Fail To Fight: A Second Chance At Forever Romance (Unrequited Love Series Book 1)

by Maci Dillon

  I wasted all this time when I should have been falling in love with a little person growing inside of me, celebrating the news with Will.

  “Will.” I scanned the room for a phone. “I need to call Will. Please, where is my phone?” I begged.

  “I’m afraid it’s not an option at this time, Chloe. Perhaps later. I’ll be back to check on you shortly.” She spread the blankets over me, tucked them in at the sides of the bed, and adjusted my pillows gently beneath my head.

  What the fuck was going on?

  What did she mean, not an option at this time?

  “Please,” I pleaded, reaching for her. “I don’t want anyone to learn about this until I’ve had a chance to speak with Will.”

  She nodded. “Of course.” And left the room.

  When my mother came back into the room, I never told her about the baby. “Mom, where’s Will?” I broke down in tears when my mom closed her eyes and reached for my hand.

  “Darling, I’m so sorry. This cannot be easy for you. The police were called when you arrived at the hospital. Because of the nature of the incident, they issued an order restricting Will from making any contact with you. I agree right now it’s for the best.”

  The best for who? I wanted to scream. This was outrageous, a mistake. “I don’t understand. When will I see him? I want to go home, Mom. I need to be with Will,” I gushed, torrential tears streamed down my face. My pulse raced and my vision blurred as I contemplated the news.

  A day later, my world shattered again. I woke with dreadful cramps, and within a few hours, my baby’s heartbeat was no longer. Will had abandoned me, and our baby was gone.

  The news came with one silver lining.

  Sedation.

  They kept me well sedated for the next few days, an oasis of peace amidst the clusterfuck which was now my life. Since returning home, however, I struggled to keep the demons at bay. I was dancing on the edge of destruction mixing pills and alcohol, but how else was I to get through it?

  I hoped to return to work next week. I needed focus.

  Structure.

  I only hoped it would help to deliver me from this hell.

  Four Months Later

  Work had proven to keep my mind off things during the day, but the nights were hellish reminders of the loss. I sat awake in the darkness, a bottle of bourbon by my bed and an assortment of pills to help mask the pain and loneliness. Still, no word from Will.

  Physically, I’d returned to normal, but emotionally, I was scarred.

  Mentally, I was a whole lot of fucked-up.

  Feelings of worthlessness, anger, and poor self-esteem consumed me. When I walked down the street, people who were once my friends gawked at me or crossed the street to avoid passing me.

  I was a stranger in my hometown.

  An outcast.

  Awkwardness followed me. People were unsure how to interact with me like I might break from participating in simple conversation.

  I felt weak.

  Vulnerable.

  A far cry from my usual confident self.

  My breaking point was a few days ago. I was walking past the pub after meeting with a client, minding my own business, when one of Will’s friends yelled, “Hey, Chloe, anyone bash you lately?” They all laughed and high-fived each other.

  Bastards!

  I stormed back to the office and fell in a heap on the floor.

  Unable to navigate the distress, my boss drove me home. Shortly after, I was left to my own devices in the quiet shell of a home that was not my own. I’d convinced my mom I was well on the road to recovery when I started back at work and encouraged her to travel around Australia with her sister for a few months.

  Little did she know, I continued to spiral out of control. Contact with my father since the incident had been minimal. He avoided all questions I had about Will when we spoke, and our conversations became disjointed.

  Struggling with his own demons, he refused to visit the house he’d not long moved out of. I hadn’t seen him since leaving the hospital.

  A few days passed, and I hadn’t returned to work. It was impossible to drag myself from bed. I hadn’t showered or eaten, but there were plenty of empty bottles of alcohol lying around. Vaguely, I considered contacting the office, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak to anyone.

  Colleagues recently expressed concern over my binge drinking after a few late days and no shows. I was bordering on being fired. Still, the knowledge didn’t motivate me. My bosses had offered to organize and pay for some visits to a psychologist. I politely declined. I simply wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.

