Fail to Fight (Lessons in Love Book 1)

by Dillon, Maci

  I felt worthless. Unwanted. For so many years.

  The struggle came flooding back. How dare he contact me now. I left town a lifetime ago, or so it felt, and I never looked back. Not once did I search for him, ask questions or even try to find him on social media. It was fucking hard but I did it. That’s not to say I didn’t think about doing these things every damn day, because God knows I wanted to.

  I clenched my right hand tightly around the steering wheel of the car as I sat with the phone to my left ear staring out the windshield, waiting for his next words. All those months I sat broken, waiting, and nothing. Now the simple sound of his breathing through 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 remember 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,” he accused.

  “Are you fucking kidding me right now? He asked for 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. Accusing him of fucking me, going behind his back. It all became a blur. I was embarrassed, hurt and needed to go home.

  Jamie looked around Will to me. “Chloe, I’ve called you a cab. Will can stay here and sober the fuck up. I’ll bring 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.

  Approaching me quickly, he grabbed my arm and roughly spun me around to face him. His grip was so tight I knew I 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 complete 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 mates?”

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

  “Will, stop!” Jamie’s words ring 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 knew.

  “Yes,” was my only response.

  The domestic violence order lasted two years. Two fucking years. When that time had passed, I stupidly expected to hear from him, but still nothing. Eight fucking years he’s been free to contact me and he chooses now. Anger and frustration turned my knuckles white around the wheel, my nails digging into my palm. Part of me wants to junk punch him, another wants to reach through the phone, wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze the life out of him. But there’s another part of me, which has always belonged to Will. My heart. And that part is spilling over with hope.

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

  “I have two minutes,” I tell him coldly. “What did you want, Will?”

  An awkward pause hung between us.

  “I…I don’t know exactly,” he started, “I guess I was hoping we could catch up. Maybe do dinner?” I heard him release a nervous breath 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 could he possibly 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 know? What was his end game?

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

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

  Closure.

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

  So I agreed.

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

  “Thank you, Chloe.”

  With that, I ended the call and sat staring at my phone until Mia 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. All I knew, was I needed closure so I could return to my wife. Wholeheartedly. By Christmas. I’d been avoiding her calls. Her patience was wearing thin with me and she was riding my ass about finding Chloe. She wanted answers and without a doubt, she deserved them. The fact she is still waiting on my sorry ass makes me love her even more. I’ve tried to convince Amanda throughout our time apart that I still love her, that’s she’s the one for me, but I understand she’s worried if all that will remain true once I finally see Chloe again.

  Before the phone call, I was sure it was all about the closure for me and moving forward with Amanda. I was thinking Christmas would be a great time to renew our vows, with all my troubled past laid to rest. I had no preconceived ideas that there would be anything left to explore between Chloe and me, it had been too many years. Amanda was my life now.

  However, I was totally 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 was once insane, but we were both very 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 that night. Because of that, Amanda and I eloped. I couldn’t bring myself to go through another engagement party. Thankfully, she knew my past and understood my apprehension. A shot gun wedding was the best for both of us. I didn’t have the kind of relationship with my f
amily and friends I once did. I lived a totally different life after Chloe.

  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 just forget her, run off and get married. If I wasn’t still pining over her, 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 been sitting 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 part way 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 at the agency on the coast, where I was fast working my way up the ranks in advertising, to arrive in the city, check into my room and be at this quaint little Mexican bar by five. I was ready and waiting. Nervously.

  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.

  Tequila lined the shelves behind the bar, in more shapes and sizes than I’d ever cared to imagine.

  Exactly what I needed to calm the apprehension building inside me.

  Tonight was a huge deal for me; potentially I could be left with my heart in shatters so only the best tequila would do.

  The staff’s tip jar sat on one end of the bar near the entrance, an oversized margarita glass filled with notes and small change. Patrons aren’t expected to tip in Australia, so I could only assume the service here was exceptional. So far, I couldn’t fault anything.

  Booths lined the wall behind me, each one situated by a tall glass window overlooking the bustling city life. It was an intimate setting inside the bar, quite the contrast to the high set outdoor tables where groups of people gathered, swarmed by passers-by on the street.

  A few extra people, mainly men in suits and the women who draped themselves whorishly over them, started to fill the small space now that office hours were over and the weekend had officially begun.

  I dangled my sparkly Jimmy Choo off the tip of my toe while sucking on the straw embedded in my strawberry margarita. Liquid courage. Every nerve in my body was awakened, on high alert each time a new face entered the bar. However, my anxious anticipation was only met with disappointment.

  I quickly started to question whether any of this was a good idea. Will wasn't due for another fifteen minutes, and if I wasn’t careful, I'd be well on my way to tipsy before he arrived. Not that I couldn’t handle my alcohol, but the inner turmoil, the kind that had my stomach doing backflips mixed with tequila on an empty stomach could become an issue if I wasn’t careful.

  "Waiting for someone?" A simple question from a smoky voice I didn't recognize, but instantly wished I did. I swiveled slightly to my left in the oversized bar stool to acknowledge the handsome stranger standing to the left of me.

  My gaze wandered over him slowly, I was instantly intrigued by his subtle confidence.

