“I’m not sure. Connor is hiding something from me. He received a message while I was in the room, and I swear, the look on his face was thunderous as he read the message. But when I asked him about it, he never said anything.”
“I’m sure it was nothing.”
“I think it was a message from Donovan.”
“What does he have to gain from sending Connor a message?”
“I don’t know what he hopes to gain. He’s still sending me messages when he has no reason to.” I put my phone down on the seat beside me, lean my head forward, and rest it in my hands.
“Ella, we know Donovan is playing games, and after tonight, we can presume he’s upped his game. From his message to you earlier, it’s very clear he knows about Connor’s attack. Is that because he was in some way behind it? Or was it those he owes money to? Now, the one thing I know is Donovan is to blame and not you. I’ve watched you battle with your conscience tonight, blaming yourself. This isn’t your fault.”
I know deep down she’s right, but I can’t help but feel responsible.
I’ve called Connor’s parents. Now it’s time to drop Alex a message.
I’ve seen Connor. He’s got a few cuts and bruises but he’ll be fine.
Straight away there’s a reply.
Alex: Glad to hear it. I should have something positive for you in the next few days.
Me: I don’t want the details.
Alex: It’s okay. I won’t be given those either.
Me: Thank you and I’ll speak to you soon.
I sit upright in the chair and stare ahead, looking at the wall above Julie. I’m biting the inside of my cheek as I think about Alex’s text message.
“Penny for them,” Julie says, walking the short distance across the room and sitting down beside me.
“I wish I wasn’t thinking about anything. There’s so much going on. I’d like normality in my life.”
“Hardly,” she scoffs. “You wouldn’t know what to do with normality. But, all this shit with Donovan, it will eventually disappear. One day, you’ll wake up and realise he’s not messing with you anymore. He’ll get tired of it. Either that, or the guys he owes money to will catch up with him and he’ll be the one disappearing.”
“Maybe.” I shiver at what she’s implying and stare straight ahead.
“Look, if you’re still worried about Connor keeping something from you, you need to just come right out and ask him. But, be prepared that he might not tell you. Not because he’s hiding something from you, but because this is Connor, and he’ll do everything in his power to protect you.”
I offer her a weak smile. Yes, she’s probably right, but what if she’s wrong? And he is hiding something from me.
There’s a niggling feeling in the back of my mind and I can’t shake it away.
“MUM, I’M FINE, HONESTLY. STOP fussing . . . Yes, I’ll see if Ella and I have time to fit in a trip to see you before filming starts . . . I don’t need looking after . . . Of course not . . . Look, we’re nearly home . . . Yes, I’m still looking for somewhere.”
I’m listening to Connor’s side of the conversation with his mum as I’m driving us back to the house. I hope he’s doing a better job of convincing his mum that he’s okay than he has done with me. In my opinion, he’s far from okay.
Talking to his mum, he sounds and looks happier. There’s no strain in his voice, and considering he’s still sore, he seems in good spirits. But he’s been different with me. Something is wrong, but he won’t tell me what it is when I’ve questioned him.
My windscreen wipers swish back and forth, trying to clear the rain that’s falling heavily. Callum brought my car to the hospital earlier on with my dad. We could’ve just got a taxi, but right now, I’m thankful I have something to concentrate on, even if it is the rain outside.
Something has Connor on edge with me and I don’t know what it is. I can pinpoint when he changed; last night when he received that text message.
“Love you too. We’ll see you soon,” he says, ending his call. I glance briefly in his direction, but he’s already turned and is looking out the window. If I’m truthful with myself, he’s hardly spoken to me since I went back into his hospital room after calling his parents. I’m certain he pretended to be sleeping a lot.
He’s going to have to speak to me at some point. Give in and tell me what’s wrong, because right now, I’m beginning to think I’ve done something wrong.
I have though. I’ve brought him into my fucked up life.
No, I didn’t.
I wasn’t looking for anything when I found him, and I’m glad I did. But something deep within tells me the happiness I’ve had recently is going to be short-lived. A feeling of dread fills me as I stop at the gate and enter the code for them to open.
Driving into the grounds, I look over my shoulder and check the gates are closing behind us. I find myself sighing when they do. Connor is still facing the window. The silence between us is unbearable. I hope it’s not like this for the rest of the today because I don’t know how I’ll stand it.
Stopping the car, I don’t even look at him as I get out and walk toward the house. I know he’s out when I hear the car door closing. I fumble with the key in the lock. Why the hell can I not do something so straight forward as putting the key in the lock and open the door?
“Here, let me,” Connor says, taking the key from me and opening the door. I step inside and switch off the alarm, still without looking at him.
I walk toward the kitchen and there’s a part of me that’s hoping I hear his footsteps walking up the stairs. That he’ll go and rest, fall asleep, and wake up in a better mood, because the one he’s in at the moment has my own mood simmering away, just below the boil, ready to explode. But his footsteps follow me. In the kitchen, I switch the kettle on and open the patio doors. It might be raining, but it’s humid.
His footsteps stop and I know he’s there. “Ella.”
