But this… This was more than an emotional barricade. This was a solid, locked door. “Elliot, what’s going on?”
Silence.
The unwelcome ache in the pit of her stomach moved to her chest, tightening with every passing second he didn’t answer. She knocked again.
“Elliot, open the door. I know you’re in there.”
The shadows on the carpet moved and she knocked harder.
“I don’t like games. What’s going on?” She jiggled the knob again, her hand stilling when the light on the inside of the room went out. He had to realize she knew he was in there. She gave herself to him and he was now hiding from her? Why? Her uncertainty nipped, pricking at insecurities she tried so hard not to awaken.
Unsure what caused this, she slapped her palms on the door, a sting reverberating from her trembling fingers down to her pride.
“Elliot, I know you’re in there. Open the door, right now.”
Her chin quivered when he still didn’t respond. He was shutting her out, hiding worse than she ever imagined he could. Why couldn’t they just discuss whatever was bothering him? Be a man, she wanted to yell, but that wouldn’t help.
She shoved down her panic and softened her voice. “Please, open the door.”
Nothing. Her throat contracted with an urge to truly cry, a very different and painful reflex compared to the one that caused her tears earlier.
“You’re scaring me,” she whispered, believing he was close enough to hear the fear in her voice.
Her breathing turned ragged as she stumbled back, her throat tightened around a painful lump.
“I don’t understand what happened.” Erotic images flashed through her mind, the heady memories distorting into disgraceful acts of a desperate woman as she tried to picture what they’d done from a different perspective. To her, it had been beautiful, but what if to him…
No. She wasn’t doing this to herself. She loved and trusted him. There should be no dishonor to how they interacted intimately and in private.
But there was the shame, dark and oily, slithering through her, hissing terrible truths that she would never be like other women. She was asking for too much. Sex was always fine, but anything more… Why was there always a catch? And why did Elliot’s distance hurt so much more than anything else? His silence was terrifying.
People didn’t lock doors on the women they loved. They crossed Milky Ways on magpies and built bridges to be together. Clearly she’d misinterpreted his feelings, assumed he’d loved her when he’d been very careful not to use those words. But she still felt his desire to connect, and this inexplicable derailment every time they seemed to get a little closer. Only this time was worse than any time before.
“Why are you shutting me out?” Her plea was too soft to penetrate the wood door, but it announced every truth she didn’t want to see.
There was emotional rejection and then there was physical. This was a combination of both. Humiliated, she silently admitted someone who loved her would never do this. Whoever was on the other side of that door suddenly seemed cruel and not the person who stole her heart. A cool tear slid down her face and she batted it away.
Her palms slapped into the door again. “Answer me!”
When he didn’t, she stumbled back. Denial and worry twisted into regretful acceptance.
She had believed he cared for her, trusted him not to judge her. Her feet made a graceless trek to her room and she slammed the door, hopefully shutting out all the insecurities on the other side. But those dirty thoughts slithered through the cracks and stole her breath as true panic crept in.
Digging her phone out of her purse, she called his cell, her desperation a boundless hope this wasn’t happening. Not with him. He was different. She loved him.
When voicemail picked up, Elliot’s indifferent voice suggesting she leave a message, she gripped her phone so tight the case whined. Her head hung in defeat. He wasn’t different at all. He was abandoning her like all the rest, only this time it was deeper.
They all lost interest. They all eventually treated her like baggage. Even Roland had come to the conclusion she was no longer the marrying type. She thought she was finished using her body that way, and that hadn’t been what she’d been thinking with Elliot. With him it had meaning. Yet, here she was, being shoved away, not worth a word of explanation for where she went wrong.
In those silent moments of revelation, each shard of self-doubt sliced open old wounds until she could barely bear the weight of her skin. People assumed beauty came with confidence, but deep down she was a fragile disaster hiding inside a porcelain shell. Her demons battered her thin veneer until the last shred of dignity seemed to scream inside of her, scream nothing but ugly things.
She couldn’t bear it anymore. Her life was an endless cycle of choosing men who only hurt her. He was supposed to be different. She trusted him. She loved him. But clearly, he didn’t love her. She batted away more tears.
There would be no staying here after this. She had her pride.
Gathering her belongings, she stuffed them into her bag and shoved her legs into a pair of dirty pants. Once she had everything, she marched down the hall, forbidding herself when she wanted to knock on that damn door again.
She ordered a cab with the app on her phone and walked to the foyer. Only then did she recall the cameras everywhere. She stilled, her eyes glazing as she blinked back tears and stared into the little lens on the ceiling, certain he was watching her.
Stiffening, she raised her chin. “I thought you were a man, but you’re just a coward.”
She walked out the door and to the edge of the drive, refusing to look back as her heart slowly crumbled. This was the last time. No more. She could not beat herself down on behalf of another man’s shortcomings ever again. She had all the battle scars she could manage and her heart simply couldn’t take the ache anymore.
