Losing Love (What Will Be Book Series)

by Laura Ashley Gallagher

  “I will be twenty minutes late for dinner tonight. I had to see a woman about her behaviour, and she’s put me behind schedule.” He lowers his lips to mine, but he doesn’t kiss me like I want him to. It’s soft, but quick, and my head spins when he pulls away. “You look beautiful by the way.” He eyes my yellow sundress.

  “Thank you,” I murmur, and it could be for the compliment or the orgasm. I don’t know yet.

  He chuckles lightly, before kissing me once more, and walking away, leaving me wondering what the hell just happened, and who I think I am for provoking him.

  I slip into my car, wordless and still trembling.

  I lost.

  Although no matter the outcome of that situation, I was always bound to win.

  Chapter Twenty

  It’s 10 p.m. and Carl’s steaks have been in the bin for over an hour, after sitting on the kitchen table, cold and uneaten. The candles have burned out. My anxiety is threatening to kill me, and I’m pacing every inch of the kitchen.

  He’s late. Not like the twenty minutes, he’d told me he’d be, but I-am-going-to-kill-him late.

  No phone call or voicemail with an explanation. Not even a text message.

  There are phone numbers on the fridge. Some names I recognize. Frank is one foreman, and I know some of the guys go for drinks after work on Fridays, but Alex rarely goes with them. And he would’ve told me if he wouldn’t be home.

  Fuck it. I have to do something.

  He better have the world’s best excuse, and he better be in one piece, but when I see headlights from a car pulling up outside, I put my phone back down. There’s no sound of keys in the door, and when the doorbell rings, my heart falls into my stomach. Why isn’t he walking through the door right now?

  I can’t help the sounds of a voicemail listened to too late replaying in my ears.

  Bandit barks, startling me into moving.

  I wanted to kill Alex thirty seconds ago, but now I’m praying he’s okay.

  I dash to the front of the house, picking up pieces of my nervous system on my way. When I pull back the door, I swear I’m going to be sick. The man I was about to call is standing in front of me, with Alex leaning against him, his arm lazily around Frank’s shoulders, and doing little to support his own head, let alone his body weight.

  What happened?

  “Hiya, love.” Frank smiles at me sympathetically before rolling his eyes in Alex’s direction.

  I rush to his other side, throwing his other arm around me for support, and we both pull him into the house. My eyes are roaming over his body for any injuries, but all I find is the smell of beer and whiskey.

  I’m going to kill him again.

  “What happened?” I ask, trying to look at Frank from across Alex’s body. Why does the bastard have to be so big? I’m breathless, and I’m pretty sure, even in his state, Alex would have better luck in supporting me.

  Frank shoots me a knowing glance. “Let’s get him to bed and I can tell you everything.”

  I nod because I don’t have air to form words. I eye the staircase and curse him for making it so big. We will never get him up those stairs. Frank is a well-built man, but he’s no match for Alex.

  “We’ll put him in the spare bedroom down the hall.” I pant.

  Alex raises his head to look at me. Beads of sweat are forming on his brow and when his eyes meet mine, they’re half closed but rimmed red. What has he done to himself? He frowns and shakes his head.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” he slurs, and his legs stumble.

  I grip him tighter to me. “It’s okay. We got you.”

  I push open the door to the spare bedroom with my foot, and when we sit him on the edge, he topples straight on his back with a groan. His entire world must be spinning around him.

  I grab his hand and pull him back up. “No, you don’t. I’ve got to get these clothes off you. Or your shoes at least, and you need to drink some water.”

  He slouches over, grabbing me by the waist before he buries his head against my stomach. A lethargic laugh vibrates against my skin. “Oh, you’re going to undress me?”

  I roll my eyes before smiling my apology at Frank, but he merely chuckles with amusement.

  I bend down between his knees and take his face in my hands, doing my best to keep him upright. My Alex is in there somewhere, behind the glossy eyes, and flushed cheeks, but more than anything I can see his pain. I hate it. There was none of this in his eyes when he was with me earlier. What happened in a matter of hours?

