My Only Exception (10 page)

Braden pushed Wyatt away from him and Wyatt stumbled backwards against the wall behind him.

And I felt the force of the blow just as if I’d been the one punched in the face. Except it wasn’t Wyatt’s blow I felt. It was the blow caused by Braden’s last words to me.

He was absolutely right. After all the worry I’d had about my heart, it was Braden in the end who’d ended up hurt. And it had taken me this long to figure out that Braden’s feelings had been genuine.

I crumpled to the ground with the weight of my own self-centered stupidity. I sobbed uncontrollably as Wyatt sat down next to me on the floor, pulling me to him and holding me until I didn’t have a tear left to cry.

He’d done this for me before, years ago, but this time I was at fault for my tears. I had caused the hurt I was now feeling and somehow that was even worse than if Braden had caused it.

And what was even more heartbreaking was that I had done to Braden what I was so scared of him doing to me.

And from the looks of it, he might never forgive me.

*  *  *

When I had completely exhausted myself, I sat up looking at Wyatt, too wearied to say a word.

He finally broke the silence. “What happened? Tell me I’m not going to have to hunt Braden down and finish what I started.”

I swallowed back another sob and whispered, “No, if anyone deserved to be punched, it was me. I destroyed him. I’m an idiot.”

“You’re jaded, Presley, but you’re not an idiot. You had a crazy childhood, raised by someone who pushed her trust issues off on you. If Braden cares about you the way he says he does, he won’t let you run him off.”

I tried to smile, but was pretty sure I failed miserably. I shook my head at Wyatt. “How do you know?”

“Because I’m still here, aren’t I?”

I bit my lip and looked down. “You’re too good for me, Wyatt.”

“Come on.” He stood up and grabbed my hand, pulling me to my feet. “Go shower. I’ll call Bree. I think she’s more equipped to help you handle this kind of thing than I am.”

I kept my hand in his and squeezed it. “Wyatt. I meant what I said. You’re too good for me. I don’t deserve you. I don’t know what I’d ever do without you.”

The next days and weeks passed with me in a numb trance, going to work and school out of habit, but not really living it. All I could think about was Braden and how I’d done just what Bree had said I was going to do, mess up the best thing that had ever happened to me. I stopped going to the beach because it gave me too much time to think about everything that I’d thrown away. Instead, I picked up extra shifts at work and buried myself in my school-work.

The worst day came months after Braden had left. I was driving down the road, the radio playing in the background, but not really listening, when I heard the first chords of a familiar song. My breath caught in my throat.

It couldn’t be.

I turned the radio up to be sure and brought my hand up to my mouth with a strangled cry when my suspicions were confirmed.

It was
the
song. The song that Braden had written for me. The one that he’d promised would be the band’s first single. When the song, “Desperate for you,” was over, I learned it was currently number one on the Billboard Top 100. It was an amazing feat. One that I’d always known they could accomplish.

But it hurt. Badly.

I had to pull off to the side of the road I was shaking so terribly. And I cried for the first time in months. It was like my heart was made of broken glass, glued back together, but still incredibly fragile. Just the slightest pressure applied to it, and it would crumble into a million pieces.

And this was just the kind of pressure I’d hoped to avoid.

Listening to his voice over my radio brought back all of the hurt and regret. And now it would be impossible to forget. I would have to hear it play out constantly.

I somehow made it through the rest of the day. Bree had called me as soon as she heard the song, knowing how upset I’d be. And being the best friend that she was, she brought a huge bag of movie popcorn, tons of chocolate, and the movie
Clueless
to my apartment. We curled up on my couch and for three hours I was able to put it all out of my mind.

When the movie was over, Bree turned it off and used the remote to switch the TV over to cable.

And what do you know, it flipped right to an entertainment show, and Chronic Need was splayed across my TV screen doing an interview. My eyes locked on Braden. He looked just as amazing as he did in person as he easily and confidently talked about the band’s new hit single.

I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. Just seeing him made tears well up in my eyes.

When the interviewer asked about the girl behind the song, Braden paused before saying, “Just a girl I knew back home. It didn’t work out, but it made for a good song.”

When the interviewer attempted to dig deeper, Braden skillfully maneuvered the conversation on to the next song to be released on their album.

I looked over at Bree and she was looking at me, sympathy written all over her face. If only I had listened to her when she’d given me advice all those months ago. Maybe things would be different now. Or maybe not. The thing was, I’d never know what could have been.

*  *  *

To say that Chronic Need was the new “it” band would be an understatement. They were everywhere I turned. On the radio, on TV, on the lips of my schoolmates and the people sitting around the coffee shop I went to every morning, and even worse, playing in my head all day.

I was miserable.

But at least I could take solace in the fact that Braden appeared to be over it. I was truly happy for his success, even if it meant having to endure constant reminders of such a painful time in my life.

