Unloved, p.14
Unloved, page 14
The anxiety of it is enough to make me wish she was here with someone else, someone worthy of her. That no one would raise their eyebrow at me to ask if I was bringing her home or assume silently that I’m sleeping with her.
Ro doesn’t deserve that.
Rhys stands and wrinkles his brow, stopping her midstride with a soft touch to her arm.
“You okay?” he asks, voice low.
“I’m fine.” She matches the quiet whisper of his voice. “Please, please, don’t tell Sadie about this.”
Sadie, the figure skater our beloved good-guy captain enjoys breaking his heart over.
It’s strange for me to remember that my Ro is best friends with a girl nearly infamous for her unapproachable demeanor and bad behavior—a stark contrast to the vibrant, friendly, and almost overwhelmingly welcoming Rosalie.
You’re just like her. You and Sadie. If she doesn’t deserve Rhys, why do you deserve—
No. I shake my head and stare back up at my captain.
Rhys looks like he wants to protest, but at my hard glare from behind her, he nods.
“I won’t.”
I point to the empty row two seats behind Rhys, letting Ro go first and slide in.
Before I can follow her, Rhys grabs my bicep and lowers his voice, mouth nearly at my ear to whisper, “I wouldn’t classify this as hands-off.”
There’s a bitterness to the smile I grant him. “I’m not sleeping with her, Rhysie. No need to issue me a citation for getting too close to your bratty figure skater’s roommate.”
He lets the barb slide, but his grip on my arm tightens.
“Ro is Sadie’s best friend. I’m just watching out for her.”
“And who exactly is watching out for you?” I ask, a little miffed. Or me, I want to add. Instead, I swallow down the words like sand, grating as I smother them. “Someone needs to. You’re gonna get hurt by her.”
“Watch it,” he snaps, fierce in his protectiveness over the girl he “isn’t” dating.
“Ro’s tutoring me. That’s it,” I sigh, ducking my head closer to him. “And she got left here—hours outside of town—by her asshole boyfriend, okay?”
Rhys bites his lip and relaxes his grip. “That Donaldson kid was an asshole to her in front of me the one time I met him. Sorry, Freddy. I think I’m just…”
I wait for him to finish. I’m just… not okay. I’m trying to make everyone smile but I look like I’d rather be anywhere else when I’m playing. I faked an ankle pain to not play, something I’d never do… I wait for anything to show me that my friend needs me.
That he trusts me enough to need me.
But he smiles and shrugs, patting me on the back and settling into his seat again, slamming his headphones back into his ears aggressively.
CHAPTER 21 Ro
Breathe in. Breathe out.
My entire body feels like an open wound, my arms tightly wrapped around my waist the only thing keeping me from tearing open and bleeding out on the scratchy fabric seat of the Waterfell hockey team charter bus.
Freddy isn’t even looking at me. Part of me believes he’s giving me privacy, but the frayed edges of my heart are screaming out how annoying, how childish and embarrassing I must be to him.
I turn to speak to him, to say what, I’m not sure. Perhaps beg him to let me call an Uber or offer to study with him on the ride, to make myself useful, needed somehow. But I pause at the tense set of his shoulders.
Freddy grows in size, like a living human shield over me. I look up to see what caused this reaction in him, only to be greeted by the same terrifying gold eyes of the man from earlier.
Maybe not greeted, but startled by, frightened.
Even armed with the knowledge that this man defended me, nearly fought Tyler, I find myself petrified at the sight of him. Freddy’s obvious reaction to him only validates my feelings.
He flicks his eyes over me briefly, whether to assess me as a friend or enemy, I’m unsure. But there is no malice, only cool indifference as he lumbers to the back of the bus to sit alone.
The overhead lights flick off, comforting darkness swathing over me as the rumbling of the bus smooths out. Subdued conversations float from somewhere in the back, muffled music playing in different pairs of headphones.
“Are you okay?” Freddy asks.
