Confess: A Novel (23 page)

I worry about how I’m going to be able to hide that from Trey, because right now Trey thinks Owen-Cat belongs to Emory.

He also thinks the cat’s name is Sparkles.

“Do you work tomorrow?” Trey asks.

I turn around and look up at him. He’s a lot taller than me, and it sometimes intimidates me. I nod. “Nine to four.”

He lifts his hand to my neck and leans in for a kiss. I close my eyes and do my best to enjoy his mouth when it comes to rest against mine. I imagine I’m kissing Owen for a second, and I hate that I do that.

This kiss is a short one. He’s already late for work, so I’m spared the awkwardness of not inviting him inside.

Trey smiles down at me. “That’s twice you’ve let me kiss you.”

I smile.

“Call me when you get off work tomorrow,” he says. “We’ll make it three.”

I nod again, and he turns to leave. I open my apartment door, but he calls my name before I close it behind me. He walks back to the door and looks at me with a serious expression. “Make sure your doors are locked tonight. I heard Gentry was released early, and I wouldn’t put it past him to try and get revenge on me by coming here.”

The air in my lungs depletes, and I have to hide my struggle for breath. I don’t want him to see how his words have affected me, so I nod quickly. “Why would he want revenge on you?”

“Because, Auburn. I have what he can’t have.”

That makes me uneasy, because I don’t like that Trey thinks he “has me.” And that’s another difference between Trey and Owen. I get the feeling Owen would never say he “has me.”

“I’ll keep it locked. Promise.”

Trey nods and heads down the hall. I close the door behind me and lock it.

I stare at the lock.

I unlock it.

I don’t know why.

Owen-Cat purrs at my feet, so I bend down and pick her up, then walk into my bedroom. The first thing I do, which is the first thing I did last night after kissing Trey, is brush my teeth. I know it’s an absurd thought, but kissing Trey makes me feel like I’m cheating on Owen.

When I finish brushing my teeth, I walk back into my bedroom and see Owen-Cat make her way inside the tent. I didn’t have the heart to take it down, mostly because I know as soon as AJ is allowed to stay the night here, he’ll love it. I crawl inside the tent and lie on my back. I pull Owen-Cat onto my stomach and begin petting her.

My emotions are all over the place right now. I feel a rush of adrenaline, knowing Owen is no longer in jail and may very well be coming for his cat sometime this week. But I’m also filled with a nervous energy, because I don’t know what will happen when I see him again. And I hate that the thought of possibly seeing him again fills me with more anticipation than Trey’s kiss does.

Owen-Cat jumps off my chest when my phone receives a text message. I pull it out of my pocket and unlock the screen.

My heart tries to escape from my chest when I read the text from Owen.

Meat Dress.

I’m immediately off my feet and into the living room and swinging the front door open. As soon as our eyes meet, my heart feels like a fist is squeezing the life right out of it.

God, I missed him.

He takes a very hesitant step forward. He doesn’t want to make me uncomfortable by being here, but I can see in his expression that he’s feeling that same tight grip around his heart that I’m feeling.

I take a step back into my apartment, and I open the door further, silently inviting him inside. A small twitch of a smile plays on the corner of his lips, and he walks slowly toward my apartment door. Once he makes his way over the threshold, I step aside until he’s all the way inside. He places his hand on the door and closes it, then turns around and locks it. When he faces me again, his expression is pained, like he doesn’t know whether to turn and leave or take me in his arms.

I kind of want him to do both.

I
wish she knew how much I thought about her. How every night, I questioned whether the tightness in my chest could actually be the result of missing her, or if it was simply the fact that I wasn’t allowed to see her. Sometimes people want what they can’t have and confuse that with feelings for another person.

Either way, the feeling is there. The pressure, the ache, the slow build in my stomach that’s encouraging me to close the distance between us and take her mouth with mine. I would have done that by now if I hadn’t seen Trey leaving her apartment on my way over. Luckily, he’s an unobservant prick, so he didn’t even notice me.

I definitely saw him, though. And it makes me wonder what he was doing here so late at night. Not that I have a right to know, but I certainly can’t squash my curiosity.

He came to see me in jail last week. I was told I had a visitor, and I expected it to be my father. There was a very small part of me that was hoping it was Auburn. I never expected her to come see me while I was in jail, but I think the hope that it might happen kept me more positive than I would have been otherwise.

When I walked into the visitation room and saw Trey standing there, at first I didn’t think he was there to see me. But once his glare fell on me, it became clear. I walked to my chair and took a seat, and he did the same.

He stared at me for several minutes without saying a word. I stared back. I don’t know if he thought his mere presence alone was enough intimidation, but he never did speak. Just sat in his chair for ten solid minutes, staring at me.

I never wavered. I did want to laugh a few times, but was able to hold it together. He finally stood up, but I remained seated. He walked around the table, poised to head toward the exit behind me, but instead he paused and looked down on me.

“Stay away from my girl, Owen.”

This is when he lost my eye contact. Not because he pissed me off or made me nervous, but because his words were an excruciating punch in the gut. The fact that he referred to Auburn as his girl is the last thing I wanted to hear, and that has nothing to do with my jealousy and everything to do with my instincts regarding Trey.

And while I have to admit I hate that I’ve screwed my life up to the point that it would negatively affect us if we were together, I hate it even more that he gets to have her. Because she deserves better.
So
much better.

She deserves me.

If only she knew that.

She’s staring up at me like she wants to throw her arms around me. Like she wants to kiss me. And believe me, if she did either of those things right now I would more than welcome it.

