The Pact (Winslow Brothers 2)

She can go back to her life that doesn’t include you.

We could get a divorce and it wouldn’t affect Daisy’s immigration status. I know this because I already did my research. She’ll be free to continue on with the process and eventually get citizenship in a few years if she wants.

She won’t need you anymore.

I place a hand to my chest when a sharp pang shoots beneath my ribs. Everything inside me feels as if it’s ripping apart at the seams.

“Just let me go, Flynn,” she says, and her voice shakes when the words leave her lips.

No. I’m not ready to let her go.

“Your interview is tomorrow. We can talk again after,” I force myself to concede through a throat so tight it’s hard to breathe. I grab her hand and turn to walk to the apartment, but she yanks out of my hold and effectively spins me back around to face her. Her eyes are pained and her body is crippled under the weight of her yell as she leans forward and roars.

“I don’t give a shit about the interview!”

“You’ve got to be shitting me right now, Daisy. All of this…everything we’ve been through… It’s for nothing?”

Her whole jaw shakes as she buckles on a sob, and it’s all I can do not to reach out and gather her in my arms. It’d be a wasted effort, I know, because with the way she’s lashing out right now, I know there’s no way she’d let me.

“So, that’s it? You’re just done. After everything you’ve been through, we’ve been through, you’re just going to, what? Walk away? Go back to Canada? Give up everything?”

“I’m sorry,” she says, swiping angrily at her tear-soaked cheeks. I step forward, desperate enough to provide her comfort that I have to try, but she’s having none of it.

Two more steps back and she’s put even more distance between us.

“I’ll stay in a hotel until I make arrangements to go back to Canada. And I’ll send someone to get all my stuff from your apartment. I promise, this will be the last time you have to deal with me and my problems.”

“What the fuck?” I question, and the calm of my voice is long gone. “I have no idea what brought this on, but it’s fucking irrational, and you know it. You’re not thinking clearly about this.”

“Not thinking clearly?” she retorts with wide, blazing eyes. “I’ve caused a fucking disaster with your family. Your mom, Sophie, Winnie, they’re going to be devasted when they find out that we’ve been lying to them the whole time. Trust me, I’m thinking clearly.”

“So, that’s it, then? Your mind is made up, and you’re just going to walk away from everything?” Walk away from me?

“I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me for dragging you into this. I hope one day your family will understand that I really do care about them and I never intended to hurt them.”

I can’t fucking believe it. She’s actually saying goodbye right now.

And I fucking hate it.

“Dais—”

“I’m so sorry, Flynn,” she whispers, and without another word, she turns around and walks away. Down the street, and across at the light, I watch her retreating back until my chest feels like it’s going to explode.

Every cell inside my body wants me to follow her. To chase her down. But for some reason, I just stand there, frozen to my spot, and watch her walk away until she’s just a blip in the darkness.

Until she’s completely gone and all I can do is head home. Alone.

Daisy

I can’t stop crying.

Not when I told Flynn goodbye. Not when I walked around New York like a vagabond in the night, unsure of where to go or what to do. And definitely not when I finally gave up and checked in to the first hotel I spotted.

Luckily, the receptionist at the Holiday Inn Express paid my emotions no attention and let me book a room.

I hold the keycard in front of the door handle, and once the light beeps green, I push inside, only to snag my heel on the threshold and force my body to catapult forward. With a panicked hand to the wall, I just barely prevent myself from eating carpet.

Fantastic. Someone just snap my picture and plaster my face right above Webster’s definition of disaster.

I throw myself onto the hotel bed, shove my face into one of the pillows, and groan. I can’t be sure, but I think I fucked up. Big-time.

Oh, you definitely fucked up. You’re an idiot for walking away from him like that.

I feel like a big fat coward. Like someone who ran away from her problems and left Flynn to deal with the aftermath by himself.

Hmmm…ran away from her problems? This sounds oddly familiar…

I turn onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have just left him like that. I should’ve stayed and been there when his family finds out the truth.