Dax says nothing, so I fill the awkward silence. “I called Gavin. He said it was better for me to stay home. I wanted to come to see you at the jail, Dax. I did. The media… well, you know.”
He nods, his dark eyes evading mine, landing on everything in the room except for me. A trickle of fear slithers down my neck, making the fine hairs stand up. Something is very wrong.
“Your face—” I move to touch the swollen skin of his jaw, stunned when Dax steps out of reach.
I swallow thickly. The tiny thread of fear has now blossomed into a huge knot of pure panic. My heart races in my chest, my pulse thudding loudly in my ears.
“Dax?”
“We can’t do this anymore,” he says harshly, still looking everywhere but at my face.
My mouth is dry, my tongue thick. “Can’t do what?”
No, no, no, no. He can’t. He wouldn’t. He promised!
“This.” He points back and forth between us. “I can’t do this. Us. A relationship. Whatever.”
My entire body burns from the sting of his words, my gut cramping with anxiety. “Why?” I whisper, already knowing the answer. He’s famous, gorgeous, and going to be massively successful. I’m me. A student. A tomboy. A nobody footy player from Hackney.
“You know why,” he growls. “Don’t make me say it.”
A flood of anger temporarily replaces the feeling that I’m worthless and inadequate. It rushes in like a freight train, giving me the strength to pretend I’m not affected by his words.
“Fucking say it, Dax! Don’t be shy. Spit it out,” I hiss. “Is it so you can fuck Lila? Or revert back to your whoring ways? Or maybe you never stopped whoring and I’m the fool who believed you?”
He turns away and I can see his jaw clenching, the muscles in his cheek pulsing under the bruised skin.
“Fine! Don’t tell me. You’re a fucking heartless wanker, just like always, Dax. Hide behind your macho bullshit, keeping everything bottled up inside like a real man, yeah? Why would I expect you to be any different now?”
A flicker of remorse crosses Dax’s face for a split second. It would seem my tirade has hurt him. In the blink of an eye, it’s gone. He’s back to being the man of stone.
“Don’t act all hysterical, Kate. We knew this wasn’t going to last. Yesterday proved that we aren’t meant to be together. You’re too—”
“Fuck you!” I spit out. How dare he think he’s going to stand in my flat and tell me I’m not good enough for him? “Fuck you, Dax Davies!” I shove at his chest, trying to push him towards the door. His ginormous frame doesn’t move an inch, so I shove again, harder. “Go!” I scream in frustration, my hands trembling from the physical effort of holding in the tears that threaten to fall.
I glance up to find Dax staring at me. If he weren’t here breaking up with me, I would swear I see something else in those dark eyes—heartbreak of his own? But no, he’s the one destroying what we have, shredding my soul and letting the bits fly away in the wind.
He doesn’t deserve to look so miserable when he’s the one being so cruel.
“Just go,” I beg, my vision blurry. I turn my back to him, unable to watch him walk out of my life. A tiny part of me thinks this is some sort of joke, that any minute, Dax’s hand will land on my shoulder and spin me around kissing me senseless while holding me in those strong arms.
The soft click of the door closing tells me that it’s done. We’re done. As I sink down to the carpet, sobbing, my life crumbles to the ground. I always knew Dax Davies would destroy me.
I hate being right.
Dax
“Wow, you look like shit.”
“Sod off, Walker,” I snap from my seat in the kitchen. Annoyed, I pour another lowball of single malt scotch, downing it quickly.
“Whoa! What’s with the whisky?” Gavin asks.
I feel my lip curl up in response.
“Forget I asked, man. If it’s about getting arrested, don’t worry about it. Your record is clean.”
“Like I could give a fuck about my record.” I snag the bottle and tip more into the glass, splashing some on the countertop. “Fuck.”