by J. L. Berg
“I know you,” I said softly. “I know every part of you, don’t you see that?”
“No,” she replied, turning her gaze. “All I see is a fraud. Now, let me go, so I can leave.”
An inner turmoil raged inside me.
I couldn’t let her go.
Not yet.
The sound of her breath caught as my hands worked their way up her body. If she wanted me to stop, she didn’t show it.
Her chest heaved as my fingers brushed over her breasts and across the soft flesh of her collarbone until I felt her eyes on mine once again.
“I won’t lose you without a fight.”
My mouth crashed down on hers, and I gave her everything I had.
Anger.
Regret.
Sadness.
Devotion.
It was all there in that one never-ending kiss.
She finally pulled back, her lips swollen and red from mine. “Don’t you see? You already have.”
My grip tightened around her waist. “Then, why are you still here?”
“Because you won’t let me go,” she challenged, her body pressed into mine.
“And I never will,” I growled.
This time, we met in the middle, a fury of limbs as we each fought for control.
She pushed me toward the bed.
I pushed her back against the solid metal door.
“You’re still a liar,” she said between punishing kisses.
“So are you,” I snapped. “A lie by omission is still a lie, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart,” she demanded, pawing at my belt.
“Would you prefer Laura then?” I asked, a dark laughter following as I ripped her shirt from her body and roughly palmed her breasts.
“Fuck you,” she breathed, thrusting her hand into my jeans.
My eyes nearly lost focus as her digits wrapped around my shaft.
“Oh no, that’s where you’re mistaken,” I said, grabbing her hands and flipping her around.
Her breasts pushed against the cold door as I held her there with my weight.
“That job’s all yours.”
I smacked her ass, making her gasp and moan at the same time.
I was out of control.
We both were.
But it was too late to stop.
Her body was quivering, grinding against mine, as I removed her leggings before running a hand over each cheek. I bent down, kissing the spot where my hand had met her skin, and felt her body shudder in response.
I knew she wouldn’t beg for it.
Not tonight. Maybe not ever again.
Our bodies might have been reaching out for one another, but our hearts? They hadn’t forgotten.
She was still going to leave me. No matter how hard I tried to keep her here, how tightly I held on, she was already gone.
I would have never let her go.
But sometimes, letting go is the only path left.
And I knew that more than ever looking into those dark green eyes I loved so much.
Perhaps this was our last chance at torturing our souls, knowing we’d both come so close to something real.
Something worth fighting for.
But I couldn’t fight a battle that didn’t want to be fought.
So, I did the only thing I could. I let go of my anger and turned her around, making sure she could see the whites of my eyes as I made love to her one last time.
A single tear fell down her cheek the moment our bodies became one, and the anger fled from her veins.
She wrapped her hands around my shoulders, digging her fingers into my skin, as I held on to her legs, reminding her of exactly what we’d be losing.
Her gaze never wandered as I slammed our bodies into the door of my cheap hotel room over and over. Each thrust brought us closer to the end.
I felt my balls tighten as her release began. It was the first time I mourned the sound of her release along with my own.
Pleasure and pain, all wrapped up in one clusterfuck of a package.
I didn’t know how long we stood there, our breaths heavy from our communal passion. Neither of us wanted to take the first step.
Until, finally, she did.
Pulling her clothes back on, covering the rips in her shirt with a jacket, she placed her hand on the door once again.
“Let me go this time,” she said softly.
I simply nodded.
“Good-bye, Killian Turner,” she said, using my real name for the first time.
And the last.
“Good-bye, Katelyn O’Malley,” I whispered, watching her take those dreaded steps down the hall.
Then, it was quiet once again.
And I was alone.
Forever.
SOMEHOW, I MADE IT HOME, clutching my battered and bruised heart in my shaky hands. It felt as if someone had ripped it from my body, barely beating from the betrayal, and tossed it to me as proof that my pain was real.
And it hurt.
It hurt so much.
Every corner of my apartment reminded me of Killian.
From the kitchen where he’d spent hours simmering sauces and chopping vegetables as he spoke of his mother, to the bedroom where we’d spent hours consumed with each other.
Maybe he’d consumed all of me in that room.
Because, now, it felt as though there was nothing left.
Kate, Laura…it didn’t matter anymore.
Sometime after I stumbled my way inside my home, the tiny voice of reason that still remained reared its ugly head.
No matter how much it hurt, I still had a very big situation to deal with.
My secret was no longer safe.
Picking up my phone, I dialed, waiting for that familiar voice to answer.
“If you’re calling to gloat about that hot piece of ass you have living with you, I don’t want to hear it. Seriously, it’s just not fair,” Jane said immediately, not bothering to say hello.
“He knows,” I said, trying to remain composed.
“You told him?”
I shook my head before realizing she couldn’t see me. “He knew all along.”
“I’ll be there in the morning. Don’t talk to anyone. Got it?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“And, Kate?”
