I’d love to hear her definition of a tough weekend. Did they run out of beer or smokes? Maybe her boyfriend flirted with another woman. If anyone has had a tough weekend—hell, a tough f**king week—it would be Drew Callahan.

Oh yeah, and me.

“It’s only Saturday,” I point out. “Don’t you have a bar to hang out at or something?”

She snorts. “Since when did you become such a smartass?”

I don’t bother answering her. Instead, I head to the tiny kitchen and crack open the fridge, peering inside. It’s depressing as hell in there. Leftover Chinese takeout from however long ago and mostly empty bottles of catsup, mustard, mayo and grape jelly line the door. There’s a gallon of milk inside but maybe a sip of it is left and by the expiration date printed on there, it’s also many days too old.

There are two sodas and a crumpled, half empty twelve-pack box inside too. Of course. Heaven forbid Mom goes without her Bud Light.

I vow first thing tomorrow morning, I’ll go grocery shopping with the money I made from my girlfriend gig, so we’ll have real food in the house. I know Owen’s not done growing. He needs to eat and properly, not a bunch of junk shit and fast food. We’ll have one last night of cheesy pepperoni pizza, but come tomorrow we’re eating right.

“I heard you lost your job,” I call to her as I grab a soda and crack it open. The cold surge of caffeine and sugar slides easily down my throat and I shut the refrigerator door to find my mom leaning against the kitchen counter, her near empty beer can hanging from her fingertips.

“Owen told you, huh?” She shakes her head. “It’s such bullshit, what they said.”

“What did they say?” Great. Sounds like it’s her fault she lost her job.

“A customer supposedly complained that when I helped him, my breath smelled like beer.” She toasts me with her can then slugs the rest of beer back. Ironic, much? “I mean, I stayed up late the night before drinking with Larry, so I figure it was a leftover buzz, you know? I wasn’t really drunk. I was fine.”

I just look at her, sipping from my soda can. My life kinda sucks, my mom is completely irresponsible, but I have nothing on Drew.

Nothing.

“Where’s Larry?” When she looks at me, I raise my eyebrows. “Your new boyfriend, right?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “We got in a huge fight and he dropped me off here not even an hour ago. We were supposed to go out tonight.”

God, I really don’t want her here. I wish she would go out and leave me alone, leave me with my thoughts. Owen would come back for pizza but I want to hang out with him. “Maybe you should call Larry and tell him you’re sorry.”

“Why do you think it’s my fault?”

Because it always is? “Maybe you should take the initiative and apologize even if it’s not your fault.” Now it’s my turn to shrug.

Mom taps her lips with her index finger, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket. “Not a bad idea. I’m calling him.”

She walks back into her bedroom, her phone to her ear. “Hey, baby. It’s me,” I hear her say as she slowly closes the door.

I remain where I’m standing long after she’s gone. Thinking of Drew. Where is he, what is he doing? Is he okay? I’m sick with worry and I hate feeling this way. I wish he hadn’t shut me out. I wish he would let me in.

But wishes are for fools.

Drew

After I drop Fable off at her place, I drive around town for an hour, taking in the familiar, comforting sights. This small town where I’ve spent the last three years feels far more like home than where I grew up ever will.

Of course, my hometown is tainted mostly with bad memories, save those few days with Fable.

I drive past the campus, the stadium where I spend the majority of my time, and it’s all pretty much abandoned. I drive through downtown, past the shops, the corner cafes and the Starbucks, slowing some as I drove past La Salle’s, which looks quiet. Considering it’s not even six o’clock, that’s no surprise. Plus the students aren’t really back in town yet. That’ll all happen tomorrow.

