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THIRTY-EIGHT
Laia
I stare at the photos, blinking uselessly, my stomach rolling, Felix practically vibrating with anger beside me.
My stare flits from image to image, seeing them, but not. Feeling the violation, but still looking for a way for it to be some sort of mistake. It doesn’t come. It’s not a mistake.
An eerie coldness settles over my mind—over my emotions—over every part of me it can reach. Shock, I guess. Whatever it is, it clears the way for one single thought. One single, horrifying truth.
This is my fault.
I’d been stupid to think that this would ever work, that Damon wouldn’t involve Felix. That I could actually be happy.
Felix lifts a photo, drawing my numb gaze. Taken through his kitchen window, I’m laying naked on the marble-topped island, my legs spread, Felix thrusting into me. It’s just as graphic and soul-shattering as the other pictures, only this one is different—worse.
Felix’s face has been scored out. Viciously. Evilly.
With intent.
My blood freezes in my veins, chilling me from the inside out when I pick up the next photo. Kenzi and Mylo—faces scored out. There are photos of Mrs. Devon, Jo, Rae, Rylie, Pete and Simon.
Everyone I care about.
Felix slams the photo in his hand down onto the desk. I flinch back a full step at the crack of the wood under the force of his blow.
“Felix, I’m sorry. I didn’t think—didn’t know.”
He turns to face me, his jaw clenched tight, his hands fisted by his sides, his eyes burning with thinly veiled rage. He doesn’t say anything. Not a word. Just turns back to the photos.
This is all my fault.
His business is here, his family, his life. And I’ve just come along with my fucked-up past and messed everything up.
I need to fix this.
Felix drags his hand over his face. “Stop. Apologizing.”
I start at the hard edge to his voice, my eyes stinging as I watch him blow out a slow breath before he meets my stare again.
“Don’t you—ever apologize for that piece of shit again, Laia.” He grabs my shoulders and pulls me to him, pressing his lips to my forehead. “None of this is on you, you hear?”
I stiffen against his body, my arms wooden by my sides. I can’t help it. Can’t seem to make myself react to his touch. Or his words. Or his anything.
Whether he wants to believe it or not, I brought this mess down on him. I did.
“This isn’t your fault.” He repeats again, leaning back to look into my face.
I lower my gaze.
“Laia this doesn’t change anything.” He cups my face, tipping it back up to his. His scowl, the hurt in the tight line of his lips is painful to witness, especially knowing that it’s because of me. “Laia.” He juts his jaw before it clenches tightly again. “This doesn’t change anything for me.”
Finally, the dam my emotions seem to have been trapped behind cracks, and a whole lot of pissed seeps through. I shake free of his hold. “Are you crazy, Felix?” I sink my fingers into my hair and tug at the strands, hot tears escaping down my cheeks. “This changes everything.” My bottom lip trembles. I scrub my hands down my face and spin back to the desk. “I have to go. I need to leave?. If I go, he goes.”
“You’re not going anywhere.” Felix’s hands clasp my shoulders.
I shy away from his touch and wrap my arms around myself. “Don’t tell me what to do—not you—not now.” My gaze darts to his desk and the images laid there then returns to his. “I should have left as soon as I knew he’d found me.” I look away, unable to hold the hurt behind his eyes. “It is my fault.”
“The fuck it’s your fault.” His roar is like a slap in the face. I know he won’t hurt me, but right now, what I know and, more importantly, what I feel are completely different things.
I’m shaking and backing up and verging on an actual fucking breakdown. “Felix, please. Just let me go.”
“Damn it, Laia, do not pull that wall down.” Both his hands lift to the nape of his neck and scrub up the back of his head. “I’m not him. I’m not trying to control you.” He drops his hands to his sides, palms up. “If you run now, he’ll find you again.” His fingers find mine, link through them, squeeze them in all their numbness. “Stay here. With me. Let me help you.”
It’s no good. It won’t work. Nothing will work. “I—I can’t. I’m sorry.” I stare at our linked fingers, still shaking my head, still barely stopping my stomach from lurching up my throat. “There’s nothing you can do.”
“I’m calling Jackson. I’ll get Mylo?. We’ll hunt him down, Laia. I can fix this—we can fix this.” Desperation saturates his rough voice, his eyes pleading, his thumb running over my knuckles.