  “I’m going to get you some painkillers. Do you think you can stay awake for two minutes until I get back?”

  He shakes his head in agreement, before rubbing both his palms along his face. His eyes are a little clearer when they meet mine again. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” I don’t know if I imagine his eyes welling up. He’s a sentimental drunk.

  I kiss his forehead. “Oh, I’m in trouble. Alcohol doesn’t diminish your charm. Just stay put for a minute.”

  Frank squeezes his shoulder. “Goodnight, big man.”

  I go with Frank to walk him out. When I look back, Alex is cursing under his breath, his fists balled up, and anger rising out of him like steam.

  When we get far enough I’m sure he won’t hear, I turn to Frank. “What happened to him?”

  He stuffs his hands in his pockets, and I have a feeling he’s as perplexed as I am. “No idea, love. He left the site today for a bit and when he came back, he was like a bull in a China shop.”

  That must be when he left me. After he had his fingers in my underwear.

  He was angry about that?

  It didn’t appear that way today. The logical part of me says it must be something else, while my heart crushes into tiny pieces.

  “Some of the guys go for drinks on Friday evenings after work. Alex rarely comes, but today he did. At the most, he grabs some food and leaves. He’s a workaholic. I’ve never seen the guy drunk, and he’s a big guy. It takes a lot of drink to get him in that state. He was drinking like the bar was about to run out of stock. I’m on early shifts at the site over the weekend, so I told him I’d bring him home. I drove him home in his car, and Jimmy followed behind. He’s outside waiting, so I better go.” He throws his thumb over his shoulder.

  “Thanks, Frank. I appreciate it.”

  He laughs under his breath, shifting back to his feet. “No problem, love. Go easy on him.”

  I wanted to strangle him before. Five minutes ago, I wanted to walk out and let him deal with this mess himself. But something clawing at my chest wouldn’t let me. This isn’t Alex. There’s more.

  When I go back to him, he’s sitting up, but light snores echo around the room.

  “Alex,” I shout, and he jerks awake, mumbling incoherent sentences. “Take these.” I pop two painkillers in his hand and give him a glass of water. He doesn’t argue.

  When he’s done, I set it down on the bedside locker before pulling his shirt over his chest and tugging off his boots. He’s a stupid drunk, and apparently, I’m the best thing that ever happened in his life.

  Charmer.

  “In you get.” I pull back the blankets and cover him when he lies down. I kiss his cheek, grimacing. God, he stinks, but he’s still absolutely gorgeous.

  I will have to stay awake and keep an eye on him because depending on his excuse for this, I may have to kill him myself. I don’t want him dying from intoxication first.

  As he rests his head back, his eyes are already closed, and his muttering is slowly switching to light groans. I run my fingers through his hair. “What’s going on in there, huh?”

  As I try to step away, he grabs my hand, whispering, “I don’t deserve you, Mandy.”

  Pain.

  That’s all I see.

  I press my lips against his palm. “Get some rest.” We can talk in the morning.

  He’s snoring by the time I change into my pajamas and grab a book from his bookcase. I curl up on the chair in t
he corner of the room, relaxing a little more with every page I turn. I won’t sleep tonight. He won’t choke to death on my watch. I stay this way for hours, watching his muscular chest rise and fall with even breaths. I want to climb into his mind and see his dreams. I want to know what caused him to get in such a state because this wasn’t a purposeful thing. I like to think I know that much about him.

  I must have dozed off into a light sleep because when I look at my watch, it’s morning. 7 a.m. I got two hours of sleep, which is more than I expected. I stretch, easing the tightness in my muscles when I realize I’m not where I was when I fell asleep, and neither is Alex. The bed is empty. No sign of him when I sit up and look around. No clothes on the floor. No half-drunk glass of water on the bedside table.

  My legs feel like lead as I drag them out of the bedroom and down the hall towards the kitchen. His back is to me, absent eyes staring out the window. He looks fresher than I expected. Showered and dressed.

  “There’s coffee in the pot,” he says, not turning around to look at me.

  Is he serious?

  “I’m sorry I missed dinner last night. I should have called.”

