by Kate Stacy
“Do you think so little of me?” I snort in disbelief. “You obviously never knew me at all, Adam. I thought you did. I thought you understood me, but I was wrong.” I shake my head, still unable to believe this shit. “Let me lay it all out for you. I have no desire to move to New York. None. No desire whatsoever to leave the town I’ve lived in all my life. When I started that Instagram account, I didn’t set out to be famous. I just wanted to be seen. I wanted to stop feeling so goddamn invisible all the time. My entire life I’ve lived in the shadows of my sisters. No one ever saw me for me. I’ve always been ‘one of the triplets’ or ‘Madalyn and Camille’s sister.’ I just wanted someone to see me!” I slap my palm against my chest. “I thought you saw me. I really fucking thought you were the one to see past everything else, but that’s just one more thing that I got wrong.”
Tears well in my eyes but I fucking refuse to let them fall.
He does not get my tears.
“I turned down the offer almost as soon as it was made. I politely thanked them but told them I wasn’t interested. It doesn’t mean that I wasn’t happy to have gotten it though. It felt incredible to know someone thought I was good enough.”
He opens his mouth to speak, but I’m not finished.
“It’s obvious you saw the post where I celebrated the offer. Had you asked, I would have told you everything. The only reason I never mentioned it to you was because once the initial excitement wore off and I realized it wasn’t something I would ever accept, it didn’t seem worth mentioning beyond the post on Instagram. I honestly figured you had seen it, but apparently I was wrong about that too.” I roll my eyes and laugh, but it’s full of sarcasm. “It doesn’t even matter. You’ve made your decision and I don’t expect, nor want you to change your mind. Have a good life, Adam.”
Totally and completely drained, what little fight I had left seeps out of me.
I don’t wait for a response.
I leave the room and quietly close the door behind me.
I walk through Three Kings for the last time, avoiding the concerned looks from Cannon and Trace. I see Cannon step to move toward me, but I give him a subtle shake of my head and keep going. They obviously heard the argument, and both look sympathetic. I can appreciate that, but I don’t need their words of comfort. If I stop moving right now, I’ll break.
Adam had my body.
He doesn’t know it, but he had my heart.
Me breaking? I won’t fucking give him that.
THIRTY-ONE
Adam
Speechless.
Even if she had let me get a word in, I wouldn’t have known what the fuck to say.
I stare at the open door, wanting nothing more than to follow her and apologize, but I know she’s already gone. An apology wouldn’t mean shit right now and I know it.
I fucked up.
Know that as well.
Fuck it. There’s no way I’m getting any more work done today. I need to clear my head. Grabbing my phone and keys from my desk, I leave my office and head up front. Exiting the hallway, I’m met with Cannon and Trace, both looking unsure of how to react. One second they look like they want to kill me, the next like they want to pull me into a hug. I’m not wanting either one, so I give them a firm shake of my head, silently asking them to let it go.
I’m not ready to talk about it. Not now. Maybe not ever.
I feel like the biggest asshole on the planet.
I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I should have talked to Presley instead of assuming she’s just like every other woman in my life.
Presley’s different.
I know that, down to my soul, I know it. But I let my temper rule me, let my anger get the best of me. Now it’s too late. She’s never going to forgive me for treating her like she didn’t matter. Not when I know that’s her biggest insecurity.
Fuck, I’m a dick.
She’s better off without me. She deserves better than me. She’s too goddamn good for me.
“You’re a fucking idiot, Adam.”
I drop my head, unable to argue with my best friend.
“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but it needed to be said.”
“I know.”
“So fucking stupid,” he says, shaking his head.
Trace remains silent, but I know he doesn’t disagree.
“I know,” I repeat. “But it’s better off this way. She’ll be okay. She’s better off without my particular brand of fucked up.”
I don’t know whether I’m trying to convince them or myself, but either way, deep down I know I’m full of shit. I know her past. I know her heart, her mind. I know all the negative ways my words and treatment could affect her. I hope like hell I don’t cause her to do something she’ll regret.
“You’re so fucking wrong, Adam, and you know it.” Trace finally voices his opinion. “Presley’s fucking incredible, man. I respected your relationship with her, but if you won’t fight for her...I sure as hell will. I recognize a damn good woman when I see one and I’d kill to have a woman like her in my life.”
“I know. I fucking know,” I growl. “You can’t have her. She belongs with me.”
The instant the words leave my lips, their truth sinks in.
Presley belongs with me.
I already know I’m an idiot, I don’t need the guys to tell me.
She’s different. She’s always been different.
She’s nothing like my mother and sister, or the girls who only ever wanted me for a good time. She’d never selfishly leave me, or anyone else she loves.
Steeling my resolve, I tighten my grip on my keys and head for the door.
“Go get your girl.”
I don’t bother responding. I need to get to Presley and hope she’ll give me another chance.
