Fall (VIP 3)
“Stop running, John. Figuratively and literally. It won’t work.”
With a sigh, I rest my arm over my aching eyes. “I know you think I’m talking shit, but I’m serious. I can’t go back to Stella and say I’m sorry, only to turn around and do it again when I’m feeling unstable. It isn’t fair to her.”
“So that’s it? You’re just going to let her go?”
There’s a greasy feeling in my throat, and I swallow convulsively. “I already did.”
Killian makes a noise of protest but he doesn’t argue, and I sit there on the couch wishing it would swallow me up. Finally, he sighs and rises to his feet. “If I fall asleep, I’ll have jet lag from hell, and Libby is in the Hamptons with … Brenna. You’re coming out with me and getting some pizza.”
I don’t want to eat. I’ll probably choke on it. “You’re going to nag me if I say no, aren’t you?”
His smile is genuine and kind of evil. “I’ll just call Whip and Rye. Whip has been talking about playing charades.”
“You’re fucking with me.”
“You want to take that risk?”
No, I really don’t. And since I can’t get away from him, I stand. “Fine, I’ll go.”
Neither of us says another word about Stella. It’s as though she never existed. I can see the well-worn road of my old life stretching out before me once more. It isn’t happy but it’s a path I know.
By the time the night is over, I’m so numb, I’m almost able to ignore hole in my chest where Stella ought to fill.
Almost.
Almost isn’t going to cut it. I need my life back. Fear tells me one path to walk on; my heart insists on another. I’m going to listen to my heart.
It doesn’t take me long to call her. As soon as we return from pizza, I pull out my phone. It’s a kick in the gut when a mechanical voice tells me her number is no longer in service.
“Fuck.” I disconnect.
Killian, who’s still hanging out and trying to distract me with video games, grabs two beers out of the fridge and walks into the living room and watches me pace. “What’s your problem?”
I plop down on the sofa next to him but ignore my beer. “She cut off her phone.” Tossing my phone onto the coffee table, I pinch the tense spot between my eyes. “Or got a new one.”
Killian shrugs. “Did you expect anything less? You kicked her to the curb.”
“Don’t sugarcoat it or anything.”
He smiles wide. “No more patronizing you, remember?”
Asshole.
“I don’t know where she is or how she’s getting along.” I run a hand through my hair. “If she’s all right.”
“Stella is a capable woman. She’s been taking care of herself for years.”
I cut him a look. He’s not being sarcastic but it irritates me just the same. “I know that. I just …” The tightness in my chest increases. “I want to be the one taking care of her. Not because she can’t, but because I can.”
That doesn’t make any sense. But I don’t know how else to explain it.
Killian sits next to me, silent and sipping his beer. We’ve been friends for so long, I know how he sits when he’s agitated, ignoring me, or when he’s simply waiting for me to figure my shit out. He’s going to have a long wait.
I blow out a hard breath. “Kills, man, how did you do it? With Libby, I mean.”
He turns his head to meet my eyes. “You mean, how did I let her in and keep her there?”
“Yeah,” I croak. “That.”
Slowly, he nods, his beer bottle dangling between his fingertips. The bottle swings as he gives a dry laugh. “Thing is, I didn’t let her in. She just ended up there. I met her, and she became a part of me.” His dark eyes pin me. “It wasn’t a matter of letting her in. It was accepting that she was already there and going with it.”
My hands curl into fists. “Stella was in. She was all the way in, and I was so fucking happy. No, not just happy, I felt peace.”
“I know,” Killian says in a low voice. “Believe me, I know.”
I snort, but it’s directed at myself. “And I still cast her out.”
His smile is tight and wry. “Yeah, well, no one said it was easy accepting that you’re all in.”
A groan leaves me, and I slump into the couch. “I did a Cowardly Lion sprint out the window, and I killed the best thing I’ve ever had.”
“Pretty much.”
Killian ducks when I chuck a couch pillow at his head. “Seriously, you can shut it with the tough love.”
He snickers, then grows serious. “You fucked up. Everyone does at some point. You want her back?”
“Yes.” Just saying the word dislodges something in my chest, and I take what feels like the first real breath I’ve had since she left. So I say it again, because it’s the only true thing in my world now. “Yes, I want her.”