That One Moment (Lost in London #2) (12 page)

“Intense?” I blurt out and turn to watch his reaction.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard and licks his lips in agreement. His fiery grey eyes are showing me prowling Hayden again. But it’s as if he’s holding back. Like he’s putting that lion in its cage. “I just…I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

“What wrong idea do you mean?”

“I’m not in a good enough place to be with anyone right now. I’ve worked my arse off to get here and can’t have anything messing about my recovery.” He pauses as his eyes cloud over for a moment. “But also, I have a very nasty track record of friends with benefits. I won’t go down that road again, Vi.”

The friends with benefits line feels like a jab right to my stomach. That’s not once what I ever hoped for between us. To be frank, I’m not sure what I hoped for. And after the look in his eyes after our kiss, when he said “thank you” and took off, I suspected he simply didn’t feel the kiss the same way I did.

“So I would be a distraction?” I ask, still trying to figure him out. He smiles and runs his hands over his messy hazel blond hair. It’s disheveled in that perfect way that my hands itch to tangle through.

“Yes, Vi. That is exactly what you’d be. A beautiful, bright, bubbly, blonde distraction.”

“That’s a lot of
B
’s.” I grimace at his characterisation of me. Is that really all he sees in me? My heart continues to sink further and further.

“I know I asked you to help me with my countdown challenge, but I think it’s a bad idea,” he says before I have more time to consider what he said about me.

“What do you mean?” I stop walking and cross my arms over my chest to look him in the eyes.

He gazes at me like it’s harder to speak now than it was before. “After last night…I just…I can’t go through with it. Not with you. I’ll find someone else.”

“No!” I exclaim, feeling a bit brassed off over his description of me. I’m determined to change it. I’m a great deal more than those
B
words he used to describe me. “I don’t want you to find anybody else. I want to be the person.”

He shakes his head and looks away. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Let me be the judge of that.” I reach out for his arm so he looks at me. “Hayden, I’m not some meek little ditz. I may look like it, but I’m not. I was raised by my father and am surrounded by four football-playing brothers. They are all bossy, obnoxious men who like to butt their noses in my life whenever the mood strikes them. Believe me when I tell you, if I’m strong enough to handle the lot of them, I’m strong enough to handle this.”

He looks somewhat intrigued. “Should I be afraid these brothers are going to hunt me down?”

“Yes,” I nod truthfully.
Especially if you never kiss me like that again
, I want to say. “Seriously, are you quite strong? You might want to start doing more cardio. Running specifically.”

His chest rumbles with laughter. “You have to promise me that if it ever gets to be too much, you’ll tell me. We end it, straight away. No hurt feelings. I don’t want to hurt you, Vi.”

“Piece of cake,” I reply with a simple shrug.

FULL CIRCLE MOMENT

W
hat did I just commit to? Doing this countdown challenge that Doc suggested with Vi is going to be bloody painful. But shite do I want to prove it to myself that I can do it. Maybe there’s even a part of me that wants to prove it to Vi as well. Either that or I’m thinking if I dump all my issues on her it’ll help prevent me from wanting to pursue her. Or better yet, her wanting to pursue me.

I don’t need a love interest right now. I just need to stay clean and focused. Yes, that kiss was fucking memorable to say the least. Yes, I spent most of the night thinking that in another life I would have drug her up to her flat, peeled that dress off her slim body, and made sure every bare curve and flat surface was touched by my lips.

Deep breaths, Hayden. Deep breaths.

But I stayed strong. I stayed the course. Because I’m not weak anymore. And I’m doing this countdown challenge one way or another.

I’m relieved when we decide there’s no time like the present to dive in. Delaying our visits would only make it easier for me to find excuses to get out of it. She suggests we run back to her place first to grab Bruce so we can go sit at a nearby dog park to talk. I’m both dreading and ready for this first “countdown confession.” It will be very telling what kind of person Vi is and how strong I am in my recovery to openly discuss this with a new acquaintance.

As we approach her flat, a younger Italian-looking bloke with a backpack of gardening gear stands waiting at her alley entrance.

“Hey, Vincent! Sorry I’m late,” Vi calls, speeding up her pace toward her door.

“No problem, Miss Harris,” he says as I watch his eyes linger on her exposed torso and drift down her legs.

I glare at him and he looks at me as if to say, “Hey man, I’m only human.” Cheeky fucking wanker.

“Come on up. I’m going to pop out and take Bruce for a walk, so I’ll just leave you to it.”

The three of us slip into the small lift. Vi sticks a metal key into the slot, and my eyes flash in shock when I see the number eleven displayed as the only button on control panel.

Without noticing, she looks to me and says, “Vincent tends the garden on my roof.”

My brows go up. “You have a garden on your roof?”

She looks down in embarrassment. “It’s only flowers and plants. Not like produce or anything.”

“It’s incredible. You should see it,” Vincent says, nodding earnestly. “The roses are just beginning to bloom.”

“I can show it to you some other time,” she shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly.

When the lift doors open to the eleventh floor, I’m surprised to see we’re walking straight into her flat. Since I’m the first one out, my crotch is instantly pummeled by a wet mouth.

“Oi, Bruce!” Vi shrieks and stumbles over to grab him around the collar. She struggles to pull him back. “You disgusting creature. Go on and head up, Vincent.”

