Page 23 of Serpent & Saviors

What do I do now?

Andrew’s declaration of never wanting children hurt in places I didn’t know existed. As much as I could respect the decision, I’d taken that option from him years ago. And the result was the only good thing that had ever happened to me.

The saddest part for me—the part that hurt even deeper—was that Declan was innocent in all of this. He’d done nothing to deserve rejection. Except to have me for a mother. Maybe Cameron was right…I didn’t deserve him. A fresh wave of self-loathing curled through me.

This is so stupid. You can’t change what’s already done, you imbecile.

I tore open the box, popped the pill, and swallowed it down. The rollercoaster of emotions didn’t stop there either. So like the pathetic human I was, I sat there in a stupor, ping-ponging from disappointment to insecurity–two of my dearest friends.

At least fear had taken a holiday. I didn’t have to talk to Cameron today. At all. But that left me with too much time on my hands, not to mention bandwidth to dissect every moment of last night.

Maybe he didn’t enjoy fucking me. It seemed as if he did, but maybe that was wishful thinking on my part. Cameron was wrong. There was no power in my pussy. Which led to the realization that I had a major problem.

How was I supposed to make him fall in love with me if he didn’t even want to face me after last night?

If the one thing I had at my disposal wasn’t what the man wanted, how was I going to pull this off? My eyes fell to his side of the bed. The note that was in his suitcase from that first night was still on his table.

Look who decided to show up for the party? Guilt.

I should have known. Wherever disappointment and insecurity went, guilt was sure to follow. I shifted under the uncomfortable thoughts. The first time we fucked, I didn’t know he had someone, but that excuse didn’t hold up any longer. From the moment I read the note, I’d known.

The signature said it all. ‘With all the love the universe can contain, Kinsley.’

Pain laced through me as I pinched my thighs. The bruises were growing larger every day. I snorted ruefully as I walked into the bathroom. Cameron would be so happy. I’d finally become the whore he’d bragged to his colleagues I was. My stomach twisted at the thought.

And a home-wrecker, don’t forget that one. What the hell was wrong with me? Had I really sunk this low?

Absent-mindedly, I hopped into the shower even though I’d taken one last night. It passed the time, but I could only stay locked up in here for so long. And the skin on my fingers now resembled raisins.

Marcus said to dress comfortably. I walked over to the wardrobe closet. The rust-colored dress was casual, and the cotton was so incredibly soft. It would do. I pulled it on, still trying to wrangle my emotions that were everywhere.

My eyes landed on the journal Andrew had purchased for me. I would have given anything to rip it open and pour out my heart to Autumn. It would help clear my head, and it had been so long since I’d written anything.

My hands shook, aching almost to hold it. It was like a drug, tempting me with its crisp blank pages and the brand-new pens he bought to go with it. I stared at it, reminding myself that using it would only cause further harm.

The truth was, I couldn’t write my feelings and emotions in it, only to leave it behind, and taking it home wasn’t an option. The internal struggle raged on. In the end, it would only be me making excuses for myself.

That or telling Autumn what a horrible woman I was. No, it was best to leave it blank.

So I grabbed the book instead and went to wait for Marcus. I opted not to order down for breakfast, as my stomach hurt too much. Reading provided the perfect distraction.

However, nothing prepared me for the rush of emotions “Howl’s Moving Castle” could bring. It ripped me to shreds.

Waves of nostalgia crashed over me as the funny voices Callahan created when he read aloud on that flight home so long ago washed over me. When Marcus arrived, I was lost in the book.

Silent tears slipped down my face. He crossed the distance and knelt down in front of me. Gently, he took the book from my hands and then drew me into his arms. It was odd; the hug was fatherly, and a dam of emotions poured out.

The realization that my father never cared for me, and never once soothed my broken heart, hit me hard. I became a blubbering idiot in his arms. He didn’t say a word, just rocked me and allowed me space to cry it out.

Several moments later, he pulled back and asked, “All better now?”

He handed me a handkerchief. Taking it, I nodded. Slowly, I got myself under control.

Marcus spoke once more, “Are you ready to head out for the day?”

“Yes, Sir,” I whispered, wiping the remaining tears away.

“It’s Marcus,” he offered.