Read All In (Cedar Mountain University #2) Online
Authors: Ann Garner
All In (Cedar Mountain University #2)
All In
Copyright © 2014
By Ann Garner
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons,
living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The
characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used
fictitiously.
For Chad.
Love.
Contents
“I
can’t believe he is sending her home over the blonde. The blonde is such a
bitch.” I throw a piece of popcorn at the TV in disgust, then laugh when it
falls short by several inches.
“Be
nice, Grace,” Delaney, my roommate, says from her seat on the couch next to me.
“I’m sure it’s just editing. She’s probably a very lovely person.”
I
shoot her a disbelieving look. “Of course she is, Sally Sunshine.”
Popcorn
hits me in the side of the face. “I’m the exact opposite of Sally Sunshine.”
“Editing?
Seriously, Del, I doubt she could have that many scenes full of bitchiness if
she hadn’t given them plenty of material to work with. And you’ve totally lost
your thundercloud reputation.”
“Thundercloud
reputation?
Where do you come up with
this stuff? Never mind, I don’t need a sneak peek into the inner workings of
your mind. I don’t think I’d come out unscathed.”
“My
mind is a wonderland.”
Delaney
snorts. “I think that is supposed to be body. Your body is a wonderland.”
Before
I can say anything else there’s a knock on our door. It isn’t unusual for us to
have visitors, but it is unusual for us to have visitors during our weekly
trashy reality show night.
My
roommate Delaney, who happens to be dating my brother Cole, and I had only
recently discovered our shared absolute love of trashy reality TV, and while
The Real Housewives
of whatever city,
happens to be a particular favorite, tonight we are watching
The Bachelor
, or the dating game on
crack as I like to call it.
Reality
shows are a great pick-me-up. Seriously, who has that much drama in their lives
on a normal daily basis? You can’t help but feel better about your own life
while watching theirs spiral out of control for the stupidest reasons known to
man.
In
response to the knock on our door, Delaney stiffens slightly on the couch next
to me, and I know our relaxing night in is shot regardless of who is on the
other side of the door.
She’s improved
leaps and bounds over where she was the start of our freshman year, but I doubt
the fear will ever totally be gone. Understandable after everything she’s been
through.
I’m
one hundred percent positive they would have had to lock me up in a padded room
had I’d gone through even one tenth of what she had faced.
“I’ll
get it. Was Cole planning to come back tonight?” I ask over my shoulder as I
push off the couch. “I think he secretly has a fascination with reality TV that
he just doesn’t want to own up to.”
“Right,”
Delaney says drily, “it has nothing to do with me.”
I
smirk. “That’s awfully conceited of you, Delaney. I’m sure he has interests
outside of you.”
“Bitch,”
Delaney grumbles, but she’s no longer so tense that she might break and I’m
laughing as I open the door to the apartment.
“Well,
hey there, sexy.” I greet Grant with a smile, leaning up on tiptoe to place a
quick kiss on his mouth. “I didn’t think you were coming by tonight.”
I
should have noticed something was off right away.
It
should have registered that Grant had knocked on the door and not used the key
I had given him. He didn’t kiss me back and hasn’t made a single move to come
into the apartment. In fact, he looks like he’s about to throw up, and I can
see sweat beading on his forehead.
“You
okay?” Concerned, I brush my hand across his cheek, trying to feel for a fever.
His skin feels clammy to the touch, but not hot. “Grant?”
Licking
his lips he finally says, “Can we talk?”
How
do three little words have the power to ruin your entire fucking life? I think
if your entire world is going to be thrown off course then the conversation
leading up to it should be a little more verbose than ‘Can we talk.’
I
want to tell him no, to slam the door in his face, and pretend that this entire
moment hadn’t transpired. But I’m not a delaying-the-inevitable kind of person.
So if Grant Michaels was about to break up with me, which I had no doubt he
was, then we might as well get it over with.
Then
I could start the breakup process: the crying; the ice cream; the making little
voodoo dolls of Grant that I could stab with pins in inappropriate places.
Maybe not necessarily in that order.
I
can be flexible that way.
I
step back, gesturing him into the apartment. I totally forgot Delaney was
sitting on the couch with a bowl of popcorn sitting next to her, watching the
entire exchange between us. A quick glance at her confirms that she heard the
same thing I had heard in those three words.
If
Delaney, whose experience with relationships is limited to the last year, could
see what was coming, then no amount of wishing that I was mistaken was going to
matter.
Grant
moves past me into the living room, his feet dragging against the carpet, his
head hanging a little. I make the mistake of meeting Delaney’s eyes for just a
moment, looking away at the sympathy I see there. I don’t need sympathy.
Not
until he’s gone.
Because
no way in hell is he about to see me cry.
Not
over this.
Not
over him.
“I’m,
uh, going to head over to the bookstore. They were getting a, uh, new shipment
in today that I need to help catalog.” She’s a suck-ass liar I think, watching
as she drops the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and shoves a pair of flip
flops on her feet as she talks. When she brushes by me she pauses long enough
to squeeze my arm as she leans down and whispers, “Call me the minute he’s
gone, Grace. The second he’s out the door. I mean it.”
Then
she’s gone.
I
have no doubt that by the time she reaches her car Cole is going to know
exactly what is happening. Then in short order my other brother, Holden, Ally,
and Robby will all be brought into the loop as well.
Our
circle of friends is pretty tight. I glance at Grant who is sitting in the
reading chair, leaned forward so that his elbows balance on his knees and his
head is cradled in his hands.
Guess
our circle is about to get all kinds of fucked up.
I
sit against the arm of the couch, as far away from the reading chair as I can
get, and I wait. No way in hell I’m going to start this conversation.
