Page 62 of Forever Then

Chapter Forty-Seven

TALK LESS AND LISTEN MORE

Gretchen

Morning comes early, or late when you consider I never fell asleep to begin with.

I could blame it on my brother’s couch or glass balcony doors that let in too much light, but I know it’s the mess of feelings swirling around in my stomach.

They’re all in there gliding and launching like performers in some sort of synchronized swim routine.

I miss Connor.

I hate that my phone is dead. I hate that I couldn’t hack into Drew’s computer to send Connor an email. Anything. I was desperate for anything.

I hate that he was alone last night. I hate that he needs me, wants me, loves me, and I’m stuck here trying to neutralize the fallout with my brother.

Is this what love does to a person? Makes you the Stretch Armstrong of middlemen, where your heart pulls you one way, but roots pull you another?

Both sides gripping and tugging until you’re forced to lean into the weaker side, all while praying that the stronger arm can hold out just a bit longer before it snaps.

My impulsive decision to chase after Drew was for the sake of salvaging our relationship. That’s what I told myself, at least. That it was urgent and required my immediate attention. But maybe I was wrong. The longer I stay, the more I feel like I made a mistake in coming here.

Up with the sun, I start a pot of coffee and station myself at the dining table to wait for Drew. It’s after seven when the bedroom door opens.

Reagan, dressed in black leggings, an oversized tee and tennis shoes, announces she’s going for a walk. Drew’s scowl says he hates the idea, to which she replies, “The doctor said it’s good for me to move a little bit.”

With that, she kisses him on the cheek, throws me a half-smile and walks out the door.

“I made coffee,” I say.

“Thanks.”

After pouring a cup, he settles into the seat across from me. Steam billows up from his mug as he drags a tired hand down his face.

“Didn’t sleep?” I ask.

“Not really.”

“Me neither.”

“Sorry if the couch was uncomfortable.”

“Couch was fine.”

His gaze slams into me, so disorienting I have to look away. He’s as ready to get this over with as I am.

I spin my mug between my palms. “What did Reagan tell you?”

He crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. “Nothing. She was already asleep when I got into bed last night. And this morning she told me to talk less and listen more.” I snort, but the twitch in his cheekbone shows far less amusement. “So, here I am, Gretch. I’m listening.”

I lean back, arms crossed over my chest like him. “If you’re expecting me to tell you the drawn-out story of how everything happened with Connor, you’re not gonna get it. If you want that, you’re gonna have to talk to him.”

He bristles but stays silent.

“What I can tell you is that Connor and I didn’t happen out of thin air in Arizona. There have been things between us in the past that you don’t know about.” His jaw clenches. “It’s not what you think.”

“Whatever it was, he kept it from me,” he accuses.

“You’re right. But so did I. For that, you have to point equal blame at me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Before yesterday, I never worried about how he would react to the idea of Connor and me.

And yet, I still never told him. Dropping my shoulders, I say, “Honestly, I don’t know.

At first, I liked the feeling of having a part of him that was just mine.

Then, there was some hurt that came later and I just…

I didn’t know how to process it, so I avoided it. ”

“He hurt you?” Drew asks, tone cold.

I’m not ashamed of this part of our story, although I know it doesn’t do Connor any favors. But I’ve forgiven him and Drew deserves to know at least that much. Strong eyes steady on his, I answer, “Yes. He did hurt me. But I’ve forgiven him.”

He considers that for a moment. “Did he cheat on Lauren?”

My brows furrow. “What? No! Before my graduation dinner back in May, I hadn’t seen or spoken to him since your wedding.”

His head tilts, but my lips remain sealed. “Gretch, you can’t dangle that in front of me and not expect me to ask questions.”

I work my jaw, gaze locked on the cold coffee in front of me.

I could tell him. I could tell him everything about what happened on that balcony and the fallout that came after.

It’d probably be easier coming from me than it would from his best friend, but Connor doesn’t want that.

For whatever reason, he needs this conversation and I don’t want to take it away from him.

