by Amy Daws
“Stop,” I grind out through clenched teeth, but it falls on deaf ears.
“It’s fucking mental, Vi! All of it. One person can’t depend on another that much. Soul mates? Christ. We ran into each other. I thought you were hot. End of. Let’s not magic this into something bigger than it is.”
My legs feel like they’ve been kicked out from under me, but he still doesn’t slow.
“And what’s with you hiding shit from me? I’ve told you so much, Vi. So much that you could write a damn book about me. You hiding that stuff about your mum feels like I’ve been lied to all this time.”
My stomach convulses at his spot-on accusation. “I wanted to mention it, but I was scared, Hayden. I never knew much about my mum. And it’s always been an odd feeling to share a birthday with someone I barely remember. So to have her death anniversary mean something to you would be like just another part of my life tainted by her. And 11:11 is important to you…not me.”
“Oh, whatever,” he growls. “I was doing just fine on my own until you came along. I made it through Reyna, through rehab, through living with my parents, through a bloody speech at the gala. I’ll make it through you. I don’t need to depend on anyone in order to be healthy.”
Needles prick behind my eyes.
“And what happens when I go off the rails again? What then?” he snaps, his gaze glacial as he steps within inches of my face, towering over me with his most intimidating stance. His scent toys with my emotions as his hot breath on my face speaks in acerbic tones. “I’m going to crash and I’ll take both of us down with me. You’re going to get caught in the crossfire and I will ruin you. If what that woman said has an ounce of truth to it and you are my twin flame, then that means anything I do has the potential to fucking kill you. It might not be with a blade across your wrists, but I promise you it will hurt.”
I bite my lip as tears flood my vision. I look away, my face fixed and frozen. I need to remain silent so he stops.
Just wait till he’s finished, Vi. Just wait. He’s just processing. Saying anything right now would be like poking a bear. Don’t poke the bear.
He moves to walk away, but I catch his arm as quiet words escape my constricting throat. “Getting hurt is part of being alive.”
“Alive?” He swerves back to me with a haughty bark of a laugh. “That’s a joke when you’re talking about me.” He slinks his hands up my wrists and clutches my arms harshly. “Look at me, Vi. You don’t have anything good with me. It’s best you find that out now.”
His face crushes me. His eyes are merely hollow shells of the man who’s been opening up to me the last few weeks. He moves to turn away from me, but before he lets go of my arms, an explosion erupts from the very depths of my soul.
“You don’t get to keep forever to yourself!” I scream loudly into his face and shove his chest with all my might. He blinks hard as if the outburst broke some protective shell around him. My emotional shove proves more effective than my physical. Acidic tears slide over my lips and into my mouth, the salty liquid doing nothing to quench the burning in my chest. My spit is thick in my throat as I touch my hands to his face. He flinches like the tips of my fingers are made of razor blades. My voice trembles as I utter, “Hayden, I love you.”
His expression turns grim and he deftly yanks free from my grasp. “Vi, I need to be on my own.” His voice is calm and professional, like he’s addressing a business transaction as he backs away from me. “This isn’t good for my recovery.”
I swallow back the thickness bubbling up as every insecurity from my entire life starts pulling at me like quicksand. Like the underworld is reaching up from beneath the ground and dragging me down into the depths of hell. “Hayden, if it’s just that you’re scared or you’re unsure, I get it. But if it’s me, have the courage to tell me. If you don’t love me then that is something I can’t help you through.” I fist my hands against my chest in agony over the doom I feel coming. “At this point, either you love me or you don’t. There is no way you don’t know by now.”
Sobs crack from my throat as I look at Hayden and all he offers me is a pitying expression. All the days we spent revealing the deepest parts of our lives, gone. Vanished. The pain is horrifying.
I look into his eyes one last time and everything I love about him is magnified. His heart, his pain, his passion, his temper. I’m looking at everything I want.
And he’s looking at me like a charity case.
Without waiting for his verbal confirmation, I walk to the edge of the sidewalk and wave down a passing cab. I slide onto the smooth leather and crumble inside the quietness.
