Not Your Fault

I wake up an hour before I need to be at work. I still need to shower and wash and dry my hair, and do my makeup, and drive all the way back onto the mainland, but I’m not exactly worried about being late to work because my boss is passed out in bed next to me. Perks of dating the boss, I suppose.

I had no idea that spending an entire day in bed could be so much fun. Of course, it’s not like Kris and I slept the whole time, and we did leave the house to eat lunch at a local seafood restaurant, but the rest of the day was absolutely wasted lying next to each other in bed, talking about us—our past and our future and every good thing there is to talk about. We didn’t go near the bad things, but there’s always time for bad things. Cherishing the good is what matters.

I let him sleep, both because he looks so freaking cute when passed out but also because if he’s well-rested, then there’s a good chance he’ll hang out with me for my shift at the gym tonight. I may have spent the whole night and day with him, but I’m not ready to separate from him just yet.

After meticulously crawling out of bed in a way that made as little movement and noise as possible, I retrieve last night’s outfit from the dryer and change back into it after a quick shower. I have gym-appropriate clothes in my locker at work, so arriving there in date clothing won’t be a big deal. Especially since my date attire isn’t exactly slutty. Susan would tisk tisk me if she saw how conservatively I dressed last night.

With luck not on my side, there’s no spare toothbrush in Kris’s bathroom, so I use his toothpaste and my index finger and brush my teeth as best as I can. Then I retrieve my purse from the top of Kris’s dresser and dig around for my compacted hairbrush. Using the built-in mirror over the top of the dresser, I attempt to untangle my messy hair without staring at the reflection of the gorgeous man sleeping in the bed behind me. My efforts are futile though, because soon I am watching him in the mirror with a lazy smile on my face, my hand haphazardly slapping the tiny hairbrush against my head in a half-assed attempt to brush out the tangles.

The brush drops from my hand, crashing into the dresser with a loud crack. I jump and try to grab the brush, stopping the noise before Kris wakes up, but in my frantic movements, it falls into the slightly opened top drawer. I reach my hand inside while watching Kris, hoping I haven’t woken him. He stays asleep and my hand digs through the drawer, feeling for my brush. Instead I get handfuls of sock after sock, until my fingers land on a piece of paper.

Now, I know I shouldn’t grab the paper and pull it out. I know I shouldn’t dig through Kris Payne’s sock drawer and look at whatever he’s hidden in here. But…I do it anyway.

My heart catches in my throat at the sight of a folded square of cotton candy pink paper with Hello Kitty’s face along the border. I remember this paper. I had a whole notebook full of it and I used it throughout my sophomore year. I used to write Kris love notes on this stationery then fold it up very tight and pass it off to him when we met in the hallways between classes. I can’t believe he kept one of them all these years. My fingers tremble as I unfold the note, thinking that I must have written it in a hurry because I hadn’t folded it the fancy triangle way I was so fond of in high school.

I glance at Kris to make sure he’s still asleep, and then I read the unfolded paper.

Chills cover my body and my entire face goes numb. The words blur into each other as I read each poorly scribbled hate-fueled sentence. My hands tingle and my mouth goes dry.

Kris didn’t keep a love letter from me. He kept the letter that told him to leave me.

Anger and sadness fight for control of my emotions and I can’t bring myself to finish reading the note. I do glance down at the bottom, where my name is signed with a “Fuck you” as the closing words. I blink away the tears in my eyes and bring the paper closer to my face as I study the way someone else signed my name.

I’ve seen my name written this way before, but this isn’t my handwriting.

It’s Nathan’s.

Chapter 19

He answers on the first ring.

“You. Fucking. Bastard.” My words are venom. I clasp the phone to my ear so tightly that if it doesn’t shatter between my fingers, I’ll be surprised.

“Excuse you?” Nathan says.

“You fucking heard me,” I say as I pace back and forth in Kris’s room.

“That’s right, Delaney,” Nathan says, his voice dripping with a condescending tone. “Keep saying curse words because you can’t think of anything clever enough to say without them.”

“You’re right, Nathan. I think I will keep saying them.” I hold the phone in front of my mouth like a walkie-talkie. “Fuck. You. Fuck everything about you, and fuck the years we spent together and fuck any nice thing I ever said to you. I take it all the fuck back.”

Kris, now fully awake in the aftermath of my yelling, throws the comforter off him and jumps out of bed, mouthing the words, What’s going on? and Are you okay?

All I can do is shake my head while my mouth opens and closes in frustration as I listen to the bastard on the other end of the phone babble on about something stupid. “Aww, did Delaney get her wittle heart bwoken?” Nathan coos into the phone. “Did mister murdering ex-boyfriend screw you over again?”

I let out a noise that sounds like a frustrated laugh. He so did not just say that. “Never speak of Kris that way again,” I say with a seething hatred in my voice. This gets a concerned reaction out of Kris but I hold up my hand to keep him quiet. “I found your note, you fucking coward. I know what you did to me, to make Kris leave me. I know your secret now.”

“Delaney—” Nathan interrupts as a truckload of nonsensical words flies out of his mouth in an attempt to talk himself out of the situation. “I did what I had to do to get you away from that prick.”

“Shut the fuck up,” I tell him. Kris hardens his jaw and runs his hands through his hair. Anger radiates off him, but can tell he’s not angry with me. I look Kris in the eyes as I finish my call to Nathan. “You are the worst person I know,” I say over Nathan’s frantic excuses and apologies. “You better hope you never see me again.”

I end the call with the press of a button, which doesn’t feel nearly as satisfying as slamming down a receiver would feel. I have the urge to throw my phone across the room in frustration, but I know better. Kris wraps his hand around my wrist and softly tugs the phone from my grasp, setting it down on the bed as if he knows what thoughts are running through my head.

Kris says his words slowly. “So, not only did you read that horrible letter, but you know the person who wrote it?”

Anger consumes me so much that I can’t even be bothered to feel embarrassed that he knows I went through his sock drawer. I don’t care about any of that—the only emotion flowing through me is the desire to get revenge. Kris brushes the hair out of my face and tucks it behind my ear.

“Delaney…you’re scaring me.”