Speak (The Voice trilogy Book 2)

by Noelle Bodhaine

  “Well, it seems I can’t do anything right these days,” he huffs, stomping down the stairs, leaving me to finish stuffing my bag. I cannot believe that he is being this way. Irritated and strung high on adrenaline, I lose my focus and stand in the middle of the room, searching for my last train of thought, the next task on my to-do list. I am struck by the starkness of the room, for the first time as I look around I notice what is not there. My room is full of my things, pictures and mementos, things that make me feel comfortable. There is nothing here. No defining items, no personal treasures, there is nothing here that says anything about Rhys. And as I take an inventory, I begin to wonder if I really know anything about him.

  Nadja was right, I only know what he wants me to know, what he has allowed me to see, until she blew it all out of the water. She forced his hand. The whole situation swirls in my muddled head, the sex, the women, the videos. I knew he had a past, knew he had a reputation. But for brief moments, he felt like he was actually mine. That was my scent that wrapped his sweating body after a long session of love making. That was my crooked smile, a mere flash and I forget how to breathe. That was my hard body pressed against his, our pulses pounding to a private rhythm. But she took it all away. She took what was mine and showed me that it never belonged to me. That it never would. Rhys could no more belong to me than he did to anyone else. She was right. He is a man unto himself and when faced with a bigger, better challenge would surely move swiftly to secure the opportunity.

  Who am I kidding? What have I been doing? The sudden threat of losing him for good strangles me and I flit into the bathroom. I don’t want him to forget me so easily. It can’t all be so flippant and casual. I will stay on his mind, as he will surely be on mine. I spray my gardenia body spray into his top drawer and then over both of his pillows before I zip up my bag and head towards the lion’s den. I have to confront him as he tends to his superficial wounds and a bruised ego.

  I stand in the doorway and watch him pace like a wild cat. Back and forth over the heavily worn Oriental rug, his feet beat a pattern that is well paced. He links his hands behind his neck and stretches his neck, closing his eyes and suddenly I notice the dark circles. The shadow of exhaustion and unrest is all over him, from his tense shoulders and locked knees to his white knuckles and squared stance. He radiates tension and frustration and I am overcome by the sight of him so clearly out of his comfort zone, so far away from his normal strangle hold on control. It couldn’t all stem from me leaving. He slumps down in his chair and lets his heavy fists fall to the desk.

  “Damn it,” he mutters under his breath before he looks up and catches me watching. “Come here, Beautiful.” He pulls me into his orbit, trapping me with his powerful legs. He wraps his arms around my hips and pulls me closer, resting his forehead against my belly. “I really don’t want to lose you. What can I do?”

  “There is nothing you can do, Rhys. This just isn’t about you.” He looks up into my eyes, broken. “This is about me. I have to take care of myself. And there is no better time than the present. Please, try to understand that.” His hands slide up my back and around my shoulders before he stands and wraps me in his arms. I press my face to his solid chest and listen for the familiar beat of his strong heart. Slow and steady it pounds in his chest, mirroring the rise and fall of his breath. I let my hands slide around his back and across his broad shoulders. A faint moan rumbles in his throat as I run my fingers through his hair and across his neck. His eyes are smoldering as he bends down and presses his candy sweet lips to my waiting mouth.

  “You will forgive me, Sophie, if I do not give up so easily. Let’s have dinner, put the flight off just until tomorrow,” he whispers, placing a heavy kiss on my shoulder, and another at the base of my throat. “Charlie will pick you up as soon as my meeting is over. We will talk about all of this.” He continues to cover me with soft, torturous kisses while breaking down my resolve. “You don’t have to leave. We can figure this out together.” One last warm kiss behind my ear and his deep green eyes beg for my relent. “Please, Sophie.” Our lips meet and a spark startles me, snapping me into the moment. He is smooth, but I am determined, and feel stronger with every kiss that tries to break me down. “Stay.” One last whisper. I smile sweetly as he grabs his keys, careful not to answer. “Charlie will be back to pick you up, Sophie. We will handle this. I promise. Trust me.”