I couldn’t make my mouth move anymore without the tears breaking free. So, I just whimpered, knowing she’d understand.
“It’s going to be okay.”
I nodded once again, and we said good-bye.
But even I knew that Jane had lied through her teeth.
Nothing was okay. Not even close.
Keeping her word, Jane arrived at my doorstep, looking fresh and ready to bust a few heads.
“I’ll never understand how you can take an six-hour red-eye and manage to still look like you just stepped off a runway.”
“It’s one of my superpowers.” She shrugged, stepping inside, carrying a bag of fresh bagels along with a carrier filled with cups of hot coffee.
“I’ve sent out some feelers with a few press contacts I have, and so far, I think we’re safe. No one seems to know any more than they already did, which is basically nothing.”
I let out a breath of relief.
Placing everything on the coffee table, she took a seat on my sofa, her concerned face turned up toward mine. “Can you talk about it?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered, glancing at the table. Was I still brave enough? “But let’s do it over here. I’ll grab some fruit to go with our bagels.”
Slightly shocked, she nodded. “Sure. Whatever you want.”
My heart raced as I walked into the kitchen to grab plates and fruit. Every damn memory of him flooded back.
His smile.
His touch.
The sound of his voice.
I felt the desire to slip back to my old self. To run from the memories and perhaps find somewhere new to live so the pain wouldn’t hurt so much. I was good at avoiding. I
’d been tiptoeing around my parents’ deaths for years.
I could do the same with this.
But I wasn’t that same scared little girl anymore.
I was stronger, and no matter how much this hurt, it was something I had to face.
Head-on.
Joining Jane in the dining room, I took the same spot I’d occupied the night before, remembering the look of pride in Killian’s eyes when I battled the ghosts of my past.
“He’s a journalist,” I said. “He came here to expose me.”
Her mouth fell open. “How did he even know?”
“From an editor who handled the manuscript,” I explained.
“He’s known since the beginning? Kate, that was over a year ago.”
“I know.”
“Did he explain why?” she asked, starting to take notes. Jane loved taking notes.
“I didn’t exactly give him a chance to,” I said.
She pulled an envelope from her pocket and slid it across the table. Looking down, I saw my name in dark black script.
“I found this on your welcome mat. I assumed it was from him, so I put it in my pocket, waiting to see how you were handling everything.”
“And?”
“And, as much as I want to find the bastard and show him just how wicked I can be, I thought you might want to know the whole story.”
“Have you read it?” I asked, my eyes never leaving the envelope.
“Enough to know that there’s more going on here. A man intent on exposing you wouldn’t have taken the time to write that letter.”
I remembered his pleas to tell me the whole story. But my heart couldn’t take it.
I still wasn’t sure it’d survive.
But I deserved the truth, no matter how difficult it might be to swallow.
“Can you give me a few minutes?” I asked, placing my fingertips on the edge of the envelope.
Her hand grasped mine. “Of course. I’ll be in the kitchen, making some phone calls. Let me know when you’re ready, and we’ll figure this out. No matter what you decide.”
“Okay.”
I watched her rise, grabbing her purse from the coffee table before letting herself out. As the door clicked closed, I found my gaze still frozen on the letter before me.
A tiny smile tugged at my lips as I saw the motel logo on the front as my fingers brushed the edges. The seal was broken from Jane’s fierce sense of protectiveness.
For better or worse, that woman was my family, and I was hers. She’d put my happiness above all else, no matter the consequences. I only hoped I could return the favor someday.
Taking the letter in my hand, I slowly unfolded it, my heart skipping a beat when I saw Killian’s handwriting
Kate,
I came to Oregon to destroy a life in order to regain my own.
Instead, I found a future with you.
I know my words mean little to you, considering how much I’ve used them to deceive you.
But, believe me, I do love you.
That was never a lie, nor was it part of the plan.
Enclosed you will find everything I have on Laura Stone. It’s the only copy. Keep it, delete it…it doesn’t matter. After I chose to be with you, I never planned on using it anyway. I’d already found everything I needed.
Just know that you changed me. For the better and maybe a little for the worse…because leaving here is the hardest thing I’ll ever do, because I want to fight for what we have.
But I have to find Liam and make amends for ignoring my duties as a son and brother for far too long. If there’s anything I’ve learned during the past few weeks, it’s to keep your loved ones close.
You never know when it will be time to say good-bye.
Yours always,
Killian
Tears began streaming down my cheeks as I read the last words, remembering the look in his eyes just before I walked away.
Was that our final good-bye?
I’d thought it was. I’d been so blinded by anger, so shell-shocked with betrayal, that I didn’t take the time to see the whole picture.
This man really loved me.
But, after everything that had happened—the lies, the deceit…from both of us—was a life together even possible?
Did I still love him?
That was the ultimate question.
