Wine and Whiskey (Surviving Absolution #1) (29 page)

“I can’t take a chance it could happen again.”

Tears roll down her beautiful face as she stands in front of
him, fisting his shirt in her hands. “Why are you doing this?”

“Don’t you understand? My worst fucking nightmare has come
true.” An involuntary gag shudders through his body, strangling his voice to a
whisper, “I hurt you.”

“I thought you loved me. I thought you wanted to marry me. You
said what we had was real.”

I thought
.
He’s
finally ruined everything he worked so hard to build between them. Just like he
knew he would. “It was, until I destroyed it.”

Her eyes widen, as if a realization occurs. “You don’t really
love me, or you would want to make this work. We could get through this if you
would try.” She releases the fabric and swipes at her tears with trembling
hands. Her face flushes before she steps backward. Outrage flashes in her eyes.
“Why do you get to make the decisions? I’ve put everything into this
relationship. Now, you decide it’s over, and I’m just supposed to walk away?”

Her eyes glaze over as she holds the sides of her head. A blank
expression crosses her face, and she retreats into her own mind. “I was such a
fool. You swore you loved me and you’d never hurt me. I believed you, and it
was all a lie.”

Her accusations test all his strength not to deny, not to take
her in his arms and soothe her pain. Only anger will make her walk out the door
and away from him.

She shakes her head while she wanders around the room, stuffing
her phone and water bottle into her bag. “Everyone warned me, but I wouldn’t
listen. I didn’t care, because all I wanted to do was be with you. How could I
have been so stupid?”

As if he’s not there, she berates herself. Months of welled-up
uncertainty unfurls at the demise of their relationship. “I almost lost
everything, and it was all for nothing.” Her head drops down, a ragged breath
shuddering her body, destroying him with her defeat. “Was any of it true? Did
you even really love me?”

Max and Jacks walk in the room. Their conversation instantly
ends as Max looks from Shae to Nick. “What’s going on?”

It’s finally over. He forces himself to say the words he never
thought he could accept. “She’s leaving.”

Her chest heaves up and down as she meets his gaze, his own pain
reflected back in hers. “I wish I’d never met you.”

He should think the same thing, but can’t. He never will. Not when
perfection stands in front of him for the last time. His only glimpse of heaven
before she’s gone. He points toward Max. “Take her home.”

Both men remain motionless.

“Get her out of here!”

Max nods to Jacks. “Take her downstairs to the limo. I’ll be there
in a minute.”

She never looks back as Jacks escorts her out of the room. Once
the door closes, Max turns to him. “What the hell have you done?”

Defeated from fighting his own demons, he slides down to the
floor again. “Fixed my mistake.”

* * * *

Her forced smile evaporates at the click of the bedroom door
behind her. She doesn’t have to pretend with Carrie and Nathan anymore that
everything’s okay. That she’s okay. Tears roll down her cheeks as she drops the
handle of her suitcase and climbs into bed. A cruel trick by her imagination,
she can almost smell Nick’s citrusy cologne on her pillow from the last time he
was here. The day she moved into his house, blissfully unaware of the looming
pain from coming back.

Ignoring Max’s pleas to give Nick a chance to calm down, she’d
packed her things and asked Jacks to drive her home. Take her back to her old
life. Now, with four of Nick’s men standing guard outside her house, she’s safe
like he wants. If only he could have cared about what she wants.

* * * *

A single lamp burns in the darkened bedroom, reflecting the
emptiness of the space. And of his life. She’s gone and not ever coming back. A
note on the nightstand bears his name written in her flowing handwriting. He
crumples the paper before dropping it into the trash can and pouring himself a
glass of whiskey. It doesn’t matter if it’s drugged or not. Nothing matters
anymore.

Chapter Fifteen

Shae rolls over,
blinking from the sunlight framing the edges of the blinds. A new day
supposedly means a fresh start. Yet her old life beckons, even emptier than
before. One without Jason and soon to be separated from Carrie and Nathan once
they get married. Everyone moving on with the person they love. Everyone except
her.

“Shae?”

Carrie’s whisper implies the possibility
she might be asleep, that she hadn’t huddled in bed all night watching the
minutes tick by in the darkness. Checking her phone a thousand times. Listening
for his car outside. Praying it’s all a bad dream, yet realizing her nightmare
occurs in real life.

She pulls the covers from her face and
clears the
frogginess
from her throat. “Yes?”

“Do you want some breakfast? I made
French toast.”

Shame fills the emptiness in her chest.
While she hides, Carrie cooks her favorite breakfast, attempting to distract
her from the pain. Yet, no amount of syrup and powdered sugar can lessen the
heartbreak. “Thanks, but I’m not really hungry.”

“Are you sure? I can make something else
if you want.”

“No, I’m good. Thanks anyway.”

“Okay.”