I turn to facing him; he’s standing by the table. “What is it?”
“Nothing, forget it,” he says, staring at the floor.
“Maybe we should forget it. Forget us. It’s clear to me you blame me for last night. So maybe you should pack up and move out!” I shout, staring at him, willing him to say something, anything. To argue back with me. At least then I’d know he cared.
But nothing.
He can’t even bring himself to look at me. For the first time in five years, Connor looks lost and alone.
I want nothing more than for him to open up, to tell me what is wrong. Put my wandering mind at rest, but as I take in the sight of him, I don’t think he will.
After what feels like an eternity, he lifts his head. Goosebumps spread over my skin when I see his dark expression. In this moment, I want to take back the words I’ve just said because I didn’t mean them. They were said out of anger and frustration.
“Connor?” I’m scared now, because I see something in his expression I don’t think I’ve seen before. Regret.
I hope I’m wrong, but the longer I stand here looking at him, my fears are confirmed. There’s an unpleasant emotion filling the air around us. And, right now, I wish I had a magic wand to put things right between us.
If only I knew what was wrong.
His phone buzzes from his jeans pocket, and I want to rush toward him and take it, to see who is calling and sending him messages. He shifts uncomfortably and I sense he wants to read the message that has just come through, but he doesn’t make a move for the phone.
For God’s sake. Just read it and then tell me what’s wrong.
Connor draws in a sharp breath and the expression on his bruised face is pained. My heart sinks because I know I’ve said words I don’t mean, but the reality is, this is what he wants.
“Connor, please speak to me. Tell me what I’ve done.”
“You’ve not done anything.” I want to sigh with relief, but I don’t because his mood is still flat.
“What’s wrong then
?”
“Nothing. I’m going upstairs to pack. I can’t be here.” I freeze. “I’m sorry.”
He’s sorry. Is that all he’s got?
“Why the hell would you do that?” I scream at him.
“I’m going to do what you told me to do,” he says, turning his back to me.
“No, you’re doing this because something is scaring you. Your mind was already made up before I uttered the words you and I both know I didn’t mean. Something has frightened you, or someone has got to you, telling you to stay away from me. So why now? Why? You’ve waited all this time for what? To walk away from me. Was that the plan all along? To play me? If it is then you’re no better than him.”
I stand in the middle of the kitchen, deflated at the turn of events. The Connor I know would put up a fight, not run and hide. I hear his footsteps trudge up the stairs.
For whatever reason, he thinks he’s doing the right thing, but deep down, his heart is breaking. I can see that.
This has to be a dream. A hallucination.
I’m frozen to the spot as tears fill my eyes. A deep chill settles over me and reality hits me hard. This isn’t a dream. This is happening because of Donovan Bell.
At the moment, I have no proof, but in my heart, I know this is connected to him. I almost laugh as I think about the turn of events. This could, in fact, be written in a movie script. Scripted reality, the story of my life.
I wouldn’t even need a script to play my own part, because I’m the one who has and is still living through the mess that is my life. Maybe when my life is back to what resembles normal, I should put this idea to Trevor.
I look around the kitchen for something to do. Something to keep my mind occupied. I walk the short distance to the work surface and make myself a cup of tea. I glare at the mug as I put spoonful after spoonful of sugar into it.
I don’t even take sugar.
With the huge mug in my hand, I sit down and close my eyes. I hear Connor upstairs, but I don’t move. I just sit, waiting. Hoping that when he finally walks down the stairs, he comes to his senses and tells me what’s going on and doesn’t leave me. He knows I need honesty in a relationship.
My stomach twists violently as it hits me. I open my eyes and take a drink to calm me down. He’s going to walk away from me, from us, so he doesn’t have to lie to me.
Seconds feel like minutes. Minutes feel like hours.
His footsteps coming back down the stairs grab my attention. I stand with my mug still in my hand and walk slowly into the hallway. He’s standing there, hand on his suitcase, with his back to me.
I open my mouth to speak, but I can’t find any words. I need to figure out what to say to him. He takes a step toward the front door.
He’s really going to do this. He’s really going to leave me. Connor Andrews, the man who waited patiently for me to be his, is giving up at the first hurdle. The man I thought I could trust with my damaged heart. He’s going to walk out that door and take my heart with him.
“So, that’s it? What the hell was all that you just told your mum? You lied to her. You hate lying. Connor, talk to me. Tell me, please?” I don’t even recognise my own pleading voice.
He releases the suitcase from his hand and turns around to finally face me. “I won’t see you broken because of me. I won’t be the cause of your tears.”
“If you walk away now then you are the reason I’ll be broken in two. You will be the cause of my tears.” I don’t even bother to lift my hand to wipe away my falling tears.
“You’re strong, Ella. You’ll get through this mess without me. I’ll only drag you down when I fall.” I take a step toward him. He raises his hand, keeping space between us.
I hate this.
He looks down at the floor briefly before bringing his eyes to mine. Pain, sadness, fear . . . it’s all there for me to see. His eyes study me and I know he’s struggling to walk away. I want him to offer me words of comfort, and for a split second, a small smile graces his lips, and I think he’s realising the mistake he’s making.
