Shit. Now he’s probably going to hate me even more. ‘Him.He’snot the same. Things are different and it’s messing up my head. I can’t do this, Jo. I need to do something. I need to rid myself of him.’
‘Don’t do anything?—’
I hang up before he can finish that sentence. He can tell me not to do anything stupid all he wants, but we both know I’m going to do it anyway.
I need to do this for Kian. To save him from all the hurt and pain I’ll eventually cause him, or that he’ll cause me.
ChapterTwenty-Three
Kian
How many times am I going to find myself here? It’s almost as if I watch him every time realising he’s a little too emotionally invested in what’s going on between us and then he shuts himself down completely. Cuts me off.
At what point do I accept that he means it? How many times do I need to be shut out before I’m done? If he can’t even acknowledge that this is more than sex, that we are more than two people who just stick their dicks in each other, then what’s the point?
There really isn’t one.
I should know that by now.
It’s time.
Time to move on.
It starts with deleting all of our texts. Every shared memory of the last several months, gone. Every bit of banter, every flirty message, every random meme is banished to somewhere they can never come back from.
A few of his things got mixed up with mine because I had to pack while I was feeling very sub-par and didn’t have the energy to separate them out: a hat, his Deep Heat, a couple of T-shirts. I find a bag and chuck the items in, leaving it by the door to drop off at his room tomorrow.
I want to include a hoodie of his that I’ve basically adopted and to which I feel very attached, but in the end I keep it. Then I change my mind and put it in the bag.
I change my mind again and pull it out, holding it to my nose like a pathetic teenager crying over a first crush.
I’m not sure what I’m expecting it to do – it’s not like it’s going to magically make Harper appear or change his mind. He won’t decide he wants to be with me just because I’m clinging to an inanimate object of his. So, I ball it up and chuck it into the bag again.
Yet it does nothing to loosen the grip he has on my heart.
To the point I find my thumb hovering over his name in my phone contacts. I’m desperate to call him and tell him to come back so we can talk.
But what’s the point? That’s the thought I keep coming back to. There is no point with Harper. He doesn’t want to commit to me and I have to accept that.
Kicking my bags under my bed, I hate that I haven’t unpacked properly like I usually do. The energy I normally have to make a place my own little home for the two weeks we’re here has been zapped by something painful in my chest.
I won’t label it heartbreak. I won’t let Harper break me. He can’t. He doesn’t have that power.
It’s a lie I’ll keep telling myself until I believe it.
Elijah’s been messaging me recently saying he’s doing much better and is back in the gym. He needs to get signed-off from his physical therapist and then he can get back in the simulator. Maybe Anders will pull him back in for the rest of the season and Harper will be out. Maybe he’ll take London’s position as our back-up driver – or maybe he’ll be sent back to the lower tier. That would be the ultimate preference.
I wouldn’t have to deal with him at all, then; there’d be so much less temptation. No more mistakes, like in Italy.
Trying to settle back into bed is hard.
When I saw him fumbling around outside my door this evening, all dressed up and panting like a dog, I thought the few days of distance we’ve had in Singapore because of the change in living situation had worked their magic and he’d come to tell me he missed me and wanted to be with me and that he love?—
Obviously I got ahead of myself. For a split second he seemed determined and brave, and full of a light and warmth I’m not used to seeing in him, but then that all vanished in the blink of an eye. It was so fast that I doubted whether it had ever been there, at all. I must have imagined it because I wanted it so much.
Of course he’s out with Johannes tonight. And I know it’s not to talk about whatever was bothering Johannes the last time Harper ran off to be with him. Harper was dressed to go out out. Maybe he’s kissing another guy right now. Maybe he’s shagging someone else right now.
I really should be trying to sleep. Free practice is early tomorrow and I’m already feeling drained. I’m still recovering from the crash and I need all the help I can get – both physically and mentally. I think of Elise’s worry and how I’ve added to her burden. I can’t let Harper mess me up anymore.
