Love Rewritten Read online

  “Xander?” I stop here because I’m not really sure what to say to that. I think I’m truly at a loss for words. I don’t know whether to bitch him out or throw myself across the table into his arms.

  “He deserved worse and he’s lucky, because if Aubrey had gotten to him first, he’d probably be dead or at the very least on life support, and your brother would be in prison.”

  “So you did it for Aubrey?”

  He nods. “Partially, yes.” He leans forward, folding his arms on the distressed wood table, leveling me with his eyes that I’m not used to looking directly into. “And partially because I really wanted to hurt the prick.”

  “Okay,” I draw out the word. I still don’t know what to say about this. Xander isn’t someone who shows emotion often. In fact, he’s probably the most reserved, reticent man I’ve ever met. He keeps his cards very close to his chest and rarely lets anyone know what he’s actually thinking.

  The only time I’ve ever seen him lose that composure was the other day with me.

  “Did you tell Aubrey what you heard this morning?” I chew on my lip, setting the brownie in my hand down in the table in favor of my wine.

  He shakes his head. “Not really, no. But that was for him as much as for you, because like I said, he’d be in prison. I told him that Chris was a low life piece of shit and that I was going to beat his ass. I told him that we’d talk about it when he got home.” He gives me a lopsided smile.

  My heart is doing all kinds of fluttering over that one expression.

  “I owe you an apology.”

  I scrunch my eyebrows taking another sip of my wine. “How so?”

  His eyes pierce through mine. His mouth set in a line as he leans forward even farther over his folded hands. “Because I never should have walked away without speaking to you all those years ago. And I should have never treated you the way I’ve been treating you since. It was fucking childish of me and I’m sorry. You’re an incredible woman, Abby, and a great friend. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh?” He leans back in his chair with a smile.

  “I’m sorry too,” I start, swallowing hard and looking down at the table between us. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  “I know.”

  My eyes fly up to his. “You do?”

  He nods once.

  “So we’re good now?”

  “I guess. As good as being friends with you can be.”

  Is he saying he wishes it was more, or that being friends with me isn’t all that great?

  “I can’t believe everything that’s happened in the last few days,” I muse. “I don’t know what to think about Brandon. But I guess he’s not my problem anymore.”

  “No. You told him you needed time and space to think.”

  “I guess I did say that, didn’t I?”

  “And are you only ending it because he was privy to drugging you?”

  I shake my head. “It’s a good reason to do it. I like Brandon, but that was all it ever was. I don’t love him and I don’t trust him, and I don’t really want him near me after what he did and covered up.”

  “Does Brandon know this?”

  I lean back, away from him, resting against my chair. “No,” I sigh. “He doesn’t.” I get up slowly, enjoying the frown that Xander absentmindedly gives. I need to go and end things once and for all with Brandon.

  Xander chuckles softly as I walk over to the entry table, grabbing my purse and keys. “What are you doing?”

  I turn back to him. “I have to go,” I tell him, the same way he did to me earlier.

  “You’re not going to Brandon’s, right? To that house?”

  I stand there, crossing my arms because I can see where this conversation is headed. “Yes. Of course I am. How else do you suggest I talk to him?”

  Xander twists in his chair, looking me dead in the eyes. “I don’t know, Abby. You could call him on the phone. Because there is no way in hell you’re going back to the house where you freaking drugged.”

  I roll my eyes, but that just seems to piss him off, because now he stands up, crossing the room and towering over me. He’s not being aggressive, but he is trying to be imposing. Is it weird that I find that kind of hot? Probably not the time for that thought.

  “Xander, it’s not that big of a deal. Brandon isn’t the one who drugged me, and he’s not going to hurt me. I can’t just call him up and end it. That’s not right.”

  “Fuck that,” Xander snaps, his fists perched on his hips as his chin bows to his chest, sucking in angry breaths before he manages to calm himself down and raise his eyes back to mine. “Abby, please don’t go there. I can’t stand that thought.”

