Guarded Dreams Page 10

  “Okay,” I said, still not fully understanding. It certainly wasn’t the trust and independence I’d had with my mom. It didn’t sound pleasant, but lots of people had overcontrolling parents.

  She shook her head. “No one gets it.”

  “Explain it to me.”

  “My whole life… he’s told me I’m nothing. That if he lets me, I’ll make all the bad decisions my mother made.”

  “He can’t stop you.”

  “He already did.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  She went into the bathroom to grab her things, throwing it all into her bag. She found a pair of her tiny shorts and drew her legs into them, buttoning without a thought of me standing there watching her.

  “Toss me my bra,” she said, and I looked down to where her pink bra was laying on the nightstand. I picked it up with so many emotions surging through me. Desire. Longing. Regret. Fear. Indecision. I handed it to her and then turned my back, so that I wouldn’t see her put it on. If I did, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to let her go.

  “He said something,” I told her, facing the door.

  “What?” Her voice was shaky.

  “He said if you wanted to see a penny of your trust fund, you’d be here when he got here.”

  “Asshole,” she said.

  “Is that how you were planning on paying for Nashville? For college?”

  When I heard her suitcase zipping, I turned back around. Her hair was up in a messy bun again, her eyes still flashing different light and different emotions.

  “Can he do that? Keep your money from you? Is it from your mom?”

  “It was my grandparents’. My mom was an only child. I’m an only child, so the money comes to me.”

  “Then he can’t take it away, right?”

  “He’s the executor of the estate until I’m twenty. He’s been able to do whatever the hell he wanted with it since I was six months old.”

  “That’s pretty fucked up.”

  “That’s my dad.”

  She pulled her handbag over her shoulder and reached for her suitcase, but I took it from her, our hands tangling and that energy surging through us once more. Knowledge. Understanding. Desire.

  She headed out of the bedroom, looked around, grabbed her portfolio from the kitchen counter, and then stared as if making sure she had everything.

  “Ava, he can’t do anything to you besides the money. I won’t let him.”

  She laughed; it was bitter, harsh. So not the Ava that I’d come to know over the last few days that I realized that this man had wounded her. Deeply. If not physically, then emotionally.

  “I’m tired of hearing that I’m a waste of space. I’m tired of him telling me I’m not good enough. I’m tired of him forcing himself between me and my dreams. I’m just done with it.”

  I wanted to tell her how much I disagreed with all those things she’d said he’d called her, but she was already headed out the door and down the steps.

  I followed with her suitcase, with my own panic filling me. She was leaving. She was going. Was I ever going to feel like this again? This powerful urge to not let her go, to keep her to myself, to merge our lives into one… it all flooded me.

  When she opened the trunk, I didn’t put her suitcase in at first. She looked at me. “Eli?”

  “Don’t go,” I said before I could even think twice about it having slipped from my mouth.

  “What?”

  “Don’t go.” I said it stronger. This time as a decision. I didn’t want her to go. I wanted to see her again, in Galveston, when I got back from the ship. I wanted to be able to take her on a date, handing her flowers that matched her eyes. I just wanted more. Like her song. More time with her.

  She reached up and touched my face with a gentle touch, her hand rubbing the stubble that had almost grown into a beard as I refused to shave on my time off.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly.

  “What the hell for?”

  “For wanting me.” She said it so quietly that it was hard to hear. How could anyone not want her? This beautiful gazelle before me. But she was already running from the lion that had startled her into action.

  She pulled the suitcase from me, put it in the trunk, and slammed it shut. She turned toward me then, and I wrapped my arms around her. She hesitated, as if unsure what to do with the hug, but then placed her arms around me, too. I willed her to feel what I felt, which was that we belonged together. Somehow. It didn’t seem insane like it should have. She was mine. I was hers.

  “If I’d stayed, would you have taken me on a date?” she asked, muffled against my chest.

  “More than one,” I told her truthfully, and even though I couldn’t see her face, I knew she smiled at that.

  “If we ever see each other again, I still owe you an ass whipping.”

  I chuckled, but I really felt like I was having my heart torn out. A heart I didn’t know I’d given away.

  “Promise?”

  “A date and an ass whipping. It’s all yours.”

  She pulled away, her fear of her dad driving her from me. Her fear of being held to a future that wasn’t hers. I understood that. I only had one future in my mind, and I didn’t want to give it up either. Not for anything. Not even for her. I wouldn’t be chasing after her to Nashville.

  That hurt. Tore at me in an unexpected way. Like the tear I’d felt when they’d told my mom my dad had died while I’d listened in the hallway.

  Ava pulled open the driver’s door and climbed in. I reached into the window, touching a curl.

  “You have my number.”

  She nodded.

  “Please tell me when you’ve made it to Nashville.”

  She nodded again.

  “Please use it…if you need…anything.” I choked on the words.

  She smiled up at me, her smile hiding her own sadness. “Don’t cry, oh Captain, my Captain, because Mac Truck will never let you live it down.”

  She was right. Did I care?

  The engine was on, and she was putting the car in reverse before she stopped and looked up at me with only sadness. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Don’t be.”

