Freeing Destiny (Fate #2) (29 page)

Because that man is your future, you idiot. You’re giving up one dream to fulfill another.

I shooed my inner thoughts and begged them to go to hell. Besides, that wasn’t exactly true. Falling in love was never part of my plan
nor
was it a dream I’d set my sights on. I was only twenty-one. I’d vowed long before Jack to live my life without a man first so I could build a solid foundation on my own and not for anyone else.

The unfortunate part of that was that I
had
fallen in love. It was too late. Now all I could think about was
how
to make Jack fit into the foundation I’d so carefully constructed without him in mind.

I closed my eyes, breathed in his warm, manly scent, and let the memories of the last few months engulf all five senses. His raw beauty and his incredible way of opening my eyes to new experiences made my heart flutter. Reminders of how he growled my name during sex or whispered hilarious one-liners in my ear made me smile. With my arms wrapped around my own body, I could almost
feel
his lips ghost kisses across my skin as I remembered our lovemaking last night. And lastly, although I had a bitter taste of regret on my tongue as I turned to leave, I would never forget the way Jack tasted. If hope had a flavor, Jack’s kisses embodied it.

How could I walk away from something that made every part of my body bloom with hope? Jack was no longer an imaginary possibility or a fleeting thought. He was a constant. Something I didn’t dare imagine living without.
He
was my destiny. I could have love
and
a career, and once I was in New York, away from the temptation of throwing myself back into his bed and staying wrapped in his arms forever, I would figure out a way to make it all work. My clouded delusions of sacrifice and disappointment were not allowed to weigh me down anymore.

I blew him one last kiss and backed out of the room as quietly as I could. The letter I wrote explaining why I lied about my flight lay on the nightstand so it would be the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes. Well, the second, because he would undoubtedly realize I was gone before he got to the note. I prayed he wouldn’t hate me for this.

As I took one final glance of the apartment a shiver rushed through me. The dread that accompanied the shudder was almost strong enough to change my mind. Thankfully, my willpower prevailed.

“Good-bye, Jack,” I whispered to no one, and shut the door behind me. I pulled my luggage down the hall with long strides and soft footfalls. Tears soaked my face and blurred my vision. I made it outside, where weak sunlight greeted me, barely peeking through the morning clouds.

I scoffed as I recognized the irony of today’s overcast sky. I was Jack’s Sunshine. The brightness he loved so much was snuffed out by his absence. I wasn’t even gone yet, but gloom was taking over me the way it would overshadow today’s weather.

Before I could dwell any further on the paradox, a car pulled up to the curb. Its trunk popped open as soon as it was in park. Too tired to care about the rude driver and his lack of consideration, I hauled my two suitcases into the trunk with a huff. I slammed it shut and gave in to the devastating sadness.

I cried. Sobbed. Whimpered. I let it all sink in and allowed it to take control. I should’ve been embarrassed to get into the Uber that way, but I wasn’t. I was too immersed in self-pity to care what anyone else thought. Plugging my ears with my iPod buds, I tuned to the track that most reminded me of happy times with Jack.
I Got
by Young the Giant. I blasted it loud enough to drown everything else out. Once I sat in the car, I distractedly announced my destination and closed my eyes. And pictured the love of my life singing the words to me.

Jack

The alarm blared at an obnoxious volume and an even more detestable hour, considering Stella and I went to bed extremely late. I’d made sure to set the clock a half hour earlier than necessary and adjusted the sound to the highest level possible. There would be no oversleeping today. I wanted to savor every last second I had with my sad Sunshine, even though she would be back in my arms tonight as if we’d never separated.

With a pep to my step and excitement over my surprise fueling my tired bones, I leapt into a sitting position to find Stella’s side of the bed empty. I listened for her in the bathroom, the kitchen, but all was silent. Eerily silent. Maybe it was just my subconscious giving me a taste of what was to come.
Not cool.
I didn’t like it one bit, and after tonight, I’d find a way to make sure I never had to feel this empty again.

“Stella,” I called, rubbing my eyes and cracking my neck from side to side.

No answer.

“Sunshine?” I called this time, tilting my head to the door.

Nothing.

“Baby . . .” I shot up from the bed and that’s when I saw it.

A blue piece of note paper lay folded on my nightstand. My name was scrolled across the front in Stella’s bubbly handwriting. My heart drummed in my ears as I lunged for it, grabbed it, and then clutched it in my fist.

Before opening it, I checked the apartment. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but how could I not? I could very well be holding a
Dear John
letter in my hands and my brain was about to explode from the impending devastation.

“Stella!” I called once more, scouring every inch of the apartment with no sign of her. Upon further inspection, I realized her luggage was gone and all traces of her were absent. My gut sank as I collapsed into the couch cushions. I slid my hands down my face and fought the urge to punch a hole in the wall. What good would that do? It wouldn’t bring her back.

