All In (Cedar Mountain University #2) Read online




  All In

  Copyright © 2014

  By Ann Garner

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  For Chad.

  Love.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter One

  “I can’t believe he is sending her home over the blonde. The blonde is such a bitch.” I throw a piece of popcorn at the TV in disgust, then laugh when it falls short by several inches.

  “Be nice, Grace,” Delaney, my roommate, says from her seat on the couch next to me. “I’m sure it’s just editing. She’s probably a very lovely person.”

  I shoot her a disbelieving look. “Of course she is, Sally Sunshine.”

  Popcorn hits me in the side of the face. “I’m the exact opposite of Sally Sunshine.”

  “Editing? Seriously, Del, I doubt she could have that many scenes full of bitchiness if she hadn’t given them plenty of material to work with. And you’ve totally lost your thundercloud reputation.”

  “Thundercloud reputation? Where do you come up with this stuff? Never mind, I don’t need a sneak peek into the inner workings of your mind. I don’t think I’d come out unscathed.”

  “My mind is a wonderland.”

  Delaney snorts. “I think that is supposed to be body. Your body is a wonderland.”

  Before I can say anything else there’s a knock on our door. It isn’t unusual for us to have visitors, but it is unusual for us to have visitors during our weekly trashy reality show night.

  My roommate Delaney, who happens to be dating my brother Cole, and I had only recently discovered our shared absolute love of trashy reality TV, and while The Real Housewives of whatever city, happens to be a particular favorite, tonight we are watching The Bachelor, or the dating game on crack as I like to call it.

  Reality shows are a great pick-me-up. Seriously, who has that much drama in their lives on a normal daily basis? You can’t help but feel better about your own life while watching theirs spiral out of control for the stupidest reasons known to man.

  In response to the knock on our door, Delaney stiffens slightly on the couch next to me, and I know our relaxing night in is shot regardless of who is on the other side of the door. She’s improved leaps and bounds over where she was the start of our freshman year, but I doubt the fear will ever totally be gone. Understandable after everything she’s been through.

  I’m one hundred percent positive they would have had to lock me up in a padded room had I’d gone through even one tenth of what she had faced.

  “I’ll get it. Was Cole planning to come back tonight?” I ask over my shoulder as I push off the couch. “I think he secretly has a fascination with reality TV that he just doesn’t want to own up to.”

  “Right,” Delaney says drily, “it has nothing to do with me.”

  I smirk. “That’s awfully conceited of you, Delaney. I’m sure he has interests outside of you.”

  “Bitch,” Delaney grumbles, but she’s no longer so tense that she might break and I’m laughing as I open the door to the apartment.

  “Well, hey there, sexy.” I greet Grant with a smile, leaning up on tiptoe to place a quick kiss on his mouth. “I didn’t think you were coming by tonight.”

  I should have noticed something was off right away.

  It should have registered that Grant had knocked on the door and not used the key I had given him. He didn’t kiss me back and hasn’t made a single move to come into the apartment. In fact, he looks like he’s about to throw up, and I can see sweat beading on his forehead.

  “You okay?” Concerned, I brush my hand across his cheek, trying to feel for a fever. His skin feels clammy to the touch, but not hot. “Grant?”

  Licking his lips he finally says, “Can we talk?”

  How do three little words have the power to ruin your entire fucking life? I think if your entire world is going to be thrown off course then the conversation leading up to it should be a little more verbose than ‘Can we talk.’

  I want to tell him no, to slam the door in his face, and pretend that this entire moment hadn’t transpired. But I’m not a delaying-the-inevitable kind of person. So if Grant Michaels was about to break up with me, which I had no doubt he was, then we might as well get it over with.

  Then I could start the breakup process: the crying; the ice cream; the making little voodoo dolls of Grant that I could stab with pins in inappropriate places. Maybe not necessarily in that order.

  I can be flexible that way.

  I step back, gesturing him into the apartment. I totally forgot Delaney was sitting on the couch with a bowl of popcorn sitting next to her, watching the entire exchange between us. A quick glance at her confirms that she heard the same thing I had heard in those three words.

  If Delaney, whose experience with relationships is limited to the last year, could see what was coming, then no amount of wishing that I was mistaken was going to matter.

  Grant moves past me into the living room, his feet dragging against the carpet, his head hanging a little. I make the mistake of meeting Delaney’s eyes for just a moment, looking away at the sympathy I see there. I don’t need sympathy.

  Not until he’s gone.

  Because no way in hell is he about to see me cry.

  Not over this.

  Not over him.

  “I’m, uh, going to head over to the bookstore. They were getting a, uh, new shipment in today that I need to help catalog.” She’s a suck-ass liar I think, watching as she drops the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and shoves a pair of flip flops on her feet as she talks. When she brushes by me she pauses long enough to squeeze my arm as she leans down and whispers, “Call me the minute he’s gone, Grace. The second he’s out the door. I mean it.”