The rain stills falls steadily and when I realize I’ve been driving for well over an hour with no destination in mind, I finally end up at my apartment building. It’s on the opposite side of town from Fable’s, I live in the newer part, the better part. Where the neighborhoods are quiet and the yards are perfect. Not like the crowded, older neighborhoods that are overrun with young, loud college students since the rent rates are so cheap. I bet my apartment is twice the size of hers and I only have one bedroom. Shit, I’m the only one living there while she has her mom and her brother, all three of them trying their best to keep it together…

I hammer my fist against the steering wheel once. Then again, ignoring the pain that radiates across my knuckles, shoots through my hand. My coach would kill me if he saw me right now, trying to f**k up my throwing hand. Imagining his anger makes me hit the steering wheel yet again, and my fist is throbbing by the third punch.

But the pain feels good. Raw and real, reminding me of who I am, what I am. My life looks easy, so damn easy. Everything I’ve ever wanted has been handed to me on a silver platter. I’m a spoiled as hell rich kid who should be living the life. Bragging to my so-called friends, living high in my huge apartment, strutting around campus with a girl under each arm because I’m the one they call the hero, who’s saved our football team these last two seasons.

My world…is a world of shit. What Adele confessed has left me in f**king shock. I drove pretty much the entire way home without saying a word. Neither did Fable. I feel like shit for acting like that, but what could I do? Make small talk with her, chat about the weather and our favorite music and oh, the fact that my stepmom just told me my sister really isn’t my sister at all, but my daughter?

My life is a total soap opera. I don’t know how to handle it. I don’t know if I believe Adele. She’s lied before. She always lies. Maybe she was trying to shock me. Disgust my girlfriend so badly Adele thought she could drive Fable away. My girl is more stubborn than that.

Besides, I know exactly how to drive her away and tune her out. I’ve become a pro at it these last few days.

That realization fills me with regret.

Unable to stand my out of control thoughts any longer, I call Adele while still sitting in my truck in the parking lot, the rain tapping a steady rhythm on the roof.

“Andrew.” Adele answers on the second ring, and she sounds surprised to hear from me. She should be.

“Tell me you were lying.” The words rush out and I squeeze my eyes closed, waiting—and dreading—her answer.

She’s quiet for a moment. I can hear soft music playing in the background, like she’s at a restaurant or something. I wonder if she’s with my dad. I hope like hell she excused herself so he doesn’t hear what she’s saying. “I wasn’t lying. She belonged to you.”

I blow out a harsh breath, my lungs feeling like they’re folding in on themselves, they’re so tight. “How do you know?”

“God, Andrew, it’s the same old story, you know? Your father and I…we tried for years to have a child, but with no success. The idea came to me one day that you might be the perfect candidate. The next best thing, so to speak, and you were. I planned my visits to you according to my cycle, poked a few holes in the condom and it was a near-instant success.” Her voice is hushed, but she sounds so damn logical about it, I want to scream.

Bile rises in my throat and I swallow it down. I was f**king sixteen years old when I got this bitch pregnant. Only sixteen. “So you tricked me. And my father. You’ve played us both. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

“I was never playing either of you, you must believe that. I love your father tremendously. And I…I love you too, Andrew. Can’t a woman be in love with two men? There are so many qualities to the both of you that are similar yet different. I wanted you both.” Her voice is small. That she even talks about me like she…she wanted me when I was just a kid, makes me sick.

“Well, you had us both. I hope you’re satisfied,” I snarl into the phone, ready to hang up but I hear her say my name, her voice downright frantic. I decide to hear her out. I don’t know why. “What?”

“You’re not…you’re not going to tell your dad, are you? What I said?”

The knowledge would devastate him. Even if it can’t be confirmed, what with Vanessa gone, I’m not about to blab. Why would I want to hurt him? It would damage our relationship irrevocably and right now, he’s the only family I have that counts. This secret, I plan on carrying to the grave. “I won’t tell him. Not to save your ass, but to save his.”

She exhales loudly, her voice shaky. “Thank you, Andrew.”

“Don’t bother thanking me. I’m not doing this for you.”

“Of course not.” She pauses. “What about your—girlfriend? She knows, since I said it in front of her. What if she tells?”

“She won’t,” I say automatically because I know it’s the truth. I trust Fable. She wouldn’t dare tell a soul.