Her hair was damp and she was shivering by the time the car arrived. Holding her bag on her lap, she buckled her seatbelt and gave the address to her studio.
She thought of Lettie, certain she wasn’t the one to confide in about whatever just happened. After all, Lettie’s husband was Elliot’s best friend. She might have answers, but Nadia was sure calling her at this hour would only make things worse. She had no one to talk to.
Desperate and confused, she leaned her head into the car window as the world went by in silence. Her gaze caught on the driver’s wedding band. People had counterparts everywhere, but she seemed destined to be alone.
Her aunts were gone. Her mother despised her—called her a whore. Her father had left this world feeling much the same way. Ian was just one of many men who decided they were better off without her. She thought Elliot was different. She thought he…
A crushing pain clamped around her heart. She was stupid. A hopeless romantic who expected a fairytale when the world was actually a cold and unwelcoming place.
When she reached her studio she paid the driver and went inside. Her back hit the wall as she dropped to the floor, still holding her phone and crying in the dark. She couldn’t do this anymore. She couldn’t keep resting her hopes on love when she needed to actually start using her head.
Her eyes followed the shadows and a shiver crested her shoulders. No bed. No blankets. This was her best option? She should go to a hotel, but that would destroy her budget for the week and she needed to feed herself.
Wiping her eyes, she thumbed through her contacts, the light from her phone dancing like a firefly in the dark. She couldn’t stand the thought of sleeping on the floor so she checked the time and texted the only friend she could think of, though he was more of an acquaintance.
Are you at the gym?
Her phone pinged back a moment later.
I’ll be there tomorrow at six. What’s up?
Humiliation kept her fingers unsteady.
Never mind.
Her phone suddenly rang, Steve’s name lighting the screen. She debated not answering, but
she couldn’t let him worry. “Hey.”
“Do you need something from the gym?”
Her emotions slipped and she struggled to keep her voice level. “No, I just wanted to see if you were there. I was going to stop by.”
He was silent for a beat. “It’s eleven at night.”
“I know. I don’t know what I was thinking. Go back to bed, or whatever you were doing. I’ll be fine.”
“Nadia, stop. What’s going on? Where are you?”
She bit her lip, the view of the dark studio wavering behind an unshed wall of tears. “At my studio.”
“Is everything all right?”
A tear slipped past her lashes and fell onto her bag. “I don’t know. I left Elliot’s and I’m not sure what’s happening.”
“I’ll meet you at the studio in twenty minutes. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Steve, you don’t have to—”
“Knock it off, Nadia. You’re my friend. I’m not going to let you sleep there. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
“Okay,” she rasped, ending the call.
Several minutes later the bell rang and she heard his heavy footfalls racing up the stairs. She stood but had a hard time meeting his eyes. She hadn’t even put on a bra and her hair was still damp.
His gaze made a quick assessment of her shambled appearance. “Get your things. I’ll take you to my place.”
He followed her down the steps and took the keys from her unsteady hands, locking up. Rounding the front of the car, she climbed into the SUV and he shut the door behind her. When he returned to his seat his grip was tight on the wheel.
“Thank you for doing this. I didn’t have anywhere to go.”
His jaw ticked, but he said nothing.
“I’m not even sure what happened. We got home and… It’s embarrassing.”
He laughed without humor. “Trust me, Nadia, whatever you have to say won’t shock me. I’ve seen a lot since getting involved with Asher.”
She frowned, more uncertainty moving in where good assumptions lived. “I thought you two were friends.”
“More like business acquaintances. He offered me a job. I did it. And then I collected a debt and cut ties. I’ll go to things here and there—for Lettie—but some shit isn’t easy to forget. If Elliot’s anything like Asher…” He paused for a moment. “Sometimes victims become the worst bullies of all. Those guys all went through some shit, but I don’t think they ever got over it. They have no comprehension of how powerful they actually are now. None of that past shit matters anymore, but it’s molded them into the men they are, and I’d hate to say it, but they’re fucked up. It takes some devotion to get involved with anyone who needs that much work, which is why I cut ties.”
“I wish I had known you felt that way.”
“Why do you say it like that?” His knuckles bleached as his grip tightened.
“I just do.”
They made the rest of the drive in silence. He parked the car outside of a small but pristine home in a suburban district and faced her, his shoulders tense.
“Do you need to go to a hospital or anything like that? I need to know now before we go inside.”
She drew back. “What? No. God, Steve, Elliot would never hurt me like that.” He could break her heart, but he would never get physically rough with her.
Steve didn’t appear convinced, but he nodded anyway.
His home was nice—lived in—and she could see he wasn’t expecting company as he gathered scattered dishes the moment they walked in. “Do you want something to drink?”
She stared at the couch, wondering if that was where she’d sleep. Her feet refused to move. Here she was again, begging another man to give her a place to stay. What happened to her life? When had this become her norm? There had to be something wrong with her.
“Nadia?”
“No, thank you. I’m fine,” she murmured, anything but fine.
