The Struggle (The Things We Can't Change Book 2) (3 page)

“My place.”

“I’ll be there. Not till after work though. I have an event tonight at the club,” I say, thinking of my dream. The other bonus of Cameron’s parties, of staying out late with my friends, is that I can put off sleep for as long as possible. It’s the one place I’m completely vulnerable to my emotions and memories, and I hate that feeling, of being trapped there and not being able to escape.

“Cool. Bring Tessa. We’re out of here, no point in staying for the rest of the day.” Cameron stands up and stretches, and most of his crowd leaves with him.

It’s just Koby, Dominic, and me left at the table. Koby because he’s actually a good student, me because my dad will flip if he finds out I skipped, and Dominic because it’s either us or Cameron, and he’d rather be with us. I know, however, that it’s just a matter of time before my friends lay into me.

Sure enough, Koby is staring at me, and I give him a look. “Don’t start.”

“I’ll start if I feel like it, it’s called free speech,” Koby snaps. “I swear, if you get high tonight and start doing something stupid again, I’ll tackle you down and tie you up.”

“Sounds kinky. Will Tessa be around to help?” I ask nonchalantly, and then stand because I don’t really feel like getting lectured. I’ve been getting enough of that from my dad lately.

“Her too!” Koby cries. “Zeke, you used to do everything you could to avoid her. She’s hooked up with everyone at the country club, why are you hanging out with her?”

I shrug. It’s because it all
helps
, all this distraction. If I’m smoking or drinking or painting or hooking up with a girl, I’m not thinking about Cindy, about love or connections or worry and especially not Evie or Tony. Or about my anger, or doing anything about the anger that I feel.

“You don’t understand,” I finally say shortly, because they’re both staring at me like they want a real answer.

“You could try making us understand,” Dominic says, and his voice is low. He’s looking at a point over my left shoulder, and I can tell it’s because he’s uncomfortable with the topic of conversation.

“I’m not going to talk about it,” I warn, and my voice is a low growl. “Just lay off, got it? I’m fine.”

“Whatever,” Koby snaps, and gets up and leaves the table.

Dominic hesitates, but then he finally gives me a nod and we walk together to our next class. “You know he’s just worried about you,” he comments, and I give him a hard look. He holds his hands up innocently. “Look, I’m even less into all this emotional shit than you are, okay? God knows my own parents aren’t all there. I’m just saying, fall all you want. But don’t fall so far that you can’t get back up. Know what I’m saying?”

I nod, even though I already know the truth of the matter.

I know I’ll never want to get back up.

Evangeline

26

I thought I was ready for this. Now, however, as I see my hand shaking, the liquid in my crystal cup trembling and sending out ripples, I know that I am anything but ready. It’s all converging on me, the sights and sounds of the crowd, people pressing in on me,
touching
me, the whispers and sideways looks from everyone in the room. For a long moment I just stand there, sure I’m about to space out, lose myself, and then I look up and meet a pair of green eyes set into a dark face and everything around me seems to quiet and dim, fade away.

For a long moment, Zeke and I just stare at each other from across the room, and then we turn away at the same time. My heart aches as I make my way to a corner of the big banquet hall, away from the thickest part of the crowd. I lean up against the wall, glad for the respite from my screaming nerves and the chance to be unnoticed for a little while. My eyes follow Zeke almost unwillingly, watching as he moves slowly through the crowd, a tray balanced in one big, strong hand.

He is certainly no less tall and commanding, but he seems thinner and leaner, as though he’s lost weight. There is a new sharpness to his cheekbones that wasn’t there a month ago, and while the circles under his eyes hint at very little sleep, they do nothing to distract from the beauty of those light eyes against his dark skin. The haunted look almost seems to make him look ethereal, tragically beautiful instead of just devastatingly good looking.

I haven’t said two words to Zeke since the accident, since I heard about Cindy and what Tony did. I don’t know what to say to him, since I myself know so well the inadequacy of those bland words,
I’m so sorry for your loss
. It seems like Zeke rescuing me and the accident should have brought us together, but instead, it has caused a rift between us. When I look into Zeke’s eyes, I see the same emotion that is always in my own; guilt, and neither of us seems to know what to do with it.

While underneath the guilt in my own eyes I mostly see fear, of anything and everything, in Zeke’s, beneath that heavy layer of guilt I see a hot, simmering anger. That scares me, and deep down I think it’s the reason I stay away from him. I have the shaky suspicion that the anger might partially be directed at me.

It’s an awful contradiction, that I see the anger there and am scared to approach him, and yet, just looking into his eyes calms me, keeps me inside my own body, quiets the raging storm that is always thundering around in my head. I can’t stand to be near anyone but my dad, to have anyone touch me but him, and yet Zeke is always there in the back of my mind, and I always remember that safe feeling I got whenever he appeared. I long for that feeling, to be surrounded in it all the time, not just when my dad is around, but I know that I have already caused Zeke enough grief, and so I don’t dare approach him.

We are at a benefit for the Grandview Police Department that my dad helped to fund and organize, and even as I’m standing in the corner, I hear glasses dinging and see the mustached, gray-headed police chief stand up at the front of the room and begin to make a speech. My dad is standing to one side, waiting for his moment to talk about how contributions can be made. It’s a familiar scene, one I’ve been witness to countless times in my life. My dad catches my eye just as he takes the microphone from Chief Kelly and winks at me, and I can’t help but smile at him.

The peace is short lived, however, when I see movement to my left and become aware of people coming toward me. I look out of the corner of my eye and groan inwardly when I see that Hunter is heading the group. Or maybe it would be more accurate to call them a lynch mob. I can see Tiffany, Chantal, and Grace among them, though not Jenny. The thought of Jenny sends a wave of sadness through me. I haven’t seen her since before Tony’s accident, and haven’t heard from her either. She didn’t even come visit me in the hospital. I’d thought that out of everyone, she might have been on my side, but it turns out I have no allies, and never did.