  At four o’clock, I am dressed and ready, one last check in the mirror, one last check of my resolve and I head down to meet the car, and Charlie.

  “Hello, Charlie.” I love seeing Charlie, he is so genuine and level headed compared to some of the craziness I have encountered in Rhys’ circle of friends. He opens the door for me, as the doorman loads my bags. I whisper my special request into Charlie’s blushing ear and slide an envelope into his hand. “After you drop me off, if you don’t mind, Charlie.” He looks down on the unmarked envelope and struggles to find a smile. I search his eyes for that loyalty I know is the cornerstone of his personality, and he relents, taking the envelope and tipping his cap, before closing the door behind me.

  I sip on my white wine and wait. My hands a restless and my foot taps unbidden at the ground. I am anxious about everything. How do you know you are making the right choice? What if this is a huge mistake? I roll the watch around my wrist, circle after circle, playing with my gift. It is heavy and cold, but it’s from Rhys. Right now it is all I have. The rose gold sparkles against my tan skin, my freckles make constellations around the watch face like a sparkling moon, a ring of diamonds circles a shimmering face of blush colored pearl. Hands point at diamond encrusted Roman numerals, and I couldn’t tell what time it was if my life depended on it. But it is beautiful. The most generous gift I have ever been given and I am glad to have a piece of Rhys as we lift into the air and I leave New York behind me.

  ***

  “Charlie.” Cheeks aflame, he hands me an unmarked envelope in silence, before he scratches his jaw and takes a seat in the booth. I turn the envelope over in my hands, it is not sealed, and there is no doubt where it came from. Her scent wafts from the folded paper within.

  “Did Sophie get off safe?” I slug back the remainder of my scotch and gird myself for his explanation. Turning the envelope over in my hand, I do not want to read it for fear that it says, what I know it says. She is gone. She left, I never thought she would really leave.

  Shaking his head in confusion, he tries to explain, but there is nothing to be said, she made her choice. I drop my fist to the table with more force than I mean to, knocking the glasses about. Charlie’s eyes grow wide and I put my hands up in surrender, in apology, I don’t know, in disbelief. She has changed her mind. I don’t bother with the envelope or what is inside, I can guess. I stuff it into the inside pocket of my jacket and head for the car with Charlie in tow.

  Chapter 17

  I took his touch when I left. Ghostly whispers of his finger skating across my heated skin woke me from a deep, unsettling sleep for the first few nights. Melissa also tagged along. Her deep brown eyes mocking me from behind my own lids, her face full of pleasure, her mouth full of rubber.

  It took more than a week for the fog to lift. Rhys has that effect on me, a respite that I need to recover from, stripping me of good sense and a strong will. Yet, even as I open my eyes to the rising autumn sun, my mind is shrouded in thoughts of him, his fingers brushing the hair from my face, his lips soft and wet on the curve of my back, his strong hands holding my hips as he plunders my body. I miss him. I reach for my vibrating phone and another sign that I made the wrong choice.

  Good Morning, Beautiful. I don’t know about you, but I have not been sleeping well, my bed feels so empty without you, my house so cold. Although I have tried to do as you wish, I find my desire for you cannot be denied. You are the one thing in this life that has allowed me the possibility of being something different, someone different. I would be a fool to let you go, it would be to abandon the very possibility of my better self.


  A variation of the same message, every morning since I left. I thought being away from him would afford me a little clarity, that I would discover in the bright light of a Rhys free day that I didn’t really need him, that it was all contrived, not real. But it is real. It is so real I can taste his skin on my tongue. I hear his voice in my dreams. This is real. And suddenly I want to drop everything and run. Run back to New York, back into his arms and apologize. Apologize for leaving, forever thinking that I could fight this, for ever denying that I needed him.

  I sit up and call him immediately.

  “Good Morning, Beautiful.” His warm voice slides through the phone and he comes rushing back into my bloodstream. Like a shot of adrenaline, my heart beats stronger and I am alive again. I didn’t realize how much I missed him, missed that voice. I need to hear him, for him to call me Beautiful every day. I want to go back.

  “Good morning,” the softest whisper before my voice cracks.

