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

by Maci Dillon

  “Enough.” He cut me off again. Will was not open to any discussion around this.

  “This was nothing more than a misunderstanding. You both left at the same time and went your separate ways. Whatever people choose to speak of this, it’s nothing more than a rumor. Together we will stand against it. Promise me, nobody will come between us.”

  Will reached for me, pulling me to him. He hugged me like he couldn’t breathe without my presence.

  Delicate tears fell on his chest. I was confused by how he chose to deal with it, but I returned the hug as if my life depended on it. Denial was never a wise avenue to pursue. It wasn’t our style. We talked about everything in detail.

  I was scared about how we would get through this. Why wouldn’t he let us talk about it?

  Communication was naturally effortless between us. I trusted him with everything, and he needed the truth. A few minutes passed before I spoke again. “Will, we should talk about this.”

  He let me go and cupped my face. “No, little one. There’s nothing to talk about. Whatever happened last night never happened. You get me? You are the only woman for me. I love you with all my heart, and whatever has been going on with you, we’ll get through it. Together. I’ve canceled all my work trips for the foreseeable future, and I’ll be at your beck and call for anything you need.”

  Bethany passed me the tissue box, and I wiped away my tears.

  “It sounds as though Will felt threatened, terrified he might lose you and was willing to overlook anything to keep you. How did you perceive his lack of interest in talking about the details?”

  “Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to make of it at first. But the more I reflected on it, if he was willing to forgive, the details weren’t important. I wish I had blurted it out, though. I mean, seriously, how hard would it have been to say we kissed?”

  “Why do you believe you didn’t?

  “I was naïve. Foolishly, I believed Will would never take me for granted if he suspected I’d turn to someone else. He appeared so intent on being there for me, and a part of me was secure in this knowledge.” A sob escaped my chest because he wasn’t here for me now. He broke my heart into millions of tiny pieces.

  “Despite what my parents were going through…” I cried, “… I desperately wanted to believe his commitment signified nothing would ever get in the way of our love for each other. Together we would be strong enough to face any battle and overcome it.”

  Fucking stupid!

  I brought my hands to my face to shield the agony that poured down my face in wet tears.

  My body shook with the pain that released from my heart and seeped out of my body—a myriad of emotions bottled up for way too long. I sat in Bethany’s company and let it all out until silent sobs transformed to high-pitched wails.

  I reached for the throw blanket and brought my knees to my chest. In a ball, I rocked back and forth, weeping until my tears became stains, and my sobs morphed into deep, even breaths.

  I vaguely recalled Lizzie coming home and Bethany leaving.

  “We had a breakthrough today, Lizzie. Chloe covered some good ground. It’s all uphill from here.”

  Six Months Later

  Moving day.

  Almost a year had passed, and there was still no word from Will. Rumors circulated he had started seeing someone named Amanda, but I had no connections to confirm or deny it.

  I opted to leave town and head south to Brisbane. My current employers arranged for me to meet with an advertising agency who was happy to take me on after a telephone interview last week. I couldn’t wait to leave. I was tired of the constant questions, the ridicule.

  I underestimated how difficult it was to start over all alone in a small town. With my parents separated, Mom wanted to sell the family home, and Dad moved away for work. Most of my friends packed up years ago to pursue their education at college. Those who remained recently fled Cedar Ridge for greener pastures with their young families.

  To visit family or friends, I had to travel. Everyone else who once mattered in my life turned their back on me after the debacle with Will.

  I was alone in a world I no longer understood.

  Will was not all I lost that night. I suffered the loss of my baby, along with my self-worth and respect from my peers—people I had come to love as my friends and extended family.

  I would never comprehend why I was the one people hated. I assume it was out of loyalty to Will.

  Whatever the reason, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

  It didn’t make me feel any less broken.

  Chapter Five

  Second Chances

  “Love is not written on paper, for paper can be erased, nor is it etched in stone for stone can be broken. But it is inscribed in a heart and there it shall remain forever.” ~ Unknown

  CHLOE

  Present Day

  Five minutes.

  It’s all the time I had left to submit this week’s marketing copy to my boss before I rushed out to meet the girls for our weekly Thursday night drinks.

  “Are you staying late tonight, Chloe?” Drew, my boss, stopped to ask as he walked past my office.

  “Nope, about to email this copy through to you, and I’m out,” I answered.

  My phone buzzed beside me. The number that danced across the screen was unknown to me but had called numerous times over the past few days. I silenced the call.

  “Did you need something before I go?” I asked, desperately hoping the answer was no.

  “No, I expected you to be on your way already. It is girls’ night tonight, right?”

  I had worked for Drew for almost five years now. He had more knowledge of my life than anyone else, other than my three best friends and housemates—Raven, Kassidy, and Miah.

  I hit send on the email, started the shutdown process. and turned to Drew with a grin. “Sure is. Check your inbox, copy should be there. I’m heading out.”

  He laughed. “I’d love to be a fly on the wall at these girls’ nights. I imagine they might get a little wild sometimes.”

