“Garrick, I don’t want to hurt you, but you need to forget about us as a couple. I don’t love you like that anymore. I can only be your friend. I—”
I don’t get any more words out before he loses it. I jump back when Garrick emits a gnarled rage-filled shout as he lifts his guitar and slams it on top of the coffee table, smashing it repeatedly until it’s broken into smithereens. “Look what you made me do!” he shouts as the door swings open, and Hudson dashes into the room with one of the nurses. “This is all your fault! Just like me being stuck in this fucking chair is your fault because you never make the right decisions!” He starts beating his chest and grabbing handfuls of his hair before he purposely throws himself out of his chair, landing face-first in the broken remnants of his most treasured guitar.
I’m too shocked and scared to cry as Hudson lifts me away from the mess while Garrick screams obscenities at me as the nurse calls for more help.
“Jesus Christ. What happened?” Hudson asks, dragging me from the room as Garrick’s rage subsides and he starts crying. Two more nurses and the doctor rush past us into the room.
“I think Beck was right,” I say in a bit of a daze. “I think I’m doing more harm than good.”
“It was just a bad day,” Hudson says. “Ivy was in his ear this morning spewing more venom. She got him all riled up.”
“Look at him, Hudson.” I remove his arms from around me when we reach the doorway, turning to watch the medical team help Garrick up. Blood is seeping from cuts on his face, and his shoulders are shaking as tears roll over his cheeks. “Look at what he did to himself.”
“We need to get him out of here.”
“Stevie!” Garrick cries, thrashing against the team as they lift him toward his bed. “I’m sorry! Don’t leave me. Please.”
These kinds of sentiments ordinarily work but not today. I’m drained, and I can’t be here a second longer. “I need to go.” Sympathy splays on Hudson’s face. “Will you stay with him?”
“Of course.” He presses a kiss to my brow. “Go. Take some time out. I’ll look after him.”
* * *
When I get back to the city, I go for a walk, and my feet take me to Capitol Hill and Beck’s apartment. I didn’t set out to come here, but now that I am here, I don’t know whether to turn around and go home or show up at his door.
I guess I’m supremely selfish these days because I can’t force myself to leave, and a few minutes later, I’m standing at Beck’s door with my heart pounding and butterflies skating across my chest. I rest my palm on the door and close my eyes, trawling through the memory bank in my head, remembering all our happy times. I love Beck so much. I miss him so much. And I think I made a terrible mistake.
No, I don’t just think it. Iknowit.
Beck needed me too, and I failed him. I was a horrible girlfriend to him in the end, and I won’t ever forgive myself for letting him down.
I rap on the door three times, wishing I hadn’t mailed my key to him in a moment of anger. I have no clue what I’m going to say to him, but I’ve got to make this right. I cannot live without him. He’s my entire world, and I’m self-destructing without him.
He doesn’t come to the door, so I continue knocking until my knuckles are red and stinging. The elevator pings behind me, and I swing around, hope and expectation swirling through my veins as the doors glide open. My chest deflates when a portly middle-aged man with a bushy gray mustache steps out into the hallway. “Hey, Mr. Hynes.”
“Why, hello there, young Stevie.” He smiles before looking over my head at Beck’s door.
“I was looking for Beck, but he doesn’t seem to be home.” I hide my red knuckles behind my back so he doesn’t see the evidence of my desperation.
“He didn’t tell you?” His expression softens into pity.
“Tell me what?” Blood rushes to my head, and knots form in my stomach.
“He’s gone, my dear. Overseas, I believe.”
“It’s July. He always visits his grandparents in France in July,” I say in a relieved tone. However, it’s short-lived.
Mr. Hynes shakes his head. “I don’t think he’s in France. I met him the day he moved out and he had a lot of luggage. He said he wasn’t sure when he’d be back or if he’d be back at all.”
I clutch the wall so my legs don’t go out from under me. It takes every ounce of acting ability to keep from bursting into tears in front of Beck’s elderly neighbor. “Oh, I see. Well, he must’ve forgotten to tell me. I could have saved myself a wasted journey.” A brittle high-pitched laugh flees my mouth, and I inwardly cringe. “I’m going to head home now. You have a great rest of the day, Mr. Hynes.”
“You too, honey. Take care.”
I make the journey home on autopilot, not even aware of my surroundings because I spend the fifteen-minute walk repeatedly calling Beck’s number only to be greeted with a disconnected tone.
When I get to our apartment, I’m grateful Hadley is out with Mike tonight so she can’t bear witness to my breakdown. I crawl under the covers in my clothes, shivering even though it’s the middle of summer and our apartment is like a furnace, because I’m chilled to the bone, and heartsick doesn’t even come close to describing how I feel.
Beck either changed his number or he blocked mine.