  “I miss you, Sophie.”

  “I miss you, too.”

  "I want you to come back, and stay, in New York. Please, come back.” Tears swell in my eyes and I take a deep, cleansing breath. The deepest breath I have taken in ages and all at once I am full and so empty.

  “Rhys.”

  “Sophie,” he cuts me off, “I love you.” My heart stops and my life in loves flashes quickly behind my eyes. I am acutely aware that no love has ever felt like that, like the all-consuming comfort of a warm flame that you know won’t harm you, the slow sweet flow of honey that coats your throat. His love is all I have ever needed. He just filled me up, just like that, three little words that I have heard a million times, but never really felt, until now. My tongue is limp in my mouth, my mind raging so loudly that I cannot hear a thing. This man loves me! This man loves me, me. Sophie. I don’t know how long the silence lasts as I contemplate the prize I have just been given. My mind races to catch up and the last few months flash before me. How much has changed. How full and open my heart feels, like a rolling meadow with no end in sight my feelings for him know no horizon. No ending, I will surely swell and burst.

  “I love you, too!” I cannot get the words out fast enough, I am bursting.

  “Jesus, Beautiful, that felt amazing. Say it again.”

  “I love you.” I reply with a smile that I know he can hear, as I can hear his. The tilt of his grin, the crinkle in his eyes, I can feel it in my heart. I fucking love this man. And he loves me.

  “Come back.” A quiet, but forceful demand that I will gladly fulfill.

  “I want to. I will.”

  “Today.”

  “Rhys, I have some things that have to be taken care of. Today, I have a meeting at the bank, liquidating everything I own to try and save my grandmother’s house. I have to finish packing up all her stuff. I am almost done, I promise.”

  “I don’t want to wait, Sophie. I fucking need you in my arms right now.” The urgency is palpable in his voice, his tone colored now with anxiety and impatience.

  “Tomorrow. I think I can be done with everything and be ready to go by tomorrow.”

  “Let’s shoot for tonight,” he quickly replies. I hear a muffled voice in the background and the distinct sound of a hand covering the phone, before he returns. “Sophie, my love.” The words settle heavily between us, pulling us together. “I have a few meetings this morning and lunch with my father and then I will call you. Do you think you will be at the bank by then?”

  “My appointment is at noon.”

  “Okay, Beautiful, I want you to call me as soon as you finish at the bank, and we will make all the arrangements. I cannot stand the idea of another night away from you. I need you, Sophie. I need you now.” If it was possible to overdose on happiness I would surely be a writhing pile of limbs on the floor right now. My heart feels so full that it could burst in my chest and my lips are on the verge of cracking from the force of a smile the likes I have never experienced. I am done. This is it.

  “Yes, Rhys, I will call you.”

  “I can’t wait, Sophie. I cannot wait to tell you I love you in person. I need to see your face, Beautiful. It’s killing me not to see you. You have made me so happy. I have to run, until later, my love.”

  “I love you,” I reply before he is abruptly gone, and I am left to my pounding heart and love fogged mind.

  The morning slips away in a jumble of busy work and day dreaming. Floating away and wasting time with Rhys, locked in a room until neither of us can take another moment. Working as hard as I can with such a consuming distraction on my mind. After I sign my life away at the bank, I treat myself to lunch from the dollar menu. Such is my life now. And I head to my grandmother’s house to pack the last few boxes. I wait to call Rhys, giving myself an hour. An hour to get as much done as possible, knowing as soon as we speak, the wheels will be in motion. When I finally come up for air, I find my phone rattling away on the kitchen counter. Twenty five missed calls. And it jumps to life in my hand.

  “Sophie! Where have you been? I have been trying to reach you forever!”

  “I have been at the bank, signing away every penny I have or ever will have, to try and save Lola’s house. And now I am packing. Why? What is going on?”

  “Rhys…” She hangs his name out, breathes, and leaves it hanging. “He was in an accident, Sophie. He and Michael.”

  “What?” The breath rushes from my chest, replaced by a tangible, strangling panic. A panic so virile I can taste it. I have been here before.

