Surviving Love (26 page)

Chapter 22
 

Zoe
 

Everything was perfect. From the moment he stepped into my life, Drake has been perfect—broken, yet perfect. He’s my kind of perfect. I was attracted to his edginess and mystery initially, but as I got to know him, I just wanted to know the real Drake. I wanted to hear it from his mouth what makes him so withdrawn and held back. I wanted to know more about Presley and the love he had for her. I wanted him to know it’s okay to hurt, but it’s also okay to move on, and to love again.
 

Although Drake was two hours late and drunk when he showed up, I still couldn’t have been any happier in that moment. I fell asleep, snuggled next to his body, only to be awoken to the best sexual experience of my life. It wasn’t the best because of the act itself. No, it was the emotion we shared through our love making which had me falling harder into him. I was irrevocably his until the sight of him ripping the stereo cord from the socket and the sound of shattering as I watched the radio crash as it hit the wall.
 

Soon, I’m plummeted back to the past and the pain he will always have, but I have to push him through it. I can’t give up on him, even though I’m so scared for what I will see once he finally lets me in.
 

His icy glare freezes my body instantly when I look into his cold, black eyes. The sound of Presley’s name leaving my mouth has transformed him into a man I haven’t seen since we met. The anger he’s held onto is encasing him, and there’s nothing that will penetrate his fury. I have never been so scared in my life. He is unpredictable.
 

Before I can summon another thought, Drake crosses the room in two steps, grabs my shoulders, and slams me into the wall. My head connects with the drywall and a shooting pain travels down my neck and back. I’m momentarily stunned but keep my wits and stand tall. If this is what it takes to get him to speak to me, then so be it. I will push him until he cracks or until I break myself.
 

“What did you say?” A low, menacing growl passes through his lips. His face is an inch from mine and the grip he has on my arms is making them scream in pain.
 

“Does this song…remind you of Presley?” I’m scared to ask again, but I have to know.
 

“What do you know about her? Who told you about Presley?” The volume of his voice has heightened to where he’s practically yelling at me. When he speaks her name, he squeezes harder on my arms. I keep my lips closed. I don’t want him to know how I know. I just want him to start talking. “Tell me!” Drake pulls me close to him and then slams me back against the wall, jarring my body yet again.
 

“I overheard a conversation you and Connie were having. Then at dinner, when she was giving her thanks, she spoke of Presley,” I admit.
 

“But she never said what happened to her, so how do you know anything happened at all?” His questions are loud and irrational.
 

“After you left that night, I did an internet search and found out how she died.” He is
stricken speechless. I can still feel his hands on my arms, but the tension is gone and all that’s left is his shell. It’s like he disappears from my sight, yet he’s still right in front of me. “I read about her and what happened to your brother, Jeremy.” I take a deep breath, trying to break myself through this wall of pain and hurt he’s strategically built around himself. “It’s okay, Drake. It’s okay to be mad and to miss her.”
 

Drake’s eyes come back to life at the mere mention of my suggestion. “What do you know about it, Zoe? Have you ever held someone you love and watched them die in your arms?” His hands are squeezing my arms again and the volume of his voice reaches a high decibel with every spoken word. “Do you know what the blood feels like when it’s caked all over your hands, all over your clothes? Do you know what it’s like to look in your daughter’s eyes every single fucking day only to be reminded of the love you lost?” The tears start to well up from his pain and mine, but I choke them back. I can’t allow them to fall. “No, you fucking DON’T! You don’t know shit. Do don’t know that every night, when I close my eyes, all I see is her dying face? All I can feel is her limp body in my hands. So don’t presume you can sympathize with my situation because you have no FUCKING CLUE!”
 

