Unraveled

by Mia Kayla

  I drowned into the eyes that held such woeful sorrow. Something passed between us, and I tore my gaze from him, watching everyone's reaction around me. The start of everything that was exhilarating and new had ended tonight. We both knew it.

  When Roland coughed, breaking the silent tension, Cade pressed a hand on his shoulder, and said, "Sorry about earlier. I've had a rough night." He shook his head before glancing at me one last time and walking away. And then the singing began.

  Both of our families clapped along as everyone's eyes zoned in on me. The only person not smiling was my mother. Her eyes flickered between me and Cade walking toward the bar. I wondered if she saw things, if she knew things. And the wondering had my blood turning to ice.

  When the chorus died down, and the ringing in my ears ceased, Roland leaned into me. "Make a wish, birthday girl."

  I took a silent moment, and, as I blew out the candles, I wished for the one thing, the only thing I wanted. I wished for him.

  After cake, Roland paid the check, and when everyone stood, I followed all of them outside.

  A sense of relief washed over me as I turned to Roland's family to bid them farewell. Kathleen's arms snaked around my waist, pulling me into her. "Happy birthday, my beautiful girl." Guilt rose within me as I embraced her. She pulled back and palmed my cheek. "Roland told me you were having some issues lately. Be patient with him. He loves you. I've had to deal with the same from his father for years. They're married to their work, dear. It's built into their DNA."

  Her words were meant to comfort me, but they did the opposite to my heart. When I glanced at James Spencer, I noted he was head deep into the screen of his phone. His sandy brown hair matched Roland's, and I realized they were much more similar than Roland wanted to acknowledge. Didn't he know the one person he had such animosity toward was his spitting image?

  “Issues? What issues?” my mother asked. She slipped her arm around my waist next. “Fights are normal in every relationship. It’s just little tiny blips in your endless years together.” She touched her cheek against mine. “Nothing a little birthday party couldn’t fix, right? You have got one sweet boyfriend. Happy birthday, honey.” She patted my hand, then strolled toward the car, leaving me a heaping, frightful mess.

  They’d never accept my decision to leave Roland. They thought he was it for me.

  My father approached, walking over with his cane. His color was a little off, and my eyebrows pulled together, assessing him.

  "You okay?" I asked.

  "Why wouldn't I be?” he smiled. “The question is, are you okay?"

  I blinked, and it took a few seconds to answer. “Better than ever.”

  "You wouldn't be lying to your dad, would you?"

  I bit my lip and wanted to cry because he looked at me with eyes that saw all. But he had enough to worry about, and I wasn’t about to add another problem to his list.

  "No, I'm fine, Daddy, really." There was a sourness in the pit of my stomach, and I dropped my lashes quickly to hide the hurt.

  "I think you're lying, but since it's your birthday, I'm going to let it pass."

  When he pulled me in, I hugged him tighter and snuggled into his Santa-Claus chest, wishing that I could keep him safe forever, free from any stress. Maybe if he wasn't sick, I'd be able to confide in him because we'd always been close. Maybe I could’ve asked the most important man in my life—the one I adored, the one who kept our family together—maybe I could’ve asked him what I should do with my situation with Cade.

  He stepped back but not before I took him in, everything that was my father—his warmth, his love for me and his family.

  My earliest memory of my father was me riding on his back. I was four years old and had cried because I'd wished for a pony for my birthday and didn't receive one, and it was my father who’d stepped up and saved the day, cheering me up by being a papa pony.

  He reached for my hand and squeezed. "I hope you made a good wish. You won't get another one until next year."

  And I squeezed his hand right back just as tightly. "You know me. I always count my blessings and have never wasted a wish."

  Roland ushered me back to his car, opening the door and shutting me in. My mind was tormented with thoughts and feelings and ideas of what I wanted, what I was going to do next, how I was going to set my life straight.

  When Roland placed a hand on my thigh, I snapped out of my thoughts. Terrible thoughts because my mind was on another man when Roland sat directly beside me.