  Drew had no idea. “Not sometimes, Drew, often,” I told him playfully.

  He grinned knowingly. “Be safe and have fun. Catch you in the morning.”

  I stuffed my laptop into my work bag, grabbed my handbag, and swiped my phone from the desk.

  “Always,” I told him as I waltzed past him toward the front door.

  Thursdays were my favorite day of the week and pretty much my only night out. Ever.

  I wrestled my work bag into the back of my brand-new baby, a soul-red Mazda 6, as my phone started to buzz again. I climbed in, and the fresh car smell hit me with force. I quickly turned the key and wound down the windows to let some air in.

  The same number as earlier. Someone was trying to get a hold of me but unwilling to leave a message. I swiped to answer.

  “Hello, this is Chloe.”

  A silent pause.

  “Hello?”

  “Ah, hi. It’s me.” The guy on the other end cleared his throat before continuing. “It’s Will.”

  I took a few seconds to take stock of the words and place the voice.

  It couldn’t be.

  Second chances didn’t come around too often.

  “Um, hi.”

  I had no fucking idea how to respond.

  Why was Will calling? What did he want after ten fucking years?

  Feelings of anguish surfaced within me, taken back to a time, a decade ago, when I was lost. To myself—to the world. Will’s failure to contact me after the assault was brutal. Some years later, the pain of losing him and his avoidance dissipated into anger. I had changed. And not for the better.

  I became complacent with life. I operated out of a volatile mindset with no regard for my own well-being. Daily, I sought comfort from alcohol, drugs, and men, trying to forget the pain caused by this man on the other end of the line.

  I felt worthless.

  Unwanted.

  For so many years.
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  The struggle came flooding back. How dare he contact me now. I left town a lifetime ago, and I never looked back. Not once did I search for him, ask questions, or try to find him on social media. It was fucking hard, but I did it. I’m not saying I didn’t want to stalk him every damn day because God knows I did.

  I clenched my right hand tightly around the steering wheel of the car as I sat with the phone to my ear and stared out the window waiting for him to speak. All those months I sat broken, waiting, and nothing.

  Now listening to his shallow breathing on the other end of the line caused a mix of emotions. Was it a lifeline, a chance at closure once and for all?

  Or was my life about to be shaken up again?

  “I’m sorry to call you like this. After so long, I mean.”

  So much time had passed, yet I remembered it all as if it were only yesterday.

  It was Valentine’s Day. It was also our engagement party.

  There was yelling. People started to wander from the party toward the road, where we stood arguing, causing a scene.

  “You’re drunk, Will. I’m going to call a cab.”

  “No, you’re not, Chloe. You’re not going anywhere without me,” he growled.

  “So, let’s go home, Will,” I pleaded with this man I was struggling to recognize.

  “Why? It seems you’re having a great time with Jamie.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me? He wanted a female’s perspective on what to do with this chick he wants to date. You’re being ridiculous, Will.”

  “Me, I’m being ridiculous?” he shouted.

  “Come to think of it, you and he have always been close.” His words came out slightly slurred, and he staggered one step closer. “Is there something you ought to tell me, Chloe?”

  I’d had enough. It was time to go.

  Jamie broke through the crowd of people who’d descended on our public spectacle and called Will out. “Fuck, Will, give it a rest. You’re acting like a fucking dickhead, man.”

  Will turned on Jamie and flew into a rage. He accused him of fucking me and going behind his back. It all became a blur. I was embarrassed, hurt, and desperate to go home.

  Jamie peered around Will to me. “Chloe, I’ve called you a cab. I’ll keep Will here to sober the fuck up. I’ll drop him home tomorrow.”

  I nodded my appreciation and turned in the direction of the highway. The full moon was out, there was plenty of light to walk safely to the main intersection, and it wasn’t too far.

  “Like fucking hell. Don’t you walk away from me, Chloe,” Will yelled.

  Nobody turned their back on him. Ever. And I’d never had any reason to, until now.

  He approached me quickly, grabbed my arm, and roughly spun me around to face him. His grip was so tight, I was certain it would bruise, but I didn’t show him how much it hurt—physically or emotionally.

  His face. It wore all his rage. I was looking into the eyes of a stranger, and for a moment, a flicker of fear raced through me.

  Between gritted teeth, he seethed, “Is this what you’ve become now, Chloe? A fucking whore who fucks around with my buddies?”

  Fury rose within me at his accusation, and I tried to shrug out of his hold. Jamie raced up behind Will as he continued yelling at me. “I fucking love you, Chloe, and this is how you repay me?”

  “Will, stop!” Jamie’s words rang out through the night, and those were the last words I heard as my legs crumbled beneath me, and I hit the gravel.

  Knocked unconscious by the man I loved.

  I never saw it coming.

  “Chloe, you there?” Will pulls me back to the present, from a memory I wished I never had.

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  The domestic violence order lasted two years.

  Two fucking years.

  When the necessary time had passed, I stupidly expected him to contact me, but still nothing. Eight fucking years he’s been free to contact me, and he chose now.