It’s a motley group, the three girls and their usual boys, Tony’s old friends, and then a few of Hunter’s older friends, ones who are in college or already graduated and going for their MBA’s or law degrees, like Hunter. Normally, it would have been Tony leading the crowd, but he has always shared the spotlight with Hunter in the summer while he was home. Tony and my stepbrother have always gotten along famously, and I think that is the root of my dislike for Hunter, along with the fact that he is just like his mother.

They’re walking with the jaunty swagger of rich kids who know they don’t have a care in the world; they’re rich, they can pay their way out of any scrape they get into, and nothing can touch them. Oh, how wrong they are about that. I’ve had money all my life, thanks to my dad, but in the end it did little to protect me from the things that hurt the most. Money doesn’t put a protective wall around the heart, or the mind.

I lean against the wall as they pass by me, and for just a moment I think that I’m safe, that they have little interest in me because they’ve been drinking (how ironic at a benefit for the police department), but all of the sudden Hunter pauses, and then wheels around to look right at me. I know he passed by me on purpose, just so he could turn around for the drama of the moment. A smile curves on his full lips, revealing those straight, too-white teeth, and he would have looked handsome if the glint in his eyes wasn’t so cruel.

“Evie!” he cries, a little too loudly, and everyone in his little posse looks over at me. “Sister, dear, is that where you’ve been hiding all night?”

My ribs give an uncomfortable twinge as I feel all those gazes on me, even though I’m mostly healed and usually only hurt when I move awkwardly. I want to snap that I’m not his sister, that we’re related in the barest sense of the word, but I know I have to be careful of what I say here. The light that has been shed on me is dark enough already.

“Not really into crowds anymore, thank you, Hunter,” I push out the words through tight lips.

Every last one of them is eyeing me with ill-disguised disgust, revulsion and horror all battling for the forefront. I see my former three friends all whispering to each other behind their glasses of champagne and sparkling Tiffany’s bracelets. I should feel loneliness, sadness at being such an outcast, but the truth is that I feel relief. I don’t want to be close to anyone, haven’t wanted to be friends with them for years, and so their opinion of me is of little importance. It does burn me, however, that despite the overwhelming amount of evidence against Tony, they are still so blind to who he really is.

“I’m surprised you came out tonight, actually,” Hunter says, looking back at his group, and laughter ripples through them at some inside joke. “But then, since your boyfriend is working tonight, maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.” His gaze flicks toward Zeke, who isn’t too far away, and my fists clench involuntarily.

“Leave Zeke Quain alone,” I grit out through clenched teeth. “He’s been through enough.”

Nervous titters pass through the girls, while Hunter’s eyebrows rise. I wish I had stayed silent, but the words are already out and I can’t take them back.

“A little territorial, aren’t we?” Hunter asks, his voice low as he takes a step toward me.

I’m already pressed up against the wall, but I still try to back up even further, my heart rate speeding up as I feel the warmth emanating from Hunter, smell his deodorant, see the ironed creases in his dress shirt. Close, much too close.

“Back off,” I push out, and my breath comes out in pants, quiet and terrified.

“What’s the matter, Evie?” someone, Chantal I think, jeers from the crowd. I can’t tell because all I’m focused on is how close Hunter is to me, and how every hair on my body is standing straight up, and my brain is telling me to
run run run
. “For someone who cheated on her boyfriend with someone from the slums, you’re sure acting like a prude.”

Hunter can see my fear. I know he sees it and he ignores it, taking another step closer, so there is only a scant inch between our bodies. I close my eyes and turn my head away, but I can still feel his words on my face, smell the crisp mint of the toothpaste on his breath, mingled with the sickly sweet smell of champagne. I’m literally flat against the wall, my one open hand pressing against the wainscoting, the other still clutching my champagne flute. I’m holding it so tightly I’m surprised it doesn’t break, but all I can think about is how close Hunter is, and how much I want my dad here to make him go away.

“He really did a number on you, didn’t he?” Hunter asks, and I can tell there is surprise in his voice, as though he thought this had all been a joke, an act. “You’re really scared.”

Anger gives me enough courage to open my eyes and glare at him. “Back the hell off, Hunter.”

He only laughs a little, not moving away one bit. I know everyone is watching us closely, wondering what we’re saying because we’re speaking too low for them to hear. “Nah. This is just too much fun. You’ve always been so untouchable, but not even your dad can save you from this.”

He lifts up a big hand and plants it on my shoulder, a totally generic move that still makes me jump into the air and jerk away violently, though I still am not able to escape his touch. Everyone behind Hunter laughs loudly at my reaction, and I can feel my cheeks burning with shame, even as I try to slide away along the wall to escape him.

“Excuse me. Ex
cuse
me.”

The crowd parts, and then scatters—or at least the females do—at the sight of Zeke trying to cut a path through them. The boys break up a little more slowly, trying to give Zeke tough looks that say they know just who he is and what he’s done, trying to show they aren’t afraid of him. The fact that they walk away almost as quickly as the girls shows the contradiction there.

Zeke has a damp towel in hand, and he gestures toward Hunter and me as he gets closer. “Do you mind? If I don’t get the liquid up right away, it leaves marks on the floors.”

All three of us look down at the dark, cherry wood floors. Several drops of condensation from my glass, along with a slightly larger puddle of champagne about the size of a fifty cent piece are all the liquid I can see. It’s a minimal spill, infinitesimal really, but Hunter can’t seem to think of anything to say, as it
is
Zeke’s job to keep the club maintained. He’s forced to step away from me so Zeke can wipe up the drops, and with one final look in my direction, Hunter leaves.