  Locked away in my room with the blinds pulled shut, the clock by my bed was the only way to decipher the time. It was nearly ten o’clock in the morning. Taking a swig from the bottle and popping another pill, I attempted to sleep.

  The neighbor’s dog started barking with no reprieve as I cozied under the comforter. Not long after, I heard a knock on the door. “Go the fuck away,” I yelled out and buried my head under the pillow.

  The knocking grew louder and more persistent. “Ugh, for fuck’s sake,” I murmured to myself as I crawled out of bed, naked except for scanty briefs and a crop top. I opened the door to find my bosses, Ken and Jackie. They stared at me, keeping their eyes on my face, away from my semi-nakedness.

  They were respectable people who had been unnecessarily supportive of my situation. I didn’t deserve their kindness or their offers of help. “Ah, good evening,” I remarked sarcastically, my smile forced.

  I was numb.

  “It’s morning, Chloe.” Jackie invited herself in and pushed past me to investigate my living conditions. They failed considerably.

  “Oh, it is? I’m sorry, my give-a-fuck factor is all out of whack today,” I drawled, my eyes suddenly heavy.

  Jackie passed me a small blanket from the sofa to cover myself.

  “Why would you, locked up in here? When’s the last time you cleaned?” She inspected me as Ken took up a seat on the sofa. “More to the point, Chloe, when’s the last time you showered?” I groaned. I didn’t need her judgment—I was doing a great job of judging myself.

  “And who do I have to shower for?” I pouted like a spoiled brat, twirling around in front of her, the effects of the alcohol evident to the most inexperienced eye.

  “Okay, that’s it.” Jackie trotted down the hall, following my trail of empty bottles until she found my room. She returned with clean clothes and a bath towel. “Come on, kid, we’re taking a shower.”

  I glowered at Ken, who quickly removed himself from the sofa. “I’ll make myself scarce,” he stated and walked outside.

  “Jackie, I had no idea you felt that way about me.” Thank fuck she was a level-headed chick because my tongue had a mind of its own today.

  She dragged me into the bathroom, turned the shower on, and adjusted the water temperature.

  “Let’s get you sobered up, okay?” I discarded the blanket and peeled out of my briefs and crop, kicking them aside. All professional, Jackie helped me in and out of the shower until I was feeling slightly more human. Then, both she and Ken sat me down to discuss business.

  AKA, my life.

  Ken started first. “Chloe, you’re a valuable employee and a lovely young lady. We don’t pretend to have knowledge of what you’re going through, but we are here for you.”

  I nodded silently and waited uncomfortably for the ‘but’ which never came. Jackie jumped in, “We need you to understand your position is not in jeopardy, Chloe. We only care about providing you the help you need.”

  “What gives you the impression I need help? No amount of support or encouragement will change what happened.”

  I did appreciate their efforts more than they would ever know, but I wasn’t in the best head space to accept how much I needed help.

  “Hmm… let’s see,” she says sarcastically. “Not showing up for work, smelling like a brewery when you do, the dark circles under your eyes growing larger, and wei
ght dropping off you at an extreme rate. This is not you, Chloe. You are better than this. And we have faith in you as a person and an employee.”

  I once had faith in someone too.

  But faith didn’t get me anywhere.

  “We have a few things to propose, none of which are optional,” Ken proceeded to add. “We have taken the liberty to book you some therapy sessions, and to make it easier for you, the psychologist is willing to make home visits. We want you to take a month off work, fully paid, of course, and focus on yourself. No drinking the days and nights away. We want you to eat properly and lay off the booze while you get your head sorted out, okay?”

  What did he want me to say? Apparently, it wasn’t optional. Jackie stretched across the table and covered my hand in hers. “Would you please consider having Lizzie come stay with you for the next few weeks? Her hubby is out of town, and she’d appreciate the company. You two really hit it off when she started working for us.”