  He grabs keys from the counter. He can think again if he thinks he’s leaving.

  I go to his side, press my hand on his and take the keys.

  “Mandy, I have a business trip tomorrow. I need to get stuff done today.”

  No eye-contact.

  He’s giving me no clue of what’s going on in his mind.

  I shake my head, frustration boiling. “Yeah, I don’t really give a shit. What the hell happened last night?”

  “I apologized for dinner.”

  “You think this is about some uneaten steaks? I don’t care about dinner. I care about you.” I reach up and force his face down to look at me. “Frank said your mood changed when you went back to the site yesterday. That was after you met me. Have I done something?”

  His eyes widen and he puts his coffee cup on the counter. “God, no. It’s never you.”

  Relief washes over me, but it’s quickly replaced with a pounding heart and clammy hands.

  “I’m going to need a little more here.”

  He huffs and walks to the other side of the kitchen, resting fists on the counter. I go to him and squeeze his shoulder. He flinches and brushes me off, and I can’t ignore it when my heart crushes a little. I fight the sting behind my eyes.

  “My sister, Lydia, she’s sick.” He laughs without humour, anger flaming behind his blue pools. “Scratch that. She’s been sick for months. She’s dying.”

  I gasp, holding a hand over my mouth. He never said a word.

  “Stage four pancreatic cancer. She was told at her appointment yesterday that treatments weren’t working. And suddenly, a countdown has begun somewhere. Six months apparently.”

  I realize now why the look in his eyes is so familiar. He’s fighting with himself, and the agony. He’s trying to stay afloat.

  “I am so sorry.” I don’t have other words, and I hate it because I remember how I hated hearing that after Nick.

  Sorry for what exactly?

  I understand a little now. I’m sorry I can’t heal what broke him yesterday. I can’t soothe his hurt. And by the look in his eyes, it seems he won’t let me.

  “Mandy, can you leave?”

  Instinctively, I step back, quickly steadying myself, and close my eyes like a shield, like I can stop his words from hurting.

  I get it. I get his pain, but it hurts anyway.

  “Don’t push me away,” I beg, clinging to his hands like it will change his mind. Something tormented washes over his gaze. He’s balancing, and the slightest movement in either direction will tip him over the edge. Shoulders squared, heavy breathing, and balled fists. There’s a battle going on within him.

  “I can’t have you here today. You need to leave. I need…” he stumbles over his words. “I need…”

  “Time,” I finish. He’s going to break, and he’s too proud to do it in front of me. “I know.” Reaching up on tiptoes, I place a gentle kiss over his mouth, swallowing a cry when warm fingers graze the back of my neck. “I’ll go,” I whisper, falling back on my feet.

  He doesn’t say another word, even when I feel his gaze on me all the way to the door before I close it behind me and do as he asked.

  ***

  It was midnight when I finally succumbed to my sleep, so I know it’s late when I stir to a dip in the bed and a warm hand on my face.

  “Mandy?” His voice vibrates against my hair.

  My eyes flutter and adjust to the room, but it’s so dark, and when I shift around, I only see the outline of him sitting on the edge of the bed. His hand is on my cheek, fingers massaging my scalp. He’s close, and a tingle wakes my sleepy skin.

  “Hey.” My voice comes out in a quiet moan.

  “Forgive me,” he begs, and moisture burns my eyes. “I never meant to hurt you. Not you, Mandy. I never want to hurt you.”

  My heart twists. Did he think I wouldn’t understand?

  “I’m sorry, baby.” The words escape in a tortured cry.

  I squeeze his forearm, sitting up quickly. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not. In the middle of everything, you were all I could think about. I wanted you with me and I told you to leave.”

  I remember shutting people out. Unlike Alex, it took me a long time to right my wrongs and see what I had done.

  “Alex, we love each other, and you can’t love without hurt sometimes.” His forehead presses against mine. “When we stop trying not to hurt each other, we’ll know there’s a problem.”

  I massage the tension in his shoulders and his relieved exhale sets my chest on fire. He’s in so much pain.

  “Alex, I get it. I really do.”

