Unloved (The Undone, #2)

by Peyton Corinne

“Ready?” To see Matt Fredderic in a suit that nearly made me choke on my dirty chai the first time? No. No, I am not.

My eyes track to the corner, where Rhys is still talking with a nearly inconsolable Oliver. He’d been borderline hysterical when we appeared without Sadie, screaming at the nurses not to touch him until Rhys settled his hands on the twelve-year-old’s shoulders and whispered something in his ear.

Fear that only Rhys seems to be able to calm.

I shudder out uneven breaths, holding Liam a little tighter as he settles back against my chest.

Hockey is my default setting. “He says I’m gonna be even bigger than him one day.” Now that I definitely did not say. The little menace. “I did not.” I laugh, shoving him with my knee so he trips and starts up another round of giggles that seem more healing than anything else so far.

“I know,” Rhys sighs, rubbing his eyes tiredly. They’re red, watery, like he’s been holding back tears. Like he’s been the strong captain for the entire Brown family to lean on like a crutch—but he’s barely sturdy enough for it.

But I know from experience that Rhys Koteskiy is nothing if not loyal and fiercely strong in his love.

“I’ll call her and take care of it,” I say before poking him hard in the chest. “But apologize now. Rosalie’s the most selfless person I know. She’s probably crying alone in her apartment over that.”

“Rosalie?” he asks, eyebrows raised. “Fuck off,” I sigh. “I’m gonna go, but keep me updated. And take care of them.” “I will,” he vows. “And, Freddy?” “Yeah?” “Sorry I told you to keep away from her. You’re a good friend and Ro seems like she needs that.” A good friend. I smile but it hurts. “Yeah. Anytime.”

I know Ro—God, does it feel good for that to be true, to know her inside and out enough that I can be here, her support system when she’s so often been mine.

“Come here, Rosalie,” I whisper, and she collapses into my arms. I press my back against the door and take her full weight, wrapping my arms around her and kissing her hair and along her forehead while I whisper, “It’s okay. Sadie, Liam, Oliver—they’re all okay. Everyone is safe and okay. You’re okay, Ro.” “It’s my fau—” “It is not your fault,” I say, pushing her away from me a little. “Hey, hey.”

“None of this is your fault, okay? You didn’t do anything.” “I tried to call—” “I know, princess.” I crush her back into my chest. “You’re so perfect, so selfless. You do everything for everyone around you—and tonight was a freak accident. It could have happened to Sadie if she was picking them up, to Rhys, to Anna or Max—any of them. Would you want Sadie beating herself up over this?” She shakes her head, forehead rubbing across my stiff button-down and suit jacket. “Would you think Rhys was bad for Sadie if this happened to him?’ ” She shakes her head again. “Exactly. So let’s get rid of any of the self-blame stuff, okay?”

She’s washed her hair, which takes much longer with her curl routine, as she walked me through it mindlessly once when I asked. She waited after every step for me to get bored, but I could listen to her talk about the scientific process of paint drying without batting an eye. Everything she says is enthralling to me.

However, it means I’ve had nearly thirty minutes to chat and laugh with the kind, gentle woman on the screen. Still, I go quiet as Ro emerges. She’s in the doorway of her bathroom. Her striped pink pajama pants flood her ankles just clearing the length of her legs, while a massively oversized shirt with a bespectacled teddy bear reading a book and bright bold letters saying Beary Yourself in a Book covers her down to midthigh. Smiling bigger, I hold my finger up to the camera and prop the laptop in the corner of her half-made bed. “Is that my mom?” I take Ro’s hand and lead her over. “I ordered you some food to get delivered from The Chick,” I say, knowing full well they don’t deliver and that I used my scary senior privileges to get one of the team freshmen to make a trip for me. “Should be here soon. I’ll leave it outside your bedroom door with a knock.” She looks a little shell-shocked, but not unhappy as she turns toward the screen where her mother is still smiling like she’s won a free cruise.

“Thank you, Matt. I don’t… I can’t tell you what that meant to me.” “Good.” I smile at her gently. “And thank you for the food, too.” I laugh lightly. “The Chick really helps when in deep emotional turmoil. Can’t say how many times I’ve eaten my feelings there.”

There are no real words to say, all of them sticking in my throat. You’re the most amazing, wonderful person I’ve ever met, and sometimes I nearly make myself sick over what I’ll do without you when this is over between us.

