Fear of Falling (49 page)

It was then Gavin knew there would never be a time in his life he wouldn’t be aware of Emily’s absence. Drunk or sober, she would riddle his heart and soul until the day he died. He loved her. Breathed her in as if she were the air around him… the air he would be deprived of forever. He placed the bottle down, ran an exhausted hand through his hair, and attempted to cast visions of Emily’s beautiful eyes staring back at him from his memory. He walked over to the window, peering out at the city below, and knew it hadn’t worked. Nothing would. Neither soaking his pain in alcohol nor running from her could mend what he was feeling.

She was gone. As the twinkling lights faded with the jet’s climbing altitude, Gavin’s heart continued to mourn the woman he’d lost while his mind wondered how long he would be at her funeral.

With the morning light sucking the last of the stars from the sky, and without a minute of sleep claimed, Emily sat up and made her way into the kitchen. Nausea filled her stomach. She reached for the refrigerator door, pulled it open, and grabbed a bottle of water. She sank into a seat at the table as Olivia rounded the corner.

“Hmm, I see Douchenugget dropped you off early this morning,” Olivia clipped, giving Emily a quick once-over. She walked over to one of the cabinets and tugged it open. “How nice of him to allow his bride to actually get ready on her wedding day at
her
place.”

“Olivia, I’m—”

“Before you defend Dillmonster, or your delusional thoughts, Emily, I want you to know how upset Gavin was last night.” Olivia slammed the cabinet closed. “I’ve never seen him so hurt.”

Emily closed her stinging eyes, her heart constricting at the thought of the pain she’d caused Gavin. She shook her head. “Olivia, please. I’m not—”

“I know, Emily. You’re not in the mood to talk about this,” she huffed, yanking open another cabinet. “Or let me guess, you’re not delusional thinking you should marry Dillon because you don’t believe Gavin?”

“Olivia,” Emily let out, rising. “You’re not listening to me. I’m not—”

Olivia whipped around, her brown eyes narrowed. “I fucking hate saying this, Em, but I can’t be a part of this today. You love Gavin, and Gavin loves you. Done deal. I believe Gavin, and even if you don’t, you’re forcing me to choose.” She placed one hand on her hip and rushed the other through her thick blonde hair. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to the wedding today.”

“Good, because neither am I,” Emily whispered, sitting back down. “I’m not marrying Dillon.”

Eyes wide with shock, a smile split Olivia’s face. “You’re not?” she gasped, rushing to Emily’s side.

Emily shook her head as a fresh round of tears seeped from her eyes.

Olivia kneeled beside her and wrapped her arms around Emily's waist. Her words tumbled out against Emily’s stomach. “Oh my God, oh my God. You’re
so
not on my shit list anymore. I fucking love you to death right now!"

“I hurt Gavin.” Emily nearly choked over her words. “I wanted to believe him, and part of me did I guess, but I was afraid, and now it’s too late.”

Confusion peppered Olivia’s expression as she stood, bringing Emily with her. She cupped Emily’s cheeks. “It’s not too late. As soon as you call him, he’ll forget everything. Gavin loves you. He was pissed last night, but he would die for you. Believe me. That’s all he kept saying.”

Trembling, Emily sucked in an unsteady breath. “No. I went to his penthouse last night, and he didn’t open his door.” She backed away from Olivia and tucked herself into a seat at the table. “I called his phone a few times, and he didn’t answer. He’s done with me, and I deserve every bit of pain coming to me.” Emily shook her head, her voice trailing off. “I can’t believe I let this happen.”

“He didn’t have me take him home last night.” Olivia dropped to her knees again and grabbed Emily’s hands. “After the rehearsal dinner, he had me bring him by Colton’s house. What happened sobered him up a little, but I’m pretty damn sure homeboy’s still knocked out. Think about how tanked he was. It’s only seven in the morning. He probably didn’t hear his phone. I’ll call him in a little while, but you need to try to calm down, okay?”

Emily slowly pulled her hands away and pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes. She reluctantly nodded, swallowing down some of the worry coursing through her mind. “Okay, I’ll try to calm down.”