  "After I pick up some of my things, I’m going back to the condo tonight." The way I said it, he knew that I didn't mean our condo.

  "What? Why?" Roland asked, braking to a stop and pulling to the side of the road.

  "Because that’s where I’m staying."

  When I didn't budge or move or break my gaze from his, he blew out a breath.

  Roland was pissed. Pistol pissed, if he had one.

  He had never been the vocal fighting type, but when he went silent, he was trying to calm himself down.

  His eyes were resolute. "Your tantrum has gone on way too long."

  My whole body stiffened, and I jerked back. "Tantrum?" I blinked. He thought I was kidding, that I couldn't possibly leave him, that it wasn't in me. I wasn't strong enough. Did he think that I'd moved out and told him it was over again and again to prove a point?

  Of course, he did.

  Because according to him and everyone else, Angelica Armstrong was unable to make her own decisions.

  "I promise you this is not a tantrum.” I snapped. “Your birthday dinner is days late."

  He slammed his palm against the steering wheel, causing me to flinch. After weeks and weeks of tension, I finally got a reaction out of him. Finally.

  His laughter held a sharp edge. "You're going to throw years of our relationship down the drain? For what? Me, trying to do better for us? For us, Angie! For fucking us! I do everything for this relationship, for our future, and you're going to break up with me because of that?"

  I fisted my hands in my lap, my nails biting the insides of my palms. "You're blaming me for our failed relationship?" Calm composure was replaced with aggravated fury. "This was not one event or one day. This has been many events across multiple months, years of broken promises and me waiting and hoping and wishing that things were going to change, but they haven't, and I’ve come to the realization that they never will.” I stared at him long and hard. “Don't lie to yourself and say you're doing this for us when you're blind to the fact that you're doing this for you."

  He shook his head, not wanting to hear me. "You're ridiculous."

  "Your job, your desire for power and to move up in the workplace, have trumped any love for me. I'll always be second best, and I'll never have a say in this relationship. You're always going to dictate what's important, how we live, and that's not how I want to live going forward."

  "You're mad, and you're just spewing words you don't mean." His face was dismissive, and my insides burned with fury.

  Though I'd spoken my mind, here he was, still telling me what I was thinking, and I'd had enough. He wasn't listening to me anymore. We weren't listening to each other. I pushed open the door and stepped out.

  "Angie, get back in." His voice roared with authority.

  "No."

  He stormed toward me and gripped my upper arm, jerking me to a stop.

  "Let me go."

  "Stop this," he commanded.

  "I've stopped. You are the one that wants to keep going. I'm not in love with you anymore, Roland! It's over. Let. Me. Go!" I yanked myself from his grasp and half ran down the block.

  "Angie! Get in the damn car." I ignored his calls, his commands to come back, just like he'd ignored my pleas for attention—his attention—for months. "Angie, I'm not coming after you this time."

  I flipped around, eyes hard. "When have you ever come running after me? When, Roland?" Then I walked faster into the dead of night. I didn't have to turn around to know that Rolan
d wasn't behind me.

  Chapter 20

  The insides of my palms were slick with sweat as I wrung my hands together, twisting my fingers in front of me. "This is it." I spoke to no one but the silent night, staring at the pitch dark Allswell.

  I had walked in circles, down blocks. I could smell the rain in the air, the tingle of my toes indicating a storm was coming. I should’ve sought out shelter, taken a cab and headed home, but I ended up in the very place I wanted to be. The shelter that I wanted belonged in the arms of a man I didn't have anymore.

  The thunder began to roar above me, and drizzles of rain dampened the top of my head. Rain indicated a new start, a new beginning, but for me, this indicated the end.

  "It's over. We're over," I said to myself. My stomach sank to the ground at the thought of never having him touch me again, never hold me, never kiss me.

  "This is good," I said out loud again, almost trying to convince myself that, out of all the places that Roland could’ve picked for our family dinner, he had to pick Allswell, forcing my worlds to collide, causing my life to come to a full stop.

