“Sometimes that's worse. When they are dead, you know that's it. There is finality about it. Everything you wanted to say; needed to hear. All those moments that you want to run over again live on in you, but die with them. It’s done.” His weary shoulders lift with a defeat that resonates through me. “It’s a different kind of heartache. This kind, the one you're fighting,”—his fingers squeeze my shoulder—“it’s eating away at you. The antidote is wandering around elsewhere, and you know you can’t take it because it isn’t for you anymore.” My boss's words rupture the last shred of composure I have. I break down, sobbing into his chest, and he holds me tightly, rubbing my back. “Let it out. It feels better to let it out, love. It’s time to get your fire back.”
I cry for an age, allowing everything to unfurl like a turbulent wave crashing into the shore, drying me from the inside out. My shoulders shudder, and my lax body welcomes the physical contact. “This is really unprofessional of me. I'm so sorry, Barry.” I mop up my tears, sniffling.
“I was expecting it at some point. Why don’t you take the afternoon off?” Concerned eyes urge me to take the time.
“We’re too busy. Saturdays are mayhem,” I reason. I'm also better when I’m busy.
“We’ll manage.”
I shake my head and right myself. I do feel a little lighter, wrung out, but lighter. “Let me freshen up, and I’ll be okay to carry on,” I assure him, patting my swollen eyes dry.
My boss sighs and rubs my back. “Well, the offer stands if you need to call it a day.” I follow Barry back inside and slip into the bathroom to wash my face. Annabelle and I have a few items of makeup stored in here, so I apply a little concealer and lip balm, pinching some colour back into my cheeks, but nothing can disguise the heartache I’m wrestling with. Sucking in a deep breath, I set my shoulders and search for the fire Barry was talking about. It’s nothing but a flicker, but I smile when I feel it. Twisting my hair into a bun, I exit the bathroom, coming face to face with Cain’s bright cobalt-blue eyes.
Chapter34
Cain
“It’s up here. Pull over!” Perry argues, pointing across my line of sight. I waft his arm away and indicate across the road as a bus sidles past and a small cafe appears down the road. His arm blocks my view once more when he points, thinking I’m going to miss it. “That’s it!” he exclaims.
Amberley screams when I swerve, and I thrust him back into the seat, scowling. “Don’t ever consider becoming an instructor. You’d cause more crashes than stop them,” I mutter darkly.
“Sorry.” He slumps. “I'm excited to see our girl,” he professes, and my fingers grip the wheel with trepidation.
“Yes, well, she is likely to be happy to see you,” I mutter.
“I don’t know,” he replies as I find a parking space. “She wasn’t that chatty last time we spoke.”
“She seemed okay when I spoke to her on Thursday,” Amberley pipes up. “She usually finishes around four. Hopefully, Barry will let her have the afternoon off.” I cannot remember a single moment when I was as terrified as I am now. Walking away from Lauren was, in some ways, as painful as losing my father. The possibility of losing her, no matter how small, had been enough to shake me into a frenzy of chaotic thoughts and irrational decision-making. I needed to protect her, and removing her from the equation entirely seemed like the best option. She’d never have agreed to it if I’d tried to send her away. It was the right decision. Royce backed away, the media had all but forgotten about her as the court case erupted, and my stepfather was charged on all accounts. Dragging him to a slow and long demise had suddenly felt unnecessary.
I just wanted my girl back.
Winning it all back and destroying him hadn’t been a triumph because I’d lost something I truly didn’t believe I could get back. I’d broken her heart.
Reputation, money, and property were easy to come by, but Lauren wasn’t someone to be bought. I couldn’t coerce or manipulate her—negotiation was futile. I’d seen the hurt on her face when I left—mirrored it as I staggered through the ward, anxiety crippling me. My own heart had shattered at seeing her injured, and it triggered a panicked response, reminding me of my father. The smell, her ashen face, and wide terror-filled eyes. It haunted me just as my father’s suicide does. I’d never been prepared for the anguish and fear that would evoke.
I stare at the cafe a few feet away, and her animal-like wail as I’d left her with her mother rings through my ears, nailing me to the seat. No matter how much my friends reassure me that she will forgive me, no matter how tightly I grip onto the hope that she will, there is a small bead of doubt that has been eating at me all this time. She was wronged once, and I'd done so much worse. She’ll be spitting fire. Poised but pissed. So fucking beautiful that I know I will want to kiss her on sight.
Perry’s hand slaps my shoulder, and I shrug him off. “She’ll forgive you. In time, she will. You knew it wasn’t going to be easy.” He sighs as Amberley exits the car.
“Perry, I need her back.”
“I know.” He rubs my shoulder and pulls on the door handle, but I stop him and swallow roughly.
“You didn’t hear how hurt she was. I really think I’ve fucked it up.”
“She loves you.”
“What if she hates me more?” I voice the one thing that has plagued me all this time.
Perry frowns and twists to face me, blocking out Amberley’s worried face, peering through the window. “She hates what you did, not you. You chased her until you got her, so chase her until you get her back.”
“Yeah,” I reply, clearing my throat and shifting in the seat as anxiety ripples low in my stomach.
“Quit acting like a baby. It’s freaking me out,” he delivers coldly and exits the car. I scowl at his back as I watch them both smiling and chatting on the path, and I suck in a deep breath. Lauren’s strong, but hearing the agony in her voice has troubled me—they didn’t hear her. It made me sick to my stomach. I've never heard anything so raw leave another person before, and I hate myself for it. Hate that the one person I wish to cause no harm, I possibly hurt the most.
“Come on!” Amberley taps the window. I step out, smooth down my top, and adjust my watch. I catch sight of my reflection in the windowpane. I look tired. I’ve aged since I last got to look at my girl. She had tried to call me, and after the third attempt, I’d blocked all contact.
“Still hot,” Amberley mutters impatiently, pushing me in the direction of the cafe Lauren’s now working in. I grimace at the paint chipping from the signage and the red and white check tablecloths nearest to the front window. It’s nice enough, but my girl deserves more.