  “But he’s going to take it out on you.”

  I hadn’t been thinking of her dad. I’d only been thinking that she was sorry to be leaving me. I didn’t want her to be sorry over anything. I wanted her to be brave and strong and independent like the girl that I’d seen jumping off the coffee table with her guitar as she screamed lyrics to the unseen world.

  “It’ll pass.”

  “If he causes you problems, will you let me know?” I nodded, but we both knew I wouldn’t.

  She backed up and then stopped again, leaning her head out. “Eli?”

  “Yes?”

  “I just wanted you to know that I think I could have loved you.”

  Then she left. With my heart no longer part of my body. Instead, I thought it had chosen to ride along with her. It would never be mine again. I’d lost it once to my dad, and now to a girl I’d known for three and a half days.

  And I knew I would never be the same.

  ♫ ♫ ♫

  We were outside, spraying paint on the last side of the house, when the Mercedes pulled into the drive. Professor Abrams got out of the car, slamming the door and making his way toward us. I shut the sprayer off, watching as he shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at us.

  I couldn’t read his eyes behind the dark sunglasses, but the line of his jaw was tight. “Where is she?”

  He’d realized her car wasn’t in the drive.

  “She left, sir,” I said.

  “And you just let her?” The rebuke in his tone was clear. He didn’t wait for an answer. He turned on a heel and mounted the steps as if to see for himself that she wasn’t inside. I followed. Mac and Truck were right behind me.

  He was s
tanding in the main room, hands still in his pockets, keys jangling as if he was controlling himself by mangling them instead. The Scrabble board was still on the kitchen table. The kitchen was clean, but our food was spread out around it. We would have taken care of it all before we left. We might be doing that now if he kicked us out.

  “Where did she go?” he demanded. He’d placed the sunglasses on his head, and now I could see his dark eyes. Lashed like Ava’s—which surprised me—but where hers showed light and joy, his were cold and hard.

  “To follow her dreams.” I tried not to let my voice get choked up on those words. Tried to remain as emotionless as he was.

  He didn’t like my answer. His eyes narrowed as he took me in from head to toe. He didn’t yell when he spoke, but you could still hear the condemnation in his words. “Are you judging me, Cadet?”

  “No, sir,” I responded. But I was. She was running because he wouldn’t let her be who she was. I wouldn’t see her again because of him. My feelings for him were all judgment. He knew it even as I lied.

  He looked around and saw the beer carton where we’d been stashing the empty bottles for recycling. He stepped over to them, picked one up, and then turned on us. “Were you drinking with my underage daughter?”

  None of us said a word. None of us could. We wouldn’t lie, but we wouldn’t throw ourselves under the bus either.

  He was so controlled. Anger was radiating from him, but you couldn’t tell from his face or the words he spoke. I couldn’t imagine what it would have been like for Ava, growing up with a man who hid himself behind a mask of disdain. How she could have grown up under this man’s thumb and still have so much vibrancy and light was almost implausible. It made her that much stronger…that much more admirable.

  He left the bottle on the counter and then headed for the bedrooms, checking every one to make sure she wasn’t hidden in them. He ended in the master. I hadn’t thought to remove my things from the room. I hadn’t thought he’d scour the place looking for her.

  “Sleeping with her, too?” he asked, and I caught just a hint of barely veiled disgust there.

  “No, sir,” I said, thanking God that I could respond honestly to that one. “I was on the couch, sir.”

  I could tell that he doubted me, but he didn’t go fishing for condoms in the wastebasket.

  “Did you tell her what I said about her trust fund?” The tick in his cheek gave him away, the frustration there, brewing.

  I nodded.

  “Goddamn it,” he said, keys jingling furiously.

  I couldn’t comprehend his anger or his actions. Ava was nineteen. Why was he so upset that she was gone? Why would he try to stop her from trying to make something of herself? It seemed more than control. It seemed more than a dad that didn’t believe in the course his child had laid out for herself. It seemed almost desperate, which confused me.

  He pushed past me into the main room where Mac and Truck still stood, hands behind their backs, at attention even though he wasn’t one of our military leaders. We didn’t owe him any sign of respect. I certainly didn’t want to show him any. He was getting more out of me than I thought he deserved.

  “Finish the house, then get the hell out,” he said, taking us all in. “If I like what you’ve done, I may not request multiple demerits for this appalling behavior.” He waved his hand at the beer bottle and then toward the bedroom.

  Mac stepped forward, and I put out a hand to stop him. We weren’t going to win any points by fighting for our cause. He’d already made up his mind.

  The fact that he said “multiple demerits” made my stomach sink. He was going to apply for demerits no matter what. The extent of it would be based on our work at the house and how clean we kept our noses from there.

  “Yes, sir,” I said again. I wanted to tell him to go to hell. I wanted to hand him the paintbrush that I still held in my hand and tell him to shove it up his ass. I wanted to run after Ava and bring her back to me.

  Thankfully, none of us had any demerits at the moment. One wouldn’t be the end of us. It would result in suspension of privileges and could impact our rank. More than one would jeopardize a lot more than our status at the college. It could end our time there. He knew that. We all knew that. So, he knew we didn’t have a choice but to do what he said.

