Love and Heartache (Love &... #2)
Page 3
“Are you okay?” I ask her, leaning my head down to hers, to search for any signs of hurt.
“I’m fine. Thank you for catching me.” My breaths come out heavy and I wonder whether she understands the weight of her words. How much it affects me to hear her mutter she is fine, after all these years of wishing she were.
She wiggles out of my grasp but remains in front of me, visibly wanting to say something.
“Isabella?” I gently probe, while my mind races with what she could possibly want to say. I’m close to saying her name again when a shrill shout interrupts us. Isabella’s head turns towards the dancefloor where we can still hear a few shouts over the music; her eyes widen as she excuses herself.
I follow her line of sight and see Roxy caught in the middle of two guys, who are clearly arguing over her. Even from here, I can tell the dudes are moments away from punching the living shit out of each other.
Isabella is already halfway to them and the anger that courses through me is instantaneous. There’s zero chance I’m letting Isabella walk into the middle of a fight, so I call Logan’s name and mouth Roxy’s name to him, pointing to where it’s all going down. I’d have shouted for Rory, but he’s nowhere to be seen, so Logan’s the next best choice.
We’re both there in an instant as I maneuver myself, so Isabella is out of the firing line. Logan grabs Roxy and pulls her away before she gets hurt too. The guys are still oblivious to everyone around them as they begin to throw punches at each other. I turn to face Isabella. Her face is a storm of emotions when I speak.
“Go and get security. And your boss.” I order her away from the fight, not willing to take the risk that she might get hurt in the process of these two dicks mauling each other.
I switch my attention to Logan, who is currently trying to calm Roxy down, but failing by the looks of it. She’s seething at him, for interrupting.
“It was my call. Not his. Trust me Roxy, you don’t want to be in the middle of that.” I gesture towards the guys, who are now being pulled apart. Logan pipes up next to me.
“You know we’re just looking out for you Rox. Those guys aren’t good guys.” His tone is pleading and the way he looks at her, I sense there is something else going on here that I don’t know about.
Roxy still fumes, her arms fold over her chest. She glances over her should, spying Isabella running over to us, bouncer in tow.
“You good Rox?” Isabella asks, moving her further away from the brawl still going on.
“No Izzy. I’m not good. Your ex-boyfriend is interfering with my sex life and I’m pissed.” She spits her words out and I flinch at the mention of me being Isabella’s ex. I mean, I know that’s what I am to her, but still, the jab hurts. Isabella recoils as well, her face pales while she tries to steady her now erratic breathing. She opens her mouth to speak but I beat her to it. There’s no way I’m letting Roxy speak to her like that.
“If I remember rightly Roxy, we heard you shout. You don’t fucking shout if you don’t want help. Isabella ran to your rescue and there’s no fucking way I was going to let her do that alone. One or both of you would have gotten hurt.”
“And that’s the last thing we want.” Logan pipes up, his eyes dart to mine, questioning why I didn’t mention my connection with Isabella before.
Roxy huffs and pulls Isabella into a hug, murmuring an apology in her ear before glaring back at me and Logan.
“I need a drink.” She points at me and Logan. “And I don’t need any babysitters.” I turn my attention back to Isabella, ignoring Roxy when she waltzes back towards the bar. Logan scratches the back of his neck, assessing us both, while Isabella looks everywhere but us.
“I’ll go make sure she’s okay.” Isabella excuses herself, before following Roxy to the bar. I can’t seem to tear my gaze away from her, even though she’s now entirely focused on stopping Roxy from downing two drinks at once. A hand lands on my shoulder, forcing me out of my reverie.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on there or you going to keep me guessing?” Debating my answer, I plump for honesty. Well, a little bit of it anyway.
“Nothing much anymore,” I mumble, trying to keep the disappointment from my voice.
“Anymore?” He quietly asks, trying to get me to cave. The guy isn’t about to give in, but a drunken night out is not the time or place to take a trip into my past.
“Leave it okay?” I walk away, making my way back to the table, where most of the guys have all disappeared. After everything that has happened tonight, I’m emotionally drained. The only reason why I can’t hightail it away from here as quick as I can, is because of Isabella. The urge to stay in her presence is overwhelming, so instead of leaving, I pluck another drink from the table, scanning the room, keeping one eye on her on the sly.
Logan plops down next to me, the earlier conversation over as he makes small talk about the team. I’m eternally grateful he’s dropped the subject. There’s no way I can explain mine and Isabella’s complicated past, not yet anyway.
By the end of the night, pretty much everyone has emptied from the bar. The lights that were dimmed throughout the evening, now turn on to shine brightly down on us all. I stand and watch Isabella clear the last remaining tables, before heading into the back. Roxy stumbles towards our table, her gait all over the place. It’s surprising that she manages to make it over to us, in one piece, without falling. Logan jumps up, his arm weaving round her waist, asking how much she’s had to drink. Turns out, in the last hour, she’s drunk the bar high and dry.
Logan offers to take her home, which she accepts, astoundingly. I half expected her to put up a fight, but she’s evidently too drunk to do anything about it.