  Then she’s gone.

  I have no doubt that by the time she reaches her car Cole is going to know exactly what is happening. Then in short order my other brother, Holden, Ally, and Robby will all be brought into the loop as well.

  Our circle of friends is pretty tight. I glance at Grant who is sitting in the reading chair, leaned forward so that his elbows balance on his knees and his head is cradled in his hands.

  Guess our circle is about to get all kinds of fucked up.

  I sit against the arm of the couch, as far away from the reading chair as I can get, and I wait. No way in hell I’m going to start this conversation.

  The seconds tick by, slipping together into one minute and then another. I shift on the couch, pulling my legs up so my knees are bent and my arms wrapped around them. H
e hasn’t even spoken and I already feel like I’m about to shatter.

  I’d been in love with Grant since I was thirteen years old.

  He’d shown up at our house with Holden one day after their basketball practice, and I’d been sunk. Tall and lanky with brown hair and brown eyes, he’d smiled at me as Holden introduced us. I started writing our name together in hearts the next day.

  When I was seventeen, and he had finally shown interest in me, it had been like Christmas and my birthday all rolled into one. I’d been careful about getting into a relationship with him though. He was Holden’s best friend. And this moment, this one we were now sitting in, was the very reason that I had tried to be so cautious, so careful to make sure we were solid in our friendship before our relationship had taken even the first minute step toward romantic.

  Not that any of that mattered now. Because it doesn’t matter how cautious I had been, how strong our friendship might have once been, I won’t forgive him for hurting me like this. I won’t be able to go back to before. Not after two years of being so wrapped up in each other.

  What sucked the worst was sitting here in this moment, waiting for the end of our relationship to come, and feeling like I had somehow allowed my entire life to come to revolve around Grant and my relationship with him. I had never wanted to be that girl, had always prided myself on not being that girl.

  So how in the hell had I let myself become that girl without even realizing it?

  “I’m so sorry, Grace.”

  I glance back over to him when he finally speaks. “For what?” He’s still looking at the ground, which only adds fuel to the incredibly large fire of pissed off that I have burning inside of me. “Look at me, Grant.”

  “Grace—”

  “Look at me,” I demand softly. “If you’re going to do this, then you’re going to fucking look me in the eye when you do it.”

  He tilts his head up slowly, and those brown eyes I love so much are nearly black with grief. Good. I hope he chokes on it.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Oh, I think we’re past that already. You just need to say it, because neither one of us is leaving here until you actually say the words. Then you’re going to explain it to me, because I deserve that much.”

  “You do.” He audibly swallows. “You deserve someone who’s going to give you everything you want.”

  “I thought I had that.”

  His eyes close with a wince. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

  I arch a brow. “Are you honestly going to sit here and ask me to make this easy on you? Two years, Grant. We’ve been together for almost two fucking years, and now you’re going to waltz in here out of the freaking blue, tell me it’s over, that you don’t want to hurt me, and then demand that I make it easier on you?” My voice is rising with each word, but I can’t seem to rein it in. “Don’t be an asshole, Grant. Not on top of everything else.”

  “I just think we’re moving too fast.”

  The short stunned laugh bursts from my chest before I can prevent it. At least it isn’t a sob, though I feel that starting to bubble inside of me. “Umm, two years, so not quite sure I agree. Is that the best you’ve got?”

  He shoves one hand through his thick brown hair, and I know he is struggling with his words. I almost feel sorry for him. I almost tell him not to worry about it, that whatever the reason, he doesn’t need to sit here and suffer while he breaks up with me. Then he says, “I think it would be better for both of us if we took a step back, maybe explored other options.” And just like that the anger is back with a roaring vengeance.

  Frowning, I drop my knees, letting my arms cross over my chest. It feels like my heart is going to come slamming out of my chest at any moment if I don’t do something to try and hold it in place. “Explore our options? Let’s not waste time prettying it up, Grant. What you really mean to say is that you want to fuck other girls.”

  I can see the small glitter of anger starting to spark inside his eyes. “You don’t have to be so crass.”

  Has he suddenly forgotten who I am? I’ve never been the type to hold back. “You don’t have to be a douche, yet there you go.” I hold one hand up when he opens his mouth to say more. “You need to go.”

  “Grace, we should talk about this. I really want us to be friends, we have so much history.”

  “Right. History. Not present, not future. History.”

  I would stand up and stalk off to my room and slam the door behind me to drive home my point about him needing to leave, but I doubt my legs are going to hold me up.

  “Get out,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “Please just get out.”