I shake my head.
“Laia, I love you. Do not let him ruin this.”
“No—” My chin trembles, a sob escaping. “Felix—you can’t—I can’t.” My face crumples. He can’t love me. It’s not fair. More tears fall, more cracks splintering everything inside me. I let him drag me to him, wrap my arms around his waist, press my face into his chest and breathe him in.
His smell. His heat. His strength.
He shifts, but doesn’t release me, even as he pulls his cell from his pocket. “We will sort this out, Laia. Trust me.”
I listen to him tell Jackson everything, his body against mine tempting me to change my mind. He thinks he can protect me, and maybe he can, but at what cost? What if Damon decides to post the photos on the internet? Plaster them all over town? Show them to his family?
The thought of leaving Felix is literally turning my stomach. But what are my options? Stay here and wait for Damon to come out of whatever rock he’s hiding under? Wait for him to make his move? To hurt someone around me to get to me? I wouldn’t put it past him, and I couldn’t live with myself if someone else gets hurt because I’m too selfish to do the right thing. I close my eyes and breathe in his Felix smell. Try to burn it into my mind. Fresh air and peppermint and him.
The second he cuts the call to Jackson he has the phone to his ear again. “Mylo, I need your help, man.” He kisses my head then releases me to walk back to the desk to pick up the envelope.
“I didn’t expect to see you here so early.”
I jump violently at Jo’s unexpected appearance in the office doorway.
“Not now, Jo,” Felix snaps, gathering the photos back into the envelope, his cell caught between his chin and his shoulder.
The smile falls from Jo’s face, her brow creasing as she looks between us. “I’m making coffee. Thought you might want one,” she mutters, already halfway back out the door.
“I’d love one.” I try to keep my voice light and glance over to where Felix is talking quietly into his cell. He covers the microphone with his hand, “Do not leave until we figure this out, Laia. Please.”
I stare at his worried face—commit every detail to memory. “I won’t,” I lie, forcing my lips into a brittle smile.
Jo is busy setting up the coffee machine when I get through to the bar. Watching her back, I silently pull the door that leads from the bar to the storerooms and Felix’s office closed, turn the key then slip it into my pocket.
If he can’t get out, he can’t stop me.
The further away from this island I am, the further away Damon will be from the people I love. I should have left the second I knew he’d found me.
“I left my purse in my truck.” If Jo had gotten the chance to know me a little better, she’d have been able to hear the lie in my voice.
She doesn’t. And now she never will.
“Okay.” She nods over her shoulder then reaches up to pull some mugs from the shelf above the machine. “Milk and sugar, right?”
“Right.” I walk out of the Beach Hut, praying I’ll have enough of a head start to get away. I’m doing the right thing. I’m doing the only thing that makes sense.
Go home. Pack some clothes. Leave on the next ferry.
My plan is simple. I repeat it over and over as I climb into my truck. As I start the ignition and pull out of the car park. As I take the winding tree-lined road. My cell starts buzzing in my purse as I round the final bend to the bungalow I’ve grown to think of as home. Bile rises in my throat at the thought of leaving. I force myself to refocus.
Home. Bag. Leave … Home. Bag. Leave.
The image of Felix’s face flashes in my mind. The first time he kissed me in the doorway. The night I told him everything. The million ways he looks after me every, single day.
He loves me. He told me he loved me, and I didn’t even say it back.
Tears sting again, my chest aching, stomach rolling. What am I doing?
I blow out a breath and shove open the truck door with my shoulder, but it doesn’t budge. My chin trembles with my blown-out breath. I don’t want to go. A sharp sort of half-sob escapes before I can reel it in, wiping my eyes roughly with the palms of my hands. This time I shove hard enough that pain shoots through my shoulder and the door groans its way open. I’ve survived starting over before. I can do it again. I climb down from the truck.
But that was before when I had no one. This time I’m not alone. This time I have Felix—I have friends—this time I have alife worth fighting for.
I stop walking up the drive, the numbness of my determination cracking. I have a life worth fighting for. My cell starts vibrating again. I can’t do this. I can’t leave. I won’t. I shove my hand into my purse to find my phone then swipe my thumb across the screen as I hurry to the front door.
“Felix. I’m not leaving. I’m—”
I should have paid more attention. Should have sensed something was wrong the moment I set foot into the house.