“I’ve lost people, too, Drake! I was thrown out on the street when my own mother chose to believe a rapist instead of her own daughter. I lost my mother and my best friend that day because they chose to believe a lie. I was left ALONE without a purpose or direction. I was abandoned! Now, don’t talk to me about pain because I’ve been there, too!” I scream back. “It may not be the same thing, but I know what it feels like to experience loss. Why do you think it’s so easy for us to be together? Because we know…we…
know
how much life can fuck with everything.” I’m fighting my way through his wall. I want him to understand through our situations we can come together. We can be there for each other.
 

Drake releases my arms and they instantly throb when the blood starts to circulate back into my limbs. He walks the length of the apartment, stalking, fueled with anger.
 

I wipe the tears away from my eyes and roll my shoulders back. The last thing he wants to see is someone’s weakness and pity. He needs to see strength in me, so he can finally have the strength to let go of some of the heartache—to let go of his hatred. I swallow down the lump rising up from my stomach and shake off my apprehension. I need to be his rock right now. No, I
will
be his rock right now.
 

He starts searching for his clothes until he spots them folded on the kitchen counter. He yanks them off the counter and begins to get dressed. The sheet wrapped around my body falls to the floor as I make a mad dash to him dressing. I don’t care that I’m naked. He won’t do this. I won’t let him. I will help him face this. We will do it together.
 

“No!” I shout. “You’re not leaving!” I snatch his jeans from his hands and toss them across the apartment. “I’m not letting you run from this. You have to face it sooner or later, Drake! Otherwise, it will always own you!”
 

“What exactly do I need to face, Zoe? This pain will always own me because that’s what keeps her alive!” he shouts, his voice loud and laced with fury. Then he runs his hands roughly over his head, getting angrier by the second; angry because he’s finally starting to let me in.
 

That’s it. He thinks that if he keeps himself in misery that she will always be with him, but
what he ceases to understand is that she will always be with him regardless. His chest is heaving and his frame is taut. When Drake leans down to get close to my face, the black in his eyes mirrors the evil and misery living in his heart.
 

I stand tall. I stand strong. I don’t back down to his intimidation.“She’s dead, Drake!”
 

It’s like I hit him in the gut with a sledge hammer, the pain buckles him at the knees as he falls to the floor and shatters. The strong façade and the wall built around him have finally crumbled. I’ve broken him. And now, I will put him back together. As long as it takes, I will be there to put him back together. I can’t leave or tolerate an existence without him when he has so much life left to live. A life I want him to coexist with me.
 

Indescribable sounds of agony blanket the air and rip through my body. I fall to him. My heart breaking for the man I love, the man I want to mend. Drake wraps his arms securely around my waist, pulls me into him, and then lays his head onto my lap. The tears are finally unleashed, and I can feel their saltiness saturating my skin. I bend myself forward to rest my head on top of his. The pads of my fingers trace small, soothing circles on the skin of his back. I don’t say anything more. I allow him to feel his pain and remember the love he once had for Presley.
 

Drake
 

The room is spinning and my body feels like it’s breaking in half. I’m lying on the floor of Zoe’s apartment, finally letting her see the unearthed agony that lives inside of me. Her soothing touch is stroking my back, comforting me with every movement. She says nothing as I allow my misery to take over and flood from my heart onto her lap. My body is shaking with hurt as the torture leaves my chest.
 

This is a pain I’ve never wanted to experience again. I have done everything possible to not feel this kind of hurt once more. I’ve masked it with my anger. I’ve fought my brother and isolated those I love because I don’t want to deal with the constant feeling of loss. It has been bottled up inside, always boiling just under the surface, and tonight, all that has changed. I’ve finally realized that Zoe has come into my life for a reason—I knew there was something wonderful about her. Now, I know she is meant to be by my side, just as I’ve been by hers.
 

Finally, I’m ready to sit up and look into her eyes. I have always hated the look of pity in everyone’s eyes; it’s the part I’ve disliked most about being around my family, seeing their fucking eyes full of misfortune. I swallow the junk that has made its way up my throat and slowly pull my head off her lap. She doesn’t speak or move. She only sits as still as a statue, waiting for me to say or do something more.
 

