Rebound Therapy (Rebound #1) by Jerica MacMillan

you can never be happy again because your fiancé died in a tragic accident?”
    “Something like that.”
    “Jenna, do you hear yourself? Would that sound sane coming from someone else? Think about it.”
    “Brian, I’ve had fun with you. Because of you I stopped thinking about Tom for a while, I stopped grieving for a while, I’ve been happy for the first time since he died, but it’s wrong. Tom’s dead and it’s wrong for me to just forget him.”
    “Jenna, you’re not betraying Tom by having a life.”
    I don’t say anything. What can I say? Maybe he’s right, but my guilt won’t let me admit it. Tom’s blood is on my hands, even if Brian can’t see that. And I haven’t thought about Tom since Brian and I first started dating. In my happiness, I’ve forgotten all about him. How can that be right?
    “Jenna,” Brian says softly. “Please don’t end this. I lo—"
    “No!” I cut him off. “No, don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”
    Brian is just looking at me, but I still won’t meet his eyes. Finally he kisses me on the forehead then walks to the door. “Goodbye, Jenna,” he says just before closing it behind him.
    I sink to the floor, curling in on myself, unable to stay upright any longer. Hot tears slide down my cheeks. I cover my face with my hands as I start sobbing. I realize that I’ve now destroyed the two best relationships I’ve ever had.

CHAPTER SEVEN

    “What are you doing, Jenna?” Amy asks after she barges into my apartment a week later.
    It’s been a week since Brian walked out of my apartment. Eight days since I felt happy, like life was good. A week of punishing myself for my thoughtlessness in forgetting Tom for however brief a period.
    “What do you mean?” I ask, feigning ignorance. I talked to her the day I broke up with Brian, but have been lying low and avoiding calls from her and my mom all week. I went to work on Monday, but went home early and called in sick the rest of the week.
    Amy picks up my left hand and holds it in front of my face palm out so I can see the small diamond solitaire set in white gold glittering there. “Your engagement ring? And what are you wearing?”
    I look down at Tom’s shirt. I’ve been wearing it and my engagement ring at home to remind myself of what I lost. What I should have had, but managed to destroy. What I shouldn’t have forgotten about. I look back at Amy and shrug. She knows what I’m wearing, so there’s no need to answer her question.
    Amy lets out an exasperated sigh and plops down on the couch. I sit down, too, not looking at her, letting my head rest against the back of the couch. Amy surveys the mess of food wrappers and wadded up tissues scattered over my coffee table and spilling onto the floor. The couch isn’t covered in trash simply because I’ve been spending all my time lying on it and I don’t want to lie in trash.
    “This isn’t healthy, Jenna,” she says quietly. I just shrug, not wanting to argue. “What happened? I thought you were moving past this. Last week you were thanking me for helping you meet Brian.”
    Tears are prickling behind my eyes again. I’ve been crying most of the week. I don’t want to cry in front of Amy, but I can’t help it. All the guilt and hurt I’ve been feeling for the last week is still warring in my chest, and it only finds release through leaking out my eyes. I turn my head and give Amy a level stare. “You know what happened, Amy. You were at The Barrel Room last Friday.”
    “You’re really going to let that woman get to you?” Amy’s face is a mix of frustration and surprise. “She all but bitch slapped you at the funeral, demanded back your engagement ring at the wake, and treated you like crap ever since Tom died. Why do you give a damn what she says or thinks?”
    I shrug again. “I can’t blame her. She’s grieving and she holds me responsible for Tom’s death.”
    “I get that she’s grieving, but that doesn’t mean she has the right