Instead, I lean in and kiss her forehead, hard, taking a minute to feel her skin against my lips, still dewy and warm from her steamy shower. The crisp smells of tropical florals and coconut waft from her damp, springy curls into my nose. “You’re perfect, you know that?” She laughs. “Yeah, yeah.”

Flashes of me in this same fucking boat at age six, twelve, fifteen—over and over, with my mom to sit beside me and coax me back to normal. But she’s not here. I have to face it without her. Without anyone, because I have no one— You have Ro. I’m dialing before I can think twice about it, the line ringing long enough that I’m almost sure she won’t pick up. And yet, when she does, I almost wish she hadn’t. “Hello,” she whispers, her voice airy and trembling. “Ro?”

“Freddy, are you okay?” she asks, still whispering. “Did I wake you up?” I look back at my phone to register just how late it is. “Fuck, I don’t even— I hate to ask, but can you talk to me until I calm down? I can’t fucking talk about it.”

“No,” she breathes. “Hey, hey. No, Matt. You’re a good person. The best. You’re—you’re incredible—” “Can I come over?” I ask, my voice shaking, because just hearing it isn’t enough. And I don’t care how pathetically needy it is. She’s so silent for so long, and my stomach sinks, the swimming sickness returning to my gut. “Freddy,” she says, and the change of name, the tone of her voice— Fuck, a knife to the stomach would’ve hurt less. “I can’t— I—” “God— Sorry.” I bite my lip. “Of course you’re busy. I’m sorry—please, ignore me.” “No, Matt, I can—” “Everyone’s really busy right now and I’m being selfish.” I nod, agreeing with myself as the words come out.

I ball my shirt in my hands and throw it hard across my messy room before closing my eyes and letting myself sink further into the shadows of my self-hatred. It’s like greeting an old friend.

I want to roll my eyes—Carmen Tinley wouldn’t take another girl’s side if it was a life raft out at sea. She’d rather drown waiting for a group of young fishermen to be at her beck and call. “She’s a great tutor,” I say. “Better than Tyler ever was.”

Excusing myself to the bathroom, I’d nearly dialed Matt in my panic—only to stop when an incoming call with his goofy contact photo scrolled across my screen: the Hello Kitty tattoo selfie.

Climbing the stairs instead of using the elevator that is definitely not up to code leaves a damp sweat on the back of my neck and an embarrassing heave of my breath before I get to— “Freddy?” Matt Fredderic is at my dorm room door, head tilted back with his eyes closed. He’s too big for this ridiculously ancient, small hallway—all six foot three of him stretched out lazily across the floor, making me wonder if anyone’s accidentally kicked him while hopping over his long legs.

“You scared me.” I shake my head, nose rubbing against his hoodie and his throat. “I thought you… I was worried about you all night, dummy.” I pull away and shove his chest lightly. “I know.” He scratches the back of his neck, face still a little pale as he chews on his bottom lip. “Can I come in? I mean, unless you’re busy. Which…” He smacks a hand to his forehead. “I can’t believe I didn’t think about that. I know you’ve been really busy and I’m sorry I take up so much of your time, but I am doing better.”

“You were asking if I was too busy for you to come in and talk,” I say before grabbing two juice boxes—all we currently have that’s not from the tap—and handing him one. “Right.” He shakes his head, embarrassment coloring his cheeks further. “And I invited myself in anyway. I can leave—” “Sit down, Matty,” I say softly, passing him with a squeeze on his arm before settling into one of the mismatched wooden chairs.

“Matt,” I say. “I called you, like, twelve times.” “Sixteen, actually,” he blurts out, shaking his phone in his hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer. I was—it was a bad night for me.” “We all have bad nights,” I reply. “But you’ve helped me with mine. It hurt not to be able to help you with yours. You hurt my feelings, but you really scared me.” “I have a lot I want to say,” he says. “But I don’t know where to start.”

“How old were you when your mom got sick?” It’s the most direct I’ve ever been about this topic, trying to handle it with care. We’ve both danced around the other’s hurt, both of us desperate only to make the other feel happy—even if that meant ignoring the bad. But this is important. I want him to see me as a soft place to land.

“Tell me about her.”

Tell me about her. When was the last time anyone asked me that? A smile breaks out across my face—even thinking about the force that was my mom shoots a bolt of joy up my spine.

My finger grazes the black writing—all my games are written out on their respective dates. “Oh,” she says. She blushes, realizing what I’m staring at. “Yeah, I just… I don’t wanna miss one, ya know? So I marked them all down.”