Instead, I hear the words I’ve been dreading. “I’m sorry, Ella.”
He turns, puts his hand on his suitcase, and opens the front door then walks away without looking back.
The door closes behind him and he’s gone.
I stare at the door, willing him to walk back through it. When I hear a car or a taxi’s engine, I know he’s gone.
“Damn you!” I shout, throwing my mug of tea at the door. It smashes hard and falls to the floor. “Damn you for not taking the risk and telling me!”
I sit down on the bottom step and my tears fall heavily.
Am I really that bad a person? Do I deserve all the crap that is in my life?
Maybe I deserve it all and more.
Maybe I’m not worthy of Connor Andrews.
If only I was strong enough to say those three little words.
I’M STILL SITTING ON THE first step. My tears have long since stopped when my front door opens. My heart beats fast as I lift my head, but my spirits fall dramatically when I’m met with Julie, her eyes full of the same sadness and regret I saw in Connor’s. She studies me for a moment before rushing toward me, her shoes crunching against the broken mug on the floor. She pulls me to my feet and takes me in her arms.
“Oh, Ella, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll clean up that mess later.”
I stare ahead at the front door that he walked out of as Julie holds me protectively in her arms. I will myself not to cry again. I don’t even know how long I’ve sat on the step or what time it is. What I do know is that it’s still raining outside. Julie’s clothes and hair are wet from dashing the short distance from her car to the front door.
“Have you eaten today?” she asks.
“I had breakfast in the hospital with Connor.”
“Bloody hell. You need to eat. I can make dinner.” I don’t want food. All I want to do is walk upstairs and crawl into the bed we’ve shared. Fall asleep with his scent surrounding me. “Let’s go and sit down.”
She guides me through to the sitting room. “What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Callum called me. It was me or your dad and I think he went for the safer option for Connor. He said you would need me. So here I am.”
“Callum?” She nods. I stare at her. “Connor’s staying with Callum?” My brother the traitor. Why would he do that? I’m going to kill him for taking sides.
“Yes, but only for tonight. I believe he’s going to his mum’s tomorrow on an early morning train. What the hell happened?”
“I wish I knew.”
“Start at the beginning.”
“Well, you already know about the message he received last night. He’s been strange with me since then. One word answers as though he had nothing to say. He couldn’t even look at me when we got home. He says he doesn’t blame me, but what’s the saying, actions speak louder than words? Well, his actions speak volumes. He blames me, but that’s okay, because I blame me too.”
“You are not to blame. Do you hear me?” Tears fill Julie’s eyes as she watches and listens to me. I nod. She understands. She doesn’t agree, but at least she understands.
Five years with Donovan and I never felt this bad about him leaving me. I was angrier about the way he left, but this feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me I might not recover from Connor leaving me.
Donovan used to tell me all the time that he loved me, and it felt nice. I thought we were building a future. I would tell him I loved him on an almost daily basis. But now, I realise I said it out of habit and not because I loved him.
As I sit with my best friend offering me comfort, I know what I felt toward Donovan wasn’t love, because the day he left me, my heart didn’t shatter in two.
Love is waking up with a smile on your face because the first thought of the day is about that special someone who makes your heart all warm and fuzzy. Love is closing your eyes at night, smiling as you drift off to sleep with the same t
houghts that you started the day with.
Love is the undeniable ache in your chest when you aren’t around your someone special. Love is so hard to describe, but when you have it in your life, you find yourself grinning from ear to ear. It’s all the silly things you take for granted, like his hand in yours, or his arms wrapped tightly around you as you lie securely, snuggling into his arms. Seeing his face with that perfect white smile when you open your eyes in the morning light. The strength he gives you when he’s around.
You don’t have a choice in who you fall in love with. It happens when you least expect it. Well, that’s what happened in my case.
I wasn’t looking for love
Love found me.
“I love him,” I say softly, and the smile that comes to my lips is easy as I think about my feelings for him.
“Oh, Ella, I know you do.” My heart is racing. “You will be okay. I know you will.”
My phone ringing in the distance startles us both. “I should go and answer that,” I say when it stops ringing and then starts straight away.
I make my way into the kitchen. Trevor’s name flashes across the screen. I take a deep breath and answer. “Hi, Trevor. What’s up?” I ask, trying to even out my voice.
“I’m glad I’ve finally managed to get you. I know this is really short notice, although it wouldn’t have been as short if you had answered my earlier calls.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Just tell me.”
“I need you on set at eight a.m. tomorrow.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Filming is ahead of schedule. I’ll come around and pick you up just after seven and I’ll hang around tomorrow in case you need me.”
“Okay. I’ll be ready.”
“See you in the morning,” he says, and ends our call.
“Well?” Julie asks as I switch the kettle on.
“I’m on set tomorrow.”
“Brilliant! Or is it? I thought it was still a few weeks before you started filming. Have you even read the script?”
Scripted Love (The Scripted Series Book 2) Page 8