My last ounce of hope was resting in the palm of my hand. This piece of half-crumpled paper held the weight of my existence in it. Were my arrangements to fly out to surprise Stella made in vain? Was this letter a break-up letter?
Dear Lord, anything but that!

Without another moment’s hesitation, I unfolded the note and allowed the air to refill my lungs as I read her words.

*

Dear Jack,

By now you’ve probably realized that I’m gone, but before you flip out or think the worst, I need you to know that although it was selfish to leave without telling you, I did this for the sake of my sanity. I lied to you about my flight because I knew I wouldn’t survive an airport good-bye. Please understand that this is by no means a “good-bye” letter, but rather a plea for you to sympathize with a woman whose heart just broke as she walked out of that apartment.

*

Okay, at least she wasn’t breaking up with me. But I was still pissed that she lied. I
needed
to be there to send her off and wish her a safe flight. I wanted to understand her reasons for doing things this way.

Pretending not to be hurt by her one-sided decision, I read on.

*

This is by far the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Before you, I had it all mapped out. I knew what I wanted and where I would get it. New York was a door that led to every answer I ever had a question for. I was happy with where my life was headed. And then you changed all of that. For the good, of course.

I’m so in love with you, Jack Davis. Or should I say, Flame? You like what I did there? It’s the nickname I came up with for you. And before you go and hate it, you have to understand why it’s the absolute perfect fit. I may be your Sunshine but, Jack, you light up my world. You’re the spark to my fire, baby, and no matter how far apart we are, you’ll always be the Flame that makes me shine brighter than I ever knew I could.

I hope that makes up for the temple-throbbing on the left side of that gorgeous head of yours. The way it always does when you get mad. Please relax. I’m safe. I’m almost home, and once I am you’ll be the first person I call. We have a lot to figure out and so many things to think about, but I’m willing to do absolutely anything to make you a priority. Got it . . . Flame? You’re stuck with me.

*

I nodded my head as if answering her written question. The initial hurt subsided and a newfound hope sparked within. The nickname was pretty clever. It would grow on me, especially after hearing the meaning behind it.
The Flame to her Sunshine. I could live with that.

Stella concluded her letter with an updated itinerary and then signed off by telling me she loved me and couldn’t wait to hear my voice.

Sheer happiness made my heart pound in my chest when I envisioned how I’d be able to one-up her request to speak on the phone by showing up at her mother’s house tonight. I couldn’t wait to surprise her, and then yell at her for making me think the worst.

But there was no time to waste on mindless thinking. I had my own plane to catch. In a few hours my girl would be welcomed on new turf by her family. A few hours after that, I’d be right there alongside them, ready to map out a
new
future. This one would include both of our plans, our dreams, and an iron-clad promise to do whatever it took to be together.

Jack

I fucking hated flying. No. Scratch that. I didn’t actually
mind
the flying part. It was the unknown, vulnerable, unconnected to the ground feeling that I fucking hated.

I’d checked the time at least nine hundred seventy five times since I boarded this plane and had to put my phone on Airplane Mode. According to the flight info from her letter, Stella would be landing just about now and here I was still up in the air. For a while. With no way to contact her and let her know I was on the way.

Of course, that’s exactly how surprises were supposed to go. But on top of being an anxious flyer, I was also not the biggest fan of surprises.

“Sir?” I was interrupted by the flight attendant and her bulky cart. “Anything to drink?”

The passenger next to me seemed just dandy with his ginger-ale, but I needed something a drop stronger to help me through the next few hours. “Scotch. On the rocks. Two of them.” I wiggled my pointer and middle fingers in the air and then handed her a wad of cash before she could even start pouring my request. “Keep the change,” I added with a fake smile to rush her along.

Her brows furrowed as she focused on the man next to me, probably looking for some sign that he too thought I was nuts, but she continued to prepare my drink—
both
of them—and then handed them to me with a half-smirk/half-smile. Before I could flip her off for being a very misunderstanding stewardess, she moved on to the row behind me. My seatmate took one more sip of his lame ass soda fucking pop and then closed his eyes, ignoring me.
That’s right. Go to sleep. Take your judgment and suck on it.

I gulped down the first scotch, trying to pay attention to the inflight movie. No such luck. By the time I moved on to drink number two, I was feeling a little groggy and a lot less anxious.
See, I knew what I was doing.
I almost wanted to wake the fucker next to me and tell him I was a genius. Scotch should be complimentary on every flight for every passenger. It would make for a stress-free, quiet experience for all.

Before long, my eyes became heavy and the Christmas movie that reminded me of Stella and our Hallmark channel binge became blurry. My body relaxed, my lids fell shut, and I was out for the count. My last thought before drifting off to la la land was,
Thank you, John Dewar for your master distillery skills.