Fractured (The Volkov Mafia Series Book 3) (11 page)

We spend the next God knows how long talking about mundane things, anything to avoid the pain, and it has taken every ounce of my strength not to jump on him and beg him to fuck me. We spend some time talking about Charlie and all the little things he has done, that Malc has missed out on. I am just about to get up to leave so that I can go to bed when I remember one thing I did not ask him.

“Can we go and see Andrew tomorrow, please? I want to talk to my little angel and I have not been back since the day we said goodbye to him, Malc,” I ask him hoping that it won’t cause him fresh pain, taking me to our son’s grave.

“Of course,” is his only reply to me as I leave him and make my way to the bedroom.

Opening the door, I step inside and see that the sheets have been put on the bed; the plastic wrapper sits in the corner of the room. My heart clenches knowing that he did this for me – stayed out of his own bed so that the first time he sleeps in it would be next to me.

Cami

The next few weeks pass quickly with Malc, Charlie and me lost in our own little bubble; one I don’t ever want to come to an end. Damien had given Malc some time off saying that he could get us settled into his house, well, our house now. We have been shopping a couple of times to make the house homelier and he gave me free reign – he said it didn’t matter to him as long as I was happy, and I was very happy.

I have only had a couple of panic attacks since I have been back with Malc, one was the first time I went to see Andrew’s grave. I broke down on my knees screaming at how unfair life was and how he was ripped away from me before I had any time with him to watch him grow, hear his cry or listen to him babble with his brother. I found out the hard way that life is too short to just go plodding through. Not really living and just stumbling along, as if the right choices make themselves, they don’t. You have to force yourself to get up, force yourself to get out of bed every damn day. I admit it has been easier since I have been back with Malc, I don’t feel as guilty all the time. Then I feel guilty for living life and trying to move on, but never wanting to forget.

And today marks another panic attack. Although I am trying not to show Malc that I am having one. He is going back to work today; the bubble is about to burst and I don’t want to deal with it. I don’t want it to go back to me worrying about him while he is at work, wondering what he is doing or who he might be hurting, wondering if their enemies will come for us as retribution. That is the part that I can’t get over. How can anyone have the ease to just hurt somebody for missing a payment? It really does irk me. I know he only does as he is told to by Damien, but the thought that he could lift his hands to anyone who is weaker than him, wondering if they might come back and hurt him or us in return. That’s the ultimate fear.

I try my hardest to slow my breathing; I’m sat on the edge of the bed, taking big breaths. Malc is downstairs with Charlie, giving him his breakfast and waiting for me to go down so that he can head out of the door to work. I feel like a fake, sat here hiding in plain sight. Trying to hide the hurt and pain I feel, to keep him thinking everything is back to normal, when deep down I know it’s not. How can I give him 100% like he does for us, when I know both feet aren’t fully planted? I feel the fear and the pain again and I want to run.

I pull up my big girl panties and take a deep calming breath, hoping that I have the bravado left to make it downstairs and see him off – I can crumble when the door closes. I walk into the kitchen and the sight that greets me warms my heart. Charlie is sat in his high chair and Malc is leaning against the unit with a bowl and a spoon in his hands, trying to use choo choo noises to get Charlie to open his mouth. The sight of his body hidden underneath that tailored suit sends my body into overdrive, the way the trousers sculpt to his powerful legs, the crisp white shirt is stretched tight across his broad chest, the tattoos peeking out from his collar are tantalising, I know every line of them to trace with my fingers and tongue. I love the memories each one of them represents, some good, some bad and some downright ugly. He wears his heart on his body; every painful line and colour represents what life has unfolded for him.

“Morning,” I say in my most upbeat voice.

“Morning, babe. You can cut the crap, I know you were having a panic attack,” he says to me, his voice is light and he’s trying to make me smile.

“I know, but I didn’t want you seeing it so I stayed upstairs a little longer until it passed,” I try to reassure him that I’m fine, that everything is under control but I’ve failed.

