That One Moment (Lost in London #2) (34 page)

“Pain is pain, Hayden!” I screech in frustration and mindlessly stamp my foot. His eyes glower down at the action. “You don’t have to have suffered through the worst of pain to have empathy.”

“I don’t need your empathy!” he shouts, his tone reaching a high, manic level. I think I preferred the dark, ominous Hayden better. He shoves his hands through his hair, yanking at the roots before letting go. “I’ve been trying to protect what I’ve got going here. Telling myself that I don’t need you in order to be healthy because I’m doing this all on my own. Then you bring me to this crazy bird who tells me you’re my life mate!”

“Stop,” I grind out through clenched teeth, but it falls on deaf ears.

“It’s fucking mental, Vi! All of it. One person can’t depend on another that much. Soul mates? Christ. We ran into each other. I thought you were hot. End of. Let’s not magic this into something bigger than it is.”

My legs feel like they’ve been kicked out from under me, but he still doesn’t slow.

“And what’s with you hiding shit from me? I’ve told you so much, Vi. So much that you could write a damn book about me. You hiding that stuff about your mum feels like I’ve been lied to all this time.”

My stomach convulses at his spot-on accusation. “I wanted to mention it, but I was scared, Hayden. I never knew much about my mum. And it’s always been an odd feeling to share a birthday with someone I barely remember. So to have her death anniversary mean something to you would be like just another part of my life tainted by her. And 11:11 is important to you…not me.”

“Oh, whatever,” he growls. “I was doing just fine on my own until you came along. I made it through Reyna, through rehab, through living with my parents, through a bloody speech at the gala. I’ll make it through you. I don’t need to depend on anyone in order to be healthy.”

Needles prick behind my eyes.

“And what happens when I go off the rails again? What then?” he snaps, his gaze glacial as he steps within inches of my face, towering over me with his most intimidating stance. His scent toys with my emotions as his hot breath on my face speaks in acerbic tones. “I’m going to crash and I’ll take both of us down with me. You’re going to get caught in the crossfire and I will ruin you. If what that woman said has an ounce of truth to it and you are my twin flame, then that means anything I do has the potential to fucking kill you. It might not be with a blade across your wrists, but I promise you it will hurt.”

I bite my lip as tears flood my vision. I look away, my face fixed and frozen. I need to remain silent so he stops.

Just wait till he’s finished, Vi. Just wait. He’s just processing. Saying anything right now would be like poking a bear. Don’t poke the bear.

He moves to walk away, but I catch his arm as quiet words escape my constricting throat. “Getting hurt is part of being alive.”

“Alive?” He swerves back to me with a haughty bark of a laugh. “That’s a joke when you’re talking about me.” He slinks his hands up my wrists and clutches my arms harshly. “Look at me, Vi. You don’t have anything good with me. It’s best you find that out now.”

His face crushes me. His eyes are merely hollow shells of the man who’s been opening up to me the last few weeks. He moves to turn away from me, but before he lets go of my arms, an explosion erupts from the very depths of my soul.

“You don’t get to keep forever to yourself!” I scream loudly into his face and shove his chest with all my might. He blinks hard as if the outburst broke some protective shell around him. My emotional shove proves more effective than my physical. Acidic tears slide over my lips and into my mouth, the salty liquid doing nothing to quench the burning in my chest. My spit is thick in my throat as I touch my hands to his face. He flinches like the tips of my fingers are made of razor blades. My voice trembles as I utter, “Hayden, I love you.”

His expression turns grim and he deftly yanks free from my grasp. “Vi, I need to be on my own.” His voice is calm and professional, like he’s addressing a business transaction as he backs away from me. “This isn’t good for my recovery.”

I swallow back the thickness bubbling up as every insecurity from my entire life starts pulling at me like quicksand. Like the underworld is reaching up from beneath the ground and dragging me down into the depths of hell. “Hayden, if it’s just that you’re scared or you’re unsure, I get it. But if it’s me, have the courage to tell me. If you don’t love me then that is something I
can’t
help you through.” I fist my hands against my chest in agony over the doom I feel coming. “At this point, either you love me or you don’t. There is no way you don’t know by now.”

Sobs crack from my throat as I look at Hayden and all he offers me is a pitying expression. All the days we spent revealing the deepest parts of our lives, gone. Vanished. The pain is horrifying.

I look into his eyes one last time and everything I love about him is magnified. His heart, his pain, his passion, his temper. I’m looking at everything I want.

And he’s looking at me like a charity case.

Without waiting for his verbal confirmation, I walk to the edge of the sidewalk and wave down a passing cab. I slide onto the smooth leather and crumble inside the quietness.

I don’t look back. I can’t look back.

My broken man…

…just broke me.

RELAPSE

M
y knuckles turn white as I grip a brown bottle of beer nestled inside the cooler door amongst a sea of other brown bottles. I blink furiously against the flickering neon lights casting a putrid green glow on the back of my hand. On the back of my scarred, mangled, fucked up hand. I didn’t even make the conscious decision to step inside this rundown corner shop that has the faint smell of ammonia and urine. I barely even noticed the foreign man behind the counter shouting into his cell phone in another language.

But now, here I am, staring at row after row of assorted booze inside a convenience store cooler section.

