Perfect Regret (Bad Rep #2)(44)
Author: A. Meredith Walters

“I think that’s a coward’s excuse, Garrett. Don’t you want more for yourself than playing in a second rate band hoping you’ll ‘make it?’” I asked using air quotes just to be obnoxious. Garrett’s jaw tensed and I recognized the telltale signs of his rage.

“I don’t expect you to understand. And because you just lost your dad I won’t tell you what I really think of you and your ‘life plan.’” Damn it, he used air quotes back at me. “I’m sure it involves graduating from college, marrying a douche like that Damien guy, having a mid-level career, popping out your two point five kids, and convincing yourself you feel fulfilled.” He was getting himself worked up and I was feeling a whole lot of anger.

How it easy it was to focus on this, being self-righteous and holier than thou, than to think about the way my life had just upended on itself. Anger was better than depression any day of the week.

“You don’t know anything about my life or what I want from it! What do you know about goals and having a purpose? Huh? Am I supposed to sit here and take advice from a guy who doesn’t want anything more for himself than to screw a new girl every week and hoping he never runs out of pot? Really? Give me a break!”

Wow, I was on a roll and being completely unfair. Garrett’s face shattered a bit and then smoothed out.

“It’s a good thing my heart can bend,” he muttered under his breath.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked him shortly, though I knew exactly what it meant.

He shook his head and got to his feet. “I don’t want to upset you when you’ve just experienced a major loss. Apparently all we’re capable of is pissing each other off. I’m sorry for that. I didn’t mean to make you mad. I really didn’t. I just wanted you to know that I understand where you are right now. I really do. And if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

He picked up my keys and juggled them in his hand, seeming torn. I couldn’t believe, after what we had shared together and how decent he had been to me, I was taking out all of my anger and hostility on him. I wish I could take back what I said. I wish I could undo the hurt I knew I had inflicted.

But it was too late. And I felt whatever closeness we had established during the last twenty-four hours drifted away as though it had never been.

“I’ll leave your car at the apartment. Take care, Riley,” he had said before leaving me alone, and full of guilt.

After he was gone I was left with little time to obsess over Garrett and the state of our non-existent relationship.

The crazy whirlwind of planning the funeral and seeing to every detail was both a blessing and a curse. It helped me to focus on something. To keep my brain active. But it also left little room for my own grieving. And a part of me knew that suppressing it wasn’t good.

And that when it hit it would hit hard.

I had stayed with Mom until she practically kicked me out, telling me I had to get back to school. When I had protested and said she still needed me, she had played the biggest punk card of all.

“Your dad sacrificed a lot so you kids could have a college education. Don’t you dare step all over his memory like that. Now get your butt back to school and make him proud. Make us both proud,” she scolded me while she held back tears. I knew how hard it was for her to let me go. I hated to think of what the house would be like for her now that she would be living in it alone. But Gavin had practically moved back in since Dad’s passing. I wasn’t sure how I felt about this. My brother seemed to be making my father’s death all about him, but for now, my mother seemed to enjoy his presence, so I didn’t say anything about it.

I went back to Rinard College, hoping to fall back into my routine. Too bad I felt like some ass**le playacting through their life.

But throwing myself back into school and my internship felt like what I should be doing. I put on the impenetrable “Riley is fine” mask. I had always been focused and motivated. Now I was like Riley Walker Super Student on meth. I filled my days with homework and extra hours at work. I did whatever I had to do to feel like my life had purpose again, just as my dad wanted me to.

And that purpose left very little room for any sort of relationship drama. I didn’t have the time or the inclination to worry about whether my avoiding Garrett was hurting his feelings. Maybe it was insensitive and callous of me after the way he had supported me, but I just couldn’t summon the energy to care.

I knew Garrett was most likely hurt and confused. Part of me knew that he was waiting for me to recognize that the moments we had shared in Maryland hadn’t been a fluke of hormones and grief. That it had been the beginnings of something real.

But the truth was I was terrified of “real.” I wasn’t sure what we had together could be something permanent and if I couldn’t count on it I didn’t want to waste my time. And even though I had seen the layers that were just below the surface of Garrett, I knew that he was still a guy without a plan and I desperately needed something concrete. Something I could depend on.

And I was convinced that Garrett Bellows wasn’t that guy.

Plus, it wasn’t as though we had left things in a very good place. I had unloaded a serious verbal beating on him when all he had been trying to do was help me during a difficult time. I wasn’t surprised when he didn’t call me. Even if I was a little bit disappointed.

I figured he was leaving the ball firmly in my court. Though if he was waiting for me to make a move and admit he was what I wanted, he’d be waiting a long time.

Crazy cat lady spinsterhood, here I come.

“Someone’s hoping to make employee of the month,” an overly perky voice said from behind me. I continued to wipe down my meticulously clean tables, ignoring the sudden invasion of slut in my section of the restaurant.

Jaz pulled out a chair and plopped her big ass right on down as though I had invited her. Which I sure as hell didn’t. She propped her feet up on the table and she watched me with a fake sympathetic smile on her lips that had I was dangerously close to knocking off.

I had low bullshit tolerance on a good day. So Jaz my-tits-are-too-small-so-I-overcompensate-by-being-a-complete-whore was in a perfect position to piss me off. It didn’t take much for her to irritate me and tonight was no exception.

Generation Rejects had been playing for the last hour and I was staunchly avoiding the guitarist who had tried to get my attention for most of the night. It was hard, particularly when said guitarist was looking entirely too yummy for his own good and the image of the two of us naked, together, was burned on my brain like an itchy sunburn.