Love and Heartache (Love &... #2)

by A. J. Briar

  A huge shit eating grin adorns my face while I internally sigh a sigh of relief. Logan pulls me into a hug that literally crushes my insides. I whisper whether he’s seen Isabella, because even though I’ve been distracted, my thoughts have still been all about her. He mentions that he saw her and Roxy earlier in the kitchen, but they both glared and ignored him. We leave Rory consoling the chicks, and head up to check the house. I think I’ve given her enough space for the night, my mind already set that I’m going to find her.

  The more rooms we search, the more I start to internally panic. What are the chances something sinister would happen to her again, probably really slim, but I’m not taking it.

  We pass one of the many communal areas, that are all filled with people drinking and gyrating. I scan the room and my eyes land on a streak of black hair, Roxy. She’s dancing in a group of guys; all are watching avidly, like she’s some sort of snack. I feel Logan tense up beside me, when he spots Roxy put on a show for them.

  Before I even know what’s going on, he’s launched himself over the sofa and into the middle of the chaos. I can’t particularly blame him, considering if that were Isabella, I’d do the exact same. Though my approach would be slightly different, I’d be using my fists.

  One of the guys turn and starts to dance with another chick, which prompts the others to disperse. Logan’s left with a riled-up Roxy who glowers at him. Even from here, I sense this isn’t going to end well. I interrupt their silent glares and ask Rox where Isabella is. She glances around, almost like she expects Isabella to be there. When she realizes that she’s not, she brushes past us and heads into the kitchen. The fear inside me unfurls into more panic that I struggle to contain. Roxy runs from room to room, scanning and searching. I grab a hold of Roxy’s shoulders and stop her.

  “Where did you last see her? Has she been drinking?” I try to control my voice but the worry in it, is as transparent as the vodka Roxy’s been drinking. Smelling the alcohol on her breath, my heart rate picks up, thinking of all the possible situations Isabella could be in. None of them, I want to linger on too much.

  “She was next to me dancing, I swear it. It can’t even have been that long ago as we saw the end of your flirty ping pong match. And yes, she was drinking. How could she not when she’d watched you flirt with another girl all night.” Roxy spits out her words and I find my mind going in circles.

  A nauseating feeling gathers in my stomach and I close my eyes, trying to control myself from either being sick or lashing out, I’m not sure which one. This is all far too familiar, and I pray the outcome is different to last time. Logan suggests checking upstairs and I flash my eyes open, pinning him with a murderous stare. Of course, I know that it’s a possibility that she’s hooked up with someone consensually, but my mind wanders to that night and I find myself racing up the stairs. Without knocking, I bang open every closed door I see, ruining several couples’ fun.

  I have no idea what I’ll do if she’s with another guy, probably vomit and cry, after I’ve dismantled him piece by piece obviously. The guilt eats away at me, the more we struggle to find her. I’m about to tear my hair out when I notice stairs leading up to another floor. The door’s locked but I don’t even think twice, before kicking it in, knocking it off its hinges. Some guy comes out of nowhere, complaining about criminal damage which Logan promptly shuts him up.

  In the darkness of the room, I struggle to see much, and pray I’m not about to walk in on Isabella and another dude. Light filters in from the window, which I now notice is open. The silhouette of a figure is sitting on the slates of the roof.

  Even in the shadows, I make out Isabella’s expression which goes from confusion to anger in an instant. I half expect her to say something sassy, but she turns away, staring out into the night. Roxy goes to move around me, but I stop her, pleading that she’ll let me. She eyes me and huffs but relents, slowly retreating backwards with Logan at her side. Thank fuck for that.

  Walking closer to the window, I hop one leg out of it. I don’t know how the fuck she’s balancing on the roof; the thought is making me nervous as hell. Especially when she sways slightly to the left, I practically jump out of the window, afraid she’ll fall. She takes a swig from a bottle of vodka and grimaces as it goes down. I debate how to approach this situation when Isabella whispers into the darkness.