Roxy and Logan head towards the exit just as Isabella comes out. She waves goodbye to them and then flashes a dark look towards me. I’m not sure what to do so I follow them out, giving her a quick wave. The need to stay and make sure she’s alright is overpowering but somehow I manage to fight it.
After helping Logan get Roxy in his car, he drives off saying he’ll drop her off at home and see me when I get back. There’s definitely something going on there, but I can’t exactly pry, especially when I’m locked tighter than a fortress. I’d be blind not to notice that he looks at Roxy, the same way I used to look at Isabella – the same way I still look at Isabella.
I walk to my truck, starting it up, and immediately, enjoying the warm air that billows around me. I’m about to reverse out of my spot, when I spot burgundy hair flash past on the sidewalk.
Fucking Isabella.
My eyes follow her, as she carries on walking down the street. Her head is down, deep in thought. When she stops at the nearest bus stop, I curse under my breath. She’s actually going to try and get a bus at this time of night. Alone. Fuck.
I drive down the street and pull up on the curb, before getting out and walking up to her. Her eyes flicker with recognition, looking at my truck then me.
“Please tell me you’re not waiting for a bus.” My voice is stern yet soft. I don’t want to scare her, but it irritates me that she’s out here on her own, in the dead of the night.
“Okay I won’t.” She smirks at me, teasing me, which elicits a growl from me in response.
“Get in the car Isabella. I’ll give you a lift home.” Her eyes dart around, almost like she doesn’t believe that I’m here, offering her a lift. I open the passenger door gesturing for her to get in. If I have to, I’m not opposed to picking her up and putting her in, but that’s my last resort. She chews her bottom lip and I have to swallow down a groan. Memories of how that lip tasted between my teeth swarm my thoughts.
“Please Isabella.” I plead with her, watching her squeeze her eyes tightly shut.
“A-alright,” she stammers. Her posture is tense as she cautiously gets in. It hurts that she’s being so guarded around me, but I push the ache back below the surface. I run around the bonnet, desperate to be close to her. As I sling into the driver’s seat, the atmos
phere between us, hikes up. It heightens to a point where its consuming in the best way possible.
The tension between us crackles and I swear to god, I feel something stir inside of me. Just being sat next to her, is stimulating all sorts of emotions from me and I can’t make sense of any of them. I’m about to ask for her address when she speaks first.
“We need to talk.” Just four dreaded words, which no one ever wants to hear, ruins any hope I had left and crushes my heart all over again.
3
Isabella
“We need to talk.” I blurt out the words, even though I have no idea how to process what I need to say to him. In my head, I envision I am that person who is strong enough to face their demons, but in reality, I know I’m not. I ran from them instead. I guess karma caught up with me, because coming face to face with my past, I have no idea how to articulate my reasons.
I know I was being a coward and part of me understands I need to apologize for that. Or at least try and explain the logic behind my decisions, to make him recognize, that I didn’t really have a choice in any of it. The pain of remembering always overwhelmed me to a point, where I just couldn’t deal with it any longer. If I had stuck around, I would’ve lost it for sure.
I glance towards Nathan, trying to get a read on him but realize I have no idea what I’m looking for. Does he even have a tell? I’ve started to remember more and more about him. The flickers coming back to me in thoughts and dreams, but there are still huge gaps in my memory. Things that I’m not sure I want to remember.
His face is carved like marble, his expression hardened by my words while he stares at the road, focusing ahead of us. I study the way his fists grip the steering wheel and part of me hates that I’ve angered him, with very little actions on my behalf. I need to clarify my words before we both lose our sanity. Sensing that ripping the band aid off seems like the best approach, I launch into my apology.
“I’m sorry for what I did. For running.” My fingers intertwine with each other, trying to distract myself from Nathan’s response. I have no idea how he’ll react. The slight gasp that I hear from him has my head swiveling in his direction. I expect him to be angry but the moment I look up, his stormy blue eyes are now a summer sky blue, not a cloud in sight.
There’s something about the way he’s regarding at me, I find myself unable to look away. His whole demeanor changes, the tension in the air igniting between us, the more we gaze at each other. Neither of us wants to break the moment, but I need to say my piece before I lose my nerve. I’m not finished with my confession yet.
“At the time, it seemed like it was the best option. I couldn’t face anything, and I was terrified of the hurt it would cause trying to remember. And that was if I could even remember.” I ramble on, all the while, peeking at Nathan, gauging his reaction while he continues to drive. He sneaks glances every now and again, his expression pensive. I want more than anything to ask him what he’s thinking about, but we aren’t quite at that stage yet.
“I’m not sure what you want me to say, Isabella.” Nathan’s husky voice brings me back to the real world, when he speaks again.
“I appreciate the apology and the explanation, but it doesn’t change the past.” His words are cutting, and I know that he’s closing himself off from me. The earlier hope that I saw in his eyes, is replaced with hostility. With haste, I question him.
“Why are you here then?” I’m not too self-involved to think that he is here for me, but none of this is making any sense. He opens his mouth to speak but then closes it again, the indecision obvious as he pinches his eyebrows together.