  More rain continued to crash down. I welcomed it, welcomed the cold. The cold was better than the overwhelming numbness spreading through my body and my dead heart, devoid of emotion. Full, bright, and circular, the moon cast a shadow of the post and garbage can onto the concrete. I lifted my head, getting soaked by the droplets of water pouring all over me. My dress clung to my body like Saran Wrap, and my hair was glued to the sides of my face.

  I commanded my feet to move forward, to get a glimpse of him. That’s all I wanted—a glimpse—because that's all I'd ever truly get anymore. From this day forward, I would only love him from afar.

  Why did it feel like we were breaking up when we had never been officially together? Because there didn't need to be any explanation. We didn't need to talk things out. We both knew it was temporary until he moved to his next destination.

  But I felt like I owed him something. Deep down, something was off. If I didn't care for him, as a person, I wouldn't have cared otherwise to be here, to give him an explanation, an apology.

  I could see him closing up by the bar, and I walked closer to the window as the shower of rain continued, running down my back, my legs and through my hair.

  His head popped up as though he sensed my presence.

  He walked toward me, and I heard the click of him unlocking the door. "Angel." My name on his lips sounded like a blessing, not a curse. Through all I had put him through, he said my name as though he didn't believe I was here.

  My tears fell down my cheeks, mixing with the rain that dropped from the heavens above.

  Instead of forcing me inside, he walked outside. The droplets of rain wet his hair, trailing a stream down his shirt. He took another step toward me and cupped my chin and with that one touch, my lungs filled with air.

  "Dance with me," he whispered.

  "In the rain?" I half laughed because it sounded ridiculous.

  "Yes, in the rain."

  And then I did.

  He held me close. One hand went to the small of my back, the other clasped mine, and my head fell to his chest like it was meant to be there, against his beating heart.

  God, I loved him, the smell of him, the strength of him.

  I pulled back just a tad. "Cade ..." I began, wanting to apologize a million times over, repeat what I had said earlier, tell him I’d had no idea that Roland was coming here, that I had only agreed to going to dinner with him to end things peacefully.

  "Shh, we're dancing."

  I stayed silent and rested my head against his chest again, hearing the sound of the rain pounding behind the thunder, of lightning crackling in the air.

  We were soaking wet, and to others watching, we probably looked incredibly awkward just holding each other as a storm built around us. But it felt ... right.

  It was a weird juxtaposition. Where the world around us was pure chaos, Cade and I, together, were calm and complete.

  I closed my eyes while the world around me disappeared, my soaked dress, the slush of water in my expensive designer shoes. Everything disappeared but the two of us in each other’s arms.

  Who knew how much time had passed, but then the rain lightened up and eventually stopped. All I could hear was the slushing of my clothes together and a few cars whizzing by.

  Then silence.

  Silence of the night. The moon shined bright above us, cascading a bluish light around us.

  His feet moved from side to side, and I followed his lead. I had always wanted to lead, in life, at my job, but with Cade, I'd follow this man anywhere.

  Eventually what replaced the silence was our intermingled breaths, and soon, we were dancing to the beats of our hearts against each other. First his, then mine, then his, then mine, until eventually, it was hard to distinguish when his heart began beating and where mine ended.

  And for a brief moment, the tiniest of moments where I pretended that I could get anything and everything I ever wanted in my life, I pretended he was mine.

  A shiver ran through his body.

  After releasing a long sigh, he stepped back, reached for my hand, and pulled us back into the restaurant and to the bar. The sizzle between us, that thin line of connection, the live wire between our bodies when we were outside suddenly snipped as soon as he let go of my hand.

  He didn't turn to face me before he reached behind the counter and grabbed a stack of dishrags, handing one to me.

  He lifted his shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor in a large slop.

  I wanted to see his eyes, read what he was thinking.

