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I hurl out of the car and race up the driveway. I just need to make it to the comfort of the guesthouse before I truly break down. My feet slam against the driveway. I run too fast and stumble. My heavy tears restrict my view. I’m unable to steady myself and fall forward. I await the hardness of the concrete below me, needing the pain.
But it never happens.
Two strong arms catch me before I slam against the ground.
“Bridget. My goodness, what’s happened?” My gaze peers up at the sound of Jonathon’s deep voice. I want to break down and tell him all my deep, dark secrets. Confess the torture that lives inside me. My chest cracks open, and a painful sob erupts up my throat. “Jesus.” He gathers me in his arms and carries me into the main house. My tears soak his shirt. Bringing me into his study, he lays me down on his leather couch.
“I’m so sorry. I just—”
“Please. Don’t apologize. You’re upset.”
I sit up, trying to compose myself and failing miserably. “I know, but it’s not your problem. I should just go—”
He presses his large hand against my shoulder, keeping me in place. “You will do no such thing. I won’t allow you to leave in such distress. Sit here. I’ll get you something that will help calm you down.” He gets up, and a moment later, he returns with a crystal glass. I take the glass and sling it back, my puffy eyes squinting as the brown liquid burns down my throat. “That should settle you.”
I place the glass on the table and wipe at my bottom lip. “I’m not sure anything will help me settle.” I hate the sad truth in my tone. “I’m sorry. This is not your problem or anything you need to deal with. I’m going to go.” I stand, but sway on my feet.
“Nonsense.” His palm rests against my shoulder. The warmth of his hand feels oddly comforting. “As my employee, everything that involves you is my problem.”
I know it’s wrong. I should leave. But my emotions are in overdrive, and I don’t know how to turn them off and walk away.
“Not this problem,” I whisper.
“Any problem.” I raise my eyes to his. My cheeks flush as he stares down at me. The tightness in my chest is making it hard to breathe. “No one should make a special woman like yourself cry.”
My mind is so jumbled, I lose sight of myself. I’m so desperate to numb the pain and need the visions of Chase to go away. His deceit. I want to feel anything but ruined and broken.
Without another thought, I raise onto my tiptoes and fuse my lips to his. I press my body against his, needing him to make this all go away. Just as quickly, his large hands grab at my waist and dig into my flesh, pushing me off him.
“Bridget, whoa. I’m sorry if you’ve mistaken my kindness, but I’m not interested.”
I blink. Shameful tears fill my eyes, and I cover my mouth. What have I just done? “I—I’m so sorry. I don’t know—”
I turn on my heel and race out of his office.
I struggle to get into the guesthouse, dropping the key twice. When I finally enter, I run to the bathroom and drop to the floor, expelling the sourness of my humiliation. What is wrong with me? I throw up once more as the image from Jonathon’s office plays on a loop in my mind. My legs tremble so bad, I barely make it to my bed before I collapse and fall apart, shedding a lifetime of tears.
I don’t know how long I cry for. My eyelids feel like they weigh a million pounds. It’s suddenly impossible to hold them open. I hiccup into my pillow, and before I realize, exhaustion takes over and I fall asleep.
Jax and I were practically kids when we fell in love. I remember like it was yesterday. Our secret late-night talks. Listening to our favorite songs. Whispers of affection, until those soft murmurs turned into a voice that held a true meaning of love. A love we fought for. Two different worlds. Two young kids, knowing that this was our forever. A darkness that kept us questioning, but the future that held such light in it, that one day, we would be together.
And then one day, we weren’t.
My hands shake as I regret the words I spewed out of anger. I dial his number again, praying he answers so I can tell him how sorry I am. To come back so we can talk about it.
Voicemail. Again. “Jax, please. I’m sorry. Please just come back. I know I was wrong. I love you. I don’t want anything else. I’ll wait. Forever if I need to. I just want you. I won’t survive this world without you. Please. Come back. Call me back.”