  “I had another flashback.” She takes another chug and I find myself subconsciously, drawing myself closer to her. “I remember a party, that party. Well bits of it anyway. I remember Seth’s hands on me. I remember screaming. I remember you saving me.” She goes to down what’s left in the bottle, but I knock it out of her hands before it reaches her lips.

  Pulling her into my embrace, I don’t care that we’re both precariously perched on the smallest roof in the world. I feel her tears before I see them, and It just makes me hold her tighter.

  This was exactly my worries earlier and despite trying to give her time and space, I knew I should have just gone and found her. Her tears soak through my shirt and every sob that wracks her body carves up my heart. It’s like she’s reliving it and I can’t even imagine the pain and hurt she feels. Fuck, I was there the first-time round, and it was horrifying. Seeing her in this state is pure torture through and through.

  We sit until her tears run dry; every part of me is shattered into pieces from listening to her in such agony. The music from the party blares under us, and breaks through the fog we were just in. Isabella must realize it too, as she pulls away from me. She picks up the vodka bottle downing it in one and throws it off the edge. A smash of glass rings out from below and I figure that’s our cue to move.

  Isabella stands and sways, my heart falls out of my chest, reaching out to grab hold of her. Her eyes are red and puffy, and they glaze over while trying to focus on me. It clearly doesn’t work, once again she wavers to one side. I practically lift and throw her through the window which she then lands inside with a thud. It isn’t my most graceful of touches, but the fear of her falling outweighs everything else. Climbing back through the window, I immediately check she’s alright.

  Apart from being hammered, she doesn’t seem hurt which I’m insanely glad about. Isabella curls herself into a ball and her eyes droop shut. I slightly shake her shoulders, not wanting her to pass out here. Mentally, I weigh up my options. I could leave her in here to sleep it off, but considering this is some other dude’s room, that aint happening anytime soon.

  “Come on pretty girl, let’s get you home.” I hoist her to her feet and instantaneously, she melts into my side, her eyes open but not with it. Weaving us through the still raging party, I manage to get her out into the crisp night air. Isabella mumbles Roxy’s name and then tries to extract herself from under my arm. I whisper that I’ll text her and pull out my phone to fire off a text to Logan telling him what’s going on and to let Roxy know. She seems content enough, but she leans on me, her feet dragging slowly. Idly, I debate whether to call an uber, but then decide I don’t want to risk her chucking up in the back of a cab. Realizing that it’ll take us fucking forever to reach Isabella’s apartment, I ask her whether she’s happy to come back to mine instead.

  “I don’t care at this point; I just want to go to bed.” I chuckle at her words and then redirect us towards mine. Thank fuck, I live pretty close to party central, otherwise we’d have been walking for days, considering Isabella’s now walking backwards.

  “You know I didn’t even want to go to this stupid party. It’s weird but I knew that there was something stopping me. I just didn’t know what. Now I know.” Her voice trails off as she gazes out in front of her. Unsure of how to respond, I grasp her hand in mine, silently offering her support.

  “That’s what I’m struggling with the most. It’s not remembering everything to do with you, it’s remembering all the pain and hurt I went through. Not remembering allows me to detach myself from the past, yet these memories keep coming back to me hard and fast and I have no idea how to process them
.” I mull over her words and open my mouth to speak but Isabella beats me to it.

  “I just don’t know how to sort through the jumble that is my head. I swear it’s like a soap opera in here.” She giggles which is fucking adorable, and also gives me a chance to speak.

  “Just remember you don’t have to go through it alone. You have so many people here willing to help. No one is going to judge you for how you deal. And if they do? Well, that’s a shitty reflection on them, not you.” Softly, I stroke my thumb against hers, trying to convey that she shouldn’t be afraid of her past. I always knew she’s a fucking warrior; and just like back then, sometimes she just needs a gentle reminder of it. The silence is her reply, but I know she’s contemplating what I’ve said and digesting all of it.

  Neither of us speaks as I let us into the apartment. Isabella looks like she’ll pass out at any second, so I grab her a glass of water and then lead her to my en-suite. She gratefully takes a sip of the water, then downs it before leaning her head back against the mirror, closing her eyes.