  “He and Michael were in a car accident. You should get here, Sophie. It’s serious.” The panic in her voice pushes me over the precipice. My heart drops to the floor. A dead thud fills my head. My knees give way and I sink to the cold, hard tile.

  “Sophie, are you still there?” The phone suddenly feels like dead weight. Lead in my hand. I struggle to bring it back to my ear.

  “I’m still here,” I manage, choking on grief.

  “You need to get here fast.” I look down at my wrist, and the sparkling, over the top gift. The icy cold, heavy watch that Rhys insisted upon buying. The gift of time, he quipped. The only thing I own of any worth. The only thing I own now, of any value, real personal value. I have to get to him.

  ***

  The flight, the cab ride, everything is a blur. I am numb and exhausted. The only thing I feel is the urgent pull to get to the hospital, to get to him. I need to tell him I am sorry. I need to tell him the truth.

  The hum and chaos of the city can’t even touch me. I see New York through the window, passing by, teeming with life. Cars weave and bob past us, horns blaring but I hear none of it. Throngs of people flow up and down packed sidewalks, crossing traffic in waves, I don’t see a single face. All I can see is my past flashing before my eyes, the searing, white hot pain and anticipation of losing everything.

  We pull up to Mt. Sinai and I am frozen. Stuck in the sticky, worn, back seat, my eyes scale the ominous black tower rising from the center of the hospital. The cab driver bangs on the partition, demanding his fare and my exit. I pull what cash I have left from my hastily packed purse and push a twenty through the slot. He laughs, a deep chortle, before he begins to yell in a language I do not understand. Banging his chubby fist on the partition, he stabs his short dirty fingers at the meter. He is animated and exasperated, the meter reads $64.20. God damn, this city is going to be the death of me, and my meager pockets.

  The city is stagnant. Humidity hangs in the September air like a shroud. Coating everything in an exhaust filled, grimy mist. Never have I been so assaulted by my surroundings. Turning my eyes to the dark night sky, caught in the looming shadow of the sleek, black tower, I imagine Rhys, lying in that prophetic building. Please, don’t let me be too late! I hear my name, carried on a hot breeze, and it feels like a bad dream. I turn towards the entrance when Olivia appears, as if out of thin air.

  “Sophie! You’re here, thank God.” Dazed and caught off guard, I grab her arm to steady me.

  “Um….y
eah. I am here.” She holds me at arm’s length, headlights flash across her eyes and she shakes her head.

  “Sophie, I know Rhys would want you here, but you cannot go in there now.”

  “What? Why?” Inside, I am pushing past her, rushing to Rhys’ side. I look down to find my feet anchored to the dirty sidewalk, as Olivia stands before me with an all too familiar grief in her eyes.

  “Listen to me. He is in really bad shape. They have him in an induced coma. But his mother and Nadja are up there. I cannot let you go in there. They are chomping at the bit, and they will eat you alive. Rhys would not want that, and neither do I.”

  “But…What? Why is she here? What am I supposed to do?”

  “Matthew is in there with them. He will keep us posted, and let us know as soon as they leave. There is nothing we can do for him now anyhow.”

  “Olivia..” My voice cracks as I wipe away the first heavy tear, I held it at bay as long as I could. “What if it’s too late?”

  “It won’t be. They are doing everything they can. He is in very capable hands.” She pulls me toward a waiting Town Car, the driver casually leaning on the hood watching our exchange. He scrambles to open the back door as Olivia gives him a signal. “Come, let’s get you settled, and we will wait for word from Matthew.”

  “Settled?” I yank my hands from hers, angry, frustrated and quickly sinking into an abyss. It’s all too much, our petty squabble, the accident, his mother, and Nadja. I came all the way here just to be turned away? I cannot stand the thought of him lying there alone. But the thought of Nadja being at his side stokes a distracting, if not comforting rage. “Where are we going?” I don’t want to go anywhere. I want to plant myself at the hospital, at Rhys’ side. His mother and Nadja be damned! The car pulls out, seamlessly blending into the heavy traffic. Olivia squeezes my hand, pulling my attention from the disappearing hospital.