She’s standing with her hands at her sides, like she doesn’t know what to do with them. She lifts her right hand and brings it across her chest, squeezing the bicep of her left arm. Her gaze shifts to her feet.

“You’re okay.” Her voice comes out extremely unsure of itself. I’m not sure if she’s asking me a question or making a simple observation. I nod anyway. She blows out a soft breath, and her relief is something I wasn’t anticipating. I wasn’t expecting her to be worried about me. I was hoping she was, but hoping for it and seeing it are two different things.

I’m not sure what’s happening in this second, but we both simultaneously take a quick step forward. Neither of us stops until her arms are wrapped around my neck and my arms are wrapped around her back, and we’re both gripping one another in a desperate hug.

I tilt my face toward her neck and inhale the scent of her. If her smell had a color, it would be pink. Sweet and innocent with a touch of roses.

After a long but still-too-short embrace, she takes a step back and grabs my hand. She pulls me toward her bedroom and I follow her. When she opens the door, my eyes fall to the blue tent still set up next to her bed. She hasn’t taken it down and that makes me smile. She closes her bedroom door behind us and grabs the pillows off her bed, smiling gently as she tosses them into the tent and crawls inside.

She lies down in the tent, and I crawl in beside her and lie next to her. We face each other, and for several moments, all we do is stare. I eventually lift my hand and brush a lock of hair from her forehead, but I notice how she pulls away slightly. I drop my hand.

It’s like she doesn’t want to start the conversation because she knows the first thing that needs to be put out there is her relationship with Trey. I don’t want to put her in an awkward position, but I also need to know the truth. I clear my throat and somehow release the words that don’t want answers.

“Are you with him now?”

They’re the first words I’ve spoken to her since we said good-bye a month ago. I hate that these have to be the words I chose. I should have said, “I missed you,” or “You look beautiful.” I should have said words she would appreciate, but instead, I said words that are hard for her to hear. I know they’re hard for her to hear because her eyes cast downward and she can no longer look at me.

“It’s complicated,” she says.

If she only knew.

“Do you love him?”

She immediately shakes her head no. This fills me with relief, but I also hate that she’s with someone for the wrong reasons.

“Why are you with him?”

She makes eye contact with me now and her expression has hardened. “The same reason I can’t be with you.” She pauses. “AJ.”

This is probably the one thing I didn’t want to hear, because it’s the one thing I know I have no control over.

“He gets you closer to AJ, and I do the exact opposite.”

She nods, but barely.

“Do you feel anything for him? At all?”

She closes her eyes as if she’s ashamed. “Like I said . . . it’s complicated.”

I reach over and grab her hand. I pull it to my mouth and kiss the top of it. “Auburn, look at me.”

She glances up at me again, and more than anything I want to lean forward and kiss her. That’s the last thing she needs, though. It would only add more complication in her life.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

I immediately shake my head. I don’t need to hear how she’s sorry we can’t be together. The reasons we can’t be together are all my fault. Not hers.

“I get it. I would never want to be a part of anything that could keep you away from your son. But you have to understand that Trey is not the answer. He’s not a good person, and you don’t want AJ to grow up with him as an example.”

She rolls onto her back and stares upward. I don’t like the distance she put between us just now, but I also know that my words aren’t anything new to her. I know she knows what kind of person he is. “He loves AJ. He’s good to him.”

“For how long?” I ask her. “How long does he have to put on this act to win you over? Because it won’t last, Auburn.”

She brings her hands up to her face and her shoulders begin to shake. I immediately wrap my arm around her and pull her to my chest. I didn’t want to show up here and cause her to cry.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. I’m sure you’ve weighed your options, and this is the only one that works for you and I get that. I just hate it for you.”

I brush my hand over her hair and kiss the top of her head. She allows me to hold her for several minutes, and I savor each and every one of those minutes because we both know the next thing she’s going to say to me is good-bye.

I don’t want her to have to say it, so I kiss her once more on top of her head. I kiss her cheek, and then I graze her jaw with my fingers, tilting her face to mine. I bend forward and gently press my lips to hers. I don’t give her time to overthink it. I close my eyes, release her, and exit the tent.

She’s made her choice, and even though it’s not the choice either of us wants, it’s the only choice that works for her right now. And I have to respect that.

I drop my cat off at my studio and decide there’s no better time than midnight to go see my father. He honored my request and didn’t visit or call while I was away. I’m surprised he didn’t visit, but a small part of me is hopeful that he didn’t because seeing his son being sent to jail for his mistakes might have been his rock bottom.

I’ve learned over the years not to allow myself to grow too hopeful, but I’d be lying if I said every part of me isn’t praying he’s been in rehab while I was away.

I expected he would be either asleep or gone, so I brought my house key with me. All the lights are off.

When I enter the house, I immediately see the faint glow of the TV. I turn toward the living room and see my father lying facedown on the couch. Knowing he’s not in rehab sends a wave of disappointment through me, but I can’t deny the small rush of hope that he’s actually lying on the couch because he’s not breathing.

And that is not something a son should feel for his father.

I sit down on the coffee table, two feet from him.

“Dad.”

He doesn’t immediately wake up. I reach over to my side and pick up his bottle of pills. The fact that I just spent a month in jail for him should have been more than enough to make him never want to touch another one of these. Seeing that it wasn’t makes me want to walk out of this house and never look back.

My father is a good person. I know that. If he weren’t a good person, it would be easier to walk away. I would have done it a long time ago. But I know he’s not in control of himself. He hasn’t been for years.