The door handle clicks shut, and she’s
alone. A familiar feeling she thought she’d never experience again. Fooled by
the intensity of Nick’s love, she let herself be lulled into believing they
would always have each other. Now he’s gone, taking her new little family with
him. Marta, Max, Jacks, all ripped out of her life by two simple words.

It’s over.

The hollowness of his face as he told her
floats behind her closed eyelids. Damaged by his father more than she realized,
he sacrifices his own happiness trying to ensure the cycle of abuse ends with
him. Unwilling to accept the fact that the desire to inflict cruelty upon the
woman he loves never existed in him to begin with.

“Shae?”

“Yes.”

“It’s beautiful outside. Do you want to
go for a run?”

Usually the perfect remedy to clear her mind
and ease her tension, a marathon couldn’t help her today. “Not right now. Maybe
this afternoon.”

“It is afternoon.”

“Oh, okay. Maybe tomorrow.”

Carrie’s deep sigh fades down the hallway
as she walks away. Her friend doesn’t deserve this, shouldn’t be burdened with
having to worry over her. Yet she can’t force herself to get up and go after
her. Nothing can be said to make either of them feel better.

Closing her eyes again, she imagines the
feel of Nick’s arm around her waist, his lips on her shoulder. The tickle of
his hair from nuzzling her neck as they cuddle. How with just one touch, his
moan would vibrate in her ear, and he would slide off her negligee, making her
laugh before stealing her breath as he made love to her. Tender yet insistent,
his restrained passion always burning under the surface, yet forever gentle in
his touch. Consuming her with his love, stirring her desire and answering her
need. All the moments she took for granted, not knowing she would soon be back
in her own bed without him.

She jostles slightly at the covers
rustling next to her, but doesn’t open her eyes. The tart scent of green apple
Jolly Ranchers drifts across the pillow.
Carrie
.
“What are you doing?”

“Max is here. He wants to talk to you.”

Her heart constricts. Another friend
caught in the middle. Another reminder of her loss. “I can’t. He’ll want to
talk about…” She chokes back a sob, unable to say his name. “What
happened.
”

“We’re worried about you. Please get up.”

The tears she’s been fighting finally win
and roll down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. It just hurts so much. I can’t do this. I
don’t think I can take not being with him.”

Carrie curls around her, stroking her
hair, just like Nick used to. “I know it seems that way now. But you’re
stronger than you think. You got over Evan. You’re doing all right after your
mom. You’ll be okay.”

“Why did he do this? He said he loved
me.”

“He’s hurting just like you are. Max said
he’s a mess and needs you.”

Even in her frustration, all she wants to
do is wrap her arms around him and ease his pain. Her presence used to bring
him comfort. Now, he won’t let her near him. “If he needed me, he wouldn’t have
pushed me away.”

“It doesn’t always work that way.
Sometimes, we do the opposite of what we really should.”

“Then tell me what I should do.”

“Talk to Max. He’s your friend too. You
don’t have to do anything else, but at least listen to what he has to say.”

Shae nods, unable to refuse at her
friend’s deep frown or the worry burning in her gaze. The covers slide down her
body as Carrie sits up.

“You still have your dress on from
yesterday.” Pity laces Carrie’s voice.

Yes, she is pitiful and feeling sorry for
herself. Changing clothes and taking a shower too much of a bother when you’re
busy trying to hold the pieces of your heart together. But she can’t take it
out on Max.

Carrie climbs off the bed, and a few
minutes later, a knock vibrates against the wood before the door opens. “Can I
come in?”

Max’s hesitant voice stabs her heart. He
stands awkwardly by the doorway, holding a white box, taking care of them even
when they’re the ones to make the mess. She pushes herself up and leans against
the headboard, wrapping the blanket over her shoulders. “You can sit down if
you want. I promise not to freak out on you.”

“It’s okay if you do. I’d understand.” He
sits on the end of the bed and lays the package next to him. “These are for
you.”

The scent of sugar accented with more
sugar fills the air as he lifts the lid. Chocolate covered long johns with
whipped cream peeking out of the ends lay side by side like decadent soldiers.
“You remembered.”

He winks and holds up a finger, mimicking
her proclamation of pastry rules during their first visit to the bakery. “No
custard. Has to be the real stuff.”

“Thank you. But you didn’t have to bribe
me. I would have let you in.”

“I know, but I was in the mood for them,
so this was my excuse.”

She can’t help but smile at his pretend
ploy, trying to ease some of her heartache. “Ah, I see. So, you’re just using
me to get your fix.”

He grins too
before nodding, then his face falls slack. “How are you?”

Devastated.
Shocked. Broken. But, she can’t say any of those without making the tears start
again, without making him feel worse than he already does. S
he runs her hand across the bedspread and takes a deep
breath. “Why did you want to talk to me?”