I force myself to meet his gaze now.
Tyler’s voice echoes in my ear like a continuously pounding drum, the backing track to the collapsing of my chest.
I don’t know how I even tolerate you at this point. You’re embarrassing.
Every time it happens, I wait for it to hurt less. I wait for the moment people talk about, the numbness. He’s done it so many times that eventually I’ll ignore it and move on. But it never comes. I feel everything like a frayed nerve, open and throbbing with the pain of it all.
Freddy puts his hand on my knee and squeezes, a smile smoothing the worry lines on his cheeks, but his brow stays furrowed.
I try to smile back, to reassure him that I’m fine, but my stomach somersaults again and I hiccup a sob instead, ducking my head.
“Shit,” he says under his breath, looping an arm around my neck and burying my face into his chest, giving me a private dark space to quietly break down. “Go ahead, Ro. Let it out.”
I shake my head against him, but he presses a surprising kiss to my hair and only holds me harder.
“It’s okay. The lights are off—everyone’s sleeping or got headphones in. You’re fine, cry if you need to. I’ve got you.”
I believe him.
Freddy, as I really know him now, is someone I am learning I can trust. I can rely on him.
Matt Fredderic has been a thousand different things in my head. After meeting him freshman year, I romanticized him endlessly. In my dreams, he was the cool, popular boy who took off my metaphorical glasses and fell in love with me. A knight come to save me in my tall ivory tower. The gentle lover who took my virginity with quiets whispers of “is this okay?” or “you’re so perfect,” and then confessed his devotion to me in an epic, movie-worthy “It’s you. It’s always been you” moment.
And then, after I met Tyler, I abandoned those fantasies of Matt Fredderic in favor of what I thought was a real chance at a love story. What I can now see as me begging him for even a modicum of something romantic.
Something he deemed unrealistic.
“Real people don’t act like they do in your books, Ro.”
But it wasn’t even the romance I’d wanted. It was my desperation for wanting to feel something real. Something overwhelming, but worth it.
I spent my life safely at home, close to my parents because it was comfortable, and their love was a warm and tangible thing. Then, after my dad’s stroke, I spent every waking moment with them out of fear. I didn’t want to miss a second—just in case.
But I’d lived entire lives, thousands of them, in books. And part of me always imagined what falling in love would feel like.
I’d longed for it.
Maybe Tyler is right.
Maybe I am ridiculous and naive, but even admitting that in the safety of my own head is embarrassing. How could I possibly ever admit to anyone else that I spent a year of my life begging to have sex with someone who called me desperate when I told him I loved him?
That I spent two years continuously seeking validation from a guy who consistently measured me against another girl to show me my flaws.
As if just being better—more serious and sophisticated, smarter, more competitive—as if that would earn me his love. Shine brighter, Ro, but not too bright; not brighter than him.
And now?
I feel… disgusted with myself.
Why did I do that? What made me so desperate to be enough for him that I continued to bend and shrink myself into the box he wanted to put me in?
The realization is somehow worse than anything Tyler spewed at me tonight.
So many of my pieces, the things that make me me, are gone, chipped away so that I don’t know who I am anymore.
I feel lost. Floating without a tether.
I rest my head against Freddy’s warm, solid chest and he holds me, whispering soothing nonsensical words so calming I find my tears drying up, a numbness slowly seeping into my bones, and I feel safer, so I lean into it.
CHAPTER 22 Freddy
Ro doesn’t speak for the entire hour-long ride back.
I give her one of my AirPods to listen to, putting a playlist of Taylor Swift on because I vividly remember her bright, wide smile and beautiful voice singing loudly in the back of my car.
Though I can’t remember the song now. Probably because my brain likes to play Ro’s voice saying, “I think you’d be really easy to love,” on repeat like a torturous soundtrack of the night she doesn’t remember.
A night I couldn’t forget, even if I wanted to.
