“I’m done waiting,” shaking my head, I walk into the elevator. “I waited years for you to come save me.Years. But it’s too late,you’retoo late.”
“Greyson, please. Just let me explain.”
“Goodbye, Sebastian.”
“Greyson—” The doors close in his face, and I inhale a sharp breath.
Fuck.
Leaning my back against the railings, I close my eyes. I never told anyone, but I did wait for years. I’d lay awake in bed, each night feeling longer than the last, as I prayed my dad would come save me. Love me. But it never happened. He never showed. He never cared, and he never loved me.
That’s when I came to the realization that I’m not lovable, and nobody would ever love me.
And I guess that’s what I’ll always be known as, the broken boy who was never loved.
Write that on my gravestone and weep about it.
When the doors open to my floor, I fumble around with the keycard in my pocket and press it against the keypad. Once it beeps green, I push the door open and lock it behind me before throwing the keycard on the desk and making a beeline straight toward the minifridge.
Water, orange juice, beer…I needed strong liquor. And once I spot the vodka, I grip it tightly with my hand and unscrew the lid. This bottle probably costs a fortune, but I don’t care. It’s Sebastian’s hotel, and if he wanted to suddenly become the doting father, he could pay the bill.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, my mind is a mess as I bring the bottle to my lips once again. My throat burns, but the more I drink, the more I’ll forget.
Glancing down at my phone that I threw on the bed beside me, my fingers twitch topick it up.
I shouldn’t…but I want to hear her voice. Ineedto hear her voice. Because for some reason I feel like hearing her voice will calm me down.
Typing in my passcode, my fingers slide across the screen until her contact comes up, and I don’t waste a second before dialing.
“Greyson?” She answers on the third ring, sounding confused.
“Lil-Bug?” I whisper before breaking down in tears.
Chapter 29
Lilly
Slamming my hand down onto the button to bring the elevatorto the ground floor, I bounce around on my feet feeling impatient.
Glancing around, I debate about taking the stairs, maybe I’ll get up there quicker…but as I push my right foot in front of me to run toward the staircase, the elevator doors open wide.
Running inside, I find the right floor and frantically press at the button until the doors close and the elevator jolts, moving up floors.
Anxiously looking at the numbers as they rise, my fingers find the edge of my nails picking at them. And when it stops on the floor I need, I’m sprinting out before the door is fully open.
Steering left, I run along the corridor looking at the number plaques on the wall. And once I reach the number I need, I come to a halt, slamming my fist against the door so loudly that the sound could wake the dead.
Please answer. Please, please,please.
The door swings open, and I immediately embrace Greyson. Wrapping myarms around his chest, I peek up at him and ask. “Are you okay?”
Stupid question. Of course he’s not okay.
“Defineokay.” He snarks, closing the door behind us.
I let go of him and take a step back, he in return spins around and walks straight toward the bed, slumping down on the edge of it. Bringing a bottle of vodka to his lips, I quickly snatch it from his hand and place it onto the desk near us.
Turning, I look at him, and he looks…broken.