  Even drunk out of her head, she’s stunning. I find myself simply staring at her, because how can I not? Her beauty is completely indescribable; words do not do her justice for how beautiful she is, both inside and out.

  She flutters her eyes open, and I pierce her with my gaze. Surely, she must feel this spark between us because I sure as hell can. Involuntarily, I find myself leaning towards her, that magnetic pull drawing me in. The closer I get, the more delirious I feel. Her hands clutch my shoulders and closes the distance between us. I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want Isabella now, but even I realize that this isn’t the time or place. She wanted time, plus she’s drunk so I refuse to take advantage of her like that. I whisper against her lips.

  “We can’t.” Her eyes go wide, and she pulls her entire body away from my embrace. Stealing a deep breath in, she lets out the longest sigh ever before pushing past me and muttering under her breath.

  “Fine. Whatever. It’s cool.” She tosses her hair to the side and then looks everywhere but me. Even I know that that’s code for its totally not fine. I open my mouth to speak but she pinches my lips together shut.

  “Just don’t. My pride can’t take another knock.” I try to speak because it’s utterly ridiculous that she thinks it’s because I don’t want her. Her head shakes in denial, and embarrassment creeps up her cheeks. “Let’s just pretend that didn’t happen.”

  I try my best to convey that I’m doing this because I know she’ll regret it in the morning. It doesn’t work though as she pins her gaze firmly on the hem of her dress, which is obviously more interesting than me.

  “Isabella…” I can’t stop the neediness that creeps into my voice. She shrugs me off in response, avoiding what just happened.

  “Just don’t.” She holds her hand up and then heads for the door. “I’ll let you use the bathroom first.” Leaving me alone with my thoughts, I stumble towards the sink. How can she possibly think that I wouldn’t want to kiss her. Fuck, I want to do a lot more than kiss her. I’ve always wanted to do more than kiss her. Brushing my teeth in record time, I need her to understand my reasoning about before.

  Just as I enter my room, I find a very naked Isabella. She’s shrugged out of her jersey dress from earlier and is slipping her boots off. My eyes trail down her body and it takes all my will power not to reach out and touch her. I have no idea whether she realizes I’m here, but the temptation is too damn real. I struggle to stop myself from stalking towards her. If it’s possible, her body has become even more luscious than it used to be. Biting my bottom lip, I try and think of anything but her, but my mind refuses. She looks up at that moment, shock clouding her features which causes her then to cover her modesty. The action brings my attention to the fact she isn’t wearing a bra. I look up at the ceiling and groan at the situation. Why didn’t I kiss her again? That’s right because I’m a fucking fool.

  I race over to my dresser and pull out a shirt, tossing it to her, so she can cover herself up.

  “Thanks.” The sarcasm lashes her voice while I mentally try and calm myself down. I’m trying to be a gentleman here and do the right thing but she’s making it incredibly hard.

  Taking a deep breath in, I glance back at her. The sight in front of me is even hotter than it was before. She stands next to my bed wearing nothing but my t-shirt that hits mid-thigh. I scrub my face trying to clear the image from my mind, even though I know full well I won’t be forgetting it any time soon. After her earlier unplanned strip tease, I don’t know how much more I can handle. I pull some PJ pants from my dresser and head to the bathroom, needing a reprieve from the sexual tension swirling around my room. I sling them on, then head back out. Isabella is entering the room at the same time, another glass of water in her hand.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I needed another drink. My throat is killing.” Her voice rasps but all it does it make her sound even sexier. She’s pressing all my buttons tonight, and I don’t even think she realizes.

  “It’s fine. Make yourself comfortable. You grab the bed, I’m going to grab a blanket, I’ll sleep on the floor.” I go to move past her, but she lingers in the doorway.

  “I can sleep on the floor. It’s your place, you shouldn’t be demoted from your bed.” I snort, and then speak.

