Page 91 of Faking It with the Firefighter

“I don’t know. I just want to take a hot shower and forget any of this ever happened.” Tears surfaced, but I quickly wiped them away. “You guys don’t have to stay. I’ll be okay. Thanks for getting me out of jail.”

Charlie gave me a sweet smile. “Anytime.” If only I had called her to get me out of jail the night I pulledthe fire alarm and punctured Sebastian’s tires. Then none of this would’ve happened. But she’d had her own issues to deal with.

Winston followed me up the stairs to my bathroom. I tossed off my dress, and dried frosting flaked off the fabric and onto the tile. In the shower, warm water spilled over the top of my head, and I let it drip off my face so I couldn’t tell the difference between the water and my tears. I never knew Rex to be a liar. I never knew him to be a lot of things until this week. I should’ve seen it coming when he showed me his devilish side.

Was it really that surprising? I’d put myself out there, thinking I’d found someone who appreciated me, only to find out that I came second. Or third. Or last.

In the end, it didn’t matter if Rex had kissed Blair or not. He’d been in that room because of a series of decisions that told me how little he thought of me. In secret, I was good enough to kiss. Good enough to sleep with. Good enough to love.

But in public?

I was Abigail Stone, the impulsive, unpredictable screwup. I was the woman who could handle slaps in the face and was supposed to carry on her merry way.

Rex could’ve told Gabe he had feelings for me the minute my name came out of his mouth when his brother asked about the RSVP. If that was too hard, he could’ve approached Gabe directly instead of trying to fake his way into my pants. He could’ve asked me out.

But I was the collateral damage. I was the inconsequential footnote in his attempt to keep everyone else happy.

And wasn’t that just typical?

I’d been a footnote in my father’s life—the troublemaker kid he tried to ignore as soon as the divorce was finalized.Never mind that my acting out and getting in trouble was an attempt to express the unbearable, too-big ball of emotions that came with my parents separating.

I was supposed to be a footnote in Travis’s life—the wife who made his existence easier. When I didn’t go along with that, he found his bit on the side and then blamed me when everything fell apart.

And I was a footnote in Gabe’s life too. I was the little sister he could pretend to protect. It fed his ego, and it made everyone think he was a good guy. But for me? His overprotectiveness was a wall that stopped anyone from knowing the real me. Even him. Gabe didn’t know me. Not really.

And I guessed I’d never really grown out of that preteen angst, because I was still acting out when I felt hurt and misunderstood. I shouldn’t have snapped and mashed cake in Blair’s face, even if I thought she deserved it. I shouldn’t have touched Tammy’s phone, or yelled at Rex, or done anything except walk away and take care of myself.

But the feelings inside me were too big to contain. As a little girl, I’d needed someone to wrap their arms around me and tell me that it was okay to have big feelings. That they would love me, even if I was angry and hurt and afraid. Even if I felt too stupid or too impulsive or too loud.

Instead, I got eye rolls and not-so-subtle jabs. I learned that the only person who would take care of me was me.

How stupid was I, to think that Rex was any different?

He’d known me my whole life, so it was easy for him to pick me apart, insecurity by insecurity. He looked at me and knew exactly what I wanted to hear in order to open up to him. First physically, and then emotionally.

It was humiliating. I was weak and small, and I would never find someone who actually put me first. No one would ever look at me and think, yes,her. She’s the one. The One.

I was too much trouble for that. Better to string me along for a bit of temporary entertainment.

After my long, sob-filled shower, I wrapped myself in a towel and ventured into my bedroom. In the corner sat Rex’s duffel bag. I stomped over and grabbed it, ready to hurl it out the window. But then I’d be left to pick up the pieces on my lawn. As if there weren’t enough pieces to pick up. There wasn’t much in his bag, just some dirty T-shirts, a pair of sweats, and his toothbrush.

Closing the bag back up, I kicked it into my overfull closet and shut the door.

Then I got into bed, pulled the blankets up to my chin, and went to sleep.

A night and a day and another night passed. The only thing that made me get up was the need to feed Winston and clean out his litter box. The rest of the time, I rotted in bed and ignored my phone.

On Tuesday morning, I dragged myself out of my room and scrounged around for something to eat. Wallowing wasn’t going to pay my mortgage. I caught up on some work while wearing my PJs, then checked in with the Baker house owners, and then spent some time staring out the kitchen window at the charred backyard gate and melted remains of my compost bin.

Then I took a deep breath and picked up my phone. There was something I needed to do.

THIRTY-THREE

REX

Tammy endedup engaging Travis’s services and left jail not long after Abigail. The rest of us spent Sunday night in the cell. My mom bailed us out on Monday morning—me, Donny, and Gabe. She dropped Gabe off first. As soon as he was out of the car, she rounded on us.

“I am soashamedof you two.”

---