  There’s a groan in the back of his throat. “Better than most,” he agrees. “I’m sorry I didn’t see that.”

  In one fell swoop, I’m in his arms, laying across his lap. He positions himself, sitting up against the headboard. While he keeps a supportive arm around my back, I lace my fingers in his.

  There’s a long breath and then he starts, “We’re a close family, but it’s always been me and Lydia. For months, even with her treatment, she’s had this crazy energy. ‘No loose ends,’ she said. She was drawing up a will. She was reaching out to people for Ava. I thought she was crazy because she was going to get better. She’s my sister. In my head, there was no other option. And when we got the news yesterday her treatment wasn’t working.” His voice escapes in a low, tortured hum. I don’t say anything and let him continue. “I can’t fix this,” he confesses so low, I almost miss it. “I got angry with her for giving up, but I can’t blame her. I saw what treatments did to her.” He scrubs a shaking hand over his face. “And Christ, little Ava.”

  “Hey.” I climb off his lap and kneel so I can straddle him. It’s dark, and only shadows dance around the room, but I need to look at him. He rests his hands on my waist. “Ava has you and the rest of your family. It will never replace her mother, and it will be hard, but cherish the moments you have. Don’t waste them being angry, Alex. Talk to your sister because the things you don’t say will haunt you.” I swallow the lump in my throat, but it lodges in my chest, ever present.

  His fingers squeeze my bare thighs under the material of his t-shirt I wore to bed. “I should have never let you leave today.” He tips his head down and kisses my hand resting on his shoulder. “You wanted to talk to me over dinner last night. What was it?”

  I bite my lip, hoping he doesn’t catch the wobble in my voice. “It doesn’t matter. You have a business trip tomorrow. We’ll talk when you get back.”

  “Mandy-”

  “It doesn’t matter right now,” I insist.

  “I’m sorry it’s so late. I couldn’t be anywhere without you tonight.”

  When he attempts to reach over and switch on the lamp, I stop him, catching his elbow in my palm.

  “Don’t.” I sweep my hair ove
r my shoulder and lean closer, feeling the hardness of his chest against my breasts, and there’s suddenly not enough air in my lungs. “It’s okay to stay in the dark for a while. Tomorrow, we can face it. Together. But not in here. In here, in this bedroom, it will always be just me and you.”

  His fingers come to the back of my neck, bringing me closer as his other hand cups the curve of my hip.

  “I love you so fucking much.”

  “I know,” I breathe, tears coming whether or not I like it.

  His husky voice soars through my soul. “I need to feel you, Mandy.”

  Pulling away from him, I sit up straight on his lap, feeling him stiffen and strain in his jeans. The air in the room becomes hot, our breathing comes heavier, faster, and frantic as I pull at his belt and unbutton the waist.

  Then slowly, because he needs to feel me. We need to feel each other, and not what happens on the outside. Not what happens when we leave this room tomorrow. I pull my t-shirt over my head, leaving myself exposed, but worshipped by the glaze in his eyes. He fists his sweater behind his neck and pulls it off. My mouth hovers over the hot, hard skin of his chest, peppering kisses over his pounding heart.

  With both hands on either side of my face, he pulls me up, mouth so close I can taste him. And it’s somewhere between a beg and an order when he growls, “Now, baby.” His voice alone makes me whimper.

  He leans forward, arms tight around my body, fingers sprawling across my back, and with a quick lift of my hips, he places me back down onto him with a snarl deep in the back of his throat. He fills me, consuming every inch of my body. And when he pumps into me, hard and controlled, I’m possessed by him, wholly and without a doubt.

  Tonight, it’s us.

  No thinking, just feeling.

  Skin to skin, I rock with him, and he presses his face into my chest. Then his lips. Along my collarbone, my neck, my shoulders, my face, my lips. Anywhere he can. Hot and lingering, branding me all over with his touch. And after each brush of his lips, he murmurs a word that causes heat to swirl low in my stomach and root itself in my heart, branching out to devour every cell in my body. Because I know during all the days to come, in ice and in heat, inside this room and outside, in the light and in the darkness, it will always be true.