Unspoken Fears (The Unspoken Love Series Book 4)

by H. P. Davenport

  “Christian,” she gasps.

  Yeah, I know it was a dick thing to say. We didn’t fuck, but my temper is getting the best of me this morning. I worshiped her body, I made love to her, but I’m not the one who woke up wishing last night never happened.

  “What? You’re the one who woke up regretting what we did, not me. If I had my way, we would be in my bed right now, not out here having this discussion.”

  Taking a step toward her, I reach out and take her hand. “Be honest with me, what is this all about?”

  She pulls her hand free and walks off toward my bedroom. I follow up, and with each step, my anger rises. My pulse races. This is why I don’t do this shit. I never bring women back to my place. The first time I break that rule, I feel like I’ve been kicked in the balls.

  Rory is putting on her gown from last night. “Please stop,” I ask her.

  She turns to face me, tears streaming down her face.

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Tell me why you are running away?”

  “I’m afraid,” she yells. “Everything I want, I somehow lose it. I’m not going to allow myself to want more with you.” She sighs, then gives a resigned shrug.

  A suffocating sensation tightens in my throat. “You’re afraid to have something you want because you’re afraid of losing it. Trust me when I say, I feel the same way. But I’m not afraid to explore this.” I point my finger between the two of us.

  “Don’t run away, damn it,” I growl.

  “I have to,” she breathes hard. “I can’t stay,” she whispers so low, I almost didn’t hear the words.

  Rory sits on the bed, sliding on her shoes. When she reaches the living room, she grabs her clutch from the table by my door and opens my door, turning to me, she closes her eyes, then opens them and they are filled with unshed tears. “I’m sorry,” she says in a choked voice.

  “Yeah,” my voice dies away. “Me, too,” I whisper as my front door closes.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Rory

  This is wrong.

  All wrong.

  I can’t do this.

  I have a husband.

  Or I had a husband.

  I shouldn’t be feeling like this.

  I shouldn’t want him.

  I needed to stay dead.

  I needed to be numb.

  I was better off that way.

  He made my body sing last night as he claimed me. He touched my heart even as it was breaking. Loving someone only brings hurt. Losing someone destroys you.

  Whatever was developing between Christian and me needs to stop. I have a thousand fears. Fear of where things were going, or where they were heading with Christian. Fear of getting close to someone again, only to lose them. Fear that we were getting too close. Fear that once we crossed that invisible line, there was no turning back. Fear that I could see a future with him.

  Most importantly, I feared loving again.

  It’s not just me anymore, my daughter is my world.

  Christian fists his hair in one hand, his knuckles turning white. He shakes his head as he comes toward me. Two cold, whiskey-colored eyes focus on me.

  When Christian said, ‘This is going to change everything,’ before he made love to me last night, no truer words were ever spoken.

  I open the door to leave, then turn to face Christian. Swallowing hard, I bite back the tears. “I’m sorry,” I say in a choked voice.

  “Yeah,” Christian’s voice dies away. “Me, too,” he whispers as I close the front door.

  I don’t wait for the elevator, I don’t want Christian to follow me into the hallway. Pushing the door to the stairs, I lean against the wall, removing my heels. Holding them in one hand, I make my way down the stairs. After several long minutes, I reach the ground floor with tear-stained cheeks.

  Why did I put myself in this position? Why did I do this to myself? My inner voice screams at me. Because you are tired of feeling numb. You finally felt alive again. My inner voice turned to Keith’s. “You need to move on.”

  “I don’t know if I’m ready to,” I whisper to myself.

  “You are. You’re letting fear guide you.”

  Even from Heaven, Keith knows me better than I know myself.

  I’m grateful for the clicking sound of my heels hitting the tiles of the lobby. Anything to drown out the whispers of my guilt-ridden conscience.

  Seven days have passed and I haven’t reached out to Christian. He hasn’t reached out to me either. My heart tells me I need to be the one to break the radio silence. I ruined a perfectly good night, the perfectly good thing that was blossoming between us. It was like I pulled out a bottle of Roundup and gave our relationship a massive dose of weed killer.

