by K. L. Jessop
“You are such an arsehole.” With that, she heads out of the door and I don’t even try to stop her.
Lifting the bottle of JD that’s in my hand, I take a long drink trying to calm my racing heart. Only this time the burn at the back of my throat is far from welcoming and the frustration bubbling inside of me has me launching the bottle across my kitchen for it to shatter into pieces.
For a moment, I stand looking at the shards of glass scattered around my floor as the strong scent of whiskey soaks into the floorboard. The vision in front of me pretty much mirrors my existence in this world. Shattered. Broken beyond repair.
She’s better off without me.
You’ve done the right thing.
Then why does my heart feel so heavy?
At a loss and with no idea what to do, and the void I once loved now filling my space faster than I can breathe, I head out to the balcony for some fresh air in the hope I can shake off this conflict that’s crawling over my body. My heart is telling me one thing while my mind speaks louder. And I know which one will win. The one that always does. The one that has the power to tangle its way around every pulse in my body, lacing my blood with toxic words that repeat every second as the flashbacks haunt me like no other.
He will win.
He always does.
I hope I can correct my mistake with Pepper before it’s too late because I sense the monster in me starting to stir.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Pepper
I sit in the dark, in the cold, knowing that this heavy weight in my stomach has only got worse with each passing second I’ve been staring at the building. I’m on the opposite side of the canal, looking at my graffiti picture that decorates the wall of the abandoned structure ahead of me. The streetlight up ahead lights the building just enough for me to see the stickmen and my handprint, the words Little Blue below. When I left my house earlier to try to walk off this underlying ache of melancholy that’s taken over, I’d had no intention of going anywhere in particular; I’d let my feet carry me while I tried to process everything that’s happened over the weeks I’ve been involved with Dexter.
When the building had come into view and I’d seen my image, the tears stung my eyes and my heart had felt like it had been dragged along sandpaper. I’d tried to turn my eyes away, hating that the design now represents so much, yet as the night has fallen, I’ve not been able to tear myself away. Now, all I see when I look at my family holiday sprayed over the bricks is a mirage of Dexter Wilson. He’s everywhere. I can’t get him off my mind. The memories of watching him spray paint that day make me smile. The thought of fun we’d had after and the freedom he’d made me feel brings warmth to my insides. Then it’s all torn to shreds with the remembrance of yesterday and how he’d ripped my heart out with his insensitive words.
I hadn’t expected them to come from him, and I hate myself because I should have seen it coming. Nothing lasts forever—not where Dexter Wilson is concerned.
I’ve tried so hard this past few weeks to not let the mornings affect me when I wake up alone. But each time I have, another piece of my heart has fractured with the need to find solace in a man who is never there. I hadn’t been able to take it anymore, and the words that had tumbled from my mouth have caused this whole situation I’m now faced with.
I haven’t felt anything like this in a while, and the solitude compresses so severely, I’m finding it hard to breathe.
I’ve not seen or heard from Dexter since I left his place last night, and a part of me hoped he would come after me and tell me he was wrong. Tell me he was sorry. Tell me he needed me. Tell me what demons riddle him so badly and give me the chance to be there for him like I’m wanting to be. But he never did.
When I woke this morning, the feeling in my heart had been twice as painful as any rejection, and the one person I’d wanted to be with in order for the pain to stop, was the very man that’s caused this ache to begin with.
Swiping my tears away, I shake my head, annoyed that I’m such a mess. Annoyed that I should have seen it coming and that it was all too good to be true. Annoyed that the fucker has made me fall for him when I never expected to and that he’s put me in this situation that has now left me empty as I try and console my heart.
He’s played with my emotions without an ounce of remorse.
He’s pushed me away.
He’s done exactly what Emmet said he would.
Oh my God…
My breath catches when I think about the conversation I’d had with Emmet in the gallery when I’d told him I was scared. The realisation of everything that happened yesterday and what I’ve done has me gripping my stomach.
“He fears solitude more than he lets on and for some reason, his way of dealing with that is to try and push people away be it with words or actions.”
That’s what he is doing.
“But it’s when they don’t walk away that he realises he actually means something to them.”
He’s testing me.
And I’ve walked away.
This is all my fault.
He may have told me to go, but it is me that put the words in his mouth for him to say them. I’ve pushed him to that point and opened the door for him to lash out the words. I’ve questioned his reasons. I’ve wanted the answers I knew I’d never get and haven’t ever stopped to think about how hard it may be for Dexter. Trust plays a big part in his life, and I’ve gone and stamped all over what we’ve built together, trying to force a man that is already so troubled. And what’s worse is I should know how hard it is because I’ve been there with everything that happened with Persie. The man has demons, and here I am practically with my hand down his throat trying to rip the dark stories out of him.
You stupid, stupid girl.
Now he no doubt thinks I don’t care because I’ve done exactly what he was testing me on.
However, despite Dexter’s feelings in all of this, I still have my own. I’m only human and I can’t sit back and say that it doesn’t hurt that he fails to commit this connection we share. Because it does.