Back at campus, we pile out of the bus and into the arena parking lot slowly. I thwart a few of the guys’ curious, worried glances at Ro with a quick shake of my head.
But everyone is kind. If anything, they’re concerned.
Ro looks around, lost. And although she’s stopped crying, her eyes are red-rimmed and watery as she looks toward me. The heartbreaking vulnerability there makes my throat tight.
The guys hang around, Rhys and Bennett closer than the others, all watching her just as worriedly as I am.
Coming to Waterfell might not have been my choice, but I am honored to play with my entire team—with the new exception of Kane. My teammates are good fucking guys who would take care of Ro if I wasn’t here. And she isn’t even my girl—she’s my tutor.
“Ro?” I ask, because there is panic bleeding into her expression.
“I—I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do.” She raises her arms helplessly, eyes darting around. “I… He has everything. He took everything—”
She’s working herself into hysteria. I quickly sweep her into a tight hug, one that she instantly returns.
“I don’t have my car or my student ID, not even my dorm keys,” she mutters into my neck.
“It’s okay. Let’s take my car. We’ll figure it out.”
“I’m sorry.”
I shake my head, hugging her tighter as I subtly gesture over her head that we’re good so my lingering teammates can go home.
“No apologies. Now, let’s go. I’m starving.”
* * *
I inch a bag of waffle fries toward Ro across the console as we leave The Chick parking lot—only after I scarfed down two grilled chicken sandwiches.
It takes a long moment before she finally takes the fries out of the bag. I even catch a hint of a smile as she spots the couple of pounds’ worth of special fry sauce, logging that reaction in my head under “Things That Make Rosalie Shariff Smile.”
I try to start a few mindless conversations with her, but Ro is silent. She’s somewhere else, deep in her thoughts. And I, better than anyone, know what being lost in your own mind feels like. So I let her sit with it all, as much as I hate how clearly she’s hurting.
“Cool About It” by boygenius plays softly while I slowly weave through the backstreets, taking the long way back to campus. Even with the soothing guitar riff and warm voices, tension pulls my muscles tight.
“Do you want to talk—”
“No,” she says. It isn’t cruel, just a quiet rejection.
It doesn’t matter. It hurts just as much.
I clear my throat, and then say, “I was in love with someone, too, who treated me bad. And…” I huff a bitter laugh, gripping the steering wheel harder to keep my voice steady and soft.
“But she didn’t love me. She never said it back—fine, but she held that shit over my head. And it worked. I wanted her to think about me all the time, like I did her. I would do anything for it. And it took me way too long to really see what she was doing to me.”
Ro doesn’t say anything, but I can feel her rapt attention like a spotlight heating the side of my face.
“And it wasn’t until we weren’t together anymore. And I felt so ridiculous and stupid… and embarrassed. And she was fine, because she didn’t care.”
“It was fun, Freddy. But that’s not… You’re not what I need.”
I shake my head in a poor attempt to clear her voice from it.
“Why…” Ro starts, her voice raw and scratchy before she clears it and sips her Diet Coke. “Why are you telling me this?”
To look like an idiot, clearly.
I can’t find an answer, and the silence stretches out between us while I try to put what I feel into words. Her patience and the stillness of her presence soothes me.
“Because I wish someone had stopped me before I got lost and broken. And… because I care about you. You’re my friend, Ro.”
Her face brightens as she blinks wide-eyed at me.
“Yeah?”
“I thought we covered this,” I say teasingly. “Unless—”
“No. No, I’m your friend.” Her nod is enthusiastic, and it tugs at the knot in my chest. “I love being your friend. I just—I’ve had trouble with that in the past, thinking people were my friends and… anyway, it’s embarrassing.”
My chest aches enough that I raise a hand to rub at it, because I understand that feeling. I’ve made that exact mistake more times that I can count.
The car idles in front of the dorms, and Ro hesitates long enough that I’m about to offer for her to come stay at the Hockey House. Because I’m starting to think that Ro’s like me.