I couldn’t help but think I deserved it after the way I had treated him.

Wyatt must have really felt sorry for me, because he texted me nearly every day to see how I was doing. I always assured him that everything was fine and not to worry, but he was way too good at seeing right through me. He knew better than I did that I was beating myself up over not trusting Braden. Wyatt kept reminding me that if Braden had cared about me, he would have at least called. I hadn’t heard a word out of Braden since the day he’d left my apartment. And I’d been too scared to try to attempt contacting him. I was positive he didn’t want to hear from me and I was too much of a coward to deal with having to face his contempt.

Eventually, I became numb to hearing his voice singing everywhere I turned. It was as if my mind knew it was too much, and just tuned it out every time it came on the radio or TV.

And Bree had been relentlessly trying to get me to call Braden, promising me that Braden’s reaction to hearing from me wouldn’t be as bad as I thought. She kept telling me that anyone who could write a song about someone that was
that
intense, didn’t just get over them in a few months. 

And I wanted to believe her. I certainly hadn’t gotten over him. So maybe…

But that hope was destroyed when I was standing in line at the supermarket, scanning the gossip magazines on display. My eyes just about popped out of my head when they came to stop on Braden’s image splayed across the cover of one. He was walking down the street, a coffee in one hand and his other arm thrown over the shoulder of a petite blonde who was grinning up at him. He was looking down at her, smiling. Even through the photograph you could see that they were much more than acquaintances. The words printed next to the picture, “Braden’s hot new love,” were the final tap my fragile heart needed to break all over again.

Feeling like there was a vise around my chest preventing me from getting a full breath of air, I could think of only one thing —getting outside. I left the loaf of bread I’d been holding on the conveyer belt. My throat was so tight I could do nothing but shake my head at the store clerk and run to my car. Once I was locked inside, I let every last tear I had for Braden fall out, promising myself I’d never cry another one for him.

When I was done crying, I felt completely depleted of energy and emotion, but oddly enough I felt a sense of peace. Knowing that he’d moved on, and was apparently happy, was exactly what I needed to move on myself. I wasn’t over him at all, not even close, but now I wouldn’t be holding out hope that he’d call or that he still had feelings for me.

I walked into my apartment a new Presley. I wanted to start fresh. The past months had felt so dark and bottomless that I wanted everything in my life to sparkle. I cleaned my apartment from top to bottom. Then I took my car to get detailed and stopped in at a local nail salon for a manicure and pedicure. I even called my hair stylist and begged a last minute appointment. When I sat down in her chair, I shocked her by telling her to add blonde highlights to my already dark-blonde hair. She then cut a few layers into it and blew it out in gorgeous, bouncy waves.

And knowing this was a post-breakup makeover, because obviously my hairdresser was up to date on all the latest gossip, she pulled me over to her makeup station and showed my how to apply a sexy new smoky eyeshadow. When I finally looked in the mirror my mouth dropped open.

My usual all-American looks had been transformed. I was a bombshell.

I proceeded to buy every last product she’d used on my hair and eyes. I was determined that from now on this was the new me.

I felt rejuvenated and strong. I had conquered my worst fear. I had survived falling head over heels in love and then losing him. I was positive that any other breakup I would ever go through would never hold a candle to the one I had just experienced —and I had come through it, better than before.

I called up Bree as I walked to my car, enjoying the looks from the males I passed as I walked by.

The new me was confident and unafraid —and I loved it.

When Bree answered I didn’t bother with greetings. “Bree. Cancel all plans. You and I are going out tonight.”

“Um, Presley, are you okay?”

“Absolutely. I feel great, actually. I’m ready to reenter the world.”

“Well, I was planning on surprising you with a night out tonight anyway. So this works out great. We’re going to Charleston, South Carolina, so we’re gonna have to leave in the next couple of hours. Wyatt and his girlfriend are going with us.”

Wyatt had been dating a girl from his English class and I really liked her. She was quiet, which was the opposite of Bree and I, but she had a really sweet personality and was cute as a button. And most importantly, she was good for Wyatt.

“Okay. But why are we going to Charleston?”

Bree paused. “It’s a surprise. I’ll swing by and get you on the way. Just make sure you wear something to die for!”

Bree with her unpredictable personality was always full of surprises, so this was nothing too out of the usual. I was just happy to finally be living life again instead of just getting through it.

“Okay. See you then.” I took a breath. “And Bree, thanks for being so great.”

“Girl, anytime. You have the not-so-easy job of keeping me in line, so I think we’re pretty even. I’ll see you tonight!”

Bree, surprisingly enough, knocked on my door exactly two hours later. I opened it up to see her standing in the hallway wearing a short turquoise dress and wedges. Her eyes widened at my new hair and makeup and the coral mini-dress topped with a short, fitted, black leather jacket. Black ankle boots completed my look.