  When I got home that morning, I didn’t need to explain anything to Brandon. He knew by the looks of me that things were bad. He let me shower and we didn’t discuss it the rest of the day. We haven’t discussed it all week.

  Today we are going to spend the day in the City sightseeing, but first, we decided to go for a run. Leah is strapped into the jogging stroller, bundled up in her grey zip-up jacket with her magenta sun bonnet tied securely under her chin. She has her pacifier in her mouth, attached to her favorite grey elephant. A second one is tucked in the diaper bag. I’ve learned from past mistakes, never leave home without at least three pacifiers in case she tosses one out of her stroller while I’m running.

  “Are you sure you want to push the stroller. I can do it, if you want?” I ask Brandon.

  “The stroller adds to the workout, I’m fine. I’ve been slacking since I’ve been here all week. The extra weight will do me good.”

  Leaning down, I tighten the laces on my running shoes. Standing, I begin to stretch my hamstrings, rocking back and forth on my heels. Brandon does the same to loosen his muscles. Once fully stretched, I pop my earbuds in my ears and find the perfect song to start our run, then secure my phone in my armband on my left bicep.

  Youngblood by 5 Seconds of Summer begins to play in my ears.

  I bounce in place to get my blood flowing, then begin to run. Once the pace picks up, I’m in my zone. My feet pound the cement as my arms pump at my sides. The tempo is exactly what I need to get my pulse racing. Brandon’s at my side pushing Leah who seems to be enjoying the scenery, kicking her feet in the stroller.

  When the chorus comes up, I pick up my speed, when the song slows, so do I. I repeat this process throughout the entire song. Break Me Down by Red begins to play, and I take off, finding the perfect rhythm to run. Turning back, I see Brandon back a little, he lifts his hand, telling me to go.

  Down with the Sickness by Disturbed fills my ears. My pulse quickens, my pace accelerates, and I run fast to the tempo. Each time the chorus plays, I sprint, causing my lungs to burn.

  The cold, fresh air burns against my face as I run a steady rhythm toward the carousel in the park. When I run, I block everything out, but today my mind races as fast as my feet pound against the ground. Running is therapeutic; however, today, not so much. No matter how fast I run, I can’t erase the hurt in Christian’s eyes or the anger in his voice when I left. I can’t outrun my fears, they’ll always be there. It’s a race I’ll never win.

  After three miles, I stop on a park bench to wait for Brandon and Leah. Leaning forward, my hands on my knees, I inhale a few deep breaths. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve had the time to run and my body is feeling it. I’m not sure how much time passes before I see Brandon pushing Leah’s stroller in the distance. When they reach me, Leah pulls her binkie out of her mouth and squeals, “Mama.”

  Leaning down, I place a kiss on her pink-flushed cheeks, “Hello, princess.”

  “How did you do?” Brandon asks, tucking a loose piece of hair behind my ear.

  “My pace is a little slower than normal, but I haven’t run in a while. I’ll get it back, especially now that the weather is getting warmer.”

  Someone clears their throat behind me. Glancing back, I
see Christian standing there with his arms crossed over his chest.

  The look in his eyes is cold and something shifts in me. Something tells me maybe I’m not as dead inside as I think I am.

  “So this is the side of you that you refused to show me.” Christian’s glare bores into my soul.

  My eyes bounce between Leah and Brandon. Oh no. No. No. No. This cannot be happening. Panic riots inside me.

  “I’m glad I was able to see it with my own eyes. If not, I never would have thought you were capable of this. Boy, was I wrong.” His tone is venomous.

  Christian turns without another glance. I reach out to grab his arm. “Christian.”

  He snatches his arm free. “Don’t fucking touch me,” he growls.

  I step away from his tense, hard body. Tears blur my vision as I watch Christian walk away, disappearing into the crowd in the park.

