The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1) (19 page)

I choke back a sob as I cling to the fabric of my dress.
“
Go
—
just go!
”

He stands but doesn
’
t leave right away. Just when I think I
’
m going to have to beg him some more, he kisses the top of my head and leaves me by myself. When I hear the click of the door closing behind him, I crumble once more.

As I stretch out on the couch, his absence consumes me. I know that I was the one who asked him to leave, but the reality of his desire to sever the ties of our relationship takes on a whole new meaning now that I
’
m all alone. I don
’
t care about his reasons, I can
’
t cling to his promises; all I can do is imagine a world where we aren
’
t together and it crushes me.

I weep until my body aches.

The lunch crowd is smaller than usual today, with so many students already gone for the summer, but the group of us that gather have a blast. There
’
s lots of jokes, laughter, and light hearted conversation and I attribute our glee to the fact that we
’
ve all managed to survive our finals. Sonny is my lunch companion, occupying the seat beside me, and while we frequently get caught up in different discussions, I can
’
t deny how much I enjoy simply being near him. When it
’
s time to head home, we
’
re split up as we hop into separate vehicles
—
Sarah and I catching a ride together while Sonny snags the last available seat in a different carpool.

As Sarah and I ascend the steps up to our apartment, she cracks a joke that has me laughing so hard my side hurts. I
’
m not sure if what she
’
s said warrants this amount of laughter, or if I
’
m delirious from lack of sleep. I was up half the night with Grayson playing Skip-Bo while Jackson and Claire celebrated their engagement. I
’
m a firm believer that sex should come
after
marriage.
However,
I don
’
t judge the two of them for giving into their physical desires; especially not when their love making has Grayson texting me at midnight asking if I
’
m up for a game of cards.

Sarah opens the door as I come down from my laughing fit and stops abruptly after crossing the threshold. I run right into her, unprepared for the traffic jam. The goddess before me is wearing a pair of heels, making it impossible for me to see what it is that has stopped her in her tracks, so I rest my hands against her hips and peek around her body.

All of a sudden, I
’
m not the least bit tired anymore.

“
AJ?
”
I call out, brushing past Sarah as I rush to kneel before my sister. She
’
s curled up in the fetal position on the couch, her cheek resting in a pool of tears
—
it honestly looks like she spilt a glass of water on the fabric and then laid her head down to rest. I reach out and run my fingers through her hair, needing to touch her
—
to comfort her.
“
AJ?
”
She doesn
’
t move or make a sound; instead, she continues to stare into space as silent tears trickle their way over her nose and down her cheek.

The fact that I
’
ve never, ever, seen her like this has me in a state of panic. My heart is racing and my mind is reeling and I can
’
t help but think the worst.
Did somebody die?
I dismiss that thought right away. If anyone was hurt or in danger, I would know
—
she would have called or texted; if not her,
someone.
I shift to the next logical explanation.
Is Beckham okay?

“
Sweetie, talk to us.
”
I don
’
t notice that Sarah is next to me until she speaks. She kneels and places a comforting hand on Addie
’
s thigh, but her plea for answers is ignored.

“
Addison,
”
I beg.

I gasp as her face contorts in pain and she coughs out a sob.
“
Beckham. Broke up. With me,
”
she cries.

Her news freezes time for a second.

“
Ho.Ly.
Shit
,
”
Sarah mutters, each syllable it
’
s own sentence.

I
’
m not a swearing woman, but I fully support her choice of words. My state of panic escalates
—
what comes after panic? Is there a word for it? Because if there isn
’
t, I
’
m pretty sure I can supply a definition if someone else can think of the word.

“
Addie, what do you mean? What happened?
”
I know that trying to get anything out of her is useless when she turns her back to us
—
but I need answers. I need answers
now.
“
Sarah, stay here. I
’
ll be back.
”

I
’
m out of the door, down the stairs, and pounding against the barrier that separates me from the information I seek in a matter of seconds. The answer my fist demands doesn
’
t come as fast and I pound harder. When the door finally swings open, Grayson towers in front of me. For the first time ever
—
man, I
’
ve had my fill of firsts this afternoon
—
I
’
m too distracted to even remember what it is he can do to me with his barely-there-dimple smile. Except, he
’
s not smiling. In fact, he looks almost just as worried as I feel, which only fuels my desire to get to the bottom of this mess.

