P.S. I Hate You, page 8
I jerk my head back. “Wow. That’s really nice.”
“Yeah, they’re a good family. Good people. Kevin even pulled some strings and got Jace into the university. Frankly, I dunno what we’d have done without ’em.”
My gaze travels to the window. I assumed Troy was kind of a pompous ass, but after Cindy’s story, I wonder if I judged him too harshly. Most people would not continue to pay out a dead man’s salary, let alone come all the way down here and hand deliver it. Maybe I was wrong to push back so hard.
“Welp. I should start getting ready for work.” Cindy rises and disappears down the hall.
I look at my phone sitting on the tabletop in front of me just as the screen lights up.
Troy: My mom didn’t like the shirt, by the way.
I grin.
Me: Well, I guess everyone has their own taste.
When he doesn’t reply, my chest tightens. He doesn’t seem offended, but I still owe him an apology for the way I spoke to him.
My thumb hovers over the message as I read and reread, making sure I want to continue down this road. I could let it go and forget it happened, but after hearing Cindy’s story, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to get to know Troy a little better.
Me: I’m sorry I snapped at you. It’s been a long day.
Troy: It’s okay. Seeing that cute blush on your face might have been worth it.
I feel it return with a vengeance.
Me: Cindy told me about your family. It’s nice of you to take care of her.
Troy: It’s what we do.
My heart thumps hard in my chest. Troy is actually a nice guy. I cradle the phone in my hands, silently praying he asks me out again, hoping it’s not too late to give him a second chance. When nothing else comes through, I carve out a small opening for him to walk through.
Me: I’m not working tonight.
Troy: Plans with one of your many suitors?
A giggle tinkles off my tongue. I snuggle into the corner of the couch, resting my phone on my raised thigh.
Me: What suitors? The only person who’s been nice to me in this entire state so far has been you.
Troy: Yet you keep thwarting my advances. Perhaps you’re a glutton for punishment.
Me: Perhaps. But maybe I’m starting to realize that I’m only punishing myself.
The message dots bounce for an excruciatingly long time, my stomach twisting with anticipation. Just when I’m ready to detonate, his message comes in.
Troy: Dinner?
A wide smile blossoms on my face.
Me: Yes
***
My room looks like a war zone at the mall. Dresses and skirts thrown on the bed, accessories placed together with care, then tossed aside for something else. I shouldn’t be this nervous. Troy’s the one who’s been pursuing me. My clothing choice isn’t a make-or-break situation, but great power lurks behind every great outfit. Ever notice how an adorable top or a cute pair of jeans can suddenly make you feel unstoppable? It’s not a coincidence. With the perfect ensemble, you can take on the world.
I finish getting ready by the skin of my teeth. The doorbell rings as I slather on my last layer of mascara. I give myself a final look, take a deep breath, and answer.
A tailored shirt fits his broad chest and slim waist, a perfect complement to dark blue jeans. He holds out a single rose. “For you, milady.”
“You’re a goofball,” I say, taking it from his fingertips and bringing it to my nose.
“Well, you’re beautiful.”
My smile stretches a mile wide. If the date starts like this, I already know my cheeks will be sore by the end of it. He opens the car door and waits until I’m settled to jog to the other side. The new car scent fills my lungs. I’ve gotten used to the smell of exhaust and smoke in Jace’s truck. My heart aches for a split second, and then it’s gone.
Troy’s Porsche purrs like a kitten. Tires crunch on gravel as he slowly pulls onto the main road and picks up speed, but I need to get something on my mind out of the way before our date can continue. “Listen, I’m sorry if I’ve been cold. It’s been a big adjustment.”
He casts a sidelong glance before snapping his gaze back to the road. “I get it. You spend your whole life a certain way, then tragedy comes out of nowhere and rips the carpet out from under you.”
I nod. Most people either judge me or condemn me, but no one has tried to understand me until now. With one sentence, Troy managed to knock down every wall I’ve built since the moment I arrived. “Everybody dragged my family name through the mud. The scandal was too much for her to take.”