I lean up and meet her eyes, however I stand corrected. Her eyes are not looking at me with pity inside of them, only understanding. She understands my pain and that is all I can see when I look into her eyes—she understands. Relief washes over me, and for the first time in years, I feel some of the weight lift off my shoulders. She understands, and it makes me appreciate her that much more.
 

Zoe raises her hand and cups my cheek in her palm. Her thumb sweeps under my eye and wipes away the wetness of my tears. I look into her water blue eyes and fall head first into her. She has stood her ground. Zoe has fought for me, knowing I was drowning in my own despair,
and she has pulled me out. She has pulled me away from the brink. She has gotten me to look up and see the world around me, and it’s all because she’s refused to give up on me.
 

Small, finger sized bruises are now formed on her arms and I feel like a piece of shit.
 

While controlled by my fury, I pushed her into a wall because I was blinded by my own rage. I was fighting the onslaught of feelings that I knew would eventually break me down.
 

Her arms have paid the price.
 

“I’m sorry, Zoe. You know I never meant to hurt you.”
 

“It’s fine. Are you okay?” I nod slightly and look deeply at her again.
 

I recognize the feelings that have been growing toward her, but I’m not sure what I should do about them. I’m not sure if I should have them at all. There is still something unsettled in my life, and that’s Presley. Before I can move forward in my life with Zoe, I need to deal with my emotions for Presley. I need to accept that she is truly gone before my heart will allow me to feel anything for Zoe.
 

I stand to my feet and help Zoe up from the floor. Holding her hand, I lead her over to the bed and pull her down with me. She never says a word, only follows my every action and waits for me to say something. Only this time, I do want to say more. For the first time in almost two years, I want to talk about Presley—I want to do that with Zoe. I want her to know why it’s hard for me to fully give myself to her when I have yet to let go of Presley.
 

“She was beautiful,” I whisper as Zoe settles by my side. She nestles her head on my chest and covers us with the blanket. I clutch her in my arms and hold her to me tightly. “The moment I met Presley, I knew there was something special about her. There was a light that surrounded her and you couldn’t help but be attracted to it. The night she died, I felt like I was living someone else’s life.” I expel a deep breath, knowing I need to free my thoughts. “The reality of what happened didn’t seem possible, like I was watching a horror movie instead of living it.” Zoe’s hand comes to my stomach and slowly sides back and forth in a soothing motion.
 

“The day was like any normal day. I got up, kissed my family goodbye, and went to work. When I got home, all hell broke loose, and the next thing I know, that fucker was pulling a gun on me.” I close my eyes tight, reliving the horrifying images in my head. “Then she was there and covered in blood. It all happened so fast, it was impossible to comprehend.” My jaw tightens when I see Carter’s face as he pulls his gun. I only hope his life is long, agonizing and filled with pain. I want him to suffer for what he’s done and I want it to hurt.
 

“She was strong, though. Presley held on for several minutes before she died, and I got to tell her I loved her. She was finally at peace.” A tear balls up and rolls from my eyes as another grips onto my eyelashes, threatening to fall.
 

“And the song… it was playing the night she suffered a drug overdose and almost died. It continuously looped over and over while I tried to get in the bathroom to help her. For days after her funeral, I’d listen to that song and fight with myself to keep breathing.”
 

“It’s okay to miss her, Drake.” Zoe sits up and looks into my eyes, conveying the seriousness in her tone. “I don’t want you to think you can’t talk about her or mourn for her. I understand. I want you to tell me about her. I want to know more about your life and she was a big part of that.”
 

Nothing can express the appreciation I have for this woman. She has walked into my life at the worst possible moment and stayed around through it all. Zoe has put up with my moods, anger and emotional distance because she has known that’s what I’ve needed. She’s what I need, and I can finally see that. I can finally see her and accept how I feel about her.