I was seconds away from breaking—and I wasn’t about to give him another scrap of my pain.
‘You should g-go.’ I breathed. Silently begging my grief to hold it in until he left.Please hold on a few more seconds.
Turning away, I forced my gaze to the kitchen, folding my arms over my chest. Oliver didn’t need anymore encouragement, he stormed to the door, flinging it open—only he didn’t leave as quickly as I wanted him to. He hesitated. I could hear him behind me, as if he wanted to add something else—twist the knife even deeper.
Tears streamed freely down my face.
Please go. Please stay.
Two desires warred inside my chest. I didn’t have to wait for him to make his decision. The door slammed closed and silence reigned over my flat once more.
A sob broke free. I clutched my heart that was splintering in two and slowly sank to the floor.
47
FALLON
Ineeded to clean under my sofa. Dust bunnies were scattered all around and if I wasn’t mistaken two or three mini eggs were lying depressingly on the floor. They must have been lost there months ago. Poor things.
When was the last time I’d vacuumed this carpet? It smelt kind of funny. To be fair you never really know what your carpet smelt like unless you were in the position I was in right now. Face down on the living room floor, head turned to the side, giving me a nice view straight under my sofa. Oliver had left half an hour ago, or it could have been longer, time didn’t seem to be linear at the moment.
He blamed me. Hehatedme.
For something I didn’t do… unless… had I? Somehow… by some dangerous happenstance, had I let delicate information leak?
I dug through the corners of my mind, trying to find some scrap of evidence that I’d fucked up. Did I leave my laptop at a café where a nosy onlooker might have snatched glimpses of it. No. Even if I had done that, it didn’t add up,there were paragraphs of my own words written in that article, no one could memorise that so quickly.
So how the hell had someone got hold of it?
Some part of me screamed at me that it didn’t matter, the damage was done. I’d barely been able to get out a few words to defend myself before Oliver had talked over me, his pain glistening in his eyes. Eyes that not a week ago had looked at me with… tenderness. For a split second I’d convinced myself that it had been love.
Whatever warmth Oliver showed vanished like the vapours from my tea.
Ever since I’d met Oliver I’d known his ability to flip the switch from warm to cold in an instant. It’s what made me call my brother in a desperate attempt to get him to open up on the field. All of those instances hadn’t hurt me, hadn’t cut me deeply because I knew his problem wasn’t with me. I was unfortunately simply the closest thing he could lash out to. I knew that.
It was how he coped. His defence mechanism. It didn’t excuse his behaviour, but I understood where it came from.
Tonight. Tonight, his words had opened up wounds on my soul that I hadn’t realised were there. Scabs from my family that I’d successfully ignored for years, he’d peeled them off and poured lemon juice on the wounds.
A damp patch was pooling under my cheek from the continued stream of tears that leaked out of my eyes. I’d stopped sobbing a while ago, all the energy leached from me, to the point that even considering standing up was making me tired.
My entire body ached, but even my sore muscles couldn’t contend with the pain in my chest. My heart felt like a piece of paper someone had effortlessly torn in half.
The devastation in his eyes when he’d told me about the article… the pain…
Fresh tears cascaded from my eyes into the carpet.
Vaguely I heard rustling at my door, the click of a lock and a small gasp.
‘What the fuck?’ Rosie cried, dropping whatever she had been carrying on the floor and rushed over to me. Before my body had given up, I’d sent her an SOS.
‘Is this physical or emotional?’ she demanded, sliding to her knees, placing a soft hand on my back.
The lump in my throat stopped me from answering; I let out a pathetic whimper.
Rosie lowered herself to the floor, her face pressed to the carpet, eye level with me.
Whatever she saw on my face made her reach out and tuck stray pieces of my hair behind my ear, face creasing in empathy.