  “Xander,” I start softly, before he interrupts me.

  “At least let me go with you. Chris could be there. He lives with Brandon.”

  Yes, Chris could be there. I thought of that one already. But there is no way I can take Xander along with me. He’s got to be kidding me with that one. “I’ll be fine. And no, you absolutely cannot come. This is something I have to do on my own.”

  He shakes his head back and forth, desperately wanting to fight me further.

  He hates this. I get it. I like that he does. I may in fact love it, but that doesn’t change things.

  “I’ll be fine,” I reiterate, trying for reassuring. “Promise. So stop being an overprotective bug. I’m a big girl.”

  A small reluctant smile pulls at the corner of his lips. “Overprotective bug?”

  I smile back, bouncing on my toes a little. “That’s what I said.”

  “I hate how your adorably manipulative.”

  My smile only grows. “It’s actually my best feature.”

  Xander shakes his head again. He doesn’t like me going, but he doesn’t have a say in what I do. He doesn’t say anything else, just watches me with an indecipherable expression.

  And then I turn and leave.

  CHAPTER 25

  BRANDON’S TRUCK IS PARKED IN front of his house when I pull up. Looking at this place seems to have new meaning for me. It was the night that changed so much of the landscape of my life. There’s two other cars parked in the driveway as well. One I recognize as Chris’s car.

  The other? I have no idea who that one belongs to.

  I ascend the three wide steps to the door.

  The outside of this place looks terrible. It’s all overgrown grass, weeds and untrimmed shrubs. There is probably also at least five dollars worth of plastic, aluminum and glass recycling tossed in there. I shake my head, pursing my lips as I look over everything. It makes me wonder how I ever got involved with someone like Brandon in the first place.

  I never liked this house. Never once felt comfortable in it. Even my lame attempt to clean it a few times didn’t change that. And I never went into the living room unless forced, for the simple reason that it was the only place I vaguely remembered from the night I was drugged.

  I still have to figure out what I intend to do about all of that. I never knew who gave me the drugs years ago, so I never lodged a complaint. How could I? I mean, it could have been anyone who gave it to me. I was never able to describe the person, so I didn’t know if they lived in that house, were an athlete, or even what year they were.

  It may be a lame excuse, but it’s what I’ve stuck to over the years.

  But I know all of that now.

  Taking two deep breaths, I raise my hand and knock on the thick wood door with peeling white paint. No answer. I ring the bell that makes one of those awful buzzing noises and a moment later Chris opens the door.

  His eyes widen when he sees me before turning to narrow slits.

  He looks ten times worse than Xander does.

  His right eye is swollen completely shut and is turning a lovely shade of dark bluish-black with a long angry gash just under his brow. His nose looks like it was broken, as it is slightly crooked at the bridge. His left cheek has another cut on it that is still oozing a little and his lips are
split in two places and very swollen.

  Surprisingly, I don’t take as much enjoyment from the site of him as I expected I would.

  “What the fuck do you want, bitch?” Nice.

  I smile sweetly which only seems to annoy him further. “I thought you wanted to screw me, Chris?” I tilt my head. “Has that all changed now?” I ask in mock disappointment.

  “Fuck you.” He points a finger at me. “You sent your stupid asshole friend after me.” He leans forward, but I refrain from flinching back. “News flash,” he says, anger emanating from him. “Nothing fucking happened to you that night. You weren’t raped.” He makes a fake pouty face that makes me want to hit him again for good measure. “You weren’t taken advantage of.” His tone is so sarcastic and condescending. “So get the fuck over it and move on already.”

  I snort, crossing my arms over my chest. “You’re so lame.” I shake my head at him as I smirk. “You think I’m here because you drugged me with roofies?”

  “Aren’t you?” He looks taken aback for a moment.

  “No, but I am curious.” I tilt my head. “Do you always drug your women before you try and screw them? Is that the only way you can get laid, Chris?”

