Four Years Later (One Week Girlfriend #4)(67)
Author: Monica Murphy

Controlling parents who actually care. I have no idea what that’s like. “You can’t find another roommate?”

“No. Kari’s parents took all of her furniture and I only have a few things. I’ve been alone in that little apartment for almost two weeks.” A tiny sob escapes her and she hangs her head, kicks at the sidewalk with her booted foot. “I’ve been working extra shifts. I-I’ve even skipped class.”

“What?” I must have sounded extra startled because her head jerks up, her eyes wide as she stares at me.

“I said I’ve skipped class.”

“But you never skip.” I’m incredulous.

“I had no choice. I was either working or passed out in bed after an extra-long shift at the diner.”

“Why do you need to work all the time, Chels?” I want to get to the heart of the matter. I’d invite her to my room so we could discuss this in private but she’d probably accuse me of trying to get in her panties, and I just … I’m too exhausted to deal with that right now. Another fight, another loss. Because I would lose.

I always do.

“My dad’s a thief. He embezzled money from his job for years. They trusted him. We all trusted him.” Her voice is small, barely above a whisper, and I lean in closer to hear her. “He’s also a cheater and a liar. He’s in jail. Prison, really. He’s used my mom forever, always promising he’ll take care of her when really he just stomps all over her heart and leaves it to bleed. I hate him. I also … I hate it when she believes him. When she talks about how bad men are and how much she hates them, then turns around and takes him back. Every single time, she does that. I don’t know why. I don’t get it.”

My heart aches for her. I hear the pain and anguish in her voice and it’s f**king killing me.

I grab her by the upper arms and pull her in close, hold her to me as she presses her face into my shirt. She feels so good, so damn right back in my arms, but I hold her loosely. Not wanting to scare her or make her run.

I need her here. With me.

“Mom always says men shouldn’t be trusted. That she’s pushed my father out of her life forever. But of course, she’s talking to him again and he wants her to withdraw money out of some secret account he has. It’s probably more money he stole. He embezzled hundreds of thousands of dollars, Owen. He did it for years. And he cheated on my mom, had endless affairs with an endless list of women. I hate him so much.”

She’s crying, getting my shirt wet, and I let her. Let her get it all out as I hold her to me, one hand in her hair, the other smoothing down her back. I can’t believe she’s here, standing with me outside in front of my house while inside, all around us, there’s a party raging on.

“Why does she keep doing that? Why does she trust him when he’s done nothing but lie and cheat and steal? He doesn’t love her. He doesn’t love me. My dad only loves himself.”

I could get that. Mom is the exact same way. She’s the most selfish person I’ve ever known.

“I want you to trust me, Chels,” I tell her, my voice soft as I press my hand to the small of her back, pushing her in closer. I want her to feel safe with me and never doubt me again. “I swear on my life I’ll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust.”

When she slips her arms around me, offering the smallest nod as her answer, I almost want to shout with relief. She belongs with me and I need to prove that I’m worthy of her. That I love her.

Because I do.

“Let’s go inside,” I whisper in her hair, my arms tightening around her.

“Nice party, Owen,” she says, the sarcasm thick, displaying a hint of the old Chelsea. “I bet there’s someone in your room right now.”

“There’s a lock on the door. No one is in my room. And if someone is, I’ll kick them the f**k out.” I thread my fingers through her hair and tilt her head so she has no choice but to look at me. Her cheeks are streaked with tears and I wipe them away with my thumbs. “Come inside with me, Chelsea. We can talk more now or we can talk more tomorrow. Whatever you want. I just … I really need to be with you tonight.”

She stares at me, seeing right through me I’m sure but I don’t even flinch. Everything I am, everything I want to be for her, it’s showing. I can feel it. I’m vulnerable as f**k and I don’t care.

“All right,” she finally says, sounding reluctant, which of course fills me with worry. I don’t want to ruin this or somehow f**k it up beyond repair.

I need to be careful. I need to make this work. For my sake and for Chelsea’s.

We need each other. I don’t know if Chelsea’s aware of it yet, but I know I am. Having her here with me makes everything right again. Makes me feel like I can breathe again. These few weeks apart from her have nearly killed me.

There’s no way I can let her go now.

Chelsea

Everybody at this party is beyond obnoxious. I see the way the girls look at Owen as we walk by them and they make me feel possessive. I want to shout at all of them, Back off, he’s mine!

But I don’t. I have at least some sort of control.

I grab hold of his hand when we enter his house and let him pull me through the crowd. The girls are all dressed to impress, their hair and makeup perfect, the tight or skimpy outfits they’re wearing meant to intrigue and entice.

I’m in leggings that have a hole in the inside seam and the sweatshirt Owen gave me, with a tank top and no bra on underneath. I look plain and boring, as if I just crawled out of bed after a night of no sleep. Tired and sad, with a tear-stained face and red eyes. Not that I think anything’s going to happen between Owen and me tonight, but …

You never know. If he tried something, I wouldn’t stop him.

Everyone looks at me as if I don’t belong with him, but I know the truth. We belong together. He’s mine and I’m his. Somehow we’re going to break down each other’s last, thick walls and be honest with each other. I already told him so much, pretty much all he needs to know. What more can I say about my father?

Nothing. I don’t want to talk about him. I just want to forget.

The house reeks of beer and weed and I wrinkle my nose, raising my brows when we pass by Des. He has a knowing smile on his face and his arms around two girls, and I almost want to laugh. It’s all just so … weird. Owen’s life. Mine. And how they intersected. We are complete opposites.