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by Ashley Jade
I look around at all of them. “I lied straight to his face…just like I lied to all of you.”
Cole starts to speak, but I hold up a finger. “I’m not done yet.”
This time, I turn to Oakley. “When he told me he was cutting me off…I manipulated him. I threatened to spill his secrets to people, I called him a worthless drug addict…I did some really fucked up shit.” I swing my gaze to the group again. “And you know what he did?”
“What?” Dylan questions, her features pinched in concern.
“He still cut me off and kicked me out of the guesthouse. Told me I couldn’t come back until I was Sawyer again.” I squeeze Oakley’s hand. “He was being a good friend…even though I didn’t deserve it. And if any of you have a problem with that…I suggest you get over it. Or start pointing your fingers at the person who’s really to blame for all this.” I look at Cole. “Because it’s not Oakley.”
It’s me.
Cole sucks in a sharp breath. “I didn’t know it went down like that.” He looks at Oakley. “You tried to tell me.”
Oakley’s shoulders slump. “But I was too fucking late.”
“You still tried to do the right thing, though,” Dylan whispers. “And as much as I hate to place the blame on Sawyer.” Her gaze shoots to me. “It sounds like you were left in the dark like we all were.” She exhales a breath. “I think I speak for us all when I say—please don’t ever touch that stuff again. You are so much more than a stupid fucking number on a scale.”
My cheeks heat with shame and tears burn my eyes.
“I’m sorry I hurt you.”
Her blue eyes cloud with sadness. “I’m sorry you hurt you.”
Chapter 97
Sawyer
Oh, no.
My stomach drops the moment I spot him at my door.
“Hi, Mr. Gonzalez.” I plaster a fake smile on my face. “Come in.”
I expect him to tell me I’m fired, but to my absolute surprise, he folds his arms around me. “Please don’t die.”
Turns out I was wrong. This is the most awkward hug I’ve ever had.
The man is practically sobbing in my arms. “Stone is a horrible waitress. Gets all the orders mixed up. Curses at customers. Everybody complains.”
I can’t help but laugh. “I’m sure he’ll get better…eventually.”
He edges away, his eyes pleading. “When can you come back?”
Oh, boy.
“Well, I get discharged tomorrow…but I have to go to a special clinic for three weeks.”
“Oh.” Panic flashes in his eyes. “But then you’ll be back?”
My, how the tables have turned. “Sure, of course.”
He holds up a bag. “Good. I brought you some chicken.”
I eagerly take the bag from him. It smells delicious.
“Thanks, Mr. G.”
“See you in three weeks,” he says as he treks out the door. “Don’t be late.”
Some things will never change.
Sighing, I open the bag and take a big whiff. Heaven.
“For goodness’ sake, Sawyer Grace. You had a heart attack two weeks ago and you’re eating fried chicken?”
Here we go.
I’ve been meaning to have this conversation. I’ve just been putting it off because I know it will hurt her.
But not nearly as much as it’s going to hurt me.
She’s my mother. The woman who gave birth to me.
She’s taken me to doctor appointments, celebrated all my birthdays, taken care of me whenever I got sick, showed up to all my school award ceremonies, and so many other things throughout the years.
But…she’s also given me scars.
My whole life I’ve tried to figure out why she is the way she is. Why she’s so focused on appearance that it takes precedence over everything else…but I honestly don’t know.
My grandmother never bothered with superficial things, and my grandfather is the same way, so it doesn’t make any sense.
And then it hit me. Society screwed her too.
All her life people have droned on and on about how beautiful she is. How she has the most stunning smile. The nicest teeth and hair. The most gorgeous face. The most perfect body.
But no one ever told her she was more than any of those things.
Therefore, her looks are the only thing she believes she has going for her.
Unfortunately, she passed that toxic belief down to her daughters.
She needs help.
But until she gets that help…I have to do the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
I have to break up with my mother.
“I love you, Mama.”
And I mean it. Even with all the bad…I still love her.
I always will.
But I have to cut this thread and do what’s best for me.
She blinks, looking so uncomfortable I could scream. “If you’re just buttering me up so I’ll let you eat that chicken—”
“Mama, I really need you to listen to me.”
Concern washes over her face. “What’s going on? I thought you were getting discharged tomorrow—”
“I am.”
Her concern changes to confusion. “Then what—”
“All my life you’ve made me feel like I’m not good enough.”
Frustration lines her face. “For heaven’s sake, Sawyer Grace. Stop with the dramatics. I’ve only been trying to help you.”
“Help me what?” I ask honestly, because if there was a lesson in all this, I’ve obviously missed it.
“Help you be healthier.” Her hands find her hips. “The doctors can blame it on Adderall until they’re blue in the face, but between you and me, I think what happened was a side effect of how heavy you used to be. I told you all that extra weight wasn’t good for your health.”
My heart crumbles. She’s never going to get it.
“You’re not good for my health.”
Her mouth drops open. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me, Mama. I said you’re not good for my health. Which is why, after I’m discharged from the clinic, I’ll be staying with Dylan and Jace. Well, until they open up the dorms for Duke’s Heart. Point is, I’m moving out.”