“All you need to know is that I’ve been in love with him since I was eighteen. The rest of the story you’ll have to get from him. ”

Wood screeches as Drew’s chair scrapes across the tile floor. He stomps into the kitchen and spins back to me. “You can’t coerce me into talking to him.”

“Then do it for me!” I’m up now, matching his defensive posture, braced for more.

“This is what he does. Don’t you get it? He’s said all the right things, made you feel all lovey-dovey inside so you’d climb into his bed and, guess what, Gretch? He’ll spit you out like every woman that came before you.”

“We love each other!”

“You think that word means anything coming from him?” My head jolts back like I’ve just dodged a slap to the face.

Disbelief is an electric current—it blazes through me.

“He said he loved Lauren, too. Look how that worked out for her. All this proves is that he’s exactly the same immature, keg-stand frat boy he was ten years ago. ”

“I think you mean to say immature, keg-stand frat boy s that you both were.”

Surprise sweeps his face at a claim that he knows he can’t deny.

“I changed!” he shouts, slamming a palm to his chest.

“I know!” I snap back. “So did he.”

Drew’s answering laugh mocks, not an ounce of humor.

“Wow,” I breathe out, eyes narrowed on my brother’s patronizing face.

“You know, if Connor had known that his best friend thought so little of him, I wonder if he’d have bothered being so loyal to you all these years.

” I shake my head in disappointment. “At every turn, he’s been out there defending you, trying to do right by you, all so he wouldn’t lose you as a friend and you don’t even think twice before airing his lowest moments on a busy sidewalk to a bunch of strangers. ”

The brief look of chastisement that passes over his features is no match for the anger that he’s white knuckling in his fist.

“You don’t have to like it, Gretchen, but I did it so you could see who he really is. I did it to protect you.”

“You don’t get a say in my relationships. I’m an adult capable of making her own decisions! ”

“You’re my little sister!”

“Two things can be true at once, Drew!”

Only the sound of our ragged breaths fill the air as silence falls. He won’t give an inch and there’s a whole mile to go. A renewed dose of stubborn indignation washes over me.

“Let me be perfectly clear,” I begin, all pretense vanishing.

“I came here because you’re my brother and I love you.

And I’m trying really hard to be patient because I know you’ve had a shitty week and you probably feel like everything’s piled on you at once.

I get it. But I’m not here to ask for your permission.

” He stiffens. “It’s my choice to make and I’ve made it. I choose him.”

“And if I think it’s the wrong choice?” he asks through gritted teeth, tone unforgiving.

I shrug. “Then you have to let me make it.” His chin drops to his chest. He rotates in place and rakes a hand over his head and down his face. “You have a choice, too. You can choose to be supportive.”

He whirls on me. “No, I can’t. I can’t sit back, knowing the game that he’s playing. I can’t let him use you like that to get you in bed!”

“We haven’t even had sex!” The words tumble out of me before I can stop them.

Drew’s face turns a ghostly shade of white and I don’t know if it’s because his baby sister just used the word sex in a sentence or he’s genuinely surprised by the statement.

“And that is the absolute last thing you will ever hear me say on the subject because it is none of your business.”

Finished with this conversation, I grab my purse, phone in hand, and march to the door, leaving my brother aghast and frozen in place in his kitchen. My nerves buzz like tiny gnats crawling on my skin, a combination of disappointment and outrage that I can’t shed fast enough.

I turn back before I reach the door. “Did you even hear what I said yesterday?”

His brows drop. “What?”

“Yesterday, before you saw Connor’s hand under the table and went ballistic.”

Drew expression stumbles a dozen different directions in search of an answer he can’t find.

“You asked about the trip and I answered. Did you even hear it?” I repeat, waiting for some sort of realization to dawn on his face.

He shakes his head, a weak concession that provides me no comfort.

“I found my birth parents.”

His eyes go wide before they fall closed entirely, throat bobbing. The first true sign of regret I’ve seen from him and it hurts even worse than I expected it to.

