Page 40 of Don’t Say You’re Sorry (Hawthorne University #2)

EASTON

Easton

Can you call me please? I need you.

ONE YEAR AGO

“ L auren, what the hell are you doing?!” Jumping out of my car, I run over to her. She’s standing beneath the window outside our apartment building, holding a can of aerosol and a lighter. Furious, she aims the line of fire at one of my hoodies on the ground.

Anna’s in the window, tossing my shit down to her.

“Are you burning my clothes?”

“Yep.” She burns another one, turning her face away from the flames.

“Stop!” Snatching the can from her, I make sure it’s out and toss it aside. When she moves to grab it, I grab her by the waist and pull her away. “Jesus, Ren, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“Get off me!” she screams, hitting my chest with her fists. “Who’s Adam?”

I freeze at the sound of his name, slowly pulling my hands away from her body. All the color drains from my face as I look down at her. “Where did you hear that name?”

“I heard you talking to him on the phone last night. Telling him you miss him. Begging him to come back to you. Who is he?”

I swallow. “He’s…”

Fuck, how do I explain this to her? How do I explain who he is to me? Where do I even begin?

“Is he dead?” she asks, almost hopeful. “Did your boyfriend die? Is that why you’re always so sad? Have you been talking to a ghost this whole time?”

I wince.

“No,” I say softly. “He’s not dead.”

Her face crumples as she cries, angrily wiping her face with her sleeve. Wanting to comfort her, I take a step forward. She takes one back, and I stop, unsure what to do.

“Here,” she says, throwing my phone at me. “I read them all. All the texts you’ve been sending him the entire time we’ve been together . All the phone calls you made to him while I was asleep in the next room .” She hits my chest again.

And again.

Again.

It hurts, but I let her do it. Let her get it all out.

Eventually, she exhausts herself and stumbles back a few steps. Tears are streaming down her face as she looks me dead in the eye. “I put up with a lot of shit from you, Easton, but I won’t put up with this. Don’t ever talk to me again. We’re done.”

“Lauren—”

Judging by the look she hits me with, daring to speak to her was the wrong thing to do. Pulling a fucking pocketknife from the pocket of her hoodie, she flicks it open and slashes three of my tires. I snap my lips shut, not saying a word as she turns her back on me.

She turned her back on me.

And just like that, I’m back on the street outside my dad’s house two years ago, unable to move as Adam did the exact same thing to me.

A sharp, familiar pain cocoons my chest, and I almost choke on it.

“Hey, Miller,” Anna calls from the window, chucking a roll of trash bags at me. “Do me a solid and crawl into one of those, asshole.”

I nod, chewing the inside of my cheek.

Looking down at all my shit on the ground, I search for the envelope I kept hidden in the closet, praying it’s here and that Lauren didn’t burn it. I don’t give a fuck about the rest of it, just as long as she didn’t destroy that envelope.

I find it at the bottom of the pile, opening it up and checking that the drawings Adam’s sent me over the years are still inside. They are. Letting out a slow breath, I go to my car, grab my gym bag, and tuck the envelope inside to keep it safe.

Crouching down to pick up the trash bags, I tear one off and begin bagging up the rest of my stuff. I toss my ruined clothes into the trash cans at the back of the building and take the rest with me.

Before I go, I take one last look at the apartment I’ve lived in for a year. Something that feels a lot like relief washes over me. I hate myself for it.

When I get far enough away that Lauren doesn’t have to look at me out the window, I toss my stuff on the ground, take a seat on the sidewalk, and call Carter.

“Hey. You found your phone.”

“Yeah,” I say. Lauren must have hidden it from me before I left for class this morning. She told me she was sick. The soup I was bringing her is still sitting on the passenger seat of my car.

“E, you there?”

“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Can you pick me up?”

“Why? Something wrong with your car?”

I shake my head, scrubbing a hand over my face. “Can you just come, please? I need a ride.”

He’s quiet for a moment. I hear Nate saying something to him in the background.

“Yeah,” Carter says. “We’re on our way.”