Barging into the bathroom doesn’t seem right, but I can’t stop myself. Steam billows around me as I cover my eyes and blurt out, “Do you like me?” “Matty? What are you doing?” “Do you like me? Do you have feelings for me?”

“Matt,” she breathes, eyes softening. “Of course I like you. There’s no part of you I wouldn’t like.”

pretty face, muscular body, objectively white-boy attractive.

I think you’d be really easy to love. Loving Rosalie Shariff would be the easiest thing I’ve ever done—I know, because I’m already doing it.

I think loving you would be the greatest thing in my life.

“I would like to do these things on your list with you. I would love it, actually. But only if you want to. Do you want to try one with me?” His voice is soft. I feel a little bit like crying. “Now?” He shrugs with a weak smile. “Yeah. Why not? If I’m the one you want to do these things with, then the only thing that’ll stop us is you, because we’re in this together. But you’re in control of our direction, Ro.” His words are lovely, gentle. But something about it is wrong. I feel it like a pinch to my arm. “What about you?” “Me? What about me?” He’s still smiling—dopey-eyed and boyishly handsome.

“And I might not be good at it, so… I’m sorry if I mess it up.” He’s kinder than Tyler ever was to me.

“You won’t,” I say calmly. He winces. “I might.” “By your logic,” I say, stepping closer, “I will definitely mess it up.” “You?” He shakes his head vehemently. “Never.” I raise my eyebrows at him, extending my arms as if to say, see?

I’ve got a date with Rosalie Shariff. I’m beaming inside, even if it’s slightly dimmed with a pinch of anxiety. I’m determined to be good enough.

“You bringing me all the way out here to kill me in the freezing cold?”

“It’s not even snowing yet—” My eyes scan her. “I thought you were a California girl.” “Maybe I’m not a baby when it comes to the cold,” she says before opening her door and hopping out into the frigid night. Chuckling under my breath, I follow her lead and wrap my arm around her against the whipping wind. “Jesus, it’s cold. Sorry to ruin your fun, princess, but I think I’ll be frozen before you have a chance to murder me Saw style in this creepy building.”

need—” He looks around desperately, and for a second I think he might run despite being half an hour from campus. “I need to go home. Can we go home?” Pressure builds behind my eyes and ears, and I blink away the tears. I don’t want to startle or upset him further. I want him to be okay. He looks like he accidentally killed someone, not like he got a little too intense while making out. Something more is wrong. “Yes. Do you want me to drive?” “No.” He shakes his head, then dips his chin to his chest and wipes his eyes. “But I don’t think I can,” he whispers, voice small and broken, like a scared child.

“You said you wouldn’t push me out,” I call toward him, a little thread of panic pulling in my chest. “Trust me, this is one thing you really don’t want to know.” Matt lets out a bitter laugh. “You’d hate me.”

He clears his throat before quietly offering, “Sometimes the people we love most hurt us the easiest, even if they don’t mean to.” I pause, struck a little by the statement. “And do you forgive them?” “Yeah. At least… for her. I’ll always forgive her.” He grips the steering wheel harder. “Don’t think I could hold a grudge against her if I tried.”

I’ll be patient this time, because he’s hurting. Deeply—and he’s been there when I hurt, repeatedly. Matt needs someone who stays, who is willing to prove that he is worth it all. That he deserves good things in his life.

“Our pretty superstar needs this. Right?” “Let’s go,” I snarl. “Hurting, huh?” Toren huffs with a Cheshire cat grin. “Just fucking hit me, asshole.” “Sure,” Kane smirks, grabbing my collar and jerking me forward. “But it won’t make you feel any better. Trust me.” “Yeah, yeah.” “I’m serious,” Toren says, jerking me again. “I’ve been doing this for years.”

I’m distracted, so much so that Toren hits me hard enough to knock me down, jumping on me quickly like he’ll follow through. But he stops. “Whatever you did,” Kane snaps, all the enjoyment from the fight rapidly fading. “Fix it.” He leaves me lying there, the dark threat of his words hovering over me.

I know it’s Freddy before he even knocks.

“I—” He stops short, voice thick as he clears his throat. “I’m sorry.” He still won’t look at me. “Are you okay, Matty?” A nod, slow and trembling. He needs someone to care for him, to look after him. So I take his tightened fist in my hand and slowly uncurl it, pulling the bag off his shoulder. I prop it by the door to my room.