I don’t look back. I can’t look back.
My broken man…
…just broke me.
RELAPSE
My knuckles turn white as I grip a brown bottle of beer nestled inside the cooler door amongst a sea of other brown bottles. I blink furiously against the flickering neon lights casting a putrid green glow on the back of my hand. On the back of my scarred, mangled, fucked up hand. I didn’t even make the conscious decision to step inside this rundown corner shop that has the faint smell of ammonia and urine. I barely even noticed the foreign man behind the counter shouting into his cell phone in another language.
But now, here I am, staring at row after row of assorted booze inside a convenience store cooler section.
Seeing the bottle in my hand, my eyes narrow. I squeeze the base of it. Hard. Harder. It doesn’t break. I’m not strong enough. I’m fucking weak. I have to choose right now between climbing up an enormous mountain or falling down a slippery hill. Rage explodes inside of me over that realisation. I grab the bottle and yank it from the cooler. The door slams shut as I swing my arm back as far as I can and launch the offensive bottle onto the ground by my feet. The scent of beer invades my nose as the amber liquid splashes up on my pants. My boots crunch over the shiny glass as I move back into the fridge to grab two more bottles staring me down at eye level. I hold them in place and squeeze them as hard as I can, letting out a garbled grunt when I still can’t break the fucking glass.
The man at the counter begins shouting in a foreign language. I release the bottles in frustration and, without pause, turn and storm down the aisle, chucking a twenty-pound note on the counter as I stride out the door. My walk turns faster and faster, eventually shifting into a full on run. I sprint through the busy and narrow streets with cabbies honking at me at nearly every intersection. I run and run until my lungs are about to explode. In the end, I find myself back at Shoreditch in front of C. Designs. My stomach roils as I hunch over, propping my hands on my knees for support. Silently screaming in agony, my chest rises and falls in terrifyingly fast measures.
Theo’s glasses-covered eyes catch sight of me through the window while he works a skill saw on a slab of raw wood. His expression drops as he sets down the saw and comes running out to me.
“Hayden, what happened?” His footsteps come to a thundering halt beside me and he squats to look up at my face. I continue panting, unable to respond, and his eyes frown down at my wet trousers. He sniffs. “Have you been fucking drinking?”
I scowl and shake my head aggressively, standing up and clutching my side as I continue to heave huge gulps of air into my lungs.
“You’re lying. You reek of alcohol,” he accuses, his brown eyes icy slits as he rises up to his feet. “What the fuck, Hayden? How could you?”
“I didn’t!” I snap, shoving Theo in the chest angrily just as Leslie appears over his shoulder.
She’s pushing Marisa in a pram. Her green eyes widen with fear as Theo grabs me by my shirt and pulls me to his face. “Goddammit, Hayden! You’re going to throw it all away again. A fucking year’s worth of work for what?”
I go limp in his arms and he stares back at me in confusion as I gesture over his shoulder with my chin. His head turns and lands on Leslie. Instantly, his grip releases my shirt.
“Tell me what I’m seeing isn’t true,” Leslie says, her voice shaky a
nd uneasy, further penetrating my aching heart.
Theo clasps his glasses and eyes me harshly. “Hayden’s been drinking.”
“No I haven’t!” I roar and fight the urge to punch my fucking arrogant arse of a brother in the nose. I glance briefly at the pram and it snuffs my burning rage when I hear Marisa begin to fuss. My heart bleeds inside my chest at that sound.
“Leslie,” I beg. “Please, you have to believe me. I haven’t been drinking. I swear to you. I broke a bottle at the corner store. I was going to buy it. I wanted to buy it. I wanted to drink the whole bloody thing…but I smashed it instead.” My eyes slam shut at the fact that in a flash, I’m now back to being the sad, pathetic baby brother whom everyone feels sorry for. And it didn’t even take me getting drunk to do it.
Leslie pushes the pram over to Theo who exhales deeply, attempting to calm down with Marisa closer to him now. She walks over to me and cups my face in her hands. Her green eyes are glossy as she sniffs my breath. I begin to moan about, feeling like the fucking spit on someone’s shoe, but she catches me off guard when she pulls me down into her arms…
…for a hug.