  I hoped he didn’t find the inspection rude. I did take my sweet ass time after all. Patiently he waited until my eyes reached his for the first time. The relaxed manner in which he stood there told me he experienced this type of response often. His eyes were warm, inviting and the way his knowing smirk shaped his lips made me wonder how they’d feel caressing my body.

  "As a matter of fact, I am. I'm just getting an early start before he arrives." I offered him my best smile before bringing the straw to my mouth again for another hit of courage. Saying out loud I was waiting for Will to arrive sent nervous jitters through my body in a way that immediately had me needing to use the bathroom.

  The undeniably sexy and considerably mysterious stranger ordered his drink as the bartender approached. When his Corona was opened and placed before him, he added, "And a strawberry margarita for the beautiful lady, please."

  His request halted my attempt to escape to the bathroom. Puzzled, I sunk back into the stool. I threw him a sideways glance as I considered his motive for buying a perfect stranger a drink immediately after advising I was waiting for someone to join me.

  As if picking up on my unspoken question he said with a shrug, "What? I'm waiting for a colleague to arrive and didn't fancy a drink alone. Besides, I figured a beautiful woman like yourself shouldn't be drinking alone either."

  The familiarity he used to speak to the bartender indicated he was a regular patron. Judging by the way he was dressed in an expensive, silk dress shirt and equally fancy charcoal suit pants, I was also certain he had to work in one of the offices nearby, maybe even held a high-level position.

  There was no doubt he wore the professional look insanely well. His tie was slightly loosened with the top button of his shirt undone. I couldn't blame him for ditching the jacket in the heat of the Queensland summer. It was mid-December and the worst of the weather was still yet to set in.

  "So, this someone you are waiting for, who is he? First date? Weekly catch up with your gay best friend?” The stranger’s gaze drifted to my partially exposed thigh as he pondered the question.

  Very subtle. I chuckled softly at his attempt for more information about my evening’s plans. "Neither really." It was a vague but accurate response.

  His dark eyebrows rose in question. "Care to elaborate or is that me being too forward?"

  Did I care to elaborate?

  I openly watched as he took the first few sips of his Corona, clearly a man in need of beer. I’ve always been a sucker for a chiseled forearm, and I all but slid from my barstool as the rolled up sleeves of his business shirt exposed the beginnings of a well-defined arm, a slight covering of hair sneaking from the sides of his expensive dress watch.

  My eyes trace up and over his fingers holding the bottle to his mouth, I notice a chunky, three tone, square faced, dress ring; I made a mental note to check he wasn’t also wearing one on his wedding hand.

  My gaze caressed the square shape of his jaw and soaked up the way his lips relaxed around the head of the bottle as he drank. Instantly, the vision had my mind wandering, my eyes traveling down the length of his chest to beneath the shiny leather belt where I imagined his cock sat snug in his boxer briefs. Completely unaware of my reaction to this man, my teeth grazed over my bottom lip, drawing it in.

  “Ahem.”

  The sudden sound of him clearing his throat pulled my attention from his crotch which had unexpectedly started to expand. I was horrified and embarrassed at my lack of subtleness, and well, being totally busted. I was unable to hold his stare once my eyes found his and his full attention was now on me. I looked away and explained quickly, "Old boyfriend, it's been ten years since I last saw him."

  I wanted to shrink away from the intensity of his gaze at that moment and thankfully my bladder reminded me of my pressing need.

  "So how did it end ten years ago? I mean…” For a moment he hesitated, letting his gaze wander seductively over me, “…were you the one who broke it off, or was he?”

  I stared back at the stranger, my fingers tapping wildly on the bar as I contemplated what to say. “We both did questionable things.” I paused awkwardly, then continued, “I guess he couldn’t handle how he dealt with his and he left.”

  The stranger pondered my answer briefly, “If he walked out on you ten years ago, maybe he's not worthy of you today? He
made his choice. It's a little too late for him to realize now that he may have been wrong, don't you think?"

  Wow, presumptuous, bold and cocky too.

  My delicate fingers wrapped around the thin stem of the cocktail glass, clenching with an intensity that threatened to break it in half. My palms were a sweaty mess, my throat numb from the sweet, icy particles releasing from my straw in repetitive bursts of rich, satisfying flavor. I watched as my drink quickly receded; until all I was left with was an empty, sugar rimmed glass. The words just spoken, repeating in my mind.

  God how I wished he were right. Only it wasn't just Will’s mistake to regret. Maybe he regretted not fighting for what we had, maybe he didn't. Most likely I'd never know the truth. But I'd always remember the regretful role I played in destroying our relationship.

  I set the empty drink aside before finally looking up at the man making incorrect and hasty conclusions. "You're wrong you know, it's me who isn't worthy of him. And I doubt he believes he was wrong for walking out.” I don’t blame him. For hitting me yes, but not for leaving me. It hurt and angered me, but I understood. I do however, want to know why he didn’t stay and fight to make things right.

  I was young, naive, and reckless. My own fear of losing my key to happiness was crippling. I felt unworthy of Will’s love; I self-destructed. I broke me before he would ever have the chance. All those years ago I abandoned my right to a happily ever after, and here I am still searching for the missing piece of myself. Only today I'm not staring into an empty bottle of Sauv Blanc looking for answers, I've added some color to my world, now seeking comfort and direction from a strawberry margarita made with the best available tequila.