Against All Odds - Angel's Story: Against All Odds (Destiny Series Book 4) (40 page)

My mind is so clouded at the moment. I have no idea what the answers to any of those questions are. As the hours pass, I still find no direction.

It’s quite hot today. It doesn’t take long for the shore to fill with beach-goers looking for a reprieve from the heat. I envy them. Usually I love the ocean, and everything about it. Looking out over it now, I feel nothing. No peace. No happiness. Only emptiness.

It must be close to midday, so I decide to head home. Only because I know my family will be worrying about me.

“She’s back,” mum calls out when I walk through the glass sliding doors. “Hey baby. Your dad was just getting changed. He was going to come look for you. We were starting to get worried.”

“Hey,” I say, walking towards her.

“How are you feeling today? I’m so happy to see you up and about.” I shrug. I know she’s worried about me, so it’s best if I don’t tell her how I’m really feeling. “I’m getting some lunch together. Do you want to come and eat out on the deck with us?”

Food is the last thing I want, but I’ve barely eaten in days. “Okay.” I look over to the lounge where Chase and CJ slept when I left this morning, but it’s now empty. The bottles that littered the table are gone.

“Chase has gone home,” my mum says, like she can read my mind. “CJ took him out for a few drinks last night. I’m surprised they didn’t wake you when they got home. Your father had to come out here and tell them to keep it down. By the ruckus they were making, and the look of them this morning, I think they had more than a few,” she giggles.

I force out a smile for her benefit. I’m both relieved and sad that he’s no longer here. “He said to call him if you’d like him to come over later. He’s sat around the house for the past two days waiting for you to emerge from your room.”

“I’m not ready to talk with him yet,” I tell her.

“He’s hurting too, baby. Don’t shut him out.”

••••

I don’t end up calling Chase. Instead, after lunch, I locked myself in my room for the rest of the day. The next morning, I decide to sneak out again before anyone wakes.

For me, one of the hardest parts of having the miscarriage is not only the loss of a child, but the fact that I have nowhere to go and grieve for my baby. If I’d been closer to full term, there would’ve been a funeral. I’d at least have a gravesite to visit. Morbid I know, but that’s how I feel.

After placing the photo in my pocket again, I grab a bottle of water out of the fridge. I leave another note for my parents. As I’m walking across the back deck, my eyes land on the daisy bush Chase brought to the hospital. It gives me an idea. I still have the letter that was attached, in my room. I haven’t been able to bring myself to read it yet.

Bending, I pick up the pot plant. If I can’t have a gravesite, I’ll make my own. I carry it along the beach. I make my way to the top of the sand hill again, placing it down beside me. Using my hands, I dig a small hole. I feel the first tear fall when I retrieve the photo from my pocket. I give it one last kiss before placing it inside.

I say a prayer as I fill half of the hole with sand. Tipping the pot upside down, I remove the plant and place it in the hole as well. Tears are streaming down my face now. Part of me doesn’t want to give up that picture. It’s all I have.

I fill in the remainder of the hole with sand, pouring my bottle of water over it in the hope the plant will stay alive.

Sitting down, I pull my knees up against my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs. This time, instead of looking out across the ocean like I did yesterday, I stare at the makeshift gravesite I’ve just made. It’s not much, but it’s something.

Why do I feel so sad? Why am I the only one who seems to be feeling this tremendous loss? Is it because technically it was only a developing foetus? I don’t care if it was fully developed or not. It was still my child. A life I helped create. Even if it was fleeting, I loved it. It will forever hold a special place in my heart.

It hurts knowing my baby never got to take its first breath. Never got to live out its life as intended. Never got to know how precious it was. What it felt like to be loved. Maybe that’s it. Is it the injustice that’s making me feel like this? Or is it something else?

As I look down at the flowers, I realise I may never get the answers I crave. Hopefully my mum was right when she said in time it’ll get easier. I hope so. I hate feeling like this.

I’m not entirely sure how many hours pass, but I’m snapped out of my thoughts when I hear my dad call my name. “Angel.”

I look up to find him standing at the bottom of the sand hill. “When you didn’t come home for lunch I got worried,” he says.

“I’m okay,” I tell him as I stand and make my way towards him.

“Are you sure? Your mum and I are concerned. What can we do to help, Princess?” I spent my time this morning soul searching, and I’ve come to a decision. I can’t stay here. I just can’t.

“I want to come home, daddy. I want to move back to Sydney.”

“What? Are you sure? Maybe you just need a little more time. Maybe some therapy might help.”

“I don’t want that,” I tell him. “I just want to come home.”

“What about Chase?” he asks. I just shrug. I have no answer to that question.

••••

Chase

I’m going out of my fucking mind with worry. I waited all day yesterday for a call, a text, anything, but I never heard from her. It killed me to stay away, but sitting around her house knowing she’s only metres away and I can’t see her or talk to her, is too much.

Today, I held out hope that I’d hear something, but again, nothing. I’m not sure what to do. I’ve tried to keep busy helping Pops, but I can’t concentrate. My thoughts are occupied with her, with us. I feel her slipping away from me. I’m not sure what I can do to stop it.

What I’d like to do, is kick that fucking bedroom door of hers down and demand she open up to me. Demand she tell me what the fuck is going on with us, but I know I can’t do that. She’s fragile right now; I understand that part. But shutting out all the people who care, I fucking don’t.