A slow smile touched the edge of Olivia’s mouth. “I’m proud of you, Emily.”

“Proud of me?” she questioned, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “For what? For hurting Gavin? His face, Olivia. I can’t get his face out of my head.”

Eyes softening, Olivia brushed her hand against Emily’s jaw. “I’m proud of you for finally seeing you deserve a better life with a man who honestly loves and cares for you. Again, you may have temporarily hurt Gavin, but the two of you are going to be fine. You’ll see.”

Emily stared at Olivia and allowed a flutter of hope to settle through her limbs. She nodded, praying Olivia’s statement would prove true.

“All right,” Olivia said, standing and looking at her watch, “your un-wedding day is supposed take place in a little less than four hours. What do you need me to do, other than go get us some coffee because there’s none here? You definitely look like you can use a cup, and I know I can, too.” Olivia walked to the hall closet, pulled out her coat, and slipped it on. “Do you want me to call your sister?” She halted midstride. “Better yet, can I call your ex-future husband and tell him to fuck off?”

Emily rose and moved across the kitchen. She grabbed a paper towel and blew her nose. The thought of Dillon waking to find her gone sent chills up her spine. “He doesn’t know yet.”

Confusion pinched Olivia’s forehead. “What do you mean? I thought—”

“I left after he fell asleep,” Emily interrupted, rushing her hands over her face. “He has no idea. You’re the only one who knows.”

Olivia’s jaw dropped open, her eyes wide. “Umm… okay. I could be wrong, but shouldn’t the expectant groom know this?”

On a sigh, Emily walked past Olivia into her bedroom. She started rummaging through her dresser drawers. Other than Gavin, the only thing she craved was a long, hot shower. “Yes, Olivia. I need to clean myself up, and when I’m done, I’m going to call him.”

Olivia leaned against the doorway, concern edging her eyes. “Can you at least wait until I get back from the coffee shop? I’ll shoot Lisa and Michael a call to let them know what’s going on, okay?”

Knowing Olivia was worried, Emily slid her drawer closed and gazed at her. “Yes. I’ll wait.” She walked over to Olivia, her eyes soft. “Thank you.”

Olivia cupped Emily’s chin, giving it a light shake. “You’re welcome. Go ahead. Get in your shower, and I’ll be back in a few.”

Emily nodded and watched her leave. After the front door snapped shut, Emily couldn’t help but feel dread scorching her stomach. Confronting Dillon, with or without Gavin by her side, wouldn't be easy. She sighed, trying to ignore its festering presence. She made her way into the bathroom, set her sweatpants and sweatshirt on the vanity, and turned on the water. As hot steam curled through the air, she stripped last night’s clothing from her body and slipped into the shower. She reached for the bar of soap and slowly ran it across the aching flesh between her legs as visions of what she’d allowed Dillon to do to her invaded her thoughts. With her head hung low in shame, her drenched auburn hair formed a curtain over her face. Her every muscle felt bruised, but the soreness paled in comparison to her battered and beaten heart.

She sank further into the darkest recess of her mind, replaying what he’d done last night over and over. It was nothing short of a nightmare. It was then she realized the enormity of what she’d allowed him to get away with over the past year. The awareness of how she’d deceived herself into thinking he loved her, cared for her, for them, knocked the air from her. The overwhelming, deep-seeded obligation she’d felt toward him for the things he’d helped her with, was something she knew brought her to this very moment. Anger at herself swelled, bubbling low in her belly as she scrubbed faster, harder at her flesh, over her arms, face, and legs. She wanted to remove his very existence from her pores. She turned the water on hotter and cringed at the way she let him manipulate her every action.

Her every thought.

Crying, she sucked in a deep breath and tried to pull herself back together. Dillon was no more. They were no more. He was gone. Through her daze, Emily placed the soap down and rinsed her body of not only the bubbles lathering her skin, but also the malicious venom he’d poured into her soul. She stepped from the shower, reached for a towel, and pulled it around herself. Standing before the mirror, she glanced at the woman she’d part ways with. Forever.

“Never again,” she whispered. She shook her head, smoothed her hands over her cheeks, and pressed her eyes closed. “Never.”

