughly, and turns the volume down on the music. He looks tired. I wonder what he’s been doing to be so tired. I heard he got a new part-time job, bussing tables somewhere off campus. I wonder if he likes it. If he’s able to keep up with his school work. Questions I won’t ask.

“What do you want to do?” he asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I don’t know what he means. I shake my head. “I just want to go home and go to bed.”

He nods slowly, but doesn’t move. We’re still sitting, idling in the parking lot of Kayla’s apartment complex.

“Do you want to go to the cops? Try to get a restraining order? Do you want me and Guy to take care of it?” He stops then, searching my face.

I open my mouth. Close it. Take care of it? God. No. He wants to go kick Loden’s ass. “Chase,” I choke, “he was drunk.”

“I don’t give a shit if he was fucking drunk, Annie. Don’t do this. Don’t make excuses for him.”

I shake my head back and forth quickly as more tears fall now. “I’m not. I’m explaining. He’s not like that—”

“Like what?” Chase throws back fiercely. “Abusive?” He grabs my arm, shaking it between us in the small confines of the car. “Look what he did to you,” he demands. “Look.”

I do. I follow his brutal gaze and peer down at my arm. I just stare at it, unfeeling. Chase opens his hand and gently touches one finger after another to my skin, covering the matching red marks, one at a time, until he’s circled around my bicep.

“It’s not like you think. He was drunk. He got jealous and we argued. He grabbed me, but he didn’t mean to hurt me. He would never do this on purpose. He knows his jealousy is a problem and he’s trying to work on it.”

I haven’t taken my eyes away from his hand. He hasn’t removed his hand from my arm. I take a deep breath and wiggle out from under the warm pressure.

“What are you saying right now? You don’t blame him? All is forgiven? Everything is rainbows and butterflies because he’s trying?”

I blame myself. And everything is far from perfect. But I don’t tell him that. “There is nothing to forgive,” I say instead.

Chase laughs with complete lack of humor. He leans over and shifts the gear into drive. “I’m sorry I interrupted. If I hadn’t intervened you guys would have made up by now.” His voice is low, his tone full of sarcasm.

“Most likely,” I agree. “Don’t judge me. You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me really slowly,” he retorts.

“No,” I spit. “It’s none of your business. My relationship with Loden has absolutely nothing to do with you. This is none of your concern.”

Chase’s hands seize the steering wheel. His jaw clenches, his teeth grinding loudly. “Maybe not, but it is Guy’s business.”

My stomach somersaults. I press the button, opening my window. I need some fresh air or I might actually throw up. I let the wind blow against my skin, cooling it before I turn to face him.

“Are you threatening me?”

He laughs again, his eyes narrowed into a glare that puts mine to shame. “I’m not threatening you.” He tips his head in my direction. “I’m just explaining,” he adds, throwing my words back at me. And they hit hard.

“Don’t you dare tell him,” I say harshly.

“Why not?” Chase inquires, his shoulders lifting carelessly. “Could it be because he won’t be able to understand your lame excuses either? Because he’ll want to kick Loden’s ass as much as I do?” He stops at a red light, giving him the opportunity to face me full on.

“Or is it because deep down, underneath all your bullshit defenses, you know as well as I do what Loden did to you is fucked up?”

One. Two. Three. Four.

“Stop fucking counting,” Chase huffs as he presses on the gas.

“Stop butting into my life,” I fire back. “This is nobody’s business but mine.”

“Not if you’re being hurt.”

“I’m not being hurt.”

“You have fingerprints. On. Your. Arms.”

I sigh in defeat. “I care about him,” I whisper.

Chase is quiet for a long time. He doesn’t speak again until we pull into a parking space on campus. “Do you want to stay in my dorm room?” he finally says.

I shake my head slightly. I just want my bed. But I can’t go until I know he won’t run his mouth and make a big production out of this.

“He’s never done anything like this before,” I lie. “I know he didn’t mean to be so rough. Haven’t you ever lost control before? Haven’t you ever done something you didn’t mean to do? Haven’t you ever made a mistake you regretted?”

Chase inhales deeply, his eyes on mine. He releases it slowly and nods. “Of course I have.”

“And do I strike you as the type of person that would stay in a relationship I couldn’t handle?”

He chuckles. “No. I never thought so.”

“Then please just trust that I know what is best for me—who is best. And that I know what I’m doing.”

His lips press together into that flat line again as he contemplates my words. “I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right.”

“It doesn’t have to feel right to you. It’s my relationship.”

“He said he was done, Annie. Maybe it’s for the best.”

I ignore that. I have to. We can’t be done. We just got back together. I have plans. We made plans together. He’s promised me a future. I’m not giving up that easily. Not this time. I won’t. We can get past it.

I don’t want to be alone.

“He’s going to wake up tomorrow and realize what happened. He’s going to feel terrible.”

“He should,” Chase states roughly. “Don’t let him off easy.”

“I won’t.”

He closes his eyes and I swear, I think he’s using my trick, counting to ten. When he looks at me again, I’m confused by his expression. It’s indecipherable and something about it pulls at my insides, making my heart beat faster.

“If he ever does it again—anything remotely close—you call me. In fact, I think you should give me a call every night. Just check in so I know everything’s cool.”

“What? I’m not a child—”

“I know you’re not. Fucking hell. I know you’re not a child, Annie. Just do this for me or I’ll worry all the time.”

“Why?” I say so quietly I’m surprised he can hear.

“You’re my friend. I care. Just call.”

I nod. “Okay.”

He returns the gesture and I open the door. It creaks loudly in the still night. I stand next to the car, trying to find the right words to thank him.