  Anger and frustration turned my knuckles white around the wheel, and my nails dug into my palm. Part of me wanted to junk punch him and another wanted to lunge through the phone, wrap my hands around his neck, and squeeze the life out of him.

  But there was another part of me, which had always belonged to Will.

  My heart. And it now spilled over with hope.

  “Have I got you at a bad time?” he asked, and I scoffed internally. Was there ever going to be a suitable time for this conversation?

  “I have two minutes,” I told him coldly. “What do you want, Will?”

  An awkward pause hung between us.

  “I…I’m unsure exactly,” he started. “I guess I hoped to catch up. Maybe do dinner?” He paused nervously on the other end.

  He had every right to be nervous. How did he expect me to react to a phone call ten years after he beat me unconscious and ran? I should have been furious, but more than anything, I was intrigued.

  What does he want?

  Why contact me now after all this time?

  “I’ll be in Brisbane for the next few days. Are you free tomorrow night?”

  “What is it you want to discuss, Will? And why now?” Frustration laced my words.

  Did he even realize what he was doing?

  What was his end game?

  “It’s been ten fucking years!” My voice wavered, revealing my inner torment.

  “I need to meet with you, Chloe. There was so much left unsaid…” he hesitated a moment, “… so much I needed to say but didn’t.”

  Closure.

  I craved closure for years, and maybe he did too. It made no sense why the opportunity would present itself now, but I needed this and would be stupid to avoid the chance. I’d forever wonder what if, otherwise.

  “Okay, dinner tomorrow night. I’ll text you a time and a place.”

  “Thank you, Chloe.”

  I ended the call and stared at my phone until Miah called, probably wondering where the hell I was.

  Will

  Relief.

  I let it out with a satisfying sigh as I stared at the crumpled note before me.

  Will,

  Until you put to bed what keeps you awake at night, I’m done. Find her, do what you need, and if you decide I’m still the one for you, I’ll be at my mother’s holiday house.

  Amanda xx

  I found her. And she agreed to meet with me.

  I was both nervous and terrified. I had no idea what to expect from Chloe, but I needed closure before I returned to my wife.

  I’d been avoiding her calls. Her patience had worn thin with me, and she rode my ass about finding Chloe. She wanted answers, and without a doubt, she deserved them.

  The fact she waited on my sorry ass made me want to love her even more.

  I’ve tried to convince Amanda of my love for her throughout our time apart. Understandably, she was worried if it would remain true once I reconnected with Chloe. Until I met face to face with Chloe, I was hesitant to make her any promises.

  Before the phone call, I was adamant it was all about the closure for me and moving forward with Amanda. I had Christmas in mind as the perfect time to renew our vows, with all my troubled past laid to rest. I had no preconceived ideas there would be anything left to explore with Chloe, as it had been too many years.

  Over the years, I had learned to love Amanda, and she was my life now.

  Clearly, I was unprepared for the way Chloe’s voice set my body on fire, the same way it used to all those years ago. Simply knowing she was there, within reach, transported me to a happy place I hadn’t known in a decade.

  Our chemistry and lust for each other were once insane, but we were both older, different people now.

  Our engagement party was supposed to be a celebration, the beginning of the rest of our lives together. I was still crippled with regret about it.

  As a result, Amanda and I eloped. I couldn’t bring myself to host another engagement party. Thankfully, she understood my apprehension.
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  A shot-gun wedding was the best for both of us. I didn’t have the kind of relationship with my family and friends I once did.

  I lived an entirely different life after Chloe.

  Amanda told me on our first wedding anniversary she’d wanted to rush the wedding because she feared I would run back to Chloe.

  Look how that fucking turned out.

  Few people understood how I moved on so quickly, although it took me a whole year, and Amanda was the first and only woman I’d been intimate with since Chloe.

  I didn’t forget her, run off, and get married. If I weren’t still pining over her and reminiscing over our past, I wouldn’t be in the fucking predicament I was in today.

  Torn between two women.

  One who loved me unconditionally, and one who may well despise the air I breathe.

  Time would tell.

  Chapter Six

  Anticipation

  “I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it… the brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.” ~ Nelson Mandela

  CHLOE

  Present Day

  Less than twenty minutes I had sat here.

  I tried to make myself comfortable at the bar by charming the pants off the chatty, middle-aged bartender, but apprehension flooded my body. I was partway through my second margarita, and still my foot tapped nervously against the bar stool. Between my fingertips I relentlessly twirled the small rainbow-colored umbrella I pulled from my drink.

  This was not my typical Friday night, and it was only early. I ditched work mid-afternoon at the agency on the coast, where I recently moved into the senior advertising consultant position and represented some of Queensland’s largest brands. I arrived in the city, checked into my room, fussed over my outfit, and arrived at this quaint little Mexican bar by five.

  I was ready and waiting.

  I nervously anticipated the evening ahead.

  Mexican memorabilia lined the walls—mini cacti decorated the tables between salt and pepper shakers crowned with tiny sombreros. Summer hits wafted out into the surrounding streets through speakers perched high in the corners of the bar.