  Seriously, a babysitter?

  “She offered, Chloe. Let her help. All we want to do is help you through this. It will get better, I promise. Plus, Lizzie loves to cook, so you won’t turn into a full-blown skeleton,” she joked, lightening the mood.

  “Honestly, I don’t need a babysitter,” I answered, walked to the refrigerator for a bottle of water, and offered them each one. “But I understand what you’re trying to do, and I appreciate it. Let’s give it a try.”

  Tomorrow, Lizzie was moving in, and I was all set for my first therapy session.

  God help me.

  Therapy Session

  “Tell me more about the rumors, Chloe.”

  I sat somberly in the recliner chair of my mom’s lounge room, staring across at Bethany, my newly-appointed shrink. We were a few sessions into my treatment, where each session revealed slightly more.

  I was yet to experience a release, but it appeared to be helping.

  “Will was out of town on a work trip,” I started and repositioned myself in the oversized chair. Summersaults began in the pit of my stomach. I had done the one thing I vowed I’d never do. “I found myself at the local bar, lonely and depressed.”

  I paused, reluctant to continue.

  “Go on,” Bethany prompted.

  “I was sitting there minding my own business when approached by a guy who’d been openly pursuing me for a while. He bought me a drink.” I sighed. “I shouldn’t have accepted it. The last thing I wanted to do was encourage him.”

  I had no interest in any other man. Even now, I am still confused by my actions.

  “What happened after the drink, Chloe?”

  I stared out the window, lost in my memory of the night in question. I struggled to make sense of my mindset that night. “After a few drinks, we left the bar and headed back to my apartment.” I lowered my head and focused on my fingers fidgeting in my lap.

  “The apartment you shared with Will?”

  I nodded, and my eyes drifted shut at the mention of his name.

  “What led to you leaving the bar with him? What were your intentions? What were his?”

  At first, it was all innocent. “There were no expectations, not on my behalf, anyway. I thanked him for the drinks and mentioned I was heading home. He offered to walk with me. It wasn’t far, but it was late, so I politely accepted the offer. Every step closer to home, I became more unsettled… uncomfortable being with him. Hated the compromising situation I put myself in.”

  “When you arrived at the apartment, what happened?”

  “We stood at the door while I fumbled in my purse for the keys.” I was nervous. Unintentionally, I had led him on. Tears welled in my eyes and threatened to fall at the memory.

  “Chloe,” Bethany prompted quietly. “What were you thinking in the moment? Clearly, this memory is hard for you,” she continued. “Tell me about it.”

  “I’d learned a few weeks earlier my parents were separating. I had no idea there was a problem…” My words faded. They didn’t even tell me in person. Will came home from work with the news, wondering why I’d not said anything. I had been a bit down and abnormally subdued, and I guess he assumed it was because of my parents. Truth was, I knew nothing about it.

  “All my life, I idolized my parents… their relationship and love for each other. I wanted it for myself.” I scanned the room which held no evidence their love ever existed. All the photos had been removed, and it was now an empty house without a family. “If their love couldn’t survive, what hope did I have?”

  Bethany sat forward in her chair, her hands clasped together in front of her. “You assumed you’d found your happily ever after with Will. Did your parents’ separation cause you to second-guess those feelings?”

  I pondered this for a moment. “My feelings… no, I loved Will. But fear and doubt started to creep in, I guess.” My parents married young too, and perhaps a lifetime of happiness for Will and I would only last until my forties, like theirs. But I wanted a promise of forever to be forever.

  “You mentioned you’d been feeling off before you heard the news of your parents? Was it due to the pregnancy?”

  “Perhaps.”

  If I’d known I was pregnant, it would have provided me with a plausible reason for feeling so awful. “I became increasingly fatigued, my motivation declined significantly, and I felt… strange. I can’t explain it precisely. I suspected my body was fighting the long hours I had been working.”