At first, I thought as days passed she’d improve. That’s not the case. If anything she’s regressed further into herself. Her family are worried about her as well. Like me, they’re at a loss at what to do.

By the time night rolls round and still no word, I make up my mind that I’m going to go see her tomorrow. I can’t stand by and do nothing. Losing her is not an option. I need to bring her back before she’s too far gone.

••••

I’m jolted out of my sleep by the ringing of my phone. I laid in bed for hours last night worrying about her, about us. I’m not sure what time I eventually fell asleep, but it was some ungodly hour this morning.

Sitting up, I reach for my phone on my bedside table. My first thought is Angel.
Please let this be sweet-cheeks.
No such luck. It’s CJ’s number that’s flashing on my phone.

“Hey,” I say with a croaky voice when I answer. This lack of sleep is fucking with my head.

“Hey Bro,” he replies. “Have you heard from Angel?”

“What? No. Is there something wrong? Is she missing?” I ask in a panic.

“No. She’s here. Not for long though.”

“What do you mean not for long?”

“She’s decided to move back home. Back to Sydney,” he says.

“What?” My mind is fucking spinning. No fucking way. She can’t do that. She can’t fucking leave me. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Today,” he says with a sigh. “My parents have already left for the airport. Angel and I are driving back in her car. I told her last night to call you, but thought I better check just in case. I’m sorry, mate.”

“Do me a favour?” I ask. I can hear the desperation in my voice. This thing between us is so much worse than I thought.

“Sure, whatever.”

“Please don’t fucking leave until I get there? I’m on my way.”

It only seems like minutes pass before I’m pulling into Angel’s driveway. I’m relieved to see her car is still here, so I know they haven’t left yet.

Jumping off my bike, I make my way to the porch. CJ swings the door open before I even knock. “She’s in her room packing the last of her things,” he says stepping aside to let me in.

“Thanks, buddy.” I fist pump him as I pass, heading for her bedroom. I have no idea what I’m going to say to her, but fuck me if I’m going to let her leave me without having my say. I’m worried where this conversation may go, but I’m also pissed that she plans on leaving without so much as a goodbye. I thought I meant more to her than that—obviously not.

I reach her room just as she comes out of the bathroom carrying an armful of products. She drops them down on her bed next to her suitcase. She hasn’t noticed me standing here. It’s true. She really is leaving me. I swear I feel my heart tear in two.

Fuck, the desperation I’m know feel is consuming me. “You’re leaving?” I ask. Her head snaps in my direction. All the colour drains from her face.

“I can’t stay here,” she exhales after a few seconds.

“So, you were just going to pack up and fuck off without so much as a goodbye?” The venom in my voice doesn’t go unnoticed. I see her flinch at my words. I don’t mean to be so harsh, but fuck, I’m hurt that she would do this to me. I thought she loved me.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers tilting her face down towards the floor. Her words are like a knife straight through my heart.
Fucking sorry?
After everything we’ve been through, all she’s got is fucking sorry?

“So that’s it? We’re over?” She doesn’t answer me. Instead, she turns towards the bed and continues to throw the rest of her things into the suitcase. When she’s done she zips it up. I stand there in shock, waiting, for what I’m not sure. No answers. I’m waiting for fucking answers goddamn it. She at least owes me that.

I watch as she struggles to lift the case off the bed. Everything in me wants to run over and help her, but I’m not going to help her leave me. No fucking way. I don’t want her to go.

“CJ,” she calls. When he appears in the doorway, she says, “I’m ready to go. Can you put this in the car for me?” He looks between us before walking over and grabbing the suitcase.

As much as I like him, right now I want to tackle him to the fucking ground. I don’t want him to help her leave. “I’ll wait outside. Take your time,” is all he says before walking out of the room. He doesn’t even make eye contact with me.

She goes to walk past me, so I reach out and grab her arm. “Please don’t go,” I beg.

“I can’t stay here. I can’t stay in this house for another minute.” As pissed as I am, her reply tugs at my heart.

“Well don’t. Come and stay with me and Pops.” My gaze holds her. Tears rise to her eyes.

“I want to go home.”

“Don’t leave me.” Pleading with her I pull her into my arms. “I’m sorry for what happened. I’m sorry for what I said. I love you, sweet-cheeks. Don’t do this.” I can hear the desperation in my voice.

She wraps her arms around me waist and sobs into my chest. I feel my own tears fill my eyes. “I don’t want to lose you over this. Please. I’ll get on my knees and fucking beg you if I have to.” Fuck, I knew she was down, but this is the last thing I expected.

“Please don’t,” she cries.

Placing my hands on her shoulders, I pull her away from my chest. Cupping her head in my hands, my eyes desperately search her face looking for answers; for something. Anything. “Please,” I whisper. “Let me fix this.”

“We both know you can’t do that. No one can erase what’s happened.” She’s right I can’t, but leaving and walking away from everything we have isn’t the answer either. “I’ve got to go,” she says pulling away from me. I stand dumbfounded as she walks towards the door, before hurrying down the hall.

I follow her. When we’re outside on the porch, I watch in disbelief as she locks the front door, setting the alarm. She shoves the keys into her pocket before making eye contact with me.

“Goodbye,” she whispers as a fresh load of tears fill her beautiful eyes. That’s it? That’s all I’m going to get? As heartbroken as I am right now, that one word pisses me the hell off. I don’t want to say goodbye. Truth is, I want to say fuck you. After everything, that’s the best she’s got?