That she doesn’t want to be alone.
Instead, I stay quiet as she grabs her drink from the cupholder and reaches for the car door before she pauses and looks over her shoulder at me.
“I’m glad I’m your friend.” Ro’s hand rests on the handle, and she shifts her tall body around to face me. “For what it’s worth coming from me, whoever that girl is, she’s an idiot. I think… I think you’re amazing, Matt. You’re a good guy.”
The praise warms my stomach and I smile. Coming from you, it’s worth everything, I want to say. But instead, I nod and say, “A lot easier to tell someone else that, than yourself, huh?”
She flushes and nods. “Yeah.” There’s a charged silence, and then, “I should go. Thank you for saving me—again. And for everything else.” She hops out, hand on the door to close it.
“Thank you, Rosalie,” I say, my voice soft in a way I can’t seem to control around her.
“For what?”
“For helping me. The math and reading stuff can be… hard.” I shrug, vulnerability making me sweat through the thick Oxford shirt. “You’ve never made fun of me, once.” The words are sensitive, and it hurts to say them to her, but I need her to know.
“I wouldn’t. Never—”
“I know.”
Our words are all whispers, like we’re both too scared to break the other.
Then she shuts the door gently and starts toward the dorms. Her phone lights up in her palm again, and she shoves it into her coat pocket. And I watch as every bit of strength that she had when she left the car seems to melt from her, shoulders sinking, head bowed. Defeated.
My hand hits the steering wheel, head swimming over the image of her through the fogging window. At the entrance, she turns back to me and tries to smile again, barely managing before she knocks, and an RA lets her in.
It takes me an hour to drive away.
I spend most of it convincing myself not to follow her inside. She doesn’t need someone like me.
CHAPTER 23 Ro
“You look tired.”
I grumble something nonsensical—and probably incoherent—at the twelve-year-old scrounging for food in the pantry before I head to the coffee machine.
My lack of response must be enough to confuse Oliver, because he’s staring at me as I turn around, eyebrows raised like I’ve let a barn animal into the apartment or am wearing a giant inflatable cowboy suit instead of my pajamas.
I look down, just to check.
“Are… you okay?”
Jeez, I must look worse than I thought.
“I didn’t sleep well.”
I wait for a quick retort, like Sadie might make, but remember that this is Oliver I’m dealing with.
He watches me make a cup of coffee, which I don’t often drink, with mild concern. Enough that I finally tell him, “I’m fine. Just had a bad night.”
After a long gulp, I jump up to sit on the countertop. It’s only 6 a.m., so I’m not surprised we’re the only ones awake.
There’s a chance neither of us even went to sleep.
“How was your night?”
He shrugs. “Fine. Nothing bad.”
“But you didn’t sleep.”
He shrugs again, and I know I’ve guessed right.
“If you’re having trouble again, we can get you in to see someone.”
Oliver is already shaking his head before I’ve finished my sentence.
“No, Sadie can’t afford all that. She just got me new skates. I’m… I’m fine, Ro.”
He’s upset enough for me to drop it, for now, but I log the information.
Living in a dorm with my best friend and her two little brothers was not part of my Sexy College Bucket List, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything else. I love Liam and Oliver like they’re my own brothers, but helping them means I’m helping Sadie, and… I’d do anything for Sadie.
I don’t think I would’ve made it through being so far away from my family for the last three years without her.
And it hurts my stomach to know that she might not know that—that she’s not a burden to me. That she’s the opposite.
By the time I reemerge from my room, Sadie is awake and my phone has racked up twenty-six missed calls from Tyler. It isn’t until I’m out of the dorm building and walking toward the gym for a quick indoor track run that I finally answer.
“What?”
Stay firm. Be strong.
“Jesus Christ, Ro,” he says, his anger nearly making me stop completely and turn back for my room. “I’ve been worried sick.”
“Not that worried, considering you left me stranded an hour outside of town.”