“Look, Camilla, I am only going to do my job – nothing more nothing less. It’s what I do and you are safe here, you know that. Why don’t you call Faith and get her to come over? She knows you won’t go to the house, but she can come here.” I listen to what he says; I know he doesn’t want me to be on my own just yet, maybe I should just send Faith a text, see if she is up to coming round for a brew.

“I will ask her to see if she fancies a brew, but I don’t need a babysitter, Malc, I can manage,” I scold him. I know he is just trying to be caring but it is coming off as condescending.

He finishes up feeding Charlie and puts the bowl in the sink. Making his way towards me, he stops in front of me and leaning his forehead against mine he lets out a little breath.

“I have to go.” His words sound pained and I can’t form a reply so I just nod. Tilting my head up I raise up on to my tiptoes, placing a gentle kiss against his lips. He pulls away and heads out of the house to the car, I hear the start of the engine and then he is gone. I crumble to the floor, burying my head in my hands. Now I know I’m truly alone, again.

I sit there for who knows how long, my head buried in my hands, my thoughts ranging from loss to panic, sorrow to rage. The fear that has gripped hold of me is dragging me down the dark path, wanting to lead me astray again. Charlie’s crying pulls me from my dark thoughts and I wipe my eyes trying to get a hold of myself. I have to get up and get on with it. Charlie needs me, he is my main concern, no one else but him. I take him out of his highchair and pull him into my arms – getting back to doing little things one step at a time, starting off with giving this little one a bath and get him ready for the day. I can manage that; I know I can.

Taking Charlie upstairs, I put him into his cot while I run the bath, making sure I get the temperature just right by testing it with my elbow. I love his little babbles, his little arms are trying to splash in the water, his little intake of breath when he manages to get some water on his face, the pause when he is processing whether he likes it or not, then the giggle when he realises that he does and proceeds to do it again. The simple life where your biggest worry is whether or not you want to fight taking a nap or if you want feeding. It must be heaven not having the big bad world to deal with and that’s what scares me most. It is a big bad world and most of the people in it are bad, no one does anything without an ulterior motive, everyone wants to gain the upper hand. To have an advantage over someone or something. Power, money and love. They all play a part in how we live our lives, why can’t it just be simple. Before all of this happened I was in a great job, had an abundance of friends – or so I thought – but when I needed them they were nowhere to be seen. I was not useful to them anymore, so I became disposable. The only people who stood by me were Malc, Faith and Damien. Not even they knew the full extent of what had happened, Malc was the only one who I let get close enough, but even as he was being selfless doing what he thought was best. I had a motive, and I used him as a means to an end. I got what I wanted, I had to forget, take away the pain. Then feelings became involved and I felt so in love with him. You can continue to go down the same path when you think nothing will change. That you are just getting by, but then it all changes and you realise you can’t get what you want all the time, fate has a way of rocking the boat, making sure you’re not set on disaster for too long. Well, fate certainly made me sit up and smell the bloody daisies. I had to get out, to stop wallowing in self-pity and using the only man I ever gave a damn about.