  He laughs. “No, you were the only. Most women come to me willingly.”

  I scoff at that, as I shake my head to let him know that I highly doubt that. I don’t know why I’m antagonizing him. Chris is dangerous. Not only because he did drug me once, but because Xander, who is my friend, beat his ass. I could also do a lot of damage to him now that I know he was the one. I need to get away from him, asap.

  Oh, and I’m also recording this entire conversation on my phone. Payback’s a bitch.

  “I only slipped you that pill because I had it in my pocket and I figured what the hell?” He shrugs.

  I nod. “Okay.” I smile widely. “Excuse me.” I try to brush past him, jabbing him sharply with my shoulder, because I just can’t help myself.

  And then he starts to laugh from behind me and I freeze.

  “Oh, you’re here for your boyfriend?” His laugh only grows more raucous. “By all means.” He steps aside, opening the door wider for me to enter.

  It makes me, uneasy.

  But I ignore him and my instinct tells me to get the hell out of this house, and head quickly for the stairs. As I reach the top step, I begin to understand why Chris was laughing, because I hear Brandon. And another girl. Moaning. Together.

  But instead of being upset by this as I expected I would be, I find I’m smiling. Because he’s a lying piece of shit and I am actually looking forward to walking into that room and making a big dramatic scene.

  Well, in my own way of course.

  As I approach his door, I hear the girl calling out his name as Brandon groans, muttering something unintelligible. She’s faking. I can tell. No one is that animated for this long. And as fun as Brandon can be in bed, he’s not that good.

  At least, I’ve never screamed out his name like that.

  And best of all, the door is not locked.

  I turn the brass knob slowly, not wanting to give myself away just yet. The latch releases and the door creaks open. Brandon is screwing some brunette from behind, his bare ass facing me. Her face is buried in his bed and he’s holding the back of her head down into his mattress like if he doesn’t see her she’ll remain a nameless, faceless orifice—God, I love that word. He’s thrusting into her hard, with reckless abandon, as he grunts and she shrieks.

  Yup, she’s definitely faking it.

  “I didn’t realize thinking about things meant having sex other people.” I try to hide my smirk when his head whips around and his eyes turn into giant saucers of shocked horror within his flushed sweaty face.

  “Fuck,” he growls.

  I tilt my head, propping my hands on my hips. “It looks like you already are, Brandon.”

  The girl’s head turns on the bed and she’s looking at me in a mixture of dejection and annoyance. But not surprise. She doesn’t look shocked to see another woman here and Brandon being upset about it.

  No, this girl knows who I am.

  “Is this her?” she asks softly, but it’s simply for confirmation of what she already suspects.

  “Abby,” Brandon says hesitantly, looking at me like I’m a caged animal that could snap at any moment. He turns to me, pulling out of the girl, condom still attached—at least he’s wearing one, I note. Gross. I don’t think I’ve ever been so disgusted with someone before in my life. He could at least have the decency to cover up. “This isn’t what it seems.”

  I snort, crossing my arms over my chest and popping my hip out. All attitude. I should at least be a little upset to find my boyfriend having sex with another girl the same day he professes his love to me.

  But I’m not.

  I’m relieved, maybe?

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “No. Babe, please.”

  He takes a step off the bed, hands held up to me, palms out. I look down at him, raising an eyebrow. He sees where my eyes are and rips the condom off, tossing it on the floor before grabbing the sheet off the bed, wrapping it around his waist. The girl is just sitting there, peering up at me with a questioning expression.

  “Look,” he sighs heavily, “I was upset, okay? I was stupid and I got drunk. Really drunk,” he adds turning to look at the girl on the bed for a fleeting second before twisting back to me. “This doesn’t have to mean anything.” He looks over his shoulder at the girl, again, who is now sitting on his bed, naked, watching our exchange. “She doesn’t mean anything.” I hear her scoff, but it’s more of an I-knew-it sound. I’m going to ignore that for now.