I’ve tried so hard to keep it at bay, but the more I’m with him and the more this tornado of feelings causes chaos on my heart, the more I want from him. I know I’d said I wouldn’t walk away, but that was from his illness, not his motives. His bipolar doesn’t come into this anymore. He’s said he will tell me when he’s not himself, and I believe he will, but I’m scared that’s not enough for me anymore. I’m so confused about what’s right and what’s not, and I fear that where Dexter is concerned, I’ll forever be this way.
After I’ve sat looking at the art on the building, I make my way back home.
Thinking.
Wondering.
Hoping.
As soon as his shadow comes into the light, I halt my step. All at once, my breath catches, my stomach plummets and my blood heats.
Dexter sits on my doorstep, his head is low, his hair neatly back in a half ponytail and wearing his black, ripped-at-the-knees skinny jeans.
Standing at the bottom of my steps, I notice how the glow of the moonlight fills this empty space between us as our eyes lock. My hands begin to sweat with uncertainty, and my heart pounds with that never-ending need of wanting him close.
Foolishly, I allow myself to drink him in longer than I should. He’s beautifully broken—an unmistakable fucking masterpiece. What confuses me, even more, is after everything that was said and done yesterday, I still want him.
He looks tired, unsettled, but mixed with his poignant brown eyes is a silent apology.
Inhaling a shaky breath, I step closer. “How long have you been here?”
“A couple of hours.”
Hours? Has he really waited for me that long?
I explain my whereabouts, apologising for something I don’t have to feel guilty for, even though there’s a slight pang of guilt for not being here when he’d arrived.
“Sorry. I was out walking.”
“You should
wear more clothes,” he adds softly, pointing at me. “You’ll get cold.”
I look down. I’m wearing denim shorts, black glitter tights and an iridescent crop top that exposes my stomach. Finishing it off, I’d opted for a pair of red Doc Martins and my leather jacket. I reply with a shrug because I genuinely don’t know how to respond. How can one man make me strong yet feel so weak?
An awkward silence falls between us and it kills me more than ever because of the way he’s making me feel, the fact that he’s here and the way he pins me with those damn eyes. Even though things have been said, neither of us can deny this pull between us. You can hear it in the silence of the night. The crackles. A force so strong it’s dangerous. That’s the one thing I can never get my head around when it comes to this man. How he has the ability and the power to keep me captive, drawing me in in ways I’ve never experienced with any other. It’s supernatural and it’s only going to destroy me if he should turn his back on me for good.
“Dex—”
“I lied to you, Blue. What I said to you last night was everything I never wanted to say.”
“Then why say it?” I respond quickly, needing to hear his answer like it’s a lifeline.
"Because it was easier to watch you walk away than be honest. I don’t like people pushing my buttons, so I push theirs harder in order for it to stop. In the hope they walk. But I believe I’ve met my match with you. You're the first woman I’ve allowed into my home, in my bed. But more importantly…”
He shakes his head and lets out a long exhale as he looks out over the street, the desperation in me needing him to finish.
“Say it, Dexter.”
His eyes find mine. “You're the first woman that's played with my heart, and if your mission was to enter my life and bring me to my knees then you've succeeded. But I can't sit here and say I'm okay with this because I'm not."
I take a step towards him. “Why?”
“Because you got me feeling all kinds of crazy. In the beginning, I wanted you close to try and stop everything that was racing my mind. Then when I stopped thinking the way I used to, I couldn’t understand what was happening—I still can’t. So, I thought pushing you away would fix that. Truth is, it only made it worse because it made me realise how much I missed you.”
His honesty makes me smile. I take another step.
"Dexter, when I entered your life, my only mission was the one I had for myself. I’ve wanted to find who I used to be as best as I could without Persie being at my side. I’ve wanted to wake up and love being alive again not wishing I wasn’t. Yet somewhere along the way, I've gained that and so much more. Because of you. But what you said yesterday hurt like a bitch.”
“Tell me how to make it right?”
“But that’s it: I don’t think you can. Because I’m scared, Dexter."
"Of what?"
"What you hide. You know of all your haunts, I don't. And what worries me is not the fact you have them, but that you don't trust me enough to tell me. I know I said I respect your choices, but if we are being honest here, not waking up next to you each day has made me feel like I’m nothing more than a distraction for you. I understand you may not be that sort of person or want that type of commitment, but I believe in all of this you haven’t considered the sort of woman I am.”
“I have considered it and I know. I know it hurts you. I see it in your eyes, and I hate myself every day that I leave you alone. And I want that, Pepper, more than anything. It’s just…” His head drops between his shoulders but from standing below him I can see the sudden change in his expression. He looks so torn, so fragile, and I’ve seen him this way before when we were at the market. Taking the last few steps up, I kneel in front of him, knowing he needs my comfort to stop his fall. Cupping his jaw, I lift his gaze back to mine, searching his fearful eyes until he finds me. Resting his forehead against mine, his voice cracks and so does my heart.
"There are so many things you don't know. And so many things I can't say.”