After taking a moment to reflect on the insanity the day promised to bring, Emily slipped into her clothing, dried her hair, and made her way back into her bedroom. She jerked to a halt when she heard her phone buzz, the sound alerting her there was a message waiting. Sudden anxiety it was Dillon and hope it could possibly be from Gavin rushed through her mind. Swallowing, she edged toward the nightstand and, with a trembling hand, reached for her phone.

Both her anxiety and hope evaporated upon seeing it was a voice mail from Lisa. Emily gave into the fatigue chasing her, sank onto her bed, and rested her head on a pillow. As she listened to her sister’s concerned voice, Emily heard the front door creak open. She sat up and took in the last few seconds of Lisa’s message, notifying her that she and Michael were on their way.

“Liv?” Emily called as she slid her phone shut. She tossed it onto the bed, ran a palm over her face, and stood to make her way into the other room. “I hope you got something to eat while…”

She paused in the living room archway, her words trailing off. Startled, she froze, silent and alert, when she found Dillon casually leaning against the counter. His eyes traced over her as he sipped orange juice from a glass.

“When I woke up, you were gone, Emily.” After setting down the glass, he sauntered over, a cocky smirk plastered on his face. “That excited to get back here and get all prettied up so you can marry me today, huh?” He brushed his fingers against her cheek. “I figured I’d stop by before I went to Trevor’s to get ready.”

“Get away from me, Dillon,” she whispered, her voice shaky. She jerked away, trying to hide the fear rushing through her veins.

Dillon blinked, clearing the roughness from his throat. With narrowed eyes, his face filled with confusion. “What?” he asked, stepping closer and grabbing her upper arm.

Emily yanked it from his firm grasp, her shoulder slamming against a curio cabinet as she stumbled back. “You heard me. I said get the
fuck
away from me.” Her words dropped from her mouth in a low hiss. “I’m done, Dillon. This”—she pointed between them—“is over. I’m
no
longer your willing victim.”

Before she knew it, he had her pinned against the wall, one hand gripping her hair as the other clenched her chin. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip and studied her. “You did fuck him, didn’t you?”

Though a small cry pressed from Emily’s mouth from the pain searing her skull, her answer dripped out as a sneer. “
Yes
, I fucked him.
Yes
, I’m in love with him, and no, I’m not now, nor will I
ever
marry you.” Even as fear doused Emily’s limbs, a sense of relief and freedom took over, rooting somewhere deep inside.

For half a heartbeat, she closed her eyes, allowing visions of Gavin to seep into her thoughts, but a hard crack to her cheek from the back of Dillon’s hand sent her eyes wide open. The sting rippled across her flesh as she thrashed her fists against his chest in an attempt to break free.

With one hand still tangled in her hair, Dillon jostled her across the room like a worn out little toy. Landing on all fours against the wooden floor, Emily tried to stand, but Dillon grabbed her hair and forced her down.

“You sick fuck!” she screamed, curling her hands around his wrists as he hovered above her.

Dillon dropped to his knees and yanked her head back, forcing her to look into his eyes. “After everything I’ve done for you, you turn around and fuck him behind my back?” he snarled, fisting her hair tighter.

Pulse thudding and using every bit of her strength, Emily clawed and dug her nails into his skin as she tried to untangle his hands from her hair. “You’ve done nothing for me but break me down!” she cried. When he wouldn’t release her, a jeering smile split her face. Tears slipped down her cheeks. “I wish I could’ve fucked him right in front of you!”

Eyes glacial, hollow, and darker than the night sky, Dillon struck her face again. Emily felt the skin above her brow rip open, pain needling her flesh. A gasp tore past her lips as warm, thick blood trickled along her temple, snaking down her cheekbone.

Still gripping her hair, Dillon pulled her up and hauled her body against his chest. Daring to meet his eyes, Emily swallowed down the fear coating her throat as Dillon pegged her with a look telling her this torture wasn’t over. With a rush of anger and adrenaline slicking through her nerves, she clawed at his face, digging her thumb nails into his eyes. Tiny slivers of blood streaked across Dillon’s lids as a howl of pain scraped from deep within his throat.