Three Broken Promises (One Week Girlfriend #3)(9)
Author: Monica Murphy

I’m not laughing now, though. And neither is Fable. She knows how important Colin is to me. How drawn I am to him despite not wanting to be. She gets it. She went through her own turmoil with Drew and they somehow came out the other side. The happy side.

I have the distinct feeling that’s not gonna happen for Colin and me.

“So he bailed. He was on top of you in a bed and did nothing,” Fable finally says. “And said he can’t deny it? What, are you an it now?”

Shrugging, I glance down at the table. We’re at Fable and Drew’s apartment, though Drew isn’t home. He’s at football practice and her brother, Owen, is at his high school junior varsity’s practice. Following in his sister’s boyfriend’s footsteps, which I can’t help but find cute.

“And you let him go. Didn’t say a word to him. Just let him leave.” Fable sounds completely mystified. I can relate, since I, too, am totally mystified.

And miffed. Totally, completely bent out of shape.

“What could I say to him? ‘Hey, wish you’d stay so we can finally do it?’ I don’t think so.” I’m still staring at the table, which is small and dark and perfect. I think they just bought it—I remember Fable telling me they went furniture shopping. There’s not a mark on it, not even a fleck of dust.

“If I were you, I would’ve yelled something like, ‘Don’t think you’re ever getting back in my bed, dickhead. Not with that sort of shit going down.’ I mean, the guy needs to be put in his place. He can’t just use you and leave you like that. What a jerk!” Fable is all quiet bravado and I admire that. Wish I could yell at Colin and tell him how he really makes me feel.

How much last night’s seeming rejection hurt. How he really didn’t use me. How I sometimes secretly wish he would use me. I went to his bed willingly. I always go to his bed willingly. I can’t stand to hear him suffer, hear him cry out. Sometimes he’ll say my brother’s name. Sometimes, mine.

His pain breaks my heart. It’s a pain he stifles in the light of day. That he semi-acknowledged what we have lit a flicker of hope within me.

That he walked away—again—snuffed out the feeble flame.

I do the same thing, though. I’m stifling my pain, my secret. It’s easier that way. Still doesn’t mean I understand him, though.

“I told him I was quitting, that I was leaving, all of it. He doesn’t want me to go but he didn’t really say why, either, so . . . it’s pointless for me to be here.” I finally lift my head and meet Fable’s gaze. She looks disappointed in me and I hate that. I’ve done that a lot in my life—disappoint people. I don’t mean to. It just happens.

“I don’t want you to leave. Neither does Drew.” Fable’s voice is soft. I know what she’s trying to do. “We’ll miss you, and you know I don’t say this sort of thing to just anyone. You’re the first real friend I’ve ever had. Drew jokes that you defuse me and he’ll pay big money to keep you around.”

My heart pangs at Fable’s confession, at the humor she’s trying to bring to this otherwise serious conversation. She’s my first real female friend too. I was always close to my brother and, yes, Colin. But other girls? Not really. Until I moved here and met Fable and we somehow bonded.

“You’re okay with living here because this is where you grew up, and now Drew needs to finish college. And of course there’s Owen,” I say. Though I wonder what’s going to happen once Drew is recruited by the NFL, because the man is just too damn good of a player not to get recruited.

I know Fable doesn’t want to leave because of Owen, but she’s going to have to make a choice and soon. I don’t envy her that.

“There’s nothing for me here—can’t you see that?” I say. “No roots, no ties. Not that you don’t count, but . . . I can’t stick around here forever.” I swallow past the lump in my throat, pissed at myself. That I can’t admit the real reason I won’t stick around is because I’m afraid my past will catch up with me and I won’t know how to explain it. And that a certain someone won’t freaking acknowledge we might have something together. Something real and beautiful and amazing if he would just open his eyes—and his closed-off, made-of-steel heart—and just realize it.

“Men suck,” Fable says irritably, making me laugh. She grins in return, and I know that was her intention.

“They do,” I agree. “With the exception of yours.”

“Oh, please. He’s definitely not perfect. On occasion, he sucks big time. But yeah. I’m keeping him.” Her cheeks flush the faintest pink and I’m filled with an insane amount of jealousy that I hate to acknowledge, even to myself. I love my friend. I love that she’s found such unconditional love from a sweet, gorgeous guy who wants nothing more than to take care of her.

How I wish Colin felt the same! He has no problem with me taking care of him, but heaven forbid I need him for anything beyond a job and a roof over my head.

Ugh. Fable is so right. Men suck.

“Maybe you should just jump him,” Fable suggests out of the blue, startling me from my thoughts.

“Are you serious?” I don’t know if I have the nerve to just . . . jump him. Despite how badly I want to. I’ve known Colin for what feels like forever. While I’m willing to walk away from him and his generosity, I’m not quite ready to push my luck and put myself on the line for him sexually. Talk about making myself vulnerable.

What if he rejects me? I don’t know if I could take it.

“Hell yes, I’m serious. What better way for you to leave with a big bang than to . . . get banged.” Fable bursts out laughing, the sound downright dirty, and I can’t help it. I join right in.

That’s how her little brother Owen finds us a few minutes later, the two of us howling with laughter at the table as we trade sexual innuendos, the cheesier the better. I’d just let a ball reference fly when Owen ambled up to the table, a confused expression on his face.

We both stop laughing at the same moment, staring up at him in quiet horror.

Grimacing, Owen shakes his head. “I don’t even wanna know.”

Fable and I start giggling all over again as Owen moves into the kitchen to get himself something to drink. I watch him out of the corner of my eye, startled by how grown-up he looks. He’s only fourteen and a freshman in high school but he’s tall, and he’s filling out quickly, with broad shoulders and chest.