“It was enough to make anyone suffer a major heart attack.”
My gaze drops to my lap. I fiddle with the hem of my skirt as I string together the words without crying. “You don’t leave goodbye notes with a heart attack.”
His head whips in my direction. “Are you saying it was intentional?”
“I don’t know what I’m saying.” I pull in a deep breath and hold it in my lungs until it burns. “Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe the letter was written because she knew she was going to prison for a very long time. All I know is the woman the media painted out as a monster wasn’t the same one I knew. To me, she was Mom. A woman I looked up to, whose strength and perseverance I’ve tried to emulate my entire life. Thinking about it makes me angry, and I don’t want to be angry with her.” My bare finger tingles with regret. I sweep my thumb over it as if my mother’s ring is there, wishing I could still feel it bringing me comfort.
“I can’t say much for your mom other than she raised a strong daughter.”
I tip my head back until it touches the seat. “If I were really that strong, I’d be able to put Jace in his place.”
His lips twist in a scowl. “Jace is … Jace has issues.”
“That’s a polite way of putting it.”
He offers me another quick glance, his expression growing hard. “I’m serious. The guy’s a criminal. We were friends when we were little. As we got older, my dad tried to help him by giving him odd jobs around the house. He’d pull weeds or skim the pool, things like that, and my dad would pay him. One day, I caught him stealing jewelry from my mother’s cabinet.”
My jaw drops. “Are you serious? What happened?”
“He denied it, of course. My parents decided not to charge him with anything because he’d just lost his dad, and they didn’t want to do that to Cindy, but the truth is, he’s just a bad person. He holds a grudge because we have money. He feels like we owe him something.”
My stomach sinks. I’ve seen that character trait in Jace since day one. He hates me, too, for no other reason than my family's success. What he doesn’t see is that I wasn’t born into privilege. My mother was born with the same rusty spoon as him. The fact that she accumulated vast wealth later in life hardly reflects on me, yet he takes it out on me every chance he gets.
“Anyway,” he continues, his tone brightening, “let’s not let him ruin our night.”
“Deal.” I force a smile even though I’m still haunted by this new knowledge of Jace’s past. The guy has criminal written all over him. He literally beats people up for fun. Why am I so surprised? “So where are we going, anyway?”
“Surprise.”
He pulls off the road and parks his car in the back of what looks like an abandoned building. My mouth goes dry. This doesn’t look like a restaurant. It looks like the beginning of a horror movie.
But Troy gets out and opens the door for me. “C’mon,” he urges, offering his hand.
“What is this place?” Moisture beads on my palms, but I take his hand and let him pull me from the low seat of the Porsche and walk me to the unmarked door.
“This is Heartfood Kitchen.” He pushes open the door to bustling energy. People swarm the busy kitchen, carrying huge pots of food and bringing them through a wide set of double doors.
I tear my gaze away from the scene and look up at Troy. “I thought we were going to dinner.”
Dimples deepen his cheeks when he smiles. He takes an apron off a hook near the door and hands it to me. “We aren’t having dinner. We’re serving it.”
He rests his hand on the small of my back and leads me through the kitchen. A line of homeless people snakes past the serving station, pushing trays of home-cooked food. My mouth forms an O of surprise.
A small elderly woman with a low ponytail and round glasses approaches us. “Troy! I’m so glad you could make it. We have a full house.”
She pushes to her toes as he leans down and drops a kiss on her cheek. “Thelma, this is Ellie. She’s going to help serve tonight.”
Thelma takes my hand in both of hers. “Wonderful to meet you, Ellie.”
Still stricken by shock, I only offer a grin and a nod. She goes about her business as Troy begins tying his apron. A split second later, I find my voice. “This is a soup kitchen.”
“Yes. Once a month, I come and donate my services to Thelma and the crew. Sometimes they need me to serve; other times, I clean. Whatever they need that particular day.”