  His pain soaked words rip through me. “Please don’t hate me, Gracie Lou. I don’t want you to hate me. I couldn’t stand it if you did.”

  With wet eyes I meet his gaze. “I make no promises. Now get the fuck out. I’m done.” Then, miracle of miracles, I manage to get up and walk away.

  The slamming of my bedroom door behind me is as satisfyingly loud as I had thought it would be. Once closed, I slump against it, sliding down until I’m sitting on the floor. I pull my knees up, wrapping my arms around them before dropping my forehead down against them as I wait.

  The sound of the front door opening and then finally closing breaks the dam and the tears come.

  I know I haven’t been sitting there very long, curled up in a ball against my bedroom door, with tears streaming down my face, when I hear the front door open again. I’m sure it’s Delaney, she obviously didn’t go into the bookstore where she works. I’m not sure I’m ready to face anyone yet, but apparently what I want doesn’t matter since Delaney comes through the open doorway of my bathroom. Swiping angrily at the tears and snot from beneath my nose with the back of my hand I look at her through tear soaked eyes.

  “He thinks we should explore other options.” I answer the question she’s hesitant to ask.

  “Oh, Grace.” Delaney sinks down next to me on the floor. She pulls her knees up the same as mine, and together we sit in the silence of the apartment except for my occasional sniffling. This is why I hate crying, not only am I an ugly crier, but there is absolutely nothing worse than a runny nose after you’ve been crying.

  “What am I supposed to do? I thought he was my forever. He told me he was.” As I turn my head to look at her, I’m trying, unsuccessfully, to blink back more tears. “Why would he lie?”

  “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say.” Delaney lays one hand on my shoulder. “I suck at this part of friendship.”

  I swipe at my nose again. “Did you call Cole?”

  “Yeah.”

  Of course she did. “So everybody knows.”

  Delaney nods her head. “I’m sorry, Grace, I thought he should know. He lives with Grant.”

  It’s hard to stay mad at Delaney. Every time I get pissed at her, I can’t help but remember the picture of her that the jackass grocery store manager had taken right after he found her in that dumpster. It’s something you can never unsee.

  She had looked dead. Her skin so pale it was almost translucent except for the obvious signs of bruising, and the dried and fresh blood. The picture had shown bruises around her neck, perfect imprints of two large hands that had squeezed enough to hurt but not enough to kill. Scratches had slashed through that bruising, and I knew from Cole that it had been where Delaney had tried to dislodge his hands while he was choking her.

  It’s so heartbreaking to think about, and it makes me feel small and stupid for crying over Grant dumping me. I wipe under my nose one more time.

  “Do we have ice cream?”

  Delaney gives me a small smile. “How long have we been friends, Grace? You think ice cream is the answer to everything so I make sure we stay stocked.”

  “It isn’t the answer to everything?”

  Laughing, Delany pushes to her feet, reaching down to help me up to mine. “I picked up double chocolate chunk this morning. Let’s go see how it w
orks.”

  Chapter Two

  Four Months Later….

  If one more person gives me a sympathetic look, or asks me how I am doing, I am going to fucking punch them in the face.

  It’s that simple.

  I had thought adjusting to life without Grant would be the hardest part of the two of us breaking up. He had after all, been such a large part of my life, in one form or another, for such a long time. Obviously I hadn’t counted on the nearly three thousand students on campus who apparently thought they had the inside track on our relationship, and subsequent breakup.

  “I heard she walked in on him in the middle of a threesome.”

  I wince at the whispered comment, chomping down on the tip of my tongue and forcing myself not to get up to find whoever was talking about me now, and shove the truth down their throat. Or my fist. At this point it was a tossup which way I would go. Instead I take another long swallow of cheap beer. I’d long since become immune to the horrific taste, no longer wincing whenever I take a drink.

  When things with Grant had first ended I had tried to explain that it had been a mutual decision, because I didn’t want to look like a complete idiot. Then Grant showed up to our weekly cookout, the Friday night after our breakup, with Abigail Peterson on his arm, and any headway I might have made in convincing people it was mutual had been totally lost.

  And I now knew that the rumor mill at CMU ran like a well-oiled freaking machine.

  I know he wasn’t doing it to hurt me. Grant simply wasn’t built that way. I knew he would rather cut off his own arm than cause me a moment of pain. Which made me wonder how long he’d been thinking about ending things before he actually had.

  At night, when I couldn’t sleep and was counting the number of cracks in the ceiling above my bed, I couldn’t help but think about all the time we had recently spent together, looking for some sort of sign that I must have missed.

  Not that it really mattered. It was over now anyway.

  It’s just over a month into the fall semester, and sliding slowly towards October and cooler weather, and what is usually my favorite time of year, but I can’t seem to get excited about anything at the moment. Not even the Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte that was bound to hit stores soon.