  “Isabella. There is no way I’d ever let you sleep on my floor. So, get your pretty ass over to my bed and that’s that.” She rolls her eyes but trudges forward towards the bed. At the last second she detours to the bathroom, and I leave to go and hunt down a blanket and pillow. Praying Logan will have something, I raid his room and come up lucky. The amount of times Roxy has stayed over, it doesn’t surprise me he has spare shit in his room.

  I quickly grab myself a drink from the fridge, then head back to my room, checking my phone on the way. Logan hasn’t responded but I still fire off another text to him telling him the change of plan.

  By the time I enter, Isabella is already in bed, lying on her side facing the door. Her eyes are closed, but the moment I enter, they flash open. I swear I could get lost in her teal orbs all day if she’d let me, but it’s getting late, and I can tell she needs to sleep. I flick the light off and lay down on the floor next to the bed. It’s uncomfortable as fuck but who knows what would happen if I shared the bed with her. As much as I want to hold her in my arms, I want her to be completely sure; and sober.

  I sit up slightly and peek a glance at her, needing to see her once last time. Her eyes are closed, and her mouth is slightly open, which makes me quietly chuckle. I close my eyes and drift off, dreaming about the teal eyed beauty currently residing in my bed.

  13

  Isabella

  A rich earthy scent invades my senses as I try and pry my eyes apart. One manages to peek open, a decision that I immediately regret. Harsh sun pours in from the window and I slam it shut, squeezing all of the light away. Fuck, my head throbs so I sink further into the softness of the pillow beneath me. I try to remember anything from last night but come up blank. It hurts too much to think right now.

  I turn away from the death light, hoping that the throbbing in my head might subside, when I end up rolling off the bed. A warm body groans underneath me and I squeal, flashing my eyes open. Nathan rubs his chest, his very bare chest, his very tanned toned chest, while leisurely waking up.

  Flashbacks of last night play through my memory. I remember Nathan walking us back here, after I decided it would be a good idea to get catastrophically drunk. That I can definitely attest is one of my worst decisions ever, going off how hungover I feel right now.

  Nathan smirks, popping out his dimple, appraising me from his vantage point. If I’m honest I should probably get off him, but the warmth from his body is oddly comforting. Besides, my mind is off somewhere else, trying to put together events from last night.

  Piece by piece, little recollections come back to me. The guys playing ping pong with the trashy girls we’d seen them with after the game. Roxy tell
ing me to forget them but knowing I wouldn’t be able to do that being sober. So, we hit up the not-so-secret stash of alcohol they keep hidden. I’m now sorely regretting that particular part of the night.

  “How’re you feeling?” Nathan softly questions, while brushing a strand of hair away from my face. The action brings me out of my recollection for now. I groan because words fail me. His body vibrates beneath me when he chuckles deeply.

  “That bad huh?” He whispers in my ear and I shiver at the contact. As much as my body is telling me to stay led in his arms, my mind has other plans. I retreat back to my own fortress, rolling off him, then sitting with my back against his bed, and my knees drawn up to my body. The shirt I’m wearing rides up, so instead I stretch my legs out, covering whatever I can. Nathan eyes me from where he’s slightly sat up now, the action tensing his abs and I tear my gaze away before I get carried away.

  “How much did I drink last night?” I scrub my hand over my face, wiping clumps of dried mascara from my eyes in the process.

  “I’m not entirely sure, I didn’t see you for most of it. But when I eventually found you, you downed a bottle of vodka. So, I’d hazard a guess, at a lot.” Concern, with a hint of guilt, laces his tone while he rises one of his eyebrows at me.

  “Do you remember anything from last night?” His fingers pick at the carpet and the attempt to act nonchalant fails epically. I read him like a book. It’s funny that in some respects, I feel like I know the guy better than I know myself, and in other situations, I don’t know him from Adam.

  I lean my head back, resting it on the edge of the bed, trying to remember more from last night. It’s extremely hazy but I recall dancing with Roxy and some guy wrapping his arms around my waist. The thought triggers the reminiscence from last night, or rather one from all those years ago. One of the memories I know, I didn’t want to remember but I’ve fallen victim to my own mind.