I don’t even attempt to help her with Bruce as I take in the stunning eleventh-floor penthouse. Vincent walks through her airy living room, out the large balcony door, and begins climbing a ladder on the building that evidently leads up to the roof. A huge flat-screen is mounted on one wall in the sitting area, and a quick glance through a pair of French doors to the left reveals a huge ornately, gothically decorated bedroom. The bed alone is a jaw-dropping piece of art.

Vi has a gardener, her flat is decorated immaculately, she was willing to spend six hundred pounds on a keepsake box, and she lives on the entire top floor of this building. “Who are you, Vi Harris?” I ask, my gaze crashing on hers in accusatory curiosity.

She blows a puff of hair out of her face, still holding onto Bruce. “What do you mean?”

“You said your brothers are footballers,” I start, beginning to put two and two together.

“I did.”

My jaw drops. “Like professional footballers?”

She sighs heavily.

I inhale sharply. “Is your brother Gareth Harris? As in, Manchester United starting defender?” My face is deathly serious.

She purses her lips. “Are you a fan?”

My eyes widen as she confirms my suspicions. “This means your dad is Vaughn Harris, the manager of the Bethnel Green Rollers.”

“You’re a fan,” she murmurs.

“You could say that.” I blink my eyes slowly and run my hands through my hair. “Christ. Now I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Your brothers!”

She giggles and releases Bruce to pounce me. “Too late to back out now, mate.” Just as Bruce nearly reaches me, she says, “C’mon Bruce, time for a walkies,” and he diverts his path toward a small basket in her kitchen to grab his own lead.

Still slightly star-struck by this very new information, Vi and I head out with Bruce in tow. Jesus. I never would have guessed any of this about timid, quirky, and somewhat awkward Vi! I do my best not to fire a million questions at her because I assume she gets that a lot. And frankly, I’m more intrigued at watching her walk this enormous animal through the busy streets of Brick Lane. She looks rather confident and at ease in her own skin. Bruce is actually quite manageable on a lead, which I’m grateful to see. One strong tug from him and he’d take Vi out and seriously injure her.

She leads us into a quiet little park oasis where a pair of poodles are prancing around proudly. They take one look at Bruce and freeze. Vi unclips his lead and he bounds over to them, immediately rolling over on his back to allow the two precious canines to sniff all of his wobbly bits till their hearts are content. One of his paws is the size of the pair of them put together. It’s comical, really. The three begin chasing each other and yipping playfully as Vi and I find a secluded bench beneath a magnolia tree.

Pink flowers are literally cascading down all around us. I grow ill as I take in the stark contrast of the surrounding beauty and the horror within me.

“So…where do you have to start?” Vi asks, breaking the silence, her eyes wide with interest.

“Day five,” I croak, shrugging. “Or at least, that’s what Doc said.” I lean forward and rest my elbows on my legs, looking straight ahead as nerves shutter beneath my rib cage.

“What happened on day five?” she asks, her voice soft and probing. “Hayden, stop looking so terrified. I told you I am curious, remember? This is your challenge. I’m your helper. Don’t worry about me. I get what I’m in for. Out with it.”

I tsk my teeth and begin, “Day five was the first time in my life that I had ever considered methods.” Getting it all out in one sentence is an immense relief. I had spoken of many of my days leading up to my attempt in rehab during group therapy. But here, out in a dog park in London, is an entirely different situation.

I turn my neck to watch her reaction.

“Methods?” she asks confused. Then her eyes alight with realisation. “Oh.”

I clench my jaw and nod, looking away. Watching the dogs as I speak my entire truth seems a great deal easier than staring at her innocent face. “I actually Googled the best ways to kill myself. I’d never done anything like that before…Never even considered it. Not properly. But on day five, I had reached my breaking point in my personal life and researching methods felt like the ultimate fuck you to the universe.”

“What caused you to reach your breaking point?” she asks quietly.

Frowning, I recall the intense night I had with Reyna in her flat. The one that resulted in me getting socked in the face by Liam. I close my eyes and reply, “Things were changing all around me. My best mate at the time was Rey and she was changing…pulling away from me. I took it badly. That on top of everything else I had been dealing with was just suffocating me.

“So I started Googling options. A great deal different than Googling a nice holiday, let me tell you. Once you get past all the self-help numbers that pop up like mad, I discovered that a gun seems the quickest and most popular method. But I didn’t have one of those. Carbon monoxide poisoning from running a car inside a closed garage could have been an option, but I didn’t have a car either. Pills and booze could work. But I had seriously abused pills and booze in my past, so obtaining a prescription for me was and still is damn near impossible since my medical chart is flagged. And I’m not too keen on drug dealers.” I laugh self-deprecatingly and shake my head. “I had lots of access to sharp, circular saw blades, though…So—”

“You slit your wrists,” she finishes.

I nod woodenly, unsnapping and re-snapping one of my leather cuffs that conceals a horrid scar beneath. My throat constricts with anxiety. “I think I wanted to feel the pain. To watch the end. I wanted to choose the exact time it occurred. I couldn’t stomach the idea of hanging myself. But I considered it.”

I look over to Vi to gauge her reaction and her face is frozen in a serious, sombre expression. “You okay?” I ask, touching my finger to her cheek. Her eyes close at my caress and the warmth of her skin reminds me that I’m not alone. That’s she’s right here…heart beating, breathing, listening, absorbing, and enduring beside me.

She nods, her chin trembling, “It’s sad.”