She hugs me.
She tucks my head to her chest and she fucking hugs me.
Just when I thought I was already broken beyond recognition…
My heart splinters.
I begin quaking in her arms and squint at my watch through my tears even though I know there’s not a shot in hell that it could be 11:11 right now. But I wish it were. I wish so much that it were. I wish my own sister were here holding me. I wish I wasn’t shattering into a shred of the man I was before. I wish so many things, but the one wish I want the most is something I possibly just ruined forever.
I let everything in my life get so fucked, and now all this tiny redhead wants to do is hug me.
After an insurmountable amount of time, Theo interrupts my strangled sobs with a soft tap on my shoulder. I release Leslie with a loud sniff and wipe aggressively at my eyes. I look up and see Marisa’s wide, beautiful baby blues staring back at me. I release another throaty sob as Theo holds her out for me to take.
I slide my hands beneath her small arms and tuck her to my chest, pressing my cheek to the top of her head. My arms tremble as I purse my lips into a thin line to conceal the emotional pain of the trust he’s just given me in this moment. Exhaling a few more aching cries, I allow my heart to regulate with hers…
Calming…
Soothing…
Beating…
Alive.
“Where’s my fussy girl at?” I joke, and Leslie and Theo burst out into an emotionally thick laugh. Theo tucks Leslie under his arm, and the two of them look at me with all the undiluted love and trust in their eyes that they can muster.
I swallow hard and kiss Marisa’s soft head. She fusses and it brings a smile to my face. “There’s my girl. I got ya.”
“Still my girl,” Theo mumbles under his breath and Leslie elbows him sharply in the ribs.
I nod a silent thank you…because for the first time in years…I allow myself to be loved.
“So you’ve turned the person whom you completed your challenge with into a full-fledged relationship,” Doc states, eyeing me seriously from his armchair and not giving anything away. If I didn’t know any better, I swear I see a laugh quirking the corners of his mouth.
I squirm in my seat after revealing everything I’ve been up to since last seeing him. I can’t help but feel like a kid who’s just told his mum that he broke Grannie’s vase. “It was a relationship. Now it’s not I guess.”
My memory briefly flickers to the terrifyingly intimidating glower I received from Vi’s brother, Camden, when I stepped out of C. Designs this morning. The four of her brothers have been casing my flat around the clock for the past two days now, doing a proper job of keeping me in my place.
“Why isn’t it a relationship anymore?” Doc asks curiously.
“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what a horrid idea that was. I mean…it’s not exactly extra credit to take the assignment you gave me and turn it into a relationship. I’ve not watered a plant or gotten a dog. I sure as hell didn’t need a relationship messing up my recovery.”
Doc tilts his head. “How did the relationship make you feel?”
“Out of bloody control,” I snap aggressively. But in one blink, I’m remembering the deliriously amazing moments I shared with Vi as well. Even the painful ones with her were beautiful because she was with me.
“Is that all?” he asks.
I shrug. “It was too much. It was really intense. I don’t need that right now. I need to focus on myself.”
Doc’s brows lift. “You need to focus on moving forward, Hayden. Above all. Being alive and living life is taking steps forward.” I swallow hard and he leans forward as if he knows he still hasn’t gotten through to me. “It’s allowing yourself to live, not just be alive. Staying sober and functional shouldn’t be your only goals. Embracing all of your emotions…good and bad…now that is the greatest challenge of all.”
SUBSTITUTION
A wet nose nudges my face. Now a tongue. Now another tongue. “Bruce! Off with you or I’m giving you another bath,” I groan, refusing to open my swollen eyes. His nails clack along the floor in a hasty retreat as I threaten him with the one thing he hates more than getting his nails clipped.
“When was the last time you had a bath?” a familiar voice asks from inside my room.
My eyes fly open and land on Gareth sitting at the foot of my bed. “How did you get in?” I snap, sitting up and rubbing at my crusty eyes. I suck in a sharp breath as the tender skin around the edges smarts.
