Okay, what the hell was happening? When had everything gone to shit?
"That doesn't tell me anything." I said roughly. "Georgia, what the fuck?"
"No," she answered softly, a tremble in her voice. "It doesn't. But my secrets aren't easy. They're not even close to easy and," she paused. "This won't work, as much as I want it to...it just won't." She paused again and stared up at her brother for several long seconds. "Thanks for pointing it out Matt. What the hell would I do without you?"
And then she disappeared into the bathroom and I didn't know if I wanted to smash my fist into Matt's face and break every bone that I could, or put a hole in the wall.
I had no idea what had just happened. No idea at all. I glared at the closed door. "Georgia, are we going to talk about this?"
Her answer? I heard the shower.
I pinned a ‘don't fuck with me' look on Matt. "Are you going to tell me what the hell just happened here?"
Matt opened his mouth, but then closed it tight, shaking his head in quick jerky movements. He sighed. "I … " And there was hurt in his eyes. "She's my sister and I love her but there are things … there are things, but it's not my place to say."
Unbelievable.
"That's it? That's all you got?" I took a step forward, hands fisted, and I knew If I didn't get it together I was going to say or do something I might regret.
I glanced at the closed bathroom door once more and decided to go for a run instead of getting into it with Matt. I shoved my way past him and changed into my running gear. It was less than two hours before I got back, but by then Georgia was gone.
As it turned out, she wasn't coming back anytime soon.
Chapter Twelve
Georgia
I stayed at Kendall's place for an entire week. Her parents were in Europe for the summer so the place was empty. Kendall left to go back to New York City after the second day-the girl was getting somewhat respectable and had scored a PR job-but she told me to stay as long as I wanted to. As long as I needed to.
So I did.
There was no way I was going back to Matt's place even though he'd called every single day and left a message on my voicemail. He always used the same excuse, ‘just making sure you're taking your meds' and then he'd say he was worried about me and then he'd apologize for being an asshole.
Whatever.
He never mentioned Ben and that was fine because every time I thought of him-which was a lot-I got an ache in my chest. I thought that maybe I had lost what could have been the best thing to happen to me. And then I thought I was crazy to even think along those lines. Ben Lancaster was going to be huge-in a world that celebrated the best he was headed to the top-and there was no way in hell he would ever be interested in someone like me if he knew the truth.
I was way too screwed up for a golden boy and I knew it, but it didn't stop me from wondering what if … .
It didn't stop me from feeling like shit over the fact that Ben hadn't tried to call or text me.
And Matt's words had hurt. They'd stung and ripped into me as if he'd taken a knife to my skin. "She's fucking trouble. I can't have her screwing with your head." I suppose they stung because deep down I knew they were true. Deep down I knew he had reason to be concerned for Ben. My track record wasn't exactly something to be proud of.
Guys had always been interested in me. I wasn't a cock-tease or anything, and maybe it was the slight bend of crazy that ran through me, but I'd grown up manipulating and playing with boys.
I did it because I could and I did it because it made me feel good. And sometimes I went too far.
A year ago I'd had a lot of fun with a couple guys, Ty Malone and Rick Danby-Ty was a rookie winger and Rick had been with the Flyer organization for a three years. Ty had been sweet but stupid, while Rick had been up for anything. Sometimes I thought he was crazier than I was, but I guess being a goalie and letting elite sharp shooters blast pucks at your head took a certain kind of crazy.
My mistake had been fooling around with them at the same time and when it was over, Matt was left with two pissed off players who hated each other. Not exactly the right frame of mind for a team sport. When the season was over Ty was traded-which he blamed me for-and Rick went about his lunatic way.
But Matt was pissed and that's when things started escalating for me. The drugs, the sex, the booze, and pills. Everything in my head circled harder and harder and the pressure to deal with it was too much. I didn't understand what was happening to me. I didn't understand how I could have been so high and then within days, so fucking low.
And then I tried to kill myself. And it hadn't been a half-hearted attempt after. After my intoxicated walk through the dorm I'd swallowed an entire bottle of oxycotton and the only reason it hadn't worked was because my roommate came back to grab a forgotten cell phone.
One of the worst days of my life had been waking up in the hospital with Matt beside the bed, his eyes swollen from crying and his heart broken.
I did that to him. I hurt people.
So, on what planet did I ever think someone like Ben Lancaster would settle for someone as screwed up as I was? Sure, I'd gotten help-the court order made sure of it-but that didn't change the fact that my brain wasn't normal. My chemistry was screwed and without the drugs I'd slide right back to where I was before.
I'd be just like my mom and when she'd been alive she had been toxic, although since she'd never been diagnosed I guess it really wasn't her fault. But that didn't change things-the facts-and the biggest one was when she'd had enough and had driven off a bridge into Lake Muskegan, taking my dad with her. Murder/suicide.
Nice.
For a few days I'd let myself believe that someone as screwed up as me could have something special with someone like Ben Lancaster. But who was I kidding? When he found out what I was really about, he'd run for the hills. He was a smart guy. He would eventually figure it out and just like I'd told him to his face, that's what I would do. Run.
The only problem with running away was eventually you had to find your way back. At least I did.
I had run away for a week, but I couldn't stay at Kendall's parents any longer. It was time to go home. Time to figure things out. And that's why a week later I found myself trudging through the foyer of Matt's building, waving to Joe. I'd taken a few steps toward the elevator when I stopped and whirled around.
"Hey, is Ben Lancaster still staying with my brother?" A sliver of apprehension rolled through me and my cheeks flushed about two shades past crimson. Up until just now, I assumed he was gone.
Joe shook his head. "I don't think so, Georgia. I haven't seen him for a few days."
"Oh, okay." Relief.
"How are you?" he asked just as I turned back to the elevator. I knew I looked like shit and the concern in his voice confirmed it.
"I'm fine. Just tired. Thanks for asking, Joe."
A few minutes later I let myself into the loft. Matt shouldn't be home. His vacation was officially over and as far as I knew he was at work, but Ben … I still wasn't sure.
Silence greeted me and I cleared my throat, gazing around carefully. "Hey," I said softly.
Nothing. Ben was gone.
With a sigh I headed to my bedroom, tossing my bag and staring at the bed that was as unmade as it had been a week ago. I walked toward it and slowly slid across the sheets, hugging my pillow and burying my face in the covers.
They were cold and I shivered, disappointed that I didn't feel Ben or smell him. There was nothing-as if the night I'd spent with him had never happened.
The thought left me empty and it took a good ten minutes before I was able to force myself from the bed and into the shower, and really I only did that because there was nothing else to do. I wasn't in any hurry. What did I have to run to? I wasn't in the mood to paint, I wasn't hungry and I sure as hell didn't care about what I looked like.
I stood under the hot spray letting the steam envelop my skin, and nearly an hour later I heard the door slam shut. I'd just combed out my hair and paused in my bedroom.
"G?" It was Matt.
I didn't answer at first because I wasn't sure I wanted to talk to him.
"G?" he said again, worry in his voice.
I sighed and sat on the end of my bed. "In here."