  He looked us all over again, contempt evident. But knowing that he had us by our balls seemed to ease his anger. At least the anger he’d directed at us. I didn’t know what he’d do to Ava if he found her.

  “If you hear from her, I expect to be notified,” he told us.

  I’d wanted to hear from her. I’d wanted to know that she made it safe to Nashville. I’d wanted to know how things turned out for her, but now there was no way that I could return any communication she made. I couldn’t risk it. For her or for me.

  She was running toward her dream, and I’d have to fight to keep the dream I’d had my whole life alive. We’d have to do that on the separate paths that we’d always been on until chance put us together for not quite four days. From this point on, I’d keep a level head. Focus on remaining in control. Focus on the hard work that was the only thing that would save my friends and me from the hurricane that had been Ava.

  Chapter Ten

  Ava

  BREATHE

  “I see your face in my mind as I drive away,

  'Cause none of us thought it was gonna end that way.”

  —Performed by Taylor Swift

  —Written by Caillat / Swift

  I saw Eli in my rearview mirror. Standing there. Watching me drive away. I was tempted to turn around. To go back to him. To stay as he’d asked me to stay.

  But I didn’t. My own dream too strong. My own fear to strong.

  Instead, he disappeared and was replaced by a day that promised a storm. The one I’d felt in my soul the day I’d arrived at the beach house. The guys wouldn’t be painting for long today. If my father even let them stay after today. My stomach twisted in guilt and then regret.

  I knew what it was like to be on the bad side of my father. He wouldn’t yell. He wouldn’t scream. He would be calm, and the calm would hurt worse.

  The thing was that I could actually see, like flashes of movie previews, images of Eli and I dating. Laughing at the movies. Hand in hand on campus. Him in the audience of a club I was singing at, waiting to hold out his hand and take me off the stage as he had from the bar at the Salty Dog. Kissing me as we’d kissed in the waves on the beach. Like we’d never known anything else and would never know anything but that again.

  I knew with every fiber of my being that we would be good for each other. That our broken halves would make a perfect whole. That his lack of a dad and my lack of a mom would somehow allow us to fill that gap for each other. Not as parents, but as partners. Scrabble letters remixed.

  A song in the making. Scrabble Tiles.

  I was sad, deep in my heart, because the possibility of us was there and yet not. There was a whole host of things blocking that path. Choices. People. Dreams…that for both of us still had to work themselves out.

  I could only wish for him everything that I’d never wanted for myself. Love. Companionship. Someone that was happy to see you at the end of every day.

  I blinked back the tears in my eyes. Tears that I’d never let fall because I’d never been allowed to cry without being punished for it. But I felt them, inside, for a boy I’d barely known. A man that would never be part of my life.

  I hit my Bluetooth button and said, “Call Girlie.”

  “Ava?” Jenna asked groggily.

  “Hey,” I said, the emotions clogging my throat as I continued to battle the tears.

  “What’s wrong?” She’d known me long enough to hear the emotion in my voice from that one word.

  “I’m on my way to Nashville. I left Rockport.” I said, desperately still fighting for control of my emotions.

  I hadn’t even cried when I’d gotten off th
e phone with Juilliard. I’d wanted to. Instead, I’d forced the tears into anger. Anger at losing a dream before I’d had a chance to make it a reality. Like now. Lost dreams. I was still going to make Juilliard happen. I had a new plan. That ripped dream was going to be repaired by my own hard work and determination.

  This ripped dream…the one with a boy named Eli. That was never going to be repaired.

  “What happened?” Jenna asked quietly.

  “My dad called Eli.”

  “Eli. Is he the tall, dark, moody one?”

  I nodded and realized she couldn’t see it.

  “Yes.”

  “And he told Ethan the truth? That you were there?”

  “Of course. He couldn’t lie. My dad would have slaughtered him when he returned to school in the fall.”

  “Your dad is going to slaughter him anyway,” Jenna said seriously.

  And I couldn’t force back the tears then. They fell, and I sniffled so loud that she heard. I pulled the car over to the side of the highway. I was taking Highway 59 instead of the highway my dad would be driving. It would take me longer, but it would ensure he wouldn’t see my car.

  “God, Chick-a-dee. You never cry. What really happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  “If it was nothing, you wouldn’t be crying. You’d be singing and screaming out the window on your way to Tennessee.” She knew me too well.

  “I think I gave my heart away. Or at least…there was the possibility that I could have.”

  She was quiet for a long time. “It was going to have to happen sometime.”

  “But why now? When I’m leaving? When I only had the chance to know him for a few days?” I said as I got hold of myself and blew my nose on a stack of napkins from the glove box.

  “Maybe you needed this to help you with what comes next. It’s hard to write about love and lost love when you’ve never experienced it.”

  “I lost my mom,” I told her.

  “That’s different. You didn’t love her. You loved the idea of her. Of having a mom.”

  She was right. I was lucky to have a best friend who could always say the things I needed to hear when I needed to hear them most. I was going to miss seeing her daily. Texting, and Skype, and phone calls wouldn’t feel the same.