  “So…I assume that was Christian.” Brandon breaks the silence.

  “This is bad. This entire situation is fucking bad.”

  “Language, remember.” He nods toward my daughter.

  My heart breaks in the middle of Central Park. I can only assume what Christian thinks of this. We look like a happy family. Little does he know Brandon is not my husband. Not my daughter’s father.

  Brandon comes close, looking down at me intensely. “I take it you still haven’t told this guy about Leah?”

  “No,” I whisper and twist my hands together nervously.

  “He has no clue about Keith, either.” He states matter-of-factly, not even bothering to ask.

  I shake my head, not able to form words around the knot in my throat.

  Brandon throws his arms around my shoulder as we begin to walk down the path in the park, so many unspoken words between us. Neither of us speak for quite a while.

  “What do I do now, Brandon?”

  “What is stopping you from seeing if things can work with Christian?”

  Disconcerted, I cross my arms and pointedly look away. “What if I fall for him? I can’t handle losing someone again.”

  Brandon takes my hand in his and continues to push Leah. “Who says you’re going to lose him, Rory? What happened to Keith was random. That doesn’t mean you’ll lose someone you love again.”

  A shadow of annoyance crosses his face. “Don’t let fear keep you from trying again. You deserve to be happy, to be loved. No one will judge you for that, Rory.”

  Brandon stops and turns to me, tipping my chin up to meet his glare. “Listen to me. If you feel something for this guy, go after him. Fight for him. Don’t let your fears stop you from opening your heart to someone. Obviously, you feel something for him. It’s not casual. The Rory I know wouldn’t do casual, especially where Leah is concerned.”

  How has this man managed to slip past my walls without me knowing? I thought putting distance between Christian and me would help. It did nothing. It made me want him more, made me think of him more. Distance did nothing, especially since he means everything to me.

  I’m in love with Christian.

  For the first time in a very long time, I’m in love. I’m in love with someone who isn’t Keith and I finally don’t feel guilty for loving someone…for loving Christian.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Christian

  She’s fucking married.

  She has a fucking husband.

  She has a damn kid.

  “WHAT THE FUCK!” I scream, slamming my apartment door shut.

  Rory’s a liar. A fucking bold face liar.

  She’s been lying to me from the moment I met her.

  How could I be so stupid? All the signs were there. When I first met her, she feared being touched. She was always closed off. Always keeping me at arm’s length. I vowed I wouldn’t push her. I would let her open up when she was ready.

  The one time I open my heart to someone, she fucks me over. This is why I’ve never pursued a relationship. Fucking, that’s what I do best. No strings attached. No one gets hurt, and no one expects anything in return.

  When she left my bed last weekend, did she go home and fuck him?

  My phone buzzes in my pocket. Pulling it out, the screen shows an incoming call from none other than the liar herself.

  Hitting the decline button, I toss the phone on the counter.

  Without hesitation, I head to the bathroom, lean into the shower, and turn the faucet on. Stripping out of my running clothes, I climb into the shower. The hot water scalds my already overheated skin. My muscles begin to relax as the water beats on my body.

  I feel used.

  I hate her.

  I fell hard for Rory.

  My friends don’t know how hard I fell for her. There was something different about her.

  I hate that I want her.

  I hate that I missed her all week.

  I typed out a text multiple times this week, and each time I deleted them. She walked away from me. If she wanted to talk to me, then the ball was in her court. She had to put forth the effort.

  Then today at the park was a swift kick to the balls, seeing her standing there with her husband, her daughter.

  “What the fuck!” slamming my hands against the tile in the shower.

  I stand in the shower so long the water begins to run cold. Still, I don’t move and my hands fist in my hair in frustration. In anger.

  “Way to go, Christian. You picked a good one to fall for,” I say out loud to myself.

  After turning off the water, I step out of the shower, grab the towel off the hook, and wrap it around my waist. Hurrying to my room, I dress quickly in a pair of jeans and fitted shirt, wanting to leave my apartment in case Rory shows up. My phone rings again, and I know who it is without looking. Frustration works its way through my already tense muscles. Her persistence is futile. My screen displays three missed calls from Rory, and a several text messages.