  "I can go grab you some clothes upstairs and bring them back down here." He lifted one dish rag to the top of his hair, toweling it off. The muscles in his back moved, like a work of art, the ink rising and falling as he continued to dry off.

  "Cade," I drew out. "I'm sorry," I said in one final swoosh. "I promise you that I had no idea he would take me here."

  He dropped the rag on the counter and gripped the bar, his head bent, his gaze lowered to the floor.

  "Say something, please," I begged. I wanted to know his thoughts, and since I couldn't read his face, I needed to hear them.

  Then two words had my blood turn from cold to boiling water hot. "It's fine."

  "It's not fine!" I yelled behind him because this, whatever was happening, was anything but freaking fine.

  Only then did he turn around to look at me, and the Cade I had fallen for was not there, just a mask of the man I knew. "What do you want me to say, Angel?" He smiled his easy smile that, for once, made my insides want to burst. For once in my mediocre life, I wanted to slap him silly because he was lying. His mouth said one thing, but his eyes indicated another.

  He was angry with me, which he had every right to be. I wanted him to own up to his feelings. Cuss me out. Yell at me. I wanted this—us—to be eating him from the inside out, just as much as it was tearing me apart.

  How could he maintain composure, normality in this craziness? Did he not ache or feel anything?

  Warmth spread from my cheeks to the tips of my ears as anger engulfed me. I willed my pulse to return to a normal rate.

  "Angelica, everything is how it's supposed to be," he said, devoid of any emotion.

  Stay calm.

  When he turned to pick up the boxes and walk to the back of the bar to the cooler, I followed behind him, irritated and sopping wet.

  He dropped the boxes to the floor, and when he bent down, I took in his toned muscular thighs and his perfect ass. My insides rose a notch in temperature as my anger mixed with passion for this man, wanting him and hating him for not wanting me enough.

  "That's it," I snapped.

  "What's the matter?" he asked.

  All hell broke loose as my anger pushed to the surface at his stupid question. I charged him and pushed at his chest. "What's the matter?" I asked, exasperated. "What's the matter, you ask? What do you want me to say, you ask?
" I continually pushed against his chest, yet he didn't budge an inch. Damn him and his wall of a body. "I want you to say that this is driving you crazy!" I yelled, every one of my limbs shaking. "That you can't stand seeing me with Roland. That the thought of him with me makes your skin crawl. That you hate it. That you have any other reaction than indifference to me, to us, to whatever is happening between us."

  His mood changed in a nanosecond, his look pensive. He pulled both of my arms against him. When I stared into his eyes, his pupils turned dark as night. "I hate him. Is that what you want to hear?" he growled. An internal battle happened within the span of gray staring down at me. "That I hate a man I don't even know? That I hate myself for hating a man I don't even know? That I can't see beyond reason because of your history? That all I can see is red when he touches you?" He gripped my arms tighter, pulling me against him. "That I can't breathe, can't think, can't function when you're not with me because my mind is going crazy, thinking you're with him? He's inside you?" His eyes softened with pain, his tone shaky. "Do you know ... do you know how many times I've tried to reason with myself, tell myself to let you go, tell myself you're not good for me, that what this is doing to me is unhealthy?"

  His gaze was as soft as a caress. "But I can't leave you. I've tried. I've avoided vices because of my sister. I'm a fucking bartender, yet I don't drink. I hold a pack of cigarettes in my back pocket, yet I don't smoke. I don't let things control me. It's the reason why I've never done drugs. I don't want anything to alter my way of thinking. But this ... with you.” His voice cracked. “I can't see beyond us. I can't see beyond reason. I'm addicted to you. This is beyond what I can control now."

  He gripped my chin with a gentle fierceness and ducked in where I could smell the mint on his lips. "My Angel.” He brushed his nose against mine. "I'm not indifferent. If it seems like I don't care ..." he whispered, "it's because I care too much. I fake indifference because ... because I'm in love with you."

  His words stilled me. I blinked, unable to believe what he just uttered because he spoke the words that I'd been feeling all along.