Reviving Evan (A Dismantling Evan Companion Novella) by Venessa Kimball

Author:Venessa Kimball [Kimball, Venessa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CHBB Publishing
Published: 2015-11-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8:

Callus

Two days pass and I still feel like I have been blown out of the water by Brody’s simultaneous admittance for missing me and then rejection of the desire to be together. I think I am safe in saying that he definitely desired me as much as I did him, do I mean. It is just fitting today happens to be Valentine’s Day. Balloons, hearts, candy, chocolates, love, lust ... not rejection. The antithesis of rejection. I should look at the brighter side; at least I have felt the full effect of being rejected by Brody before today, so I wouldn’t be pining away on this day hoping he would miraculously tell me he loved me and didn’t want to go another day of feeling alone without me. THAT would be the nail in the coffin, the epitome of being rejected.

Today, the rejection has changed. I don’t know if it is the atmosphere or just the complexities of being me, but the sadness is slipping away and transforming into a callus hardening of the blow I took to my ego the other night, I suppose. I never considered becoming one of those people, the ones with calluses on their hearts.

“Just come with us. He misses you and it will only be Mrs. Ferguson and us. Brody isn’t going,” Lia tries to talk me into it as we walk down the hall between classes.

It isn’t that I don’t want to see Gav; I do. I just don’t want to lie to him when he asks me how everything is between Brody and me, because I know he will ask. He has asked me the last few times. I have been able to fake my responses then, but I’m not sure I’m ready to fake it now. I know he will ask; he worries.

Mrs. Ferguson drives us there, but when we pull into Pembroke Psych’s parking lot, my heart sinks as I see Brody’s blue Mustang come into view.

Shit, I don’t think I can do this.

I feel my throat constrict as he opens his car door and steps out into the open. He is wearing a black T-shirt, his work jeans, and boots. He must have come from work. I’m hunched down in the back seat until Liapushes the front seat up for me to get out. She looks at me and mouths,“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

Coming under the scrutiny of Brody after what happened between us is making it hard for me to breathe. Looking at him, but knowing that it could only make me feel worse, is like looking at the sun. You know it will burn you but you need to experience it for yourself, revealing some weird sadistic side of yourself. I would think it was a bit of hope, if I hadn’t already used all of mine up.

He is walking toward us with his head down. As soon as he looks up, his stride changes, slows, as his eyes meet mine. Everything from the swing in

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