  Rory: Christian, it’s not what you think. Please let me explain.

  Rory: Please answer your phone.

  Rory: I need to talk to you!!!!!

  Powering my phone off, I leave it on the counter when I leave my apartment. I have nothing to say to her and I sure as hell don’t want to hear anything she has to say. So far everything out of her mouth has been lies.

  When I enter the lobby of my apartment building, I hail a cab, rattling off the address to Aces.

  Tossing the door to the bar open, I see Lincoln behind the bar and Jamie is sitting in front of him on a stool, watching the baseball game.

  Morgan stands over by the door to the kitchen with Jaxson securely strapped to her chest.

  “I thought you have to be eighteen to enter this place.” I point to the baby nestled asleep. “Starting him young, aren’t you?” I joke, raising my brow at her.

  “He’s going to own the place one day. He needs to know the ins and outs,” she laughs. Walking over toward me, she tosses an arm around my waist. “I’m on my way to your sister’s. I needed to drop Lincoln’s house keys off. He was running late this morning and left with only the set for the bar.”

  Leaning down, I place a kiss on her forehead. “Awe, such a nice fiancée.”

  “Soon-to-be wife. Lincoln can fill you in, we finally decided on a destination wedding. You should bring that pretty redhead, that is, if you guys are still dating next spring.”

  “Things could change by then. Next spring is a year away.”

  She turns her head to look at me with a sad smile. “Don’t plan on keeping this one around?” Morgan pulls a little grey hat over Jaxson’s head. “Not that it surprises me. The women in your life don’t usually last too long.”

  Morgan knows me all too well. I would have never introduced Rory to my friends last weekend, let alone my father or sister, if I didn’t want to see where things would go. I wanted to pursue a relationship with Rory, but that idea got shot to shit this morning in the park.

  Not wanting to go into details, I remain silent and shrug my shoulders. “You know me. Always single, never tied
down,” I joke.

  Morgan smacks my chest. “Such an ass.”

  She lifts her fingers to her lips, blowing a kiss to Lincoln. “Love you, I’ll see you at home tonight, babe.”

  “Love you, too. Be careful, call and let me know you get to Camryn’s okay.”

  “My wife was cleaning when I left her an hour ago. I think she was cooking you guys lunch. Karsen and Lindsey were heading over, too. All Camryn gushed about was how excited she was to see Lindsey since her project finished and she could hang out with the girls.”

  “Oh, great. I haven’t seen Lindsey in weeks,” Morgan replies, then opens the door and leaves.

  Lincoln wipes down the wooden bar, as a Yankees game plays on the flat screen above his head.

  “Jack and Coke, please. Make it a double.” Pulling back the stool, I sit next to Jamie.

  “What crawled up your ass and died?” Jamie asks.

  Lincoln fills the tumbler with a handful of ice, and then pulls the bottle of Jack off the shelf, filling half the tumbler with the dark-colored liquid, topping it off with a splash of Coke. He slides the amber-colored drink in my direction. “What brings you in so early? I thought you were going for a run this morning.”

  Gently swirling the whiskey in my glass, I lift the tumbler to my lips and throw back half my drink. The cold beverage burns my throat on the way down, creating a fire in the pit of my stomach, yet does nothing to dull my frustrations or the burning sensation of betrayal.

  Jamie looks at Lincoln, then his eyes land on me. Ignoring him, I watch the ballgame. Yankees are up by three, with bases loaded.

  “Rough day?” Jamie asks.

  Seeing him staring at me out of the corner of my eye, my hand wraps around the tumbler, spinning it on the bar.

  “Wanna talk about it?” Lincoln asks.

  “Not really. I came here to drink, not to chit-chat.”

  Parker appears next to me, pulling the stool out to sit. “Can I get a Miller bottle, please?” he asks Lincoln.