Pain. Blinding anguish. So much so, the breath left her lungs, and she felt an imaginary fist twisting her guts into knots. He crawled from the bed, pulled his pants back on, and she followed him to the door. Her ears were buzzing, and though the pain should mean tears, there was nothing to cry. She stood there, waiting for it to be over, dreading it, and at the same time, just wanting it done. And then it was.
There was a point. A point where seeing his face, his beautiful features, his intense stare, simply ended, and he became a haunting memory. Just like that. He’d kissed her; he’d touched her chin. “You will always be my world.” His lips trembled as he said the words, and her tears fell. Then he’d kissed her again and turned away. Gone.
Part III: Running Away
Chapter Forty-Five
The first week was a nightmare. It was a maddening hell that felt endless. He woke up aroused from the most erotic and intense dream he’d ever had of her. But there was no having her anymore, and the moment that understanding set in, hell took over.
Every day was a routine. He got up, he got ready, he sat at the dining room table looking at the picture of them from her graduation as he drank his coffee, he read her letter, he went to the hospital, he came home, he stared at his ceiling, he finally fell asleep, he woke to either a nightmare about her or an amazing dream about her that turned sour fast when he realized she was gone, he got up, and he did it all over again. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.
He stopped taking days off and threw himself into his work even on his days off. People were starting to stare at him when he showed up at the hospital when he wasn’t scheduled, but he didn’t care. Anything to cope. There was part of him that was happy, though. Or perhaps not happy but relieved. Not that she was gone, but that he was—at least for the most part. The he that had turned into a venomous monster who hated her over the past six years. He didn’t hate her. It was hard to imagine how he ever had. But he wasn’t sure he could forgive her, and if he could, there was no chance he could ever forget the pain, and that’s what had ended them. But at least he wasn’t a monster. She’d given him his humanity back. She had refused to walk away until he’d truly given her no reason to stay, and he’d made it so emotionally painful for her. Such an amazing, quiet strength.
One day, nearly two weeks after she’d left, he broke his routine for the first time. He didn’t go to the hospital. He intended to. He was dressed, driving toward the hospital when he passed Taylor’s Furnishings. And at just that time, Michelle Taylor, heir to the Taylor enterprise herself, stepped out of her car. He pulled in beside her before he even knew what he was doing, but he didn’t get out. He lowered his window as Michelle regarded him curiously, if not a bit wearily.
“Coffee?”
She said nothing for a moment. She was deciding. She looked toward the building and then back to him, and her eyes narrowed. “I s’pose I have time.”
“Well, aren’t I the lucky man. Hop in.”
The moment she was in his SUV, he relaxed. It was as if being close to Michelle was like being close to Bailey. He felt close to Bailey for the first time in two weeks, and it was calming. Not in the attraction sort of way. He wasn’t at all attracted to Michelle, never had been. She was just Michelle, and if anything, she reminded him of Jess, but she was as close to Bailey as anyone, and frankly, she was his only link to her.
Michelle’s uncertainty stuck with her until she was seated across from him at a small picnic table outside a little coffee shop on Main Street. “How are you, Darren?”
He nodded for a moment. It answered nothing, but it seemed like the thing to do. “Okay, I guess. You?”
She smiled. “Well, personally, I miss my good friend, Bailey, but otherwise I’m just grand. I assume that’s why we’re here? To talk about her?”
He didn’t answer. He just stared at her for a moment. She’d always been a cheeky brat, and he liked her just fine for it, but she wasn’t going to make this easy on him. “Okay, yes. How is she?”
“Why are you doing this to yourself?”
“What? Wanting to know how a woman I care about is doing now that she’s moved away? Seems like a legitimate question to ask.” He could be as cheeky as she was.
“She told me something.” Now she was taunting him.
“Such as?”
“Such as you slept with her on her last night here.” Now chastising.
But it was enough to get his sarcasm fired up. “You girls and your cute little words for fucking.” She suddenly smirked, and he was instantly reminded of Bailey. After growing up together, Michelle, Jess, and Bailey had adopted many of the same mannerisms. He’d noticed it before, but right now it was like looking at a piece of Bailey sitting in front of him. Michelle’s smirk was missing the incredible crimson cheeks that Bailey would have at his use of the word “fucking” in front of her. He loved her blush. He missed her blush.
“Fucking is such a brash word.” Still smirking.
“And yet, it’s so damn much fun. Are you going to tell me that you’re pissed at me for fuck-ing”—exaggerated enunciation—“her when she was leaving the next day?”
“No. I’m pissed that she was still crying about it when I arrived the next morning.” His face fell and his eyes did too, to stare at the tabletop. Their brief amount of sarcasm and levity had been much needed, but it was surely over now. “I’m sorry.” She must have caught the change in him. Not too hard considering he was suddenly catatonic with pain. She sighed loudly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
He shook his head. She’d just been serious. Apparently making love to Bailey had caused her enough grief that she’d still been upset even a couple hours later. Should he have expected anything less? Hell, he’d been wallowing in self-deprecating misery himself for two weeks.
“I wasn’t trying to hurt her.”
“I know. She knows. I didn’t say she regretted it, only that she was upset. She was upset about leaving you.”
“You do know it was her decision to leave, right?” Michelle nodded, but she didn’t look very convinced.
“And yet, you did nothing to try to get her to stay.”
“She was right to want to be away from me. Michelle, I was really pretty awful to her.” He studied her for a moment. “’Sides, thought you’d be happy she was away from me.”
She harrumphed at that. “Did I ever tell you I used to have a crush on you?”
His brows shot up in interest. She had most definitely never mentioned it. “Why, not you, Michelle Taylor. I can’t believe it.”
“Don’t get cocky, asshole. I said used to. And it was me and about every other girl in school.” She smirked again. When her face suddenly turned serious, he stowed his sarcasm and decided this must be important. “See, the thing is . . . you didn’t seem to really notice anyone except her. Not ever. Hell, not even with a girlfriend on your arm. You still watched her.” She smiled at him. “If she was in a room, you were next to her. And vice versa. You two just found your way to one another. She held your attention in a way no one else could.” He looked away then, but she wasn’t done speaking. “You two were supposed to be together.” She shrugged then. “It’s sad that you can’t be. But I get it. How do you move past something like this?” She studied him for a moment, and then she stood. “But wouldn’t it be quite a thing if you could?” She walked away to the garbage, tossing her napkin away. He stared after her, unable to formulate a response at all.