“I needed a fresh start, so I transferred here. I had no idea you were here considering you left me behind without saying goodbye.” His words leave a bitter taste in my mouth, hearing the animosity in his tone. Of course, he’s pissed I left him. I would’ve been too, if the roles were reversed. I’m about to argue my actions when Nathan pipes up, ending that particular conversation.
“Where do you live?” I rattle off my address and then turn my attention to stare out into the darkness.
Nathan’s vague response about needing a fresh start is causing a stir of questions inside, that I’m dying to know the answers to, but I don’t dare to ask. The silence stretches between us, but it’s becoming oddly comforting, even with Nathan’s open hostility.
I let my head fall back to lean on the head rest, and almost immediately, my eyes droop shut. I hadn’t realized how tired I actually was, until I feel Nathan gently shake my shoulder waking me.
“I’m so sorry.” I apologize over and over, feeling incredibly mortified that I’ve just fallen asleep on him.
“It’s fine, pretty girl.” His words resonate throughout me, my mind flicking back to something I’ve never remembered before. I’ve heard the words before, and my thoughts chose this moment to take me on a trip down memory lane.
It was the first day of my senior year. I remembered walking across the cafeteria, then tripping and falling, face first to the floor. Nathan had come to the rescue, carrying me down the hallway, all the while, blood dripped from my nose and onto my white top. I vaguely recall being self-conscious that I’d have to wear the blood covered top for the rest of the day. Having no idea where we were going, Nathan veered off in a different direction which ended us up at his locker. He rummaged around his gym bag grabbing a jersey out, before guiding me to the nearby bathroom. Confusion clouded my mind as I tried to figure out what game Nathan was trying to play.
“What are you doing?” I asked him cautiously, after all I barely knew the guy.
“We need to get you cleaned up. I’ve got you a spare shirt of mine that you can change into and we can use yours to stop the bleeding.” He explained.
“Oh, yeah that makes sense. Not sure if you realized though, you’re about to go into the girl’s bathroom.” I smirked his way, humored by the fact, that he was holding my hand like I was a child who was about to run away.
“I won’t burst into flames, don’t worry.” His dimple pops out and I chuckle quietly.
“Who said anything about worrying?” I grabbed the shirt from his grip and spun on my heels, on the threshold of the door. “I’ll quickly get changed and come back out.”
“I’ll wait for you out here. Don’t be too long, pretty girl.” His tone was gruff and sent ripples of warmth throughout me as my mind toyed with the idea of him thinking I looked pretty. I realized in that moment, I loved his endearment for me, and I wanted more than ever to hear him call it me again.
I open my eyes, unaware that I’d fused them shut while my mind decided to play the memory over in my head. Nathan calls my name, but I’m can’t focus on anything.
I’m panicking and I know I need to get myself out of this situation. Muttering a quiet goodbye, I flee from the car, and run inside.
My heart palpitates out of my chest causing my breathing to stutter. The dimness of the living room halts me in my tracks. I fumble around to find the light switch and when I eventually find it and flick it, harsh light brings me back from the edge and back to reality. Mustering up the courage to give into an unknown urge, I peek through the curtains to see whether he’s still there.
Disappointment rolls off me, seeing that he’s already gone. Everything’s suddenly becomes extremely overwhelming, and the need to write everything down before I forget is all consuming.
I grab my journal and write until I can barely keep my eyes open. They unwillingly shut and block out the world, for a few hours at least.
The following morning, I wake up with the smooth leather plastered to my face. The thoughts and memories of last night plague me once again while I shower and dress.
It isn’t until I’m about to walk out the door, that I realize that I haven’t seen Roxy. I’d been so caught up in my own drama that I forgot to check on her when I got in last night. I trudge to her room and I’m met with an empty space. I fire off a quick text to her asking if she is okay, then head out to class.
The professor enters and continues to drone on for an hour as I try profusely to concentrate on the lesson and not Nathan. Every attempt is fruitless though, I keep wondering little things about him. My musings are interrupted when the professor calls my name and gestures for me to answer.
I’m pretty sure my face is the color of a beetroot, while I try to formulate a response, though I’m not entirely sure what’s been happening. I haven’t been paying a lick of attention to her. Her stern tone reprimands me, leaving me shaking with both embarrassment and anger. For the rest of the lesson, I actually put Nathan to the back of my mind and focus.
The professor begins telling us about our first assignment and what it entails. Now I’m paying attention, I find I’m liking the sound of what she has planned for us. We’ll each have a focus to study, and then will have to write an article on one of the athletic stars from our university. In my mind, I’ve already planned to ask Rory, knowing how easy it’ll be to persuade him to do it. I’ve even got my angle all worked out and excitement courses through me, thinking about it.
My plans are short lived though, when I realize the professor is calling us up, one by one to collect a name from a basket which is placed on her desk. Of course, my earlier insolence is coming back to haunt me as she leaves me till last. Her gesture for me to pick one is filled with disdain. My hand wobbles, choosing the only one left in the basket.