  Will misinterpreted my early nights and moodiness as signs of withdrawal. We rarely argued, but my uncanny behavior brought about some trying times and strained conversations. Will began to question my commitment, and I feared he might leave, unwilling to put up with whatever was going on with me.

  It was stupid.

  Our love was more than skin deep, but rational thought escaped me at every turn. “When the news broke about my parents, all those feelings were exacerbated. My insecurities skyrocketed, but I didn’t talk to Will about it.”

  I perceived it as a phase. I’m not an insecure person.

  “Did you ever suspect you might be pregnant?”

  “Not at all. My periods were irregular, and I was on birth control. It was only the week leading up to our engagement party I started to experience nausea. I put it down to stress and lack of sleep.” I also hadn’t been eating well. There was so much to organize for the party, and my work schedule was hectic.

  Bethany took a sip of water. “This is good, Chloe. You’re talking more freely today. Let’s go back to the night where the rumors started. What happened once you found your keys?”

  I shifted in my chair, tucking my feet up beneath me. “I thanked him for walking me home and suggested he should leave.” I had no intention of inviting him in.

  “I pushed the key into the lock and hesitated because he didn’t move. When I faced him, he leaned in and kissed me. Not a peck on the cheek, but genuinely kissed me.” And I let him.

  At first.

  “Okay, how did the kiss make you feel?”

  “Shocked at first. It took me utterly by surprise.” I remember pulling back immediately once the shock passed, but I’d already kissed him. My body hummed with anticipation but was wound tight with guilt.

  “I pushed him away and told him to leave. I was angry at him for kissing me and angry at myself for giving him the opportunity. Mostly, I was disgusted that for a split second, I contemplated letting him in. To our apartment, to our bed.”

  For no other reason but to self-destruct.

  Destroy the fantasy of Will and Chloe before it was taken from me. I allowed feelings of adolescent rebellion to kick in. “But I didn’t, I unlocked the door and raced inside. Alone.”

  “You immediately regretted cheating on Will.” It was a statement, not a question, though I nodded in agreement. Although in only a few seconds, I had returned the kiss. Yes, it could have been much worse, but it was wrong all the same. “How did Will respond when you told him?”

  This is where I royally fucked up. Whe
n Will returned home early the following day, he stormed into the house, hurt and betrayal tarnished his face. Tell me it’s not true, Chloe. His words pulled me from a deep sleep, and I bolted upright, my eyes adjusting to the morning light filtering through our high-set bedroom window.

  “He was armed with suspicion before he arrived home.” I explained to Bethany how somebody spotted us leaving together, and as human nature would have it, they assumed the worst. Will woke in the morning to a heartbreaking text message. He canceled his meetings and returned home immediately.

  “He demanded the truth. I was unsure what he’d been told, confused at first by how he knew.” A lump lodged in my throat, and I sat there in bed, staring up at him.

  Tears streamed down my face.

  I was so confused.

  I was losing myself.

  “I guess my inability to speak confirmed his suspicions. He turned and left the house and slammed the door behind him.” From our window, through a heavy flow of tears, my eyes followed him as he reached the car, tore open the door, and climbed inside.

  Torment twisted his strong features as his eyes locked with mine before driving recklessly down the street.

  “When did Will return home?”

  “Later in the day.” I sighed. “He was calm, too calm, in fact. I apologized profusely, more than anything for not answering him earlier. I tried to explain what happened, but he shut me down. All he wanted was confirmation I was still in love with him and still wanted to get married.”

  Of course, I did. I was acting out of hurt. Typical self-destruction. I didn’t need a shrink to define it.

  I recited our conversation to Bethany.

  “I love you, Will. I promise you, it’s not what you think. I—”

  “Chloe, stop!” His words halted mine, they were harsh and authoritative.

  “This never happened. I will not let this tear us apart. Tell me there’s no other man for you.”

  There wasn’t. “Will, you’re it for me. I swear to you, I have no interest in anyone else. I didn’t—”