My tears that have been threatening to break through ever since I saw him sitting here start to fall.
“You’re right. There is more to this—more to me—than you know. I’ve seen things. Done things. Lived through things you could never even begin to imagine. I was just a boy, Pepper. I'm not ready to speak of the terrors that suffocate me.”
I feel as though I’ve been struck. Not because he refuses to speak of the things I need to know but because of the stories I’m now dreading to hear. With the way he’s gripping my face and the clear form of desperation in his eyes, I now know that this man is broken so bad the truths choke him.
“I wanted to understand,” I weep, not bothering to wipe my tears. “I’m sorry I pushed you.”
“You’ve got nothing to apologise for. This is all on me, Pepper. But I need time. For too long I’ve been drowning, and right now, with you, everything stops. I want it to stop. You have to understand that.”
I nod.
“Look at me,” he whispers, and I do. “I want you. You’re the best form of medication a man like me can have. Nothing, nothing compares to having you at my side. I need you.”
With the look in his eyes and the words that hit me hard, a rush I’ve never felt before batters my stomach like a hurricane, and I press my body against his. Letting him know I need him. Letting him know he’s got me. Letting him know that if he walks from this, I don’t think I will survive. "Stay with me, Dexter. All night. Lay with me all night."
His jaw tightens, his eyes turning darker, not with anger but with a mixture of want, uncertainty and anguish as he whispers in warning. "Pepper."
"Please, Dexter.” My lips brush against his. “I need this, too.”
“This isn’t fair.”
“And leaving me is? What are you afraid of? At least help me understand why you won’t." Like he has no fight left in him, his arms snake into the inside of my jacket, clutching his arm around my waist so tight like I’m his anchor.
“I'd love nothing more to wake up beside you. It’s not that I don’t want to get close. It’s…" He slams his eyes shut, his jaw once again locked. He’s fighting demons. Resting my head on his, I wait. A tear slips down his cheek and the words that leave him shatter me. “I’m protecting my heart.”
“From what?”
“From waking up to find you gone. It’s what I fear the most.”
What’s happened to my beautiful man?
“But don’t you see that by keeping me at arm’s length, you’re pushing me away?”
“I know. And as messed up as it sounds, even though I want you close, keeping my distance is me also protecting you, too. I’m so confused, Pepper.”
“And what about you in all of this?”
“What about me?” His complex ability to try and protect me whilst struggling to survive has left him so open that he hasn’t realised what he’s needing.
"It's not just me that needs the security, Dexter. You need it, too. Can’t you see that?”
“And I’ve told you before, I don’t de—”
“Don’t you dare say you don’t deserve this. You need protection as much as the person stood next to you. No matter your rights or wrong’s, you can’t be left unshielded because you have troubles or because you’ve done stuff you regret. You’re a person, Dexter, with a heart. And I want to guard it. Let me hold you. Let me be the one who makes you feel everything you make me feel when I’m with you. Let me be the one you can lean on.”
“Why are you saying all this when you don’t know anything about me?”
“Because…”
I’m falling in love with you.
“Because I’ve seen a side to you that you try so hard not to show others and you deserve this more than you realise. Stay with me,” I whisper against his lips, wanting him close, needing him closer. “Let me hold you like I know you need it.”
All that’s left between us is the silence of the night and the sound of his warm breath mixing with mine as I w
ait… and I wait. His only response is a nod as another tear falls from him. The relief inside expands from my lungs as I let out a little hiccup of tears. He has no idea what this means to me.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
His arms still clutches my waist in a tight embrace as he buries his face in the dip of my neck and we hold each other in the light of the moon. His lips press against me like I’m a delicate flower and butterflies spring to life in my stomach as his fingertips tease the exposed skin on my waist. When he presses his lips on my neck, he trails up with tenderness before he captures my mouth in a kiss of all kisses. It’s slow, passionate, an adoration between two people as our tongues whisper against each other. Every pulse in my body pounds with temptation. He’s never kissed me this way before. The dominance and the delicacy are sensational and has me gripping onto him in fear I’m going to fall.
This. I want all of this.
“Take me inside, Blue,” he murmurs.
I never let go of his hand as I leave his warmth and take the keys from my coat pocket. Once inside, I toe off my boots and remove my jacket as his eyes fixate on mine. He does the same with his shoes and as soon as his coat is off, I’m up on my tiptoes, cupping his face and pressing my mouth against his, me this time kissing him in the way he kissed me outside. When he lifts me by the waist, I wrap my legs around him as he walks us to my bedroom.
I’ve needed him before—I’ve craved him like no other—but right now, I want him to break me and fix me back together again like he’s never done before.
Once he’s placed me on the bed, I kneel up, lifting his shirt from his body as he stands in front of me in the moonlight that filters through the window. No words have been spoken since we walked through the door, and right now, no words are needed because our body language is doing everything for us.
Once my top is stripped from me, I take the opportunity to press my lips against his torso, dragging them across his rippled chest in wet, worthy kisses as his fingers lace through my hair, massaging my scalp to create tingles that race down my spine.
