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Several of the nurses intervene, breaking the men apart, and my mum holds my hand tightly in hers. “I'm sorry we’re going to have to ask you to leave,” a nurse demands, and Cain buttons his jacket. He works his neck and sucks in a deep breath.
“No, wait!”
“Henrik wouldn’t harm Lauren—this is your doing!” James spits angrily and storms out.
My father rushes after him, demanding answers, and I reach to grip Cain’s hand, scared he will leave. He flinches, and I stare hopefully at him. “Cain, don’t do this,” I beg shamelessly. “Please?”
He leans over the bed and cups my face, kissing me sweetly. “You’re right, I do. I’ve been telling you for weeks,” he admits softly. I nod and hold his face to mine.
“I know.” I sniff. He loves me, but he can’t bring himself to say it. “It’s okay. I’m okay,” I promise him—searching his eyes and praying he doesn’t let his fear of losing me outweigh what we have. It outshines simple lust and devours the ruse of needless attachment. I love this man with a ferocity that scares and excites me, and I know he shares those feelings. Behind that harsh exterior and the brutal and cold front he portrays to the world is another man, a more passionate, more loving man, and it’s that man that I'm at risk of losing—because that man is in deep pain.
“My dad would have adored you, Lauren,” he tells me, and I kiss him back, absorbing the warmth of his lips and holding him close as I pour my love into our kiss. He pulls his face away, devoid of almost all emotion. There is a flicker of remorse, a slash of agony staring back at me. He grips my pinky finger. “I’m keeping our pinky promise.”
No!
“Please don’t.” I cup my mouth.
He looks grief stricken. He swallows dryly and pockets his hands. “Losing one person was bad enough. I’m sorry, Lauren.” He excuses himself and walks away, heaving out a low and harsh sigh.
I call him back as he strides through the curtain, but he dips his head and walks with purpose through the ward without a backward glance. “You coward!” I hiccup as he disappears from view. “You damn coward,” I splutter quietly, as tears fill my vision. It’s not a quick blow, but one that builds and only becomes harder to bear. “Oh god.” I sob, blinking furiously to clear my gaze. Pain pours like wet cement through me, settling heavy and solid in my gut. I sniffle and begin shaking my head in denial. I look at my mum in panic, a low wail of pain erupting from me. She hugs me flush to her chest as I sob loudly, gasping as the air in my lungs chases after a man who has no intention of returning it. He’s sealed himself away. Pulled the harsher version around himself and cut me out.
“I’m here, love. I’m here,” she soothes, but her soft loving words careen off the pain stabbing through me. It grips my throat and suffocates me slowly, teasing a long and difficult torture. The kind that takes time to break you.
“Go after him!” I beg, but she shakes her head and holds me harder as I choke and cry. “Mum!” I plead, unable to move.
“Oh, Lauren. I’m so sorry. I can’t. You could have died. I just can’t.”
Chapter33
Lauren
Three months later.
“How are you feeling?” Pollyanna, my physio, asks, inspecting my leg. “You’re weight-bearing, and the movement is good. Are you still feeling resistance?” She peers up at me from where she is sitting.
“A little, but it feels good to walk on it,” I admit.
“Andyou—how are you, Lauren—are you eating?” I eye the older woman with a closed expression. She is a long-term friend of my parents, so each session, I find her trying to dig a little, trying to push beyond being my physiotherapist. She means well, but nothing she or anyone else says will fill this ache I’m carrying. My leg has been the least of my worries.
“I’m good, thank you.” The lie forms easily, too easily. It’s the same one I have been spouting since Cain walked out of the hospital.
“You look like you’ve lost weight,” she presses gently. A few pounds—it’s hardly a cause for concern! With my physio and Mum’s cooking, if anything, I've toned up!
“Do I? Well, Mum is feeding me plenty,” I reply woodenly and lean to pick up my handbag. “Thank you, Polly. See you next month. It’s our last appointment, right?”
“It is.” She stands and leads me to the door. “Lauren, it’s okay to admit if you're struggling?”
My eyes slam shut, and I suck in a deep breath because I'm more than struggling. I’ve never known pain like it. It’s not a small pinprick, but an avalanche of agony, and the weight forces you to endure it seeping into your pores. I can feel it multiplying and ripping through me like an ancient disease. “I appreciate your concern, but there’s nothing anyone can say to me that I’ve not already been telling myself,” I croak and ease open the door.
Her hand lands on my forearm. “If you don’t want to talk to me, then I have a friend who’s a therapist and lives a few miles away.”
“I know my mum is concerned, but she shouldn’t be talking to you.” My smile is polite, but I hold her eyes a little bit longer than usual, silently reminding her about patient confidentiality. I don’t want to talk about Cain. “I'm not the first woman to have her heart broken.” With that, I turn and leave, edging down the corridor.
How many times have I said those words to myself? Over and over, forcing me to accept that heartbreak is a passage in life—that we all will have our hearts broken at least once. I never felt this way about Martin and Kristy, and they had both been lifelong friends. It had been painful—I was in shock and felt deeply betrayed—but this pain, it’s so much more. Heavier, more lethal. It crawled inside and entwined itself to each bone, attached itself to each organ, and I can't shake it. Breathing hurts, smiling feels alien, and when I'm not dragging the weight of it with me, I’m lost in a void.
I pass Harold, the hardware store owner, who smiles sympathetically at me, and unlike before where I withered inside and bravely smiled, faking my strength, I give him a non-committal hello and keep going.
Less than six months ago, I lived a different life—was a different woman. So much has happened in such a short space of time. I’ve done a complete 360 and found myself back at the beginning. Only this time, it all feels strange. This place was my home, where I envisioned having children, settling down, and building a life around my friends and family. Since then, I’ve had two relationships and three jobs. I feel like a failure. For every door that opens, another slams shut, and I’m reluctant to open any new ones at this point.