“Will you be okay here?”
“This is just for tonight,” she reassured him. “I really appreciate you helping me.”
“Don’t mention it.”
She nodded, only wanting him to go so she could fall apart in private.
Likely sensing her desire for privacy, he sighed. “Bathroom’s down the hall. Kitchen’s there. My room’s at the top of the stairs if you need anything, and I mean anything.”
“Thank you,” she murmured again.
“Hey,” he gripped her shoulder and she looked up at him, her composure fraying. “If you want to talk, I can listen.”
So tempting, so redundant. “Thanks, but I need to think right now. Maybe we’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Okay.” He released her and stepped back. “Try to get some sleep.”
She nodded and went to the couch as he took the steps. Her body folded as she rested on her side and she pulled the throw blanket over her shoulders. Confusion escaped in silent tears.
This needed to be the last time she let something like this happen. From now on, she could only depend on herself.
As much as she judged her family for letting Roland bail them out time and again, she’d developed the same tendencies, leaning on men for security and never learning how to depend on herself. It seemed ironic Elliot had been the one to say depending on others was dangerous. He was right. She should have never depended on him—or trusted him with her heart.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“A woman is like a tea bag - you can't tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water.”
~Eleanor Roosevelt
It was probably the most heartbreaking decision Nadia ever made, but it was her only choice if she wanted to salvage what was left of her pride and find some independence again. Her landlord slid the check across the desk and her stomach bottomed out as she reached for it.
“Thank you. I left the metal desk and moved the old bench to the curb. Someone will probably take it before the trash men do.”
“I wish you luck, Nadia.”
“Thank you, for the luck and for all the times you’ve been patient when I needed a few extra days to make my rent.”
Her landlord grinned, his veneers flashing an unnatural white against his deep hickory skin. “I know what it’s like to start a business in a foreign place. Not always easy.”
That was the truth. She felt empty-handed as she left her landlord’s office. It was as if she literally put down her dreams to make room for a more practical future.
She’d contacted all of her clients that morning, trying hard to disguise her tears as each parent asked why she was closing so suddenly. She couldn’t offer a professional explanation, so she simply promised a reimbursement and an invitation to join her at the new studio that should be opening in a few months.
She took a cab to Reflections Gym and found Steve with a woman working her thighs. Hanging back, she observed his mannerisms and how hard he pushed the client. He had sizable knowledge about what machines worked which part of the body, and a presence that backed up his credibility.
When he was finished, he noticed her and smiled. “Nadia. When did you get here?”
“About twenty minutes ago. You’re good at what you do.”
“Thanks. Come back to my office. I’ll split my lunch with you.”
She followed him to the back and accepted half his turkey wrap as they settled around the desk. “How’d you make out today? Any word from Elliot?”
She was trying not to think about Elliot because every time he entered her mind she felt sick—more so because he still hadn’t called.
“No.” She finished the last bite of her wrap and brushed the crumbs off her fingers. “I closed my studio today.”
He stilled, his eyes growing wide. “What?”
She shrugged, holding back the urge to scream and cry at the awful doubts scraping her insides raw. “It would have happened eventually anyway. My roster was too light and it was costing me too much. So I’m going to find work somewhere else for the time being until we open the
studio here.”
“Nadia…” His brow pinched. “They haven’t accepted my offer yet.”
“But … they will. You said you put in a bid.”
“Yes, a bid.” Worry flashed in his eyes, sending the claws of doubt deeper into her stomach. “I wish you had told me your plans.”
“I’m sure you’ll get it. Has anyone else put a bid in for the property?” Swallowing, she ignored the pinch of panic. “It doesn’t matter. Something will work out.”
It made her situation a lot more precarious, but knowing this information didn’t change the tough choice she had to make today. Numbers didn’t lie and she could either afford shelter or her studio. Having both was no longer an option. Right now, her best solution was to find a good paying job, make some fast money, and get herself a new place to live.
“I won’t know anything for a few more days.”
“Well … hopefully, they accept your offer. If that doesn’t pan out, then my clients will just have to move on. I’ll move on, too.”
“You can teach here a few nights a week. The other girls have kickboxing and Zumba covered, but maybe you could manage a jazzercise class.”
“Thanks.” It wasn’t her first choice, but she was done being picky. “Let me know what nights and I’ll be here.”
“I will, but it won’t bring in more than a hundred bucks a week. I’m sorry I can’t offer more.”
“I have other options. I think I could flip burgers if it got me out of this rut, so anything remotely related to my field is a blessing.”
“Do you still need a place to stay?”
“I found an apartment in my budget and I’m going to look at it today. But I can’t afford to be picky. I got my deposit back on the studio, so that helps.”
“Well, if you need anything…”
She stood, the temptation of simple, temporary solutions something she needed to overcome. “I just wanted to come by and thank you for last night. I’m heading over to Maple Crest Village now to meet the landlord.”
Untied: A Mastermind Novel Page 26