We belong together.
As long as there’s air in my lungs, I’ll do whatever I have to do to convince her of that.
She doesn’t answer when I knock, but I know she’s home.
Her car is parked out front and I can hear the low thrum of music through her door.
She can’t ignore me forever. I refuse to leave without talking to her, without apologizing.
I knock again, but don’t get a response. I brace my palms on her door and drop my forehead to the hard steel. A muffled sob reaches my ears and pierces my heart. Sighing, I pound my fist against the door, frustrated and pissed off at myself. She’s fucking crying and it’s all my fault. I can’t bear to stand here and listen to her cry.
Taking a chance, I reach for the knob. It turns without resistance and part of me is a little pissed that she left her door unlocked—anyone could have walked right in—but I push it down. There are more important things to worry about.
Slowly, I make my way inside her apartment.
I move swiftly, but cautiously as I move through the apartment. I’m in a hurry to get to her, to pull her into my arms and console her. But she probably thinks I gave up when she didn’t come to the door. I don’t want to scare her. Her apartment is small, so it only takes a minute to find her in the bathroom.
My heart breaks when I see her curled into herself on the cold tile floor.
“Pres—”
My voice gets caught in my throat, momentarily preventing my ability to speak.
The sight of blood beneath her body stops my heart cold.
I find my voice, but it’s low and broken, barely a rasp.
“Christ, Princess. No…”
I drop to my knees hard, barely registering the pain. Ignoring the blood soaking into my jeans, I move to wrap my arms around her. She pulls away, avoiding my touch. It hurts, knowing she doesn’t want me to touch her, but I stuff it down. This isn’t about me.
This is my fault. The blood she’s spilled is on my hands.
I can’t sit here and do nothing. I can’t ignore the fact that she’s bleeding, far more than I would expect her to be. There’s so
much blood...I’m afraid she cut too deep.
Reaching out again, I try to shift her body, needing to know where she cut herself, and how badly.
“Please, baby...let me look…”
I make contact with her knee, but she jerks away from me again, punctuating the action with harsh words.
“Leave me alone, Adam. I don’t want you here.”
“I’m not leaving you here like this, Presley. I just want to help.”
She pins me with a look so full of hatred that my breath stalls in my lungs.
“I don’t want your fucking help! I don’t need you to fix me, Adam. I’m. Not. Broken!” She screams, her voice rising on every broken syllable. She tugs at her hair, smearing blood through the pink tresses.
“No, you’re right. You’re too goddamn strong to break. But you do need help, Presley. You can’t keep doing this to yourself, baby.”
She chuckles, but it lacks any emotion. “It’s the only thing that makes it all go away. I’m not hurting anyone, Adam. Just leave me be.”
I jerk back, stunned by her words. Surprise morphs to anger and I refuse to hold back.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Presley? Is that really what you think? You think it doesn’t fucking hurt me to sit here and watch you bleed? You’re hurting yourself, baby...and that fucking kills me.” Tears pour down my face and I make no attempt to hide them.
She needs to see.
She needs to understand how much this affects someone other than herself.
“I know you’re hurting, baby. I know I hurt you, and I am so fucking sorry. I know you’re scared. But there are better ways to deal with the emotions raging inside you. This isn’t the way, Princess.”
She looks at me blankly, her eyes dark and void of any emotion.
“It’s the only way I know.”
Shaking my head, I try again. “Princess, please…”
“I’m not your fucking princess! Get. Out!”
She curls into herself again, losing herself to the uncontrollable sobs wracking her body. Her movement gives me a glimpse of the blood still running from the cuts on her thigh. Now I have confirmation of where she cut, but I have no idea what the fuck to do about it. She won’t let me touch her, won’t let me help.
How the hell am I supposed to leave her like this?
I can’t. I fucking can’t walk away and leave her crying, bleeding out on the floor.
I promised to keep her secret, but it’s a promise I’m going to have to break.
If she won’t let me help her, I know someone she won’t refuse.
Slipping my phone from my pocket, I send a single text.
Me: Need you at Presley’s apartment. NOW.
I slip my phone back in my pocket without waiting for a response.
He’ll come.
I watch my girl, though it slays me to see her like this.
It only takes me two seconds to realize that I can’t sit here and do nothing, even if help is on the way.
I slide a little closer and hook my arms around her waist, hauling her into my lap before she has time to react. She tries to fight me, tries to push me away, but I crush her to my chest and hold on tight. It doesn’t stop her from trying. I lose track of how long she spends trying to flail in my arms, trying to hit and kick me. It doesn’t matter. I’ll take it all.
Eventually, her body tires.
She doesn’t melt into me like she normally does when I hold her this close, but she’s no longer fighting.
I slowly rock her back and forth, listening closely to every sound that invades the silence.
Her breathing slows to a steady pace, her sniffles stop.
For a second, I think she’s fallen asleep.