“You haven’t dated very long. What if you two split up and she becomes vengeful, deciding to ruin both our lives? We might never recover if the truth is revealed.” Adele sounds so full of drama, I almost wonder if she gets off on it.

“There’s no way in hell Fable will spill this. Stop worrying.” And with that, I hang up. I don’t want to talk to her anymore. I don’t want to talk, period.

Instead, I sit in my truck a little while longer, thinking. The cab gets muggy, the windows steam up from my breathing and the rain is coming down harder. I don’t want to go into my apartment and spend the night there alone. My thoughts are too jumbled, too focused on what Adele said.

I wish she never told me the supposed truth about Vanessa. It would’ve been so much easier to go through life oblivious to that fact.

But she shared in her misery and for that, I’m forever locked to her yet again. Just when I think I’m free of Adele’s shackles, she pulls me back in, locks me up.

And tosses away the key.

~* Chapter Fourteen *~

One Week’s Up, Midnight

I choose you. – Drew Callahan

Fable

I can’t sleep. I’m too restless, too worried, too…everything. My mom left hours ago after I encouraged her to call her new loser boyfriend to make up with him. He came by within fifteen minutes of her ending the call and they took off to their favorite hangout: a shitty bar the local drunks love.

That I work at a bar doesn’t go unnoticed by me. I do realize I’m following in her footsteps no matter how hard I try not to. Makes me wonder if we’re predestined to end up like our parents anyway, regardless if we fight against it.

Just the thought depresses me so I file it away.

Owen came home around five, the relief that Mom wasn’t there evident by his easygoing smile and his teasing—if a little crude—nature. I really need to break him of the bad language habit he’s developing at a rapid pace, but who am I to talk? I curse all the f**king time.

We order pizza, and it takes forever because it’s the Saturday night after Thanksgiving and no one in town wants to cook. We watch awesome nineties movies on cable—the one luxury I gladly pay for since it makes Owen, okay fine and me happy—and waited for our food, moaning and groaning how starved we are.

All the while, I think of Drew. His smile, how he touched me, the way he looked at me when he hauled me into his lap that first time. The taste of his lips, the warmth of his breath, the touch of his hands on my bare skin, he haunts me while I tease my brother, as I watch a movie I’ve seen one hundred times, when I finally shove pizza into my mouth like I haven’t ate for weeks.

I cannot stand the idea of him alone somewhere with his thoughts, his memories, his troubles. I check my phone again and again, hoping for a text, a call, something, but he doesn’t contact me. And I won’t contact him.

Yet.

Maybe he needs time, I reason with myself later in the evening as I watch Owen throw some clothes in his backpack. He’s headed back to Wade’s to spend the night. His friend called to ask and I spoke with Wade’s mom, reassured that he really was going over there and not running the streets in the middle of the night. I want to trust my brother but come on.

He’s thirteen.

So I’m left all alone and I’m used to that. Owen spends the night at his friend’s house a lot and my mom prefers staying out until the bars close. I’m always working so no one is usually home around this time anyway.

The rain is still coming down, I can hear it as I lay in my bed in the dark, my eyes wide open as I stare at the ceiling. I can’t get Drew out of my mind. I need to know he’s okay, that he’s safe. Without thought I grab my phone and type in a quick text to him, sending it before I can second guess myself and delete it.

Slipping out of bed, I go into the living room and curl up on the couch, slinging an old throw blanket over me as I flick on the TV. It’s past midnight. Our week long fake relationship is officially over.

And as the minutes turn into hours, I realize he’s not going to come and rescue me. He kept his word to our agreement.

My position as Drew Callahan’s one week girlfriend is done.

Drew

I passed out cold on top of my bed, still in my jeans and sweatshirt, not bothering to pull the covers over me. I must’ve slept like that for hours, because I wake up groggy and disoriented, my muscles aching and my mouth dry, my stomach growling since I skipped two freaking meals. I never do that.