Dressing Charlie is funny now. I used to dread it, thinking that I would hurt him, that his little arms and legs would break if I held on to him wrong. But they are tougher than we think. I dress him in his little romper suit with teddy bears on, putting on a pair of blue socks. All washed and ready and time for him to have a nap. Then I will get the cleaning done while he is sleeping. I sit in the chair and get him comfy on my lap. I love to take the time to enjoy this closeness we have as he feeds. I push down the guilt I feel every time I feed him, knowing that my body knows there were meant to be two, but my head knows there is only one now. I do miss Andrew every day. I’m happy that I am back in London for that one reason; I am closer to him. But then the other part of me hates being here, it makes the nightmares real again, it makes me more skittish, as if waiting for something to happen again. Always wanting to look over my shoulder. Always wanting to run. But yet these feelings subside when Malc is here with me, this is the first day that he has left me so I know my mind is making everything worse. It’s funny how your own brain is your worst enemy. They say you can live with cancer for years and not know but as soon as someone says it to you, that’s when your brain has that OMG moment and goes into meltdown. That’s when you start to feel worse, or so they say. It is the same for mental illness – your brain never goes to sleep; it never stops repeating the tragic events as though they are on a loop. The part where you need to file it away just won’t work, so you go into a cycle of cataclysmic actions, you let it fester, then you find your escape. Anything to block it out of your mind with a different sensation. Even though you know it is only a temporary fix it works for a little while and inside your head is silence. For those few minutes you feel normal again, until the high wears off. You are on repeat then, day in, day out and when the high won’t come you try to get higher to no avail; the pain won’t go until you find a way to work through the issues. That’s what I thought I was doing and until he left this morning I thought I was getting better, but now I see the high has only just worn off. 

Closing the door on a sleeping Charlie, I make my way downstairs; the tidying up does not take me long as it really wasn’t messy – a few pots in the sink and the vacuuming and that was it. I sent Faith a text a couple of hours ago but I haven’t had a reply yet, she must be out or busy with Anastasia.

              I am sat with a cup of tea in the kitchen with nothing to do but let my thoughts run a away with me. I am not sure what time I can expect Malc to come home so I can’t really get him something to eat until I have an idea. I pull out my phone thinking it’s best to text him.

Me: Hey what time do you think you will be home, want to get your dinner ready for you. X

I hit send on the phone and wait for the tell tail ping to say that it has been sent, then I go back to waiting. I am going out of my mind with boredom – at least when I’m busy I have less time to dwell on everything, but when I am doing nothing they consume me.

Malc: Won’t be too late, about 6pm all being well. Are you doing ok? X

I read his response and shiver. He knows just what to ask to piss me off more. Why does he think I can’t cope on my own? The voice inside me rears its head.
Because you can’t cope…
I hate that the voice is right but I want to be able to cope; I don’t want him sending texts like that out of some misplaced sense of obligation. I don’t want that to be how our relationship is defined. I want him to love me because he can’t help it. That all-consuming feeling that you can’t live without that person, that’s how I want us, definitely not a
fucking
sympathy case where he feels he has no other choice but to stay with me.

I must have dosed off on the couch because I come awake to Malc’s hand gently rubbing my shoulder.

“Hey,” he says. I sit up rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

“Hi, sorry, I must have fallen asleep.” I look up and notice that his tie is hanging loose and his shirt is open at the top, revealing the ink hidden beneath. He looks mean and rugged, just the way I love him, good enough to devour.

“You had a good day then?” his question throws me for a second until I realise he is just making chit chat and there is not an ounce of sympathy in his eyes, all I see is desire.

“Yeah, it’s been ok,” I tell him. “Cleaned up, sorted little man. Shit, is he still sleeping?” I push myself all the way up now, getting ready to stand to go to get the baby.

              “He’s ok. I checked on him when I came in and saw you sleeping, he’s babbling away to himself in his cot.” Of course he already checked on him, he is a great father, I can’t take that away from him.

              “Ok, I will just go make a start on dinner then,” I say. How could I have just fallen asleep like that knowing that I had Charlie here with me the whole time? Oh God, what if something had happened and I did not hear him crying out? I get up and push past Malc leaving him in the living room.

I pull out the steak from the fridge and the salad and start preparing our dinner. I have to keep myself busy or I will start dwelling again but this time not about the past but about sleeping while Charlie was in my care. That is something I have never done before, but the emotional roller-coaster I have been on today must have wiped me out again. It’ funny how that’s not happened since I was discharged from the hospital. I might have to go and make an appointment with the doctor to see if they can refer me for therapy again. It would seem that I need a new way to cope considering Malc won’t do it my way. He won’t let me keep using him. But that’s the crux of the problem there; I still need him to let me take what I need.