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“She’s everything to me, Kate. I can’t lose her.”
She sighs, looking past me. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you.” I exhale the words, so fucking grateful. She could have told me to fuck off. She could have shut me down, and the fact she hasn’t sent me packing gives me hope. Because she’s Ava’s best friend and she wouldn’t try to help me if she knew with certainty that Ava truly hates me.
Kate heads back, and I follow obediently, using the time to pray. I pray on everything. I call on my brother to help me. I call on Carmichael. And I call on Rosie. My little girl. She’d be nineteen now. Nineteen years old. And if she was still here, I wouldn’t be in this position. I can only hope that my path still would have led me to Ava though. I have to believe it would have, because to know I would have to lose one love of my life just to find another is unthinkable. It’s cruel.
I climb the stairs to her flat, more nervous than I’ve ever been in my life. Kate looks back at me, and I see in her expression that I should wait here, so I stop, nodding, swallowing, willing to do anything she says if it means I get this chance. She disappears into the lounge, and there’s a prolonged, unbearable silence before anyone speaks. It’s Kate, and what she says is defensive. It tells me maybe I was wrong with my assumption. Ava really doesn’t want to see me.
“Just hear him out, Ava,” she says softly, and I rub at the ache in my chest. “The man’s a mess.” I could laugh. I’m not a mess. I’m fucking broken. Destroyed. “You, get in the kitchen!” she snaps.
“I can’t fucking move, you evil cow,” Sam retorts, and the next minute they appear at the door. Sam’s limping.
“Don’t ask,” he mutters. I don’t bother telling him that I wasn’t going to, but if I were to hedge my bets, I’d say Kate’s let her fury out on his balls. I’d take that over this. I’d take a cricket bat to my nuts repeatedly. The pain would be more bearable.
I breach the opening of the lounge and find her by the window, her back to me. It’s a tactical move on her part. She knows the affect we have on each other with just a look. Just a touch. She knows I can eliminate her despair. If she’ll only let me. “Please, look at me, Ava,” I beg, trying to adopt a gentle approach. Give her space. Tell her rather than show her that we’re meant to be. “Ava, please.” And yet despite my better judgment, my hand lifts and feels her arm. She jerks away, and it’s like a knife to my heart.
“Please, don’t touch me,” she says, facing me. I momentarily avoid the sheer determination in her stare, unable to face it. But I must face it.
So I look up at her. I see detachment.
“Why did you even take me there?” she asks, her voice worryingly stable.
“Because I want you with me all the time,” I admit unashamedly. “I can’t be away from you.”Because I love you. I need you.
“Well, you’d better get used to it because I don’t want to see you again.”
“You don’t mean that,” I say, feeling my eyes stinging. “I know you don’t mean that.”
“I mean it.”
“I never meant to hurt you,” I whisper. I was trying to protect her. From me. From my reality.
“Well, you have,” she snipes coldly. “You’ve trampled into my life and trampled all over my heart. I tried to walk away.” Her jaw rolls angrily. “I knew there was more than meets the eye. Why didn’t you let me walk away?”
“You never really wanted to walk away.”
“Yes, I did.” She loses her battle to retain her emotions, her eyes brimming. It’s both relieving and crushing. “I fought you off. I knew I was heading for trouble, but you were relentless. What happened? Did you run out of married women to fuck?”
I flinch. How could she say that? “No, I found you,” I say, moving forward, but she maintains the distance, stepping away. She’s scared of my touch.
“Get out,” she orders, making her escape. I reach for her, missing her arm, her pace too fast for my lagging, worn-out muscles.
“I can’t. I need you, Ava.”
“You don’t need me!” she shouts, flinging her arm out toward the door. “You want me.” She pulls up, gasping for air, the pure level of her anger exhausting her. “Oh God, you are a dominant, aren’t you?”
“No!”
“Why the control issue then?” she asks. “And the commands?”
Oh, Jesus, where do I even begin explaining this without filling her in on every fucked-up detail of my past? I’m snookered. Because the reality is, I can’t. And what I’m dealing with now—what we’re both dealing with—is set to end this. “The sex is just sex.” Just sex? It’s never just fucking sex with Ava. It’s earthmoving every time. “I can’t get close enough to you. The control is because I’m frightened to death that something will happen to you.”Because everyone I’ve ever loved has been stolen from me.“That you’ll be taken away from me. I’ve waited too long for you, Ava,” I go on, finding words in my bedlam, letting them roll out. “I’ll do anything to keep you safe. I’ve lived a life with little control or care. Believe me, I need you.” She needs to take my word for it. She has to. “Please. Please don’t leave me.” She must see the despair as I approach her cautiously. There must be a small part of her that wants to help me. But she steps away again, avoiding me. “I’ll never recover.”
“Do you think this is going to be any easier for me?” she yells, her eyes overflowing, tears rolling down her cheeks. No. I don’t think it’ll be easier for her. If anything, it’ll be harder, because I would put my life on the fact that she won’t find numbness in alcohol like I will.
“If I could change how I’ve handled things, I would.”
“But you can’t. The damage is done.”
