“Move in with me?” His eyes darken a fraction and he takes a deep breath. “I’m in love with you. I need you here with me, now and always.”
My pulse races and I fight back the tears welling behind my eyes. Those words will live with me for an eternity.
“Well?” he asks softly. Noah’s hazel eyes are alight with hope.
The shake of my head causes his eyes widen in disbelief. The thought of the words I need to say next rips through my mind and my heart. I don’t want to say them, but know I have to. My mouth opens to speak but the words fail to come. I don’t have a choice. I push harder and the words scrape up my throat.
“No, that’s not going to happen.”
Please just accept that.
“Why not?”
His head tilts to the side and his eyes search my face. I stare at him, my chest hammering, unable to get out what I know I need to.
“Lizzie? Why won’t you move in with me?” His voice is low, dejected, and I’m starting to lose my nerve. His brow furrows, the deep lines tracking across his forehead.
Please, please don’t. Just stop. I can’t say the words. Please don’t make me say them.
I stand up to leave. I need to get away. Before I’ve taken a few steps his large hands grasp my shoulders, and he turns me to face him. His gaze searches mine almost like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.
“Lizzie?” His gruff voice demands an answer.
My heart explodes. “I… I don’t love you.” I squeeze every painful word out. They’re a lie. I love him more than anything. More than my own life.
He drops his hands from me and takes a step back.
“What the fuck, Lizzie?” he whispers, staring at me like I’ve just run over a prized pet. No, not run over, more like I’ve mutilated and dismembered it with my own hands right in front of him. His beautiful eyes flash with pain before being replaced by instantaneous searing anger.
He stands with his feet shoulder width apart, bare chest heaving with the emotions playing in his eyes. Those gorgeous manly hands rest on his hips where his faded jeans hang loosely, his breath ragged. I want to turn away from the blaze that’s raging like an inferno in his eyes, darkening the hazel to black. I’ve hurt him and there’s no turning back.
“You know what, fuck this. You want it your way? Have it your way. I’m out. I don’t need this shit!”
My way? It’s not my way. I don’t want this, I want… you.
I’m numb. My mind’s still not functioning at full capacity, and I can’t get the words to come out. But even if I could, I know the risk is too high. I can’t risk his life, or Ignition. I’d rather have him hate me.
He swipes his black T-shirt from the floor, and in a few strides, reaches the door. He looks back over his shoulder and waits for something, anything from me to make this right. Behind the anger his eyes plead with me. I see it clearly, but my brain still can’t play catch up. I’m trying but my heart’s fracturing, overriding any ability to form coherent words.
“Get the fuck out of my house. I don’t want you here when I get home.”
I look at him helplessly, tears flowing down my face, begging him with my eyes. Hoping he can read the truth, see the words I can’t say. But with the slow shake of his gorgeous brown head, and with the rattling slam of the door, I know he didn’t. He’s gone.
What have I done?
My heart and soul have vanished out the door, in the hands of the man that holds them.
I can’t breathe. My chest constricts and restricts my airflow, compressing around the hole that has formed where my heart used to be. It crushes me like a slow and deadly implosion. Obliterating my heart to dust.
You caused this, you did this to yourself. You should’ve been more careful, you shouldn’t have taken the risk. You knew this would happen, what did you expect?
My thoughts join in with the crippling battering my own body already provides me with and I can’t stand the pressure any longer. I collapse to my knees onto the wooden floor, into a heaving, sobbing broken mess.
It’s over.
I don’t know how long I sit on his floor, my knees pressed tightly to my chest, my arms wrapped around them as I rock back and forth. After picking myself up from the ground, I gather myself together and leave, but not without taking one of Noah’s T-shirts. I need a part of him with me. My hand rubs over my stomach and guilt floods my already overloaded senses. I’ll always have that now.
I arrive back home. Hell. The constant nagging fear eats away at me. The buzz of anxiety in my stomach I’ll have to learn to live with because I don’t know how to escape from what’s waiting for me inside.
As I get out of the car, the memory of Noah’s pleading eyes haunts every step I take. I should’ve told him the truth. But I couldn’t. The price is too high. I heave a shaky breath, the pain in my chest unbearable. But I know I did the right thing.
Noah’s life for mine. My baby’s life for mine.
I enter the kitchen. An empty bottle of Jack sits on the counter. As I walk further something crunches under my feet. Broken glass shards are scattered like ice crystals over the floor. Romeo’s Destruction cancelled all upcoming tours and recording time to allow Mac time to get his addictions under control. Looks like it’s working. Not.
Inside me, fear pulls at my stomach, sending a wave of nausea through me. I walk over to the island unit and place my bag down before going to the utility room to retrieve the dustpan and brush. Footsteps crunch behind me.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Mac’s angry words are slurred and my muscles tense at what it means for what little rationality he has left. He doesn’t let me answer before he continues. “I warned you, Liz, I fucking told you what would happen. I told you to stay away from that bastard,” he spits out.
As I feared, the alcohol has taken his last shred of humanity. As I turn, his face contorts with fury.
“I did what you asked. We’re over. Are you happy now?” I should be more careful with my words.
A sick, angry laugh gurgles up in his throat. “Am I fucking happy? That cunt has been touching what’s mine. Do you think I should be happy?”
Cringing at his words, I try edging away from him, but instead back myself up against the corner cabinets. Bad mistake.
“Has he touched you here?” Mac reaches for my neck and strokes the side of it, sending nervous shivers down my spine. I don’t know how to answer. One wrong word could set him off.
A cold laugh struggles from his throat. “Of course he has. The bastard got you knocked up with another bastard.”
The stench of alcohol reeks on his breath and seeps through his pores, making me want to gag. He slips his hand around my throat and holds it there as if contemplating wringing my neck. I try desperately but cautiously to move to my right, away from the corner that’s holding me hostage. His grip on me tightens and I freeze.
“Has he touched you here?” He loosens his hold on my throat then traces down and over my breast.
I try to work out how to get away. My mouth dries and my voice clogs in my throat. Without warning, he grasps me and the pain ricochets downwards, making my knees buckle. A strangled sound leaves my mouth.
“These. Are. Mine.” He’s inches away from my face.
My heart beats frantically, and adrenaline rushes through me, making my whole body vibrate. Mac blocks the exit, but I need to get away.
“Has he touched this?” He edges his hand downwards.
Survival instincts kick in and I raise my knee as hard as possible into his groin. There’s contact, but not hard enough to put him down.