“I know what PMS is,” Audrey says, more quietly now. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come over? We can drink hot chocolate and watch stupid TV shows.”
I smile, although tears are pressing behind my brow, burning. “I’m sure. I’m going out now anyway. I won’t be back until later.”
Much, much later.
“Okay then,” Audrey whispers, sounding unconvinced. “Call me when you’re back? I want to tell you something.”
“What, Aud?”
“Not, now. I…” She pauses, sighs. “Later. Ah, there’s something else, almost forgot. Dylan called this morning, asking who Sean Anholt is. Tessa, did you tell him?”
“Tell him what?” I take a step back, as if Sean can touch me through the mention of his name. My mind whirs uselessly. Why would Dylan call Audrey and ask?
“Girl, you told me Sean was nasty to you when you were together. You never told me what happened exactly, but he’s not here, is he? You said he moved to England?”
“He did.”
“Then why was Dylan asking me about him?”
Shit. “I, uh, ran into Dylan at the gala, and we got to talking.” Among other things. Oh God… “What else did he say?”
“He asked if you were still together with Sean. I told him no. Was I right?”
“Yeah, of course. We’re not together. Never were.” Damn you, Sean. “What else?”
“He asked if Sean used to hurt you. I said…”
My lungs feel crushed. “What did you say?”
“Tess, I said yes. He did, didn’t he? He hurt you. That summer you told me about.”
A sob rises in my throat, and I swallow convulsively. I never told her what really happened, just bits and pieces, but I think she knows.
“Dylan sounded angry,” Audrey whispers. “What happened?”
“I got to go now.” My voice wobbles. I can’t talk anymore. “Talk to you later, Aud.”
“Tessa, wait.”
But I disconnect, my hand shaking. I glance at the half-empty suitcase, and my eyes burn.
I can’t. I can’t leave. I don’t want to go. I spent my teenage years here in Madison with Aunt Elsie, and although now she’s moved back to Illinois, my friends are more of a family to me than my parents ever were. My parents live in Chicago, but this is my town, my home.
What about asking for a restraining order for Sean? What about facing my parents and telling them to go to hell? What can they do to me that’s worse than me leaving the only home I’ve ever known?
Tears drip off my chin. I wipe them off angrily. Maybe it’s not just them I’m trying to run away from. It’s myself. My past. My need for Dylan, who doesn’t give a damn about me. My need to be good for a family who is never satisfied with me.
Why can’t I be who I am, think what I want and do what I consider right?
Dad’s reprimanding voice echoes in my head. Mom’s sad eyes stare at me from memory, guilting me into accepting their rules, their ideas. Their demands.
I wish they’d accept me as I am. But I’ve waited all my life, deluded myself. They’ll never accept me. They’d much rather pass me on to a man who hurt me for a business deal. For money. That’s what they want for me—a man who’ll control me and direct my life without input from me.
No. I’m not running away. I scrub my hands over my face. Last night was… eye-opening. The bursting of a bubble I tried desperately to keep afloat.
Now I need to figure out my path from here. What to do from now on.
A sound breaks through my glum thoughts. The doorbell.
Frowning, I get to my feet. Who can it be? I thought I convinced Audrey I wouldn’t be in today. As I cross the living room, it strikes me that it could be Sean. Or Dad. Not sure which would be worse.
I hesitate. Slow down. Fear tightens my stomach. No way am I opening that door. I backpedal, intent on returning to my room and locking the door.
“Tess! Are you okay?” A man’s voice, but not Sean’s, or my dad’s. He bangs on the door so hard its hinges creak. “Tessa, open this door.”
“Dylan?” I whisper, shocked into stillness.
He’s still banging on my door. Like in a dream, I start moving forward again. I check through the peephole, and sure enough it’s him, looking ruggedly handsome in his rain jacket, his short hair drenched, his expression tight.
I unlock and open the door. “What’s going on?”
He pushes past me, running a hand through his wet hair, lifting it into small spikes. A blast of cold comes with him, and I hurriedly slam the door closed.
“I had to see you’re okay,” he says, pacing the floor, dripping water all over my carpet. “After what Audrey told me, I had to…”