Taming the Storm (The Storm #3)(75)
Author: Samantha Towle

Don’t get in the car with her. Don’t get in the car with her.

He starts to climb in.

My heart sinks. I close my eyes, breathing through the hurt.

When I open them, Tom has a foot in the town car with a hand on the roof, and he’s staring across the street at me.

I can see the shock of seeing me here evident on his face.

He’s not happy to see me.

Why would he be? He made it clear how things stood the last time I saw him.

His cruel words come back to taunt me, echoing in my mind.

I’m frozen to the spot, held hostage by his stare, as pain runs through my veins like poison. It’s absolute agony.

A moment ago I was praying he wouldn’t get in that car, now I’m willing him to do just that.

He mouths my name and starts to back away from the car.

He’s coming over here.

Shit. My heart starts to pound a painful beat against my ribcage.

I can’t take another heartbreaking confrontation with him. I need to get out of here. Now.

Adrenaline fires my body into action. I bolt around the car and yank open the driver’s door. I yell at Shannon, “Get in the fucking car!”

Her face jolts in shock. But I don’t care. I just need to get out of here, and I’ll do whatever is necessary to make that happen.

I’ve already got the engine on, and I’m clicking in my seatbelt when Shannon gets in the car.

I glance out the side window, and I see that Tom is trying to cross the busy street, eyes fixed with purpose on my car.

Heart climbing out of my chest and running down the street and away from him, I put the car into drive. With one quick check in my side mirror, I slam my foot down, getting us out of there.

We drive in silence for a long moment.

“You okay?” Shannon asks softly.

I nod, afraid to speak, in case I burst into tears.

“That might not have been what it looked like.”

I take a fortifying breath. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Clearly, it does. You’re in love with him.” It’s not a question.

I could argue or lie, but there’s no point.

“He knows.” I let out a shallow breath. “I told him the morning after our last night together. He gave me a ride home, and before he left, I told him that I’m in love with him.” I feel my bottom lip tremble. I take another strengthening breath before I speak again. “The short version is, he doesn’t feel the same.”

“I find that hard to believe. I saw the way he was with you.”

I shake my head. “Trust me, he doesn’t. He said to me, and I quote, ‘Take your declaration of love, and tell it to someone who wants it.’”

“Oh, honey. Well, if that’s the truth, that he doesn’t love you—which I highly doubt—then Tom Carter is a bigger goddamn fool than I thought he was. He’s always been a player, but when I saw him with you, I thought it was different. I saw the way he would look at you when he thought no one was watching, and I thought that was it for him, that you were it.”

I know she doesn’t mean to, but her words are hurting me. A stray tear escapes, trickling down into the corner of my mouth.

“Can we…just not talk about this right now?”

“Anything you want, honey.” She reaches over and turns on the radio.

Bananarama’s “Cruel Summer” starts to beat out into the car. I start to sing along, channeling my pain in the way I know best.

The song is just coming to an end when it’s cut off by my cell ringing through the Bluetooth set in my car.

A glance at my phone screen tells me it’s Aunt Steph calling. I don’t feel up to talking, but I haven’t called her in a while, so she won’t give up until I answer. My Aunt Steph is persistent like that if I go too long without talking to her.

“Hi, I’m just in the car with a friend. Can I call you back?”

“Ly…” she says, her voice breaking.

The sound comes like a hand around my throat.

“It’s Dex. He’s in the hospital. He-he—” She starts to sob.

My pulse hits adrenaline. Panicked, I swerve out of traffic. I vaguely register a horn blaring and then the sound of Shannon cursing low, but none of that matters. I can’t be driving this car right now.

Skidding into an open spot on the side of the road, I hit the brakes. “Dex? Is he okay? Oh God, what happened?”

Aunt Steph takes in a deep breath. “Dex…he took a lot of pills…alcohol. They’re saying…the doctor said he overdosed…but he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t try to…not on purpose—” She breaks down again.

He overdosed?

Dex. Overdose.

No, that can’t be right. He wouldn’t hurt himself like that.

Then, I remember how he sounded that night in San Diego.

Desperate. In pain.

How my mom used to sound.

The last thing he said to me was…I’m sorry.

Oh no.

He tried to kill himself.

It’s my fault. I wouldn’t listen to him. I wouldn’t forgive him.

Guilt overwhelming me, I bury my face in my hands and begin to sob.

Forty Minutes Later—Waiting Area, Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, LA

“You want anything to drink, honey?”

I look up into Shannon’s perfectly made-up face. I imagine that I look like a total mess. Not that looking good is really high on my list of priorities right now. I still rub my fingers under my eyes, trying to clean away the mascara I know is there, not wanting to scare people with my panda eyes.

“Hold on. I’ve got some wipes.” Shannon rummages in her bag and pulls out a pack of makeup wipes.

She’s always prepared. She takes one out and tilts my face up toward her. She starts to clear the makeup from underneath my eyes.

“You’ll give me a tic, rubbing at your eyes like that. I’m not having my superstar looking old before her time.” She gives me a gentle smile. “There. All done.” She throws the wipe in the trash.

“Thank you,” I say.

“Not needed. It’s my job to care about your appearance.”

“I didn’t mean just the face clean. I meant, you being here…I really appreciate it.”

She sits beside me and pats my hand. “The face clean is me doing my job. Me waiting here with you…this is me being your friend.”

“I’m glad you’re my friend,” I say, resting my head against her shoulder.

I really need a friend right now. I try not to think about the one person I wish were here.