  She’s inconsequential.

  “Brandon.” Shaking my head, I sigh. “It really doesn’t matter.” I soften my features because I want him to know the truth. “I’m done with this anyway. You’re a great guy, despite this little episode.” I look over at the girl who, thankfully, has covered herself up with a blanket. “But I don’t trust you and I don’t think I ever could again. You knew I was drugged and protected your friend over me. You never even cared enough about me to find out what happened to me after I left that night. For all you knew, I could have passed out in a ditch and been raped by a team of men.”

  He starts to protest, but I hold up my hands stopping him.

  “Really. There is nothing you can say that will change my mind. I mean, the second I tell you I need a minute of space to think, you fuck someone else. It’s over.” I take a step back and actually smile a little. “So you can go and put on another condom,” I point to his nightstand drawer where he keeps them, “and finish what you were doing.”

  “Dammit, Abby.” He takes a step toward me. “Please don’t do this.” He’s begging now, his eyes are wild, looking around the room frantically as if he’ll find something there that will make me change my mind. “I know it looks bad.” His eyes find mine as he takes another step. I take one back, making him frown. “I love you. I love you so much. I was just upset and I got drunk. I wasn’t thinking. It just happened.” He runs a hand through his hair, pulling on it by the roots. “Please.”

  I shake my head. “I’m sorry, Brandon. I hear what you’re saying and, believe it or not, part of me believes you.” He smiles, so I hold up my hand. “But I don’t feel the same about you as you say you do about me. And I don’t want to be with you anymore.” The firmness in my voice is unmistakable. “I hope you find something good.”

  And I mean that. I do. He’s a confused, messed up college boy, but he’s not an awful person. Not a good person either really, but not awful.

  “Bye.”

  I turn around, ignoring Brandon calling my name, and walk out the door, past Chris—who, judging by his shocked expression, heard my conversation with Brandon—and back to my car.

  My drive home consists of me replaying my little scene with Brandon no less than twenty times before I pulled into my garage spot next to Aubrey’s Explorer and Xander’s old a
ss Accord that he affectionately calls Spike. I have no idea why. The real question is what am I going to do with this recording of Chris. Turn it in? Hold onto it? I need to think on this for a bit.

  Shutting off my car so I don’t asphyxiate on carbon monoxide, I sit back, leaning my head against the soft leather of the headrest, letting out a long dramatic sigh. I have no idea what I’m going to walk into when I go back upstairs.

  Xander and I are friends?

  Even though he hasn’t exactly been the most verbose—no shocker there—he’s been nice.

  But nice doesn’t mean anything more.

  That ship may have sailed for him.

  So I sigh again, needing this brief moment of silence for the small chronic break. Sorry Snoop, I’m butchering your shit, but you get my point. I’m nervous and when I’m truly nervous, I revert to old-school gangster rap lyrics. The whole walk to Halpern’s that last time I had Gin and Juice going through my head on repeat.

  It’s a weird tick, I get it, but it helps. The lyrics are so absurd and misogynistic and just fun, they distract me.

  I don’t get this worked up often.

  I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not. That so few things in my life have so much meaning. But I guess that means that Xander does. I can put off the inevitable and sit here until a search party is sent for me, or I can pull up my big girl panties and face the man who has been driving me crazy in one way or another since I first met him over three years ago.

  CHAPTER 26

  THE KITCHEN IS SPOTLESS WHEN I walk into the apartment. The only evidence of the giant meal I made is the mechanical hum of the dishwasher running and the lingering scent of fried chicken and brownies in the air. Xander cleaned everything up, and while I do feel a little bad about leaving him with such a mess, the fact that he cleaned it up makes me smile.

  The sound of the television leads me into the living room, where Xander is sprawled out on the couch. Resting on the cream and gray striped throw pillow, his long legs take up the rest of this half of the sectional. His arm is propped up behind his head, giving him a better vantage point of Kill Bill, Volume 2.