I stare at Troy as if his sandy hair is a halo atop his head. This guy is handsome, smart, funny, understanding, and altruistic? This is fate giving me a side of fries with the shit sandwich it’s dealt me thus far. A tasty little morsel to sink my teeth into when everything else is going wrong.
For the next several hours, we stand by the side, scooping heaps of food onto plate after plate. When the dishes dwindle, Troy trades serving for washing. By the end of the night, my legs are tired, but my heart is so full it could burst.
“That was an incredible experience. Thank you for including me,” I tell him as the car idles in front of my house.
A humble grin quirks his lips. “My pleasure.”
As I reach for the handle, he touches my leg. “Next time, I’ll take you out on a real date, okay?”
“Can’t wait.” My lips tremble, begging to be kissed, but when he leans in, my head turns as if pulled by an invisible string, and he catches my cheek instead. “Good night.”
I barely notice Jace hovering in the yellow porch light as I stroll up the walk. A cloud of smoke pirouettes around him and dances under the moon. He pulls in one last drag, then flicks his butt into the gravel at my feet. “Troy McNamara? You can’t be serious.”
His broody baritone pops my good mood like a balloon. My shoulders droop. “What’s your problem? He’s a nice guy.”
He stands, folding his arms across his chest. “Right. Where was your first date? Let me guess… orphanage? Animal hospital? Don’t be fooled. This is the kind of shit he does to impress girls.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to know what it means to be nice.”
“I didn’t expect you to be this dumb, but hey, you surprised me. You guys deserve each other—Barbie and Ken.” He turns on his heel and forces the door open with the butt of his palm, then slams it in my face.
Troy’s words instantly return to my mind. The world owes Jace Wilder nothing. I don’t care what he thinks. I’m not going to stop seeing Troy just because he has some weird childhood vendetta against him. I’m not afraid of him.
Yet the trembling in my hands as I sneak into the house like a coward says otherwise.
Chapter nine
I lean closer to the tiny accessory mirror at Boots n’ Bangles to slather on a layer of gloss. Jolene counts the register tally and zippers the stack of cash into a leather satchel. “Gettin’ pretty for your new beau?”
My gaze flicks at her reflection behind me. “We have a date.”
“To be young again.”
I screw the top on my Dior lip gloss and throw it into my bag. “You’re not that old.”
“Tell that to my back.” She presses her hand to the small of her back and stretches. “I tell ya, this store is gonna kill me before it makes me rich.”
“You ever think of doing something wild in the window? It might draw in more customers.” I turn toward the front of the store, my imagination beginning to run. “I can put together some fresh new looks.”
Jolene purses her lips. “Welp, that might be somethin’ to talk about. Draw up a few ideas, and we’ll discuss them.”
My stomach flutters. “I will,” I say with a smile. The deep purr of Troy’s car vibrates within me. I crane my neck as he pulls in front of the store. I look over my shoulder at Jolene. “Do you need me to do anything else before I go?”
She flaps her hands as if shooing me away. “Go. Be young. I’ll finish up here.”
“See you tomorrow.” I exit the store and meet Troy out front. We’ve been going out together for a little over a month, and the comfort is starting to settle in like a warm blanket. Our last date was dinner at the country club—lobster and filet mignon, with a decadent soufflé for dessert. A taste of my old life I thought I’d missed. But going back was like trying to mend a round hole in my heart with a square plug. It felt wrong. I’m an outsider now, a poor player pretending to belong, but the sad truth is, I don’t belong anywhere. I’m torn between my old life and this new one that I’m slowly learning to navigate.
Troy offers a dimpled grin. “There she is.” Ever the gentleman, he drops a kiss on my cheek and opens the door for me. He rounds the car and slides in beside me. “I got you something. Open the glove box.”
My eyes widen. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know.” He sweeps his thumb over the pink warmth darkening my face. “Can’t a guy spoil his girlfriend if he wants to?”