I sent Jane off to run some errands while I tried trudge through the pile of emotions I had.
After a call into work and a quick shower, I was nowhere closer to solving the war raging in my chest.
Did I love Killian?
Yes. That much was easy to admit.
Did I want a future with him, knowing everything I did now?
That was the hard part.
He wasn’t wrong when he’d said I wasn’t completely innocent in this. I’d done my fair share of lying even if it was mostly evading the truth.
A lie was a lie, right? Simple, white, or otherwise, it wasn’t the way to start a relationship.
Had we been doomed from the beginning?
With all these questions floating in my head, I decided there was only one place I could go to make sense of it all.
The one place I’d been avoiding for years.
My parents’ storage unit.
It was where I’d had all of their belongings sent to after my childhood home was sold. I could have kept it—the house with everything inside just the way they’d left it.
But, like the dining room table, it was a constant reminder of what I’d lost.
What had been stripped away from me.
Now, it seemed like it was the only place I could truly be close to them.
I texted Jane the address, knowing she’d eventually be looking for me. She agreed to meet me there in a bit, knowing I’d probably need some time alone.
Leaving the apartment that morning, seeing the cold gray sky left me feeling numb.
Less than twenty-four hours ago, I was positively brimming with happiness. It’d been oozing out of my pores, lightening my steps, and making me feel like the luckiest woman alive.
Today, I was visiting a furniture graveyard, hoping for an answer to a question I was too afraid to ask myself.
When trust was broken, could a second chance truly exist?
There was something altogether eerie about a storage unit. Walking down the long row of small garage doors, I couldn’t help but think of all the things stored behind those walls.
Lost memories waiting to be discovered.
Taking the forgotten key from my purse, I unlocked the padlock securing the door. It gave with a quick twist of my wrist, popping open with ease.
Now came the hard stuff.
I lifted the door, high enough to let myself and some much-needed light inside. Stepping underneath, I made my way through.
From the living room sofas to the giant sleigh bed I used to jump into when I was scared as a kid, it was all here.
Like a silent shrine to the life I’d once had.
I walked between my dad’s antique grandfather clock and my mom’s curio cabinet, now dusty from neglect. I brushed my fingers along the wood grain, remembering how I would stare up at it, begging my mom to let me touch everything inside.
“Maybe when you’re older, sweetheart,” she’d say as the young version of me would look up at the antique dolls with wonder.
It didn’t take me long to figure out how to get to those dolls myself. After watching my mother open the cabinet for cleaning, I’d mimicked her actions sometime later, pulling down the doe-eyed doll for myself. Being tiny and fairly clumsy, it was almost inevitable for the fragile little thing to break.
By the time my mom had found out, I’d already locked myself away in my room, crying for hours.
The door creaked open, and my mom’s shadow appeared on the pink carpet.
“There you are. I’ve been calling for you. Dinner is ready,” she said, taking several steps into the room.
“I’m so sorry, Momm
y,” I cried, feeling terrible about my stupid choices. If I’d only stayed out like she’d told me.
“Sorry about what?” she asked, immediately moving to my side. There she saw the broken pieces of porcelain in my hands. “Oh, Katelyn,” she said softly, a pained look on her face.
“I should have listened. And, now, it’s broken, and it’s all my fault.”
Instead of agreeing or scolding me on the spot for my behavior, she sat down next to me and grabbed my hands. Pulling the pieces from my clutched fingers, she placed them on the nightstand and examined my skin for cuts.
“It’s just a doll, sweetheart,” she said patiently.
“But it was special to you, and now, it’s ruined. Because of me. You should punish me. I deserve it.”
She took a deep breath, reaching up to wipe away my tears. “It was a doll I bought when I was little, so yes, she had some value to me. But not as much as you do.”
“You’re not mad?” I asked in confusion.
“Disappointed maybe. But mad? No. I should have locked the cabinet when you started asking about it. I should have known your curiosity would be too great to resist. You are, after all, my daughter.” She smiled. “But I think you’ve already punished yourself enough, don’t you think?”
Another tear trickled down my cheek as I shook my head.
“Believe me, sweetheart, this won’t be the last time you disappoint me or your father. And you know what? I’m sure, at some point, we’ll do the same to you. But that’s the thing about loving someone; sometimes, it requires a leap of faith. I know you’ll remember this moment and how you felt every time you walk past the curio cabinet in the hallway. No doubt you’ll learn from it.”
She was right.
I’d walk past that oak cabinet with the missing doll a thousand times before going off to college, and every time I had, I’d remember how she’d held me that day.
She was right about other things as well. I had succeeded at disappointing them a few more times along the way whether it was a bad test score or ignoring curfew, but they never stopped believing in me.
They never gave up.
I finally took a seat on one of the covered couches, listening as the plastic crunched under my weight. I’d held on to some of this for far too long.
It was time to let go.
Of the past, the pain, and the inability to move on.
