I’ve listened to that same message every day since I left. Why? Because it’s the last time Killian told me he loved me.
Every message that he left after that got increasingly angrier. His distraught questions soon turned into angry demands for answers. The late night, alcohol fuelled texts filled with why’s became sober messages of acceptance. Until eventually, they became less frequent.
I stopped listening to them months ago. I couldn’t bear hearing his love for me slowly fade away with each message only to be replaced with resentment.
As if he can hear my thoughts, my phone vibrates in my hand, Killian’s name flashing across the screen. The traitorous organ in my chest flutters behind my ribcage and my stomach dips. I cast a quick look at the alarm clock on my bedside table.
Ten-fifty-five p.m.
My fingers move of their own accord, swiping the answer button and placing the call on loudspeaker.
I hold my breath.
“Daisy?”
Another tear escapes my eyes at the desperate slur in his voice.
He’s drunk.
It makes sense. He wouldn’t have called me otherwise. It’s been months since his last call.
I say nothing, silently watching the seconds tick higher on the call.
“Are you there?” Killian pleads.
My chest heaves with a sob and I hold a hand over my mouth to stop the sound escaping.
“Fuck, I miss you so much, Daisy. Please talk to me.”
I open my mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a choked gasp and the coward in me hits the red button, ending the call.
The sob I’d been holding back tears from my chest in a pained cry.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, but it doesn’t matter, he won’t hear it.
CHAPTER 25
KILLIAN
“For fuck’s sake, kid. Not only do you show up late for work, but you’re dragging ass all day. Move out the fucking way.”
With squinted eyes, I watch from the tree above as Callen shoulders past Jaxon, causing the malnourished boy to stumble.
I shake my head, anger simmering inside.
Who the fuck does that prick think he is?
I continue watching in silence as Jax lifts a branch and drags it over to the woodchipper with his head hung. He feeds the branch into the machine, his shoulders sagging in defeat as he turns and heads back toward Callen.
I feel sorry for him.
Knowing that he’s having a hard time at home only heightens the sympathy I feel for the kid. He comes to work every day,on time, to escape the bullshit at home, only to have to put up with Callen’s bullshit here.
I’ve had enough of it.
I make a mental note to pull Callen up on it after work. I’m done with his shit. The petty bullying won’t fly with me. I have a business to run, not a fucking school courtyard to monitor.
I restart the chainsaw, the rumble of the engine a welcome distraction to the shit going on below me. Before Callen had opened his mouth and ruined my mood, I’d been consumed with thoughts of Daisy.