He drops the ‘g’ word as if it's second nature. I should feel elated. A guy like Troy is every woman’s dream, but the word tightens my throat like a drawn taut collar. Our first date brought a single rose, a sweet gesture that made me blush. The second was an entire bouquet of crimson and baby’s breath, an embarrassing cliché I could have done without, yet tonight I see no flowers in sight. Instead, I find a small aqua cube in a dainty white bow. My stomach twists. “This is too much.”
“Nonsense.” He reaches for the box and unties the ribbon holding it together.
With trembling fingers, I pull off the lid and reveal a gorgeous pair of diamond studs. My jaw drops. “Troy … I …”
But he waves off my objections as if they mean nothing to him. “They’re just a simple token of how I feel.”
I force a smile, but the discomfort reads all over my expression. You can always tell what kind of person a man thinks you are by the earrings he gives you. Diamonds may be beautiful, but they aren’t unique. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not one to turn my nose up at an age-old classic—my favorite movie is Breakfast at Tiffany’s after all—but that’s the problem. Diamonds are typical. I’d much prefer a gift from the heart. Something that made him think of me when he saw it. Expensive baubles and fancy dinners only make me feel as if my affection has a price tag. Buying things is easy. I want to be shown how much he cares. “Thank you.”
When I set the top back on the box, he pouts. “Aren’t you going to put them in?”
“Oh. Yeah… of course,” I mumble, shaking the fog from my brain. Of course, wearing them is the right thing to do. I flip down the visor and gently remove my white gold hoops. The round-cut diamonds glitter in the moonlight. “They’re beautiful.”
He cups his hand on the nape of my neck. “I have an eye for beautiful things, I guess.”
With a shy grin, I lower my gaze. He pulls me in, and drops his lips to my hairline. I should be head over heels for him. I should be sitting in this leather seat, falling in love, but I’m not. In fact, I’m scared to death. But I swallow down the fear bubbling up my throat and sit back in my seat as he pulls the car from the curb. It’s probably some form of PTSD. My life has been irreparably ruined, and now I have trouble with trust. That must be it because Troy is such a wonderful man; there’s no other explanation for why I feel nothing when I’m with him.
“You hungry?” he asks.
“Not really.”
“There’s a gathering down at the mulch pits. Some of my buddies are there. You wanna go?” He glances at my scrunched-up nose, then sets his eyes forward as he shifts gears. “C’mon, let’s check it out. If it sucks, we’ll leave.”
“Okay.”
Music echoes beyond the trees, the smell of fire dancing in the dark. Hand in hand, Troy and I walk the tracks until the dense forest opens to a clearing. Flames crackle from the bonfire in the center, its orange fingers reaching to the sky. Around it, a horde of people mills about, laughing, dancing, raising their red Solo cups in salute of a Saturday night.
I reach across myself and grasp Troy’s arm with my free hand. This is more than a gathering. This is a full-scale party, and I’m not prepared for it.
“Don’t be nervous.” He untangles our fingers and wraps his arm around my shoulders, tucking me into his side. “You’re with me.”
He leads me through the crowd toward a lifted truck on gigantic tires, its custom paint glimmering. A row of girls sit on the lowered tailgate, and a circle of guys stands nearby. “Hey,” Troy calls as he approaches.
“Sup, Mac,” one of the guys replies, catching Troy’s hand in a high five.
Troy’s arm tightens around me. “You remember Robbie, right?” I look up at him with parted lips, racking my brain, but Troy saves me before I make an ass of myself. “From the fight.”
“Oh. The Wrecker?”
A raspy roar of laughter rumbles in his chest. “You can call me Rob.”
“This is Ellie,” Troy announces loud enough so everyone can hear, then ticks off his friends one by one: Robbie, Jarrett, Ben, Pete … Cora, Emma, Taylor.
I wave hello.
In a single bound, Robbie leaps into the truck bed and starts pumping the keg. “Y’all want a beer?”
“Definitely,” Troy answers without hesitation.
Robbie fills two cups and offers me one with a grin. “Which fight were you at?”
I bring the cups to my lips and take a sip. Carbonation pops on my tongue and tickles my nose. “You fought Jace Wilder.”
