I could buy her something ridiculously expensive... but that wasn’t Lila.
I could show up at her work with every single bouquet within a hundred-mile radius... but again, that wasn’t Lila.
And then... a thought occurred to me.
I would need help to pull this off... but if I could...
I grabbed my phone out of my pocket.
The texts and calls I had made to Lila had gone unanswered, then I scrolled to Carter’s name.
He answered on the third ring with, “Yo.”
“Hey man, are you with your better half?” I asked.
He snickered, “Too fucking right. Yeah. Hang on.”
I sat there as the silence from the house settled around me, and then I heard, “Carter, shut the hell up. Hey, Bronson, what’s shaken?”
I grinned, “I need your help.”
She was silent for a beat, then hesitantly asked, “With what?”
I tried to grin, but fucking hell, I had fucked up, “I fucked up with something. She said she was done. And I need her back.”
She gasped, “If you're not talking about Lila, then I will be throwing paint all over your gym. And not the cheap shit that you can just wash off with a little water. No. I’m talking about the good shit.”
I chuckled, “Guess my gym will be free of your torment.”
I had my work cut out for me.
Cause I knew that the way I treated Lila was like her dad had treated her mother.
And I would be damned if I would be that man.
Over my dead fucking body.
But you know what they say?
As long as there’s a sliver of chance, there’s still hope.
Lila
I wiped at the tear that trailed down my cheek.
“You don’t know fucking shit. What fucking hell have you been through? Huh?”
“Oh, your father walked out on you. Fuck you.”
Even hours later, his words cut through the very essence that was me.
I cried myself to sleep that night.
Thankfully, my phone had been on silent.
So, I was able to avoid his calls and texts.
I also avoided the texts from the girls.
