November 9 - Hoover Colleen (книги серия книги читать бесплатно полностью .TXT) 📗

“Are you Fallon?”

I look up at the waitress. She’s the same waitress who has refilled my Diet Pepsi twice. But this time she has an apologetic look about her . . . and a phone in her hands.

My heart sinks.

Please just let him be late. Please don’t let him be calling me because he isn’t coming today.

I nod. “Yeah.”

She pushes the phone at me. “He says it’s an emergency. You can bring the phone back to the counter when you’re done.”

I take it out of her hands and pull it to my chest with both hands. But then I quickly pull it away, because I’m afraid he’ll be able to hear my heart pounding on his end of the line. I look down at it and inhale a slow breath.

I can’t believe I’m reacting this way. I had no idea how much I’ve been anticipating today until the threat that it might be taken away from me. I slowly lift the phone to my ear. I close my eyes and mutter, “Hello?”

I immediately recognize the sigh that comes from the other end of the line. It’s crazy how I don’t even have to hear his voice to recognize him. That’s how embedded he is in my mind. Even the sound of his breath is familiar.

“Hey,” he says.

It’s not the kind of desperate greeting I wanted to hear. I need him to sound panicked—late. Like he’s just walking off the airplane and he’s terrified I’ll leave before he has a chance to get here. Instead, it’s a lazy hey. Like he’s sitting on a bed somewhere, relaxed. Not at all in a panic to get to me.

“Where are you?” I utter the dreaded question, knowing he’s about to give me an answer that’s almost three thousand miles from New York.

“Los Angeles,” he says. I close my eyes and wait for more words to come, but they don’t. He fails to follow it up with any type of explanation, which only means he feels guilty.

He’s met someone.

“Oh,” I say. “Okay.” I try not to be transparent, but my sadness is audible.

“I’m really sorry,” he says. I hear the truth in his words, but it does little to comfort me.

“Is everything okay?”

He doesn’t answer my question immediately. The silence grows thick between us until he sucks in a rush of air.

“Fallon,” he says, his voice faltering on my name. “I don’t even know how to say this gently, but . . . my brother? Kyle? He uh . . . he was in a wreck two days ago.”

I cover my mouth with my hand as his words rush through me. “Oh, no. Ben, is he okay?”

More silence, and then a weak, “No.”

The word is spoken so quietly, it’s as if he’s in a state of disbelief.

“He um . . . he didn’t make it, Fallon.”

I’m unable to respond to that sentence. I don’t know what to say. I have absolutely no useful words. I don’t know Ben well enough to know how to console him over a phone, and I didn’t know Kyle well enough to express my sadness over his death. Several seconds pass before Ben speaks again.

“I would have called before now, but . . . you know. I didn’t know how to reach you.”

I shake my head as if he can see me. “Stop. It’s okay. I’m so sorry, Ben.”

“Yeah,” he says, saddened. “Me too.”

I want to ask him if there’s anything I can do, but I know he’s probably tired of hearing that. More silence engulfs the line and I’m angry at myself for not knowing how to respond to this. It’s just so unexpected, and I’ve never experienced anything like what he must be going through right now, so I don’t even try to fake empathy.

“This is killing me,” he says, his voice in a rushed whisper. “I’ll see you next year, though. I promise.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. I can hear the underlying hurt in his side of our conversation and it makes me ache for him.

“Same time next year?” he asks. “Same place?”

“Of course.” I try to get the words out before I burst into tears. Before I tell him I can’t wait another year.

“Okay,” he says. “I have to go. I’m really sorry.”

“I’ll be fine, Ben. Please don’t feel bad . . . I understand.”

Silence hangs between us, until he finally sighs. “Goodbye, Fallon.”

The line disconnects before I speak again. I look down at the phone and tears are blurring my vision.

I’m heartbroken. Crushed.

And I’m such an asshole, because as much as I want to convince myself I’m crying over the loss of Ben’s brother, I’m not. I’m crying for completely selfish reasons, and recognizing that I’m such a pathetic human makes me cry even harder.

Ben

I’m clenching the cell phone in my hand in an attempt to avoid punching through my bedroom door. I was hoping the waitress would tell me she wasn’t there. I was hoping she didn’t show up so I wouldn’t have to disappoint her. I’d rather she have met someone else, fallen in love and forgotten about me than to be responsible for the disappointment I just heard in her voice.

I roll from my shoulder to my back and let my head fall against the door. I look up at the ceiling and fight back the tears that have been trying to take over since I found out about Kyle’s wreck.

I haven’t cried yet. Not even once.

What good would it have done Jordyn if I was a broken mess when I delivered the news that her husband died a week shy of their one-year anniversary? Three months before the birth of their first child? And what good would it have done Ian if I had been a blubbering mess on the phone when I had to tell him his little brother was dead? I knew he’d have to make arrangements to come straight home after I got off the phone with him, so I needed him to know that I was fine. I had things under control here and he didn’t need to rush.

The closest I’ve come to crying was just now, on the phone with Fallon. For some reason, it was harder telling her the news than anyone. And I think it was because I knew Kyle’s death wasn’t the real factor in our conversation. It was the unspoken fact that we’ve both been anticipating this day since we had to tear ourselves apart last year.

And as much as I wanted to reassure her that I’d be there next year, all I wanted to do was fall to my knees and beg her to come here. Today. I’ve never needed to wrap my arms around someone more than I do right now, and I’d give anything to have her here with me. To just be able to press my face in her hair and feel her arms around my waist, her hands on my back. There isn’t a single thing in this world that could comfort me like she could, but I didn’t tell her that. I couldn’t. Maybe I should have, but asking her to come to me at the last minute is more of a request than I could ever make.

The doorbell rings, and I stand at attention, pulling myself from the regret I feel over the phone call I just had to make. I toss my cell phone onto the bed and head downstairs.

Ian is opening the front door when I reach the bottom step. Tate steps inside and her arms go around his neck. I’m not surprised to see her and Miles here. Miles and Ian have been best friends since before I was born, so I’m glad Ian has them. It does make me wallow in a little bit of a deeper pool of self-pity, knowing his best friends are here with him and the only person I want is three thousand miles away.

Tate releases Ian and hugs me. Miles walks through the front door and hugs Ian, but says nothing. Tate turns around and reaches for one of the bags in Miles’s hand, but he pulls it from her.

“Don’t,” he says, his eyes falling to her stomach. “I’ll take all our stuff to the room. You go to the kitchen and make yourself something to eat, you still haven’t had breakfast.”

Ian closes the door behind him and looks at Tate. “Is he still not letting you lift anything?”

She rolls her eyes. “I never thought I’d get tired of being treated like a princess, but I’m so over it. I can’t wait until this baby comes and his attention is focused on her and not me.”