It broke my father’s heart when I told him the news, but he’s supportive of me doing whatever it takes to not end up back here.
“What? Why?” she questions.
I repeat what I said before. “Because you’re not healthy for me.” I wipe the tears falling down my cheeks with the back of my hand. “And I’m so tired of never measuring up to your standards…so I’m done trying. I’m done with you.”
It’s time to have my own standards.
“What do you mean you’re done? I’m your mother, Sawyer Grace. You can’t be done with me.”
“Then get help. See a counselor, talk to someone, get your shit together. Because the way you treat me…the way you treat yourself…it’s not okay.”
“Sawyer Grace, you better stop talking to me like that. I am not a crazy person.”
“And I’m not a fat person,” I scream, my voice cracking. “I’m your daughter. A daughter you’re supposed to love…but can’t unless she’s perfect.” I look her in the eyes. “I’m never gonna be perfect, Mama. Which means I can’t be your daughter…not until you accept and love me the way I am.”
“I’m tired of being blamed for trying to help you. But go ahead, Sawyer Grace. Keep burying your head in the sand and deluding yourself into thinking you weren’t fat. Guarantee you’ll be right back here.”
She storms out of the room so fast there’s practically a trail of dust behind her.
I wish I could say I’m surprised, but I’m not.
But no matter how much it hurts…I know I did the right thing.
Chapter 98
Sawyer
Three weeks later…
“Okay, don’t freak out,” Dylan says as she tugs on the zipper for dear life.
Just the words you want to hear f
rom your best friend when she’s doing up your prom dress.
“What happened?”
“It won’t go up. But hey, it is not your fault at all. It’s Jace’s.”
I look over my shoulder at her. “What does Jace have to do with my dress not fitting?”
“He used a humidifier the other day for his sinuses and it obviously shrunk your dress.” She scowls. “The rat sneezy bastard.”
I have to stifle a laugh. I love how she’s trying to protect me from the truth.
I gained weight at the clinic…a lot.
Turns out when you’re not stuffing amphetamines down your throat and you start eating again, your body soaks up the calories like a sponge.
Deep down I had a feeling the dress wouldn’t fit—hell, I’m surprised I even managed to get it over my head—but it’s so freaking pretty, I still couldn’t help but try.
Fortunately, I still have my bridesmaid dress—the one from the first fitting—at Dylan’s house.
“No big deal. I’ll just wear the—”
“All right, chop chop, bitches. I don’t have all day,” Bianca snaps, breezing into the bedroom like a storm.
When I told her I planned on doing my own hair and makeup for prom, she just about had a coronary.
Now here she is…along with a suitcase full of makeup and hair tools.
Good Lord.
She glares at us. “Did I speak Russian or something?” She makes a karate chop with her hands. “What part of chop chop don’t you two understand? Prom starts in two hours.”
Dylan and I exchange a glance.
Bianca arches one perfectly tweezed eyebrow. “What’s going on?”
Dylan stands in front of me protectively. “I’ll tell you, but so help me God if you say one negative thing, I will shove a curling iron up your ass and make you my puppet.” She clears her throat. “The dress doesn’t fit.”
I’m expecting Bianca to freak out, but to my surprise she’s totally calm.
“Okay.” She examines me from head to toe. “No big deal. This is why we have backup plans.” She looks at Dylan. “You know that curling iron you want to shove up my ass?”
Dylan blinks. “Yeah?”
“Turn it on for me.” She taps a few buttons on her phone. “I’ll be back.”
I’m so confused. “Where are you going?”
“To be your freaking fairy godmother.”
Bianca hands me a black garment bag when she returns. “Here.”
“What is it?”
She unzips the bag. “Your prom dress, silly.”
Sure enough, it is.
I look at the identical dress hanging up on Dylan’s bedroom door. “But that—”
“I got you a new one.”
My throat stings with tears. “You didn’t have to—”
The snapping of her fingers cuts me off. “Blah, blah, blah. Quit yapping, Church girl. Time is ticking. We have to get you into this thing now.”
I throw my robe off and step into the dress.
“What size—” I start to ask, but then I stop myself.
The size doesn’t matter.
I’m going to prom in a beautiful dress with the guy who loves me for me.
“Holy shit,” Dylan sighs. “You look so beautiful.”
Bianca grabs a tissue from the box and starts dabbing her eyes. “It’s my greatest work yet. Per-fucking-fection.” She sniffs. “You ready?”
After all that? Hell, yeah.
Grabbing me by the shoulders, she turns me around.
Hmm. Not what I expected.
The long green off-the-shoulder satin V-neck with an empire waistline dress really flatters my figure and makes me feel gorgeous.
There’s only one problem.
“Uh…Bianca. I’m not trying to critique your skills or anything, but did you even put makeup on me?”
I look exactly like me. Well, a less tired and glossy lip version of me.
“Of course, I did. I put a little cover up under your eyes. A little powder on your nose, I even used your favorite lip gloss…clear.” Her eyes meet mine in the mirror as she rests her chin on my shoulder. “I told you…you’re a ten.”