The
seconds tick by, slipping together into one minute and then another. I shift on
the couch, pulling my legs up so my knees are bent and my arms wrapped around
them. He hasn’t even spoken and I already feel like I’m about to shatter.
I’d
been in love with Grant since I was thirteen years old.
He’d
shown up at our house with Holden one day after their basketball practice, and
I’d been sunk. Tall and lanky with brown hair and brown eyes, he’d smiled at me
as Holden introduced us. I started writing our name together in hearts the next
day.
When
I was seventeen, and he had finally shown interest in me, it had been like
Christmas and my birthday all rolled into one. I’d been careful about getting
into a relationship with him though. He was Holden’s best friend. And this
moment, this one we were now sitting in, was the very reason that I had tried
to be so cautious, so careful to make sure we were solid in our friendship before
our relationship had taken even the first minute step toward romantic.
Not
that any of that mattered now. Because it doesn’t matter how cautious I had
been, how strong our friendship might have once been, I won’t forgive him for
hurting me like this. I won’t be able to go back to before. Not after two years
of being so wrapped up in each other.
What
sucked the worst was sitting here in this moment, waiting for the end of our
relationship to come, and feeling like I had somehow allowed my entire life to
come to revolve around Grant and my relationship with him. I had never wanted
to be that girl, had always prided myself on not being that girl.
So
how in the hell had I let myself become that girl without even realizing it?
“I’m
so sorry, Grace.”
I
glance back over to him when he finally speaks. “For what?” He’s still looking
at the ground, which only adds fuel to the incredibly large fire of pissed off
that I have burning inside of me. “Look at me, Grant.”
“Grace—”
“Look
at me,” I demand softly. “If you’re going to do this, then you’re going to
fucking look me in the eye when you do it.”
He
tilts his head up slowly, and those brown eyes I love so much are nearly black
with grief. Good. I hope he chokes on it.
“I
don’t want to hurt you.”
“Oh,
I think we’re past that already. You just need to say it, because neither one
of us is leaving here until you actually say the words. Then you’re going to
explain it to me, because I deserve that much.”
“You
do.” He audibly swallows. “You deserve someone who’s going to give you
everything you want.”
“I
thought I had that.”
His
eyes close with a wince. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
I
arch a brow. “Are you honestly going to sit here and ask me to make this easy
on you? Two years, Grant. We’ve been together for almost two fucking years, and
now you’re going to waltz in here out of the freaking blue, tell me it’s over,
that you don’t want to hurt me, and then demand that I make it easier on
you
?” My voice is rising with each word,
but I can’t seem to rein it in. “Don’t be an asshole, Grant. Not on top of
everything else.”
“I
just think we’re moving too fast.”
The
short stunned laugh bursts from my chest before I can prevent it. At least it
isn’t a sob, though I feel that starting to bubble inside of me. “Umm, two
years, so not quite sure I agree. Is that the best you’ve got?”
He
shoves one hand through his thick brown hair, and I know he is struggling with
his words. I almost feel sorry for him. I almost tell him not to worry about
it, that whatever the reason, he doesn’t need to sit here and suffer while he
breaks up with me. Then he says, “I think it would be better for both of us if
we took a step back, maybe explored other options.” And just like that the
anger is back with a roaring vengeance.
Frowning,
I drop my knees, letting my arms cross over my chest. It feels like my heart is
going to come slamming out of my chest at any moment if I don’t do something to
try and hold it in place. “Explore our options? Let’s not waste time prettying
it up, Grant. What you really mean to say is that you want to fuck other
girls.”
I
can see the small glitter of anger starting to spark inside his eyes. “You
don’t have to be so crass.”
Has
he suddenly forgotten who I am? I’ve never been the type to hold back. “You
don’t have to be a douche, yet there you go.” I hold one hand up when he opens
his mouth to say more. “You need to go.”
“Grace,
we should talk about this. I really want us to be friends, we have so much
history.”
“Right.
History. Not present, not future. History.”
I
would stand up and stalk off to my room and slam the door behind me to drive
home my point about him needing to leave, but I doubt my legs are going to hold
me up.
“Get
out,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “Please just get out.”
His
pain soaked words rip through me. “Please don’t hate me, Gracie Lou. I don’t
want you to hate me. I couldn’t stand it if you did.”
With
wet eyes I meet his gaze. “I make no promises. Now get the fuck out. I’m done.”
Then, miracle of miracles, I manage to get up and walk away.
The
slamming of my bedroom door behind me is as satisfyingly loud as I had thought
it would be. Once closed, I slump against it, sliding down until I’m sitting on
the floor. I pull my knees up, wrapping my arms around them before dropping my
forehead down against them as I wait.
The
sound of the front door opening and then finally closing breaks the dam and the
tears come.
I
know I haven’t been sitting there very long, curled up in a ball against my
bedroom door, with tears streaming down my face, when I hear the front door
open again. I’m sure it’s Delaney, she obviously didn’t go into the bookstore
where she works. I’m not sure I’m ready to face anyone yet, but apparently what
I want doesn’t matter since Delaney comes through the open doorway of my bathroom.
Swiping angrily at the tears and snot from beneath my nose with the back of my
hand I look at her through tear soaked eyes.
“He
thinks we should explore other options.” I answer the question she’s hesitant
to ask.
“Oh,
Grace.” Delaney sinks down next to me on the floor. She pulls her knees up the
same as mine, and together we sit in the silence of the apartment except for my
occasional sniffling. This is why I hate crying, not only am I an ugly crier,
but there is absolutely nothing worse than a runny nose after you’ve been
crying.