Seeing the bottle in my hand, my eyes narrow. I squeeze the base of it. Hard. Harder. It doesn’t break. I’m not strong enough.
I’m fucking weak.
I have to choose right now between climbing up an enormous mountain or falling down a slippery hill. Rage explodes inside of me over that realisation. I grab the bottle and yank it from the cooler. The door slams shut as I swing my arm back as far as I can and launch the offensive bottle onto the ground by my feet. The scent of beer invades my nose as the amber liquid splashes up on my pants. My boots crunch over the shiny glass as I move back into the fridge to grab two more bottles staring me down at eye level. I hold them in place and squeeze them as hard as I can, letting out a garbled grunt when I still can’t break the fucking glass.

The man at the counter begins shouting in a foreign language. I release the bottles in frustration and, without pause, turn and storm down the aisle, chucking a twenty-pound note on the counter as I stride out the door. My walk turns faster and faster, eventually shifting into a full on run. I sprint through the busy and narrow streets with cabbies honking at me at nearly every intersection. I run and run until my lungs are about to explode. In the end, I find myself back at Shoreditch in front of C. Designs. My stomach roils as I hunch over, propping my hands on my knees for support. Silently screaming in agony, my chest rises and falls in terrifyingly fast measures.

Theo’s glasses-covered eyes catch sight of me through the window while he works a skill saw on a slab of raw wood. His expression drops as he sets down the saw and comes running out to me.

“Hayden, what happened?” His footsteps come to a thundering halt beside me and he squats to look up at my face. I continue panting, unable to respond, and his eyes frown down at my wet trousers. He sniffs. “Have you been fucking drinking?”

I scowl and shake my head aggressively, standing up and clutching my side as I continue to heave huge gulps of air into my lungs.

“You’re lying. You reek of alcohol,” he accuses, his brown eyes icy slits as he rises up to his feet. “What the fuck, Hayden? How could you?”

“I didn’t!” I snap, shoving Theo in the chest angrily just as Leslie appears over his shoulder.

She’s pushing Marisa in a pram. Her green eyes widen with fear as Theo grabs me by my shirt and pulls me to his face. “Goddammit, Hayden! You’re going to throw it all away again. A fucking year’s worth of work for what?”

I go limp in his arms and he stares back at me in confusion as I gesture over his shoulder with my chin. His head turns and lands on Leslie. Instantly, his grip releases my shirt.

“Tell me what I’m seeing isn’t true,” Leslie says, her voice shaky and uneasy, further penetrating my aching heart.

Theo clasps his glasses and eyes me harshly. “Hayden’s been drinking.”

“No I haven’t!” I roar and fight the urge to punch my fucking arrogant arse of a brother in the nose. I glance briefly at the pram and it snuffs my burning rage when I hear Marisa begin to fuss. My heart bleeds inside my chest at that sound.

“Leslie,” I beg. “Please, you have to believe me. I haven’t been drinking. I swear to you. I broke a bottle at the corner store. I was going to buy it. I wanted to buy it. I wanted to drink the whole bloody thing…but I smashed it instead.” My eyes slam shut at the fact that in a flash, I’m now back to being the sad, pathetic baby brother whom everyone feels sorry for. And it didn’t even take me getting drunk to do it.

Leslie pushes the pram over to Theo who exhales deeply, attempting to calm down with Marisa closer to him now. She walks over to me and cups my face in her hands. Her green eyes are glossy as she sniffs my breath. I begin to moan about, feeling like the fucking spit on someone’s shoe, but she catches me off guard when she pulls me down into her arms…

…for a hug.

She hugs me.

She tucks my head to her chest and she fucking hugs me.

Just when I thought I was already broken beyond recognition…

My heart splinters.

I begin quaking in her arms and squint at my watch through my tears even though I know there’s not a shot in hell that it could be 11:11 right now. But I wish it were. I wish so much that it were. I wish my own sister were here holding me. I wish I wasn’t shattering into a shred of the man I was before. I wish so many things, but the one wish I want the most is something I possibly just ruined forever.

I let everything in my life get so fucked, and now all this tiny redhead wants to do is hug me.

After an insurmountable amount of time, Theo interrupts my strangled sobs with a soft tap on my shoulder. I release Leslie with a loud sniff and wipe aggressively at my eyes. I look up and see Marisa’s wide, beautiful baby blues staring back at me. I release another throaty sob as Theo holds her out for me to take.

I slide my hands beneath her small arms and tuck her to my chest, pressing my cheek to the top of her head. My arms tremble as I purse my lips into a thin line to conceal the emotional pain of the trust he’s just given me in this moment. Exhaling a few more aching cries, I allow my heart to regulate with hers…

Calming…

Soothing…

Beating…

Alive.

“Where’s my fussy girl at?” I joke, and Leslie and Theo burst out into an emotionally thick laugh. Theo tucks Leslie under his arm, and the two of them look at me with all the undiluted love and trust in their eyes that they can muster.

I swallow hard and kiss Marisa’s soft head. She fusses and it brings a smile to my face. “There’s my girl. I got ya.”

“Still my girl,” Theo mumbles under his breath and Leslie elbows him sharply in the ribs.

I nod a silent thank you…because for the first time in years…I allow myself to be loved.