My first impulse is to decline or turn it into a joke.
But not this time.
Instead I look at my reflection and smile.
Because one thing counseling has made me realize is that I have so much love in my heart...and I've given none of it to myself.
Chapter 99
Sawyer
The hotel is the biggest one I’ve ever been to and so classy and glamorous it makes total sense why the prom theme was red carpet.
I look up at the gigantic crystal chandelier swinging above us. “It’s so beautiful.”
Cole shakes his head like he was lost in his thoughts. “Sorry. What?”
“I was commenting on the chandelier.”
He looks up. “Oh.” He shrugs. “It’s nice…for a chandelier.”
I’m really trying not to let negative thoughts enter my head, but I can’t help it. Cole’s been a little distracted this evening. Like he has something else on his mind.
Something that’s definitely not me.
He spins us around the dance floor. “What time does this thing end again?”
He’s got to be freaking kidding me.
Granted, this shindig is a little boring. Okay, a lot boring. But we only get one senior prom.
“Eleven,” I grit through my teeth.
Frustration lines his handsome face. “What time is it now?”
“I have no idea.”
Because unlike him, I’m not an impatient ass who’s in a rush to get out of here.
I hate the way my stomach tightens with anxiety.
But not nearly as much as I hate that negative voice whispering untrue, mean things in my ear.
Things like—Cole doesn’t want me anymore because I’ve gained weight.
It’s a stupid voice. I know better than to listen to it.
Nothing positive comes from that voice. In fact, it literally ruins almost everything in my life.
However, this is the first time since the hospital that we’ve had any time to ourselves as a couple…and he hasn’t even so much as made a sexual innuendo.
I know my man—I know him very well—and this isn’t him.
Given the only thing that’s changed since the last time we had sex is my appearance...my weight gain is the only possible conclusion I can come up with.
“I need some air.”
Nope. Can’t run away from this.
Sandy has me doing this new thing where I confront these dark thoughts instead of stuffing them down.
Because stuffing them down landed me in the hospital with a heart attack.
“Actually no, I don’t need air.”
He blinks. “Okay.”
I jab his chest with my finger. “Let’s get one thing straight, buster. If you don’t want to be with me, or if you’re no longer attracted to me because I gained weight…you can go fuck yourself.”
Fuck that negative voice.
His eyebrows shoot up to the ceiling. “What—”
The music shuts off abruptly. “Ladies and gentlemen, if I can have your attention, please. It’s time to announce the prom king…and his queen.”
The room erupts in cheers. I picked one hell of a time to start a confrontation.
I can feel everyone’s eyes on me—well, not me—Cole.
He’s a shoo-in.
However, Cole looks like he couldn’t care less about being prom king. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Leaning in, I hiss, “You used to not be able to keep your hands off me. But tonight? You haven’t even so much as grabbed my ass.”
And now, I feel like an idiot.
What girl in her right mind yells at her boyfriend for not grabbing her ass in the middle of prom?
This girl does. “I’m sor—”
Seizing the base of my neck, he pulls me in for
a kiss so hot, so lewd, it sends a rush of heat from the tips of my shoes to the top of my head.
“It’s prom, you look beautiful, and you have a fancy dress on,” he exhales in a rush. “I was trying to respect you and be a gen—”
“The new prom king of Royal Hearts Academy is,” the announcer interjects. “Our favorite quarterback—Cole Covington.”
I feel like an even bigger idiot now. Here he was trying to be respectful, and I was all but begging him to violate me in front of everyone.
“I’m sor—”
In one fell swoop, his hand wraps around my wrist and he starts tugging me.
Holy shit. He’s walking so fast I can barely keep up with him.
“Where are we going?” I ask when we reach the hallway.
He drags me into an empty banquet hall next door. “I got us a hotel room for the night.” I gasp in surprise when he lifts me up and sets me on a table. “But I’m sick of waiting.”
Oh, hell. I’m such a damn fool. “So don’t.”
He crashes his mouth against mine.
Our kiss is fire and ice…saint meets sinner.
A frantic, palpable need so combustible there should be flames around us.
I yank his fly down as he plants a line of kisses on my neck and palms my breast.
“I’m sorry,” he rasps.
“Why—”
I can barely get the word out before I hear the sound of material ripping and my breast pops out into his eager hand.
“That’s why.”
My head lolls back as he teases my nipple with frantic flicks of his tongue. “Oh, God.”
His groan is low and feral. “I missed you so fucking much.”
My heart takes flight. “I missed you too.”
Plumping my tit in his hand, he looks up at me as he sucks my nipple into his mouth. “I was talking to them.”
Of course he was.
“Asshole.”
His lips curve in a vulgar smirk as he reaches under my dress. “You should stop wearing panties.”
“Why?”
He shreds the lacy fabric down the middle as though it were nothing more than paper. “They keep getting in my way.” Not wasting any time, he licks two fingers and shoves them inside me. “Fuck my fingers. Now.”