“Nick’s upset you left the house. He
wants you to move back in.”

Her heart skips a beat. He’s sent Max for
her. He wants her back. Yet, doubt hums in her subconscious. Nick would talk to
her himself if he wanted to get back together. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s not safe for you to stay here.”

“He doesn’t want to be with me, but he
wants me to live with him?”

He maintains his perfected emotionless
expression, but his eyes reveal the embarrassing truth. “Not with him. He’s
going to stay at the hotel I arranged for you when you almost broke up before.”

Humiliation stings her cheeks. She’s a
pathetic fool. He loves her enough to protect her from his enemies and the
unwarranted need from himself, yet not enough to be with her. “So, now that
we’re really broken up, he’s moving out, and I get to live alone in his house.
That’s crazy.”

“He’s not making much sense right now, but
this I agree with. The threats from Juan and Spencer are still there. We can
protect you better at the house.”

“No, I can’t go back there.” Not without
him. “Besides, they won’t care about me anymore. I’m sure…” Her voice wavers at
the thought. “Ex-girlfriends don’t rate high on the list of targets.”

“I don’t want to take the chance and find
out. Please come back.”

Worry lines his face, but the guilt
rolling through her is not enough to make her change her mind. Not powerful
enough for her to endure any more pain from living without Nick. She shakes her
head. “I’m sorry. You can guard my house or whatever you want to do, but I’m
not going back.”

“Okay. I’ll make arrangements to increase
the security here and when you go out.”

They sit in silence as Max rubs the back
of his neck. The dark circles under his eyes reflect the strain all of this has
been on him too. “He checked himself out of the hospital against doctor’s
orders.”

Her chest throbs. Nick punishes himself
for no reason, and she’s not there to take care of him. “Is he okay?”

“No. Marta’s trying her best, but you
know how he is.”

Yes, she knows. Stubborn, protective,
loving. All the things that make her love him and him hate himself.

“I was hoping you would try to talk to
him. He might listen to you.”

If that were true, she’d be with him.
Helping him recover. Making sure he doesn’t push too hard. Instead of here, alone
and miserable. “He said everything that needs to be said yesterday. He doesn’t
want me.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

“I'm not sure of anything anymore.”

He blows out a deep breath before
standing up and bending over to hug her. “I’d better go. I’m sorry about all
this.”

Her eyes sting with tears as her voice is
stolen from the sob bubbling in her throat. “Me too.”

“I guess we’re not good?”

She shakes her head. The one thing she
knows for sure. “We’re always good. You and I are still friends, no matter
what.”

He nods and closes the door behind him.
She presses against the headboard, fearful it’s the last time she’ll ever see
him. Anger courses through her. Nick’s blind stubbornness hurts all of them.
She has to get through to him. Grabbing her phone, she taps on the screen.

Can we please
talk? We can work this out. I want to be with you. I love you.

I love you too.

Her breath catches at his response. A sliver
of hope swells inside her.

Then please talk
to me.

Nothing left to say.
We don’t belong together.

She refuses to give up. They have too
much to fight for.

Yes, we do.
You’re all I want.

No. Anyone but me.

Nausea rolls through her stomach at his
suggestion.

Really? That’s
what you want? Me with another man?

Yes. Marry Evan like you were supposed to.
He’s the man for you.
You’ll be safe and happy.

Not happy. I’m
miserable without you.

You were never mine to love.
We shouldn’t have been together.
You know it’s true, or you would have told me you loved me.

The phone slides to the floor before she
curls into a ball, the last flicker of optimism smothered by his accusation.
The fervor of their relationship finally extinguished by her needless
hesitation to tell him the truth.

“What the hell?” Carrie’s voice comes
from the doorway. “I could hear you sobbing…” The mattress dips from her friend
sitting down. She picks up Shae’s cell and glides her finger across the screen,
scrolling through the messages. “That son of a bitch.”

Carrie’s fingers pound the keys. It
doesn’t matter what message she sends. His came through perfectly clear.

* * * *

The French door creaks as Max opens it,
but neither of them looks over. Nick sprawls on the lounge chair, an almost
empty bottle of whiskey resting between his legs. Marta leans over him with a
sandwich in her hand. “Eat and feel better. No good all drink.”

Alcohol and mothering never mix well.
He’ll be the babysitter for a while. “I’ll take over from here, Marta. Why
don’t you go back inside?”

She shakes her head and shoves the plate
toward him. “I make. He no eat.”

“I know. I’ll try in a little bit.”

She throws her hands up in the air and
mumbles under her breath as she walks away. After the door closes, he sets the
food on the side table next to an unopened bottle of whiskey and Nick’s phone.
He drops down in the chair facing the chaise. It’s going to be a long night.

“Have a drink.” Nick’s words slur worse
than his aim, as he pours a glass for Max, about half of the amber liquid
making it into the tumbler.