“I stole Dad’s spare key. He wouldn’t give it to me either. Said I needed to let you sort this one out on your own. But after ten fucking un-returned calls, I’d had it up to here, Vi.” Gareth’s arm flexes as he demonstrates just how far up he’s had it.
I roll my eyes and scowl as I take in his appearance. He’s freshly showered, his dark brown hair still wet on the ends. That’s just annoying.
“You didn’t need to come,” I grumble, throwing the covers off myself and waltzing into the bathroom. I leave the door open while I stand at the sink and splash cold water on my face.
“By the looks of it, I needed to come five fucking days ago.” He leans on the frame of the door and his penetrative glower reflects at me in the mirror.
I wince at my own reflection but refuse to confirm his fears. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Too fucking bad,” Gareth barks, standing up straight. “You look like you haven’t eaten or showered in days. Have you even been in to work?”
“I worked from home.” I glare at his reflection. “See? I’m not a weakling, Gareth. I’m doing just fine. I’m making my deadlines, answering emails. I’m a proper grownup.”
“Oh yeah, it really looks like it.” Bruce comes trotting over to him and nudges his hand for a pet. “Poor bastard. Bruce probably hasn’t seen the light of day all week.”
“Stop,” I demand, turning around to face him. “I don’t need to hear this, Gareth. Bruce has been well taken care of. Spoilt rotten with my daily presence. Does he look neglected?”
As if on cue, Bruce’s jaw drops wide into a squeaking yawn and he lies down right at Gareth’s feet with a sad huff.
“I’ve been by C. Designs,” he says out of nowhere. My eyes fly wide. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans on the doorjamb as if he told me it was raining outside. It’s fucking London. It’s always raining!
I storm over and poke him in the chest. “You haven’t really been over there, have you?”
He nods defensively. “If not me, Booker, Cam, or Tan. One of us has been driving there every fucking day.”
“And doing what?” My jaw is slack.
Gareth’s eyes narrow as he continues that infuriatingly cocky, footballer nod. “Don’t worry, I haven’t laid a hand on him. We’ve just been watching.”
“Watchi
ng for what? Has he seen you?” My voice rises with panic.
“Oh, he’s seen us,” he chuckles.
“Oh my God, Gareth!” I shriek. “No! What do you think you’re doing?”
“We’re sending him a fucking message, Vi.” He points his finger in the air to accentuate his point. “He’s got a hell of a nerve acting all noble in front of us one night and then slagging you off the very next day. He’s a slimeball. You’re better off.”
My eyes sting, but there is no sign of actual tears. My tears are completely dried up. “Gareth. This has absolutely nothing to do with you!” I rake my hands through my ratty hair and grip the back of my neck as I walk back into my bedroom. “Why? Why do you guys keep doing this stuff?”
He follows, towering over me as I sit down on the bed. “Look, Vi. My season’s almost starting again! I don’t have to tell you that that means I’m leaving for Manchester in two weeks. I can’t just leave you here with that fucking prat sniffing about.”
“It’s my life!” I cry out and stamp my feet on the ground. “I don’t need you tousling every man who jilts me. At my rate, it’ll become a full-time fucking job.”
“Oh stop,” he scoffs. “You’re just doing a proper job of picking morons.”
“I don’t, Gareth,” I groan at the deep pain that I feel every time I think of Hayden. “Hayden wasn’t a moron. He was everything. But he didn’t see that. He didn’t want it. He trusted me with so much of his life, but in the end he still couldn’t manage to fall in love with me. He walked away.” My chest shudders into a fit of an awkward dry sob as I keel over and cry into my hands. God this is pathetic. I can’t even cry properly.
Large warm arms wrap around me. He begins shushing and rocking me back and forth as I somehow hit a new well of tears buried in an un-tapped crevice of my body. “It’s not the men who are the issue, Gareth. It’s me. And it’s embarrassing enough having men not give two shits about me. I don’t need you guys adding fuel to my pathetic flame. Just stop trying to protect me.”