“I found an entire family, Drew. It’s a wild story, actually. When you’re in a better headspace, I’d love to tell you about them.”

I don’t give him a chance to answer before I walk out the door. But I don’t let the door shut all the way before hollering from the hallway, angry but the words still true, “I love you!”

It’s barely eight in the morning when my feet hit the sidewalk outside Drew’s building. Lovesick, dressed in yesterday’s clothes and in dire need of a toothbrush, I run the three blocks to Connor’s apartment hoping I catch him before he leaves for work.

It’s not until I pass a storefront bearing a ‘Closed for July 4th’ sign that I realize it’s a holiday. It hadn’t even dawned on me. Good, he’ll be home.

Except, when I burst through the front door, he’s not there.

I call out his name again and again, like the apartment isn’t less than nine-hundred square feet. I run between the three rooms, check behind every closed door and then check again. Nothing.

Rushing to the bedside table, I plug my phone into Connor’s charger. Too anxious to stand there and wait for my phone to wake up, I jog to the bathroom in search of my toothbrush.

It’s gone. All my toiletries that were on the counter, cleared away. Worry slices me anew as I whizz back through the apartment and find what I missed when I rushed inside. My suitcase, packed and at the ready by the front door .

Like hell will I let him give up that easy.

I toss my suitcase back on the bed and yank it open. Warmth washes over me at the care Connor used in packing it. Everything properly folded and in its place like a cathartically satisfying game of Tetris.

Still, it all has to go. I dig out everything I need: stuff for the bathroom, a fresh set of clothes, my glasses.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand and I leap across the bed to grab it.

Twenty-five notifications.

I bypass the texts, missed calls and voicemails from my parents—that conversation will come later.

Five missed calls from Connor. No voicemails. Like me, he knows we can’t have this conversation over the phone.

But the text messages. A dozen of them, the first one just minutes after I left him on the sidewalk yesterday.

Connor

I’m so sorry.

Did you catch up with Drew? Is everything okay? What can I do?

Please. Tell me what to do!

God! I messed up everything, didn’t I?

Gretchen…

Seriously, Drew’s not answering me and neither are you. I’m starting to worry.

Reagan texted and said you don’t have your phone. Sorry for the first six texts where I sound crazy. Please call me as soon as you get your phone back.

Still no phone?

I don’t know what to do. I feel useless here by myself, Fish. Please text me back!

Are we okay ?

And the last two that came through less than forty-five minutes ago.

Connor

I couldn’t sleep without you.

The part where I said I was in love with you? I meant it. You deserved better than for it to come out like that. I’m sorry.

Connor

Barely a bruise remains on my jaw. One small mercy from the universe, I suppose.

I couldn’t face Drew when he came for Gretchen’s suitcase, much less watch her pack her things if she showed up with him.

She hasn’t replied to any of my messages. Maybe she needs space, time to think. Maybe she wants to back off until things settle down. Maybe her brother—and her parents—convinced her to end this. Maybe it really is over.

I packed her bag before the sun came up, left it by the front door and bolted. I didn’t go to the gym to work out, I just needed somewhere else to be.

Two more texts went unanswered this morning and it was as though the clock finally struck midnight: our time was up.

After the gym, I head into work completely unsure how I’ll be able to get anything done today with everything that’s on my mind.

It’s not until I step off the elevator to an empty office that I realize it’s a holiday.

The thought literally hadn’t crossed my mind once.

Fitting, I think, as I stroll through the desolate space that matches the condition of my heart: stretched wide as far as the eye can see, but wholly empty. No pulse. No life coursing through it.

Since I can’t go back to my apartment and I’m here anyway, I boot up my computer, toss my phone on the desk and drag my feet to the break room to make a pot of coffee.

Back at my desk, cup of mediocre coffee in hand, I’m typing in my computer password when my phone buzzes.

My heart lifts at the sight of Gretchen’s name on my screen.

Gretchen

Come home!!!