“
Where is he?
”
I demand to know.

“
Ave
…”
he murmurs, shaking his head in warning.

“
No. You will not tell me no!
Where is he?
”
I feel like my claws are about to come out, claws I didn
’
t even know I had, as the protective-twin in me takes over.

“
He
’
s here. But Avery
—”

“
She
’
s broken!
Broken!
So help me God, if you don
’
t get out of my way
…”

I
’
m not sure how to finish the sentence.
Who am I kidding? Sonny is the last person I could convincingly intimidate with a threat.
Yet, despite my laughable disadvantage against him, he gives in and steps aside. I shoot him a glare, unable to stop myself from expressing my displeasure with having been delayed on my mission, as I stride into the apartment. Then I see
him
and my feet are like cement, bolting me to one spot.

His glasses are on the coffee table and he
’
s sitting hunched over on the couch, his elbows propped against his knees and his face buried in his hands
—
that is, until he looks up at me. His eyes are bloodshot; his eyelashes are wet with tears; and the sight of his brokenness takes all the fight out of me. The truth is, I love him, too. Addison is my other half, but Beckham is an extension of her. I don
’
t know what is going on, but it breaks my heart to see either of them in this much pain.

“
Fiddle sticks,
”
I curse. I run my fingers through my hair, coaxing the long straight strands away from my face as I try and gather myself.
“
Can you tell me what
’
s going on?
”
I ask gently.
“
Because she can
’
t.
”

He shakes his head, as if to deny me
—
but then he speaks.
“
It
’
s hard to explain,
”
he croaks.

“
I don
’
t doubt that it is.
”
I find that I can move my feet again and I slowly make my way to sit on the coffee table in front of him. I rest my hand against his knee as I lock eyes with his.
“
Could you try, anyway?
”

He stares at me for a long time. The silence that settles between us is thick, coated with unasked questions and unspoken answers, but I
’
m patient. I keep my mouth shut and try my darnedest to convey my open mind and understanding heart
—
I want so desperately to understand. Finally, he speaks.

He speaks of the love he has for Addie, first; these aren
’
t the words that I need to hear, for I am certain of the truth behind such proclamations like I
’
m sure the sun will always rise in the east and set in the west. He then admits that he did
—
or, I suppose, is in the middle of breaking up with my sister. I don
’
t try and connect the dots between his actions and his motives, knowing I
’
ll get too confused trying to navigate that logic all on my own. Instead, I listen carefully as he assures me that he
’
s doing it for her. He says that he needs to figure some things out before he
’
s ready to take the next step with Addie. He insists that he can
’
t do that while he
’
s in a relationship laden with the expectation of their pending marriage.

I
’
d be lying if I said I understood. My dating history is a joke compared to what he and my sister have. Sure, I
’
ve had a couple boyfriends in the past, but I
’
ve never been in love; I
’
ve never wanted to marry any of my exes. My lack of experience makes the weight of this situation and Hammy
’
s decision something I can
’
t fully wrap my head around. At the same time, though, I trust him. I learned a long time ago that I could trust him with my sister
’
s heart and my gut tells me that if he thinks this is the only way he
’
ll ever be ready to marry Addison, then he should do it.

Obviously, this isn
’
t easy for him either. Why would he put himself through this if he wasn
’
t sure that it was the wisest decision? And isn
’
t it admirable, the lengths he is willing to go to ensure that Addison gets the best version of him in marriage?

I sigh, breathing out a bit of the sadness that fills my chest as I settle into the reality that there is the flip side.
Addison
’
s broken heart.
“
She needs you right now,
”
I tell him, giving his knee a squeeze.