Surviving His Scars (Angels Halo MC Next Gen 4)

But he didn’t love me.

What if he’d kissed me that night in New York? Even if he didn’t love me, I would have been okay with him only wanting me.

But he didn’t want me.

What if I just disappeared and never came back?

I’d threatened it that night in the club, but at the time, I was only bluffing, wanting him to show some kind of reaction. And while I’d gotten one, it still hadn’t gained me what I truly wanted.

G.

It was time to let that dream go, however. Even though I’d told myself I needed to move on when I left the medallion behind, I’d hoped he would realize he couldn’t live without me and give us both what we wanted.

This time, I knew better, and I wasn’t going to make the same mistake of imagining that G would want a relationship with me. He was just the guy who wanted to protect me.

Why, I’d never know, because I was cutting him out of my life once and for all and wouldn’t get the chance to ask.

I could barely keep my eyes open on the taxi ride from the airport to the hotel where Mom made my reservations. Checking in took a few extra minutes because I was so sleepy, the receptionist kept having to repeat herself before I understood what she was saying in heavily accented English.

Since that first time seeing G, hearing his slightly accented voice, I’d started studying Italian independently, but my head was too foggy from lack of sleep for me to even try to speak or understand it right then.

As soon as I got up to my room, I tossed my stuff on the floor and face-planted on the bed, kicking off my shoes on the way down. But as always happened, as soon as I closed my eyes, my head cleared of sleep, and all I could think about was G.

Swallowing a sob, I sat up on the edge of the bed. The pain in my heart was excruciating, and I yearned to turn it off. Have a single moment where it wasn’t painful to simply breathe. Just close my eyes and not have him invade my every thought.

For a minute, all I wanted was to forget about G.

Scrubbing my palms over my tear-soaked cheeks, I got blindly to my feet and stumbled into the bathroom. There was a huge bathtub and a walk-in shower side by side. I was weak from lack of sleep, and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to stand up long enough to shower, so I filled the tub and stripped.

Pulling off my clothes, I stepped into the steamy bath and submerged myself. Sinking below the water, I held my breath, letting the heat of the water soothe my aching muscles, but it did nothing for the one that hurt the most.

I stayed under until my lungs burned. With a gasp, I lifted upright, inhaling deeply as the water dripped down my face and from the tip of my nose. The tears hadn’t stopped, and they mixed with the bathwater as I leaned back, crying myself into a restless sleep.

When I opened my eyes again, the water was cold, and I was shivering. Pulling myself out, I wrapped a towel around my body and stumbled back to bed. My skin was still wet, but I didn’t care. I fell across the end of the bed in nothing but the towel and closed my eyes again.

My body was too worn out at that point and overruled my brain, refusing to listen to a single thing it wanted to remind me of over and over again. I slept all night and well into the next day, only opening my eyes when a pounding on the door forced me to lift my lashes.

Groaning, I got up and tucked the towel around myself more securely before walking to the door. “Miss Masterson?” an accented voice called from the other side. “I’ve had several calls from your family in America. They are very worried about you.”

Cracking the door open, I saw the woman from the front desk. “Hi, sorry. I must have passed out from jet lag. Thanks for checking on me. I’ll be sure to call them.”

She gave me a tight smile and told me to have a good day. I could just imagine Mom calling her until she obtained a promise to check on me. Pushing my tangled hair out of my face, I walked over to my things and pulled my phone from my purse.

Seeing all the missed calls and texts, I felt my stomach clench, and I quickly called Mom.

“Are you okay?” she demanded in a frantic voice before the phone even had a chance to ring.

“Hey. Yeah, I’m fine. I just kind of passed out as soon as I got to my room and only woke up when the woman from the front desk knocked on my door.” Not exactly a lie. Mom didn’t need to know about my emotional meltdown or falling asleep in the tub. It would only worry her and, in turn, worry Daddy.

“Thank goodness,” she muttered. “I was imagining the worst things, Monroe.”

“I’m so sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to.” My stomach growled long and loud, making me grimace. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten. “I promise it won’t happen again. I’ll text you periodically throughout the day so you won’t worry anymore. I swear.”

That seemed to ease some of her fears, but it was several minutes before we said goodbye. I rushed through a shower and pulled my still-wet hair into a ponytail before grabbing my purse and heading for the restaurant downstairs.

As I waited for my food to arrive, I replied to everyone who had sent texts…except to the one that didn’t have a name attached to it.

The breadstick I was chomping on turned to dust in my mouth when I finally let myself click on the message.