“Carter?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you not bring Nate with you?”

“Uh, okay. I’ll drop him off first and then I’ll be there.”

“Thanks.”

I hang up and clutch my fingers around my phone, tapping it against my chin.

It’s eight p.m. in London right now. I stare at the ground between my feet and wonder what he’s doing.

It’s Friday night. Is he at home with Axel?

Is he out with friends? A guy? Is that why he won’t speak to me?

Because he’s found somebody new to love him?

My nostrils flare at the thought.

I text him.

Easton

Can you call me, please? I need you.

I wait.

Five minutes.

Ten.

Twenty.

He doesn’t call.

I sniff and grit my teeth, calling his number and pressing the phone to my ear. Just like always, it rings and rings. I’m so familiar with this sound that I hear it in my dreams sometimes.

It goes to voicemail. I wait for the beep.

“Hey,” I say, my voice cracking. “Lauren broke up with me. She found out about my little secret and she…” I laugh.

“You know what she said to me? She asked if you were dead. She thought I was talking to a ghost. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her she was half right.

” Squeezing my eyes shut, I wipe my chin with my arm.

“I won’t be calling you anymore. And, if you’re even listening to these messages, I hope this is the last time you’ll ever hear my voice.

You hear me? I hope I never see you again.

” My chest shakes, and I hold my breath, refusing to make a sound.

He doesn’t get to hear me cry. Not anymore. “Goodbye, Adam.”

Carter pulls up in front of me, and I drop my head, hanging up the phone. He gets out, and I push up to my feet.

“What the hell happened?” he asks, gesturing to all the trash bags on the ground.

I don’t trust myself to speak right now, so I don’t say anything, opening his trunk and tossing the bags inside. I feel him watching me as he helps.

“Easton?”

I close my eyes briefly before looking at him. Whatever he sees on my face makes his jaw tic.

He slams the trunk shut. “Get in the car.”

I nod, getting in and pulling my seat belt on. Instead of getting in with me, he rolls up his sleeves and starts walking to Lauren’s apartment.

Shit.

I hop out and chase after him. “Carter, it’s not her.” I jog around him and stop in front of him, pushing him back by his chest. “It’s not her, man.”

He frowns at the tears on my face. “Then who? Who were you talking to on the phone when I pulled up? Give me a name.”

I huff a laugh. “I’m not telling you his name.”

“ His ?” Carter’s brows shoot up. He grins. “Good. I wouldn’t have smacked Lauren, but I can fight a man. Who is he?”

I avert my eyes. Carter is without a doubt the biggest asshole I’ve ever met, but that’s one of the things I love most about him.

He’s also one of the greatest friends I’ve ever had.

If he loves you, he’s there for you, no matter what.

It’s the reason I called him. I knew he’d drop everything for me, no questions asked.

Besides all that, he’s one of the only people in my life who won’t judge me for what I’m about to tell him.

“He’s my stepbrother.”

“Kinky. Tell me more.”

We get in his car, and he drives me around while I tell him about me and Adam, about him leaving me, about what I did to Lauren…

I’ve never told a soul about any of it. I’ve been burying it for years, pretending I’m fine, pretending I’m a ray of fucking sunshine. It feels good to drop the mask in front of him.

Once I’m finished, he asks, “What’s his address?”

“Why?”

“I just want to talk to him.”

I laugh. “I don’t have it.”

He looks at me, his eyes softening when he realizes I’m telling the truth.

“Where do you want to go?” he asks.

I don’t want to go home to my dad and Veronica, and I gave up my and Adam’s apartment soon after I started dating Lauren. I don’t have anywhere to go.

“I’ll stay at a hotel until I find a new place.”

He nods as if he was expecting that, but he doesn’t take me to one. He drives me back to his and Nate’s house, carries my stuff up to one of the empty bedrooms, and tells me I can stay as long as I want, that this is my home now.

I don’t think Nate’s going to like that, but when we go downstairs and find him in the den, he takes one look at me, puts down the TV remote, and says, “You two get the beer. I’ll get the burgers.”