But then she speaks.
“Let me go, Adam. Please...just...let me go.”
There’s no fight to her words.
She’s exhausted herself.
Before I can respond, I hear the apartment door shut and I know that help is finally here.
Inhaling deeply, I press a kiss to the top of her head and hold her a little tighter.
It might be my last chance to ever have her in my arms.
Footsteps echo through the apartment and I feel his presence before I see him.
Without disturbing Presley, I turn my head toward the door.
He stands there motionless, taking in the scene in front of him.
I watch as his gaze moves over the floor.
I watch as a lump forms in his throat at the sight of blood.
I watch as turmoil takes over his features.
I watch as pain swirls in his eyes.
I see the exact second his heart breaks.
“Baby girl.”
He rasps the words in three broken syllables that feel like an arrow to my chest.
I swear I can feel his pain in those words.
Presley’s body stiffens in my hold, drawing my attention back to her.
She speaks, but it’s barely a whisper. “No.”
Looking down at her face, I watch as she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.
When she opens them again, I’m startled by the emptiness in them.
She lifts her head and looks me in the eyes.
“I hate you.”
The breath I didn’t realize I was holding comes rushing out and I close my eyes.
I thought nothing could hurt worse than finding Presley broken and bleeding.
I was wrong.
So fucking wrong.
Those words.
Those three fucking words.
They’re like a knife to the chest.
I don’t respond. There’s absolutely nothing I could say or do right now that could make me unhear those words. Instead, I look to Holden.
My eyes burn and a lump forms in my throat, but I hold steady.
My eyes meet his, and I beg without words.
Please help her.
His eyes shine with unshed tears, betraying the firm mask he wears on his face.
A single nod.
It’s my only answer, but it’s enough.
I dip my head and loosen my hold.
She may not want me to help her, but she won’t refuse Holden.
I just hope she can eventually forgive me for breaking my promise.
I did it for her.
I’d do anything for her.
THIRTY-TWO
Presley
Adam walks away without another word.
I hate that he’s leaving, but I don’t want him to stay.
I never wanted anyone to see me like this.
No one was ever supposed to see me like this.
Not Adam.
Definitely not Holden.
Shame fills me as I think back to the last words I said to Adam.
I don’t hate him. I never could.
I fucking hate that Holden is here, but I can’t blame Adam for making that choice. It’s not like I gave him another. He didn’t have it in him to walk away, to leave me alone and broken with no one to care for me.
His actions speak volumes.
They contradict every word he said to me, those hurtful fucking words that set this in motion.
I’m so fucking ashamed of relapsing, so embarrassed to know that they’ve seen me at my lowest. It’s been years since I’ve sunk so low, but I couldn’t take it anymore.
Everything built up and built up.
And I broke.
Everything I’ve tried to ignore over the last few months. Everything I’ve pushed back and choked down. It overwhelmed me. It felt like the walls were closing in. The emotions threatened to drown me, and I couldn’t breathe.
It’s not Adam’s fault.
I didn’t cut myself because of him.
The words he spoke to me earlier simply ignited another spark in a fire that was already raging.
One little spark set off a big explosion.
One t
hat burned everything to the ground, leaving nothing but charred remains and ashes in its wake.
Holden crouches down beside me, but I can’t bring myself to look at him.
I hate that he’s here, but for a second...a wave of relief washes over me.
It quickly morphs to pure, unadulterated grief.
Holden knows my secret.
Holden knows the one thing I never ever wanted him to know.
God. What does he think of me now?
“Presley.”
I close my eyes and hold my breath, but no amount of pretending makes him disappear.
“Baby girl, look at me.”
He tucks my hair behind my ear and takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning my head to face him. I squeeze my eyes closed tighter and shake my head, but he won’t accept my denial.
“Open your eyes.”
His voice is calm and gentle, barely a whisper. The soothing tone helps me to relax and some of the tension drains from my body. I finally open my eyes, but I wish I hadn’t.
If my heart hadn’t already shattered into a billion pieces, it surely would have at the sight of my brother. His face is a mask of pain and tears stream down his cheeks in unending rivers.
I gasp, choking back a sob.
What have I done?
Covering my mouth, I close my eyes and let the dam break.
I didn’t think I could possibly break any more than I already have, but I was wrong.
The image of Holden’s heartbroken face is permanently seared in my mind, promising to haunt me for the rest of my days.
I cry.
Big, fat, ugly, heartbreaking tears.
Holden is silent.
Refusing to open my eyes, I hang my head and bury my face in my hands.
The sickly scent of copper overwhelms me, but I ignore it and give in to the feelings taking over me.
I absently hear sounds of Holden moving around the bathroom.
Opening and closing the cabinet.
Turning the faucet on, running water, turning the faucet off again.
I hear the sounds, but they don’t really register.
That’s why I startle when his cold fingers graze my thigh.