Breathe (Hollow Ridge Book 2)

by C. L. Matthews

  “She doesn’t struggle like many of us.”

  He shakes his head immediately. “I’m sure, like me, that’s untrue. You’ll always be an addict, just as I will. It’s ingrained. An addictive personality that clings to something. She has her own struggles, but she just hides them well from others. Since you have a sponsor, I hope you’ll do what’s right for you and your wife and take that first step.”

  With a sad acceptance, I take the card and wait for him to tell me why he came here.

  “Lianna needs to be moved to a facility. At first, I didn’t know if she was battling the detox or what, but she’s going to need to be admitted soon. There’s something off with her mind, altering her behaviors, and until a psychiatric physician looks over her, I’m going to need to do this the hard way.”

  “Whatever needs to be done, let me know.”

  “You’re too good for helping her while struggling with your own vices,” he praises. But I’m not a good man. A very selfish one is more like it.

  “Anything else?” I ask, trying to shoo him away. Understanding flickers over his features, and then he’s turning away to leave.

  Now, it’s my turn. To change. To try. To fix my wife and our marriage.

  “Let me fix you, Sous. I hate that you’re hurting and never want you to be forced to hurt yourself. I can’t imagine a life without you in it.”

  “Toby,” she cries, tears slipping down her cheeks. Gripping her wrist, I feather my fingers over her cuts and see two new ones.

  “What’s making you hurt, Josephine? Tell me. Let me fix it.”

  Her eyes shine with tears, ones that are heavy and burdened by pain. She’s so sad at this moment, broken and damaged, just trying to live.

  And that fucking hurts.

  Pain isn’t an easy emotion to tamper, it’s one as invasive as a disease, it spreads and consumes, killing its host once its destination is reached.

  “I want a baby.” Her admission is soft and bereft. It’s so tender and filled with desperation. It’s a plea all while being hopeless in the dark.

  During this moment, I love her even more if that’s possible. I’m feeling an intense need to save her, protect her, be whatever she needs just so she’ll never hurt herself again.

  Rubbing the fresh red marks, ruddy crimson smears with the action. The hurt in her solemn eyes begs me to stop and pretend they’re not there. The shame she’s experiencing is as present as the moon tonight. It’s so true and frail. Leaning down as the pain leaks from her eyes, My lips touch the vermilion slices. I kiss and soothe. I love and conquer. I’m here and always will be.

  “It’ll happen, Sous. I fucking promise it will,” I swear. Whether we have to go to every doctor across the world, every clinic that specializes in fertile care, I’ll do it.

  Not a fucking dime will be spared.

  “It won’t, Toby. It won’t happen. I’m broken. So goddamn damaged and hideous.” I let her wrist and arm go, pressing into her. Her skin feels even more fragile beneath my rough palms.

  Rubbing circles across her cheeks, I try and convey the emotions in me. Heavy ache burrows itself inside me, seeing and feeling every agonizing sensation she’s feeling.

  How can I love the pain away from you?

  How can I love you enough?

  How can I love your scars if you pretend they don’t matter?

  Her sodden gaze pierces mine. Sad and lonely, her quivering lips cause the inner turmoil to boil over and beat all the happiness out of me.

  Kissing her nose, I breathe her in. Her sunshine scent mixed with the spicy aftermath of Fireball whiskey infiltrates my senses.

  Unlike a year ago, my vices aren’t controlling me.

  Except her. She’s one of them now, and I’ll never let her go.

  Those sad ambers close, and I kiss them too. My lips trace every inch of her face, pushing all my love into her, giving her everything I have.

  “You are so goddamn beautiful, Sous.”

  Her shoulders shake. Stiff agony washes over her as it rumbles and has this protective growl releasing from me. When the world is cruel, who punishes it? Does it pay comeuppance for the torture it ensues? How can we overcome our hardships when it holds our head under water? While we thrash beneath the surface, so close to happiness and reprieve, it takes and takes and continues to force us beneath into the nothingness.

  “I’m not, Toby. I’m so ugly. My scars show that, they convey my disgusting insides. They’re the revelation.” I rub her face before gripping it tighter, forcing her gaze to connect with mine.

  “You’re the most fucking beautiful person in this entire world. Your scars don’t make you any less; they prove your strength, they reveal your fight, and they explain that while you may be the most stunning woman I’ve ever met, you’re also one surrounded by pain that surmounts the ease in your life. You’re a goddamn fighter, Sous. A fucking warrior. No one on this godforsaken earth can take that from you.”

  I kiss her, silently promising her that each word is my oath. It’s my truth. Heady whimpers escape her as she wraps herself around me. Rearranging us on the bed, I prop her head on top of my chest, holding her, loving her, wanting every good thing for her.

  We’ll have a baby.

  Fighting heaven or hell won’t be an issue because she’s worth it all.

  “I love you, Sous.”

  She shudders from the words, then moves to where my heart rests. Warmth from her ear shocks me as she places it flat against the base of my ribcage. Her fingers trace lazy swirls around the light smattering of hair. Love bleeds into me with each pass of her touch, feeling everything words cannot convey.

  “I love you too, old man. Don’t give up on me,” she nearly begs. Halting her hand, she lifts her chin toward me. Then she’s moving to kiss me.

  When she pulls back with heavy vexation, it’s then that I see her fear.

  “Never, Josephine. Not even for a second. I’ll never leave your side, and I’ll always fight for you.”

  My body shakes with acute suffering, feeling so much at this moment. Then she’s tucking herself back into me.

  I love her.

  She’s worth it.

  She’s mine.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Present

  Joey

  He wants to try.

  I don’t.

  It’s all I’ve ever wanted, but as he brought it up three weeks ago when he slipped into our bed, holding me like no time had passed, I changed my mind.

  For the past few weeks, we’ve been eating dinner every night, talking more, becoming friends all over again. But that’s all I’ll offer. My heart isn’t his to hold anymore.

  Heading down the elevator to leave and see Gray, I am stopped on the fortieth floor. My stomach clenches. It’s not news to me that this is the floor where Toby fucks his women. He thinks I’m stupid, but in reality, I’ve seen the invoices, the card charges, everything. I know what he does in there and the names of the women he does it with.

  It took every ounce of control not to search and stalk them. See what makes them so goddamn special. I bet they don’t know how he likes his cock sucked, or how he likes being ridden while I bend backward. No, they couldn’t know anything because they aren’t me.

  I groan as the doors open, and a brunette walks in. It wouldn’t be anything suspect until my eyes land on the tattoo showing on her arm. A butterfly.

  My eyes go to that night almost a month ago.

  It goes to the image he sent me.

  The woman beneath him.

  The one he fucked.

  The one he chose over me that night.

  My stomach flip flops in a nauseating way.

  “Up or down?” I squeak, unsure of how to keep my emotions at bay. Tears don’t spring, but hot-filled rage does, it overflows, making me shake.

  “Down. Only came for a quickie,” she simpers, smirking at me. My blood runs cold.

  He wouldn’t. There’s no way he’d ask me to try again if he was s
till fucking his whores on the side, right? There wasn’t a stipulation, Josephine. He can fuck whomever he wants.

  “Oh, nice,” I grind out, trying not to sound as aggravated.

  “He’s super rich and hot. His body... my God. The abs on that man...” she trails off, her eyes glittering in a memory. “He fucks me like a dream, and if he wasn’t married, we’d be together.”

  I swallow the bile rising. Shutting my eyes on the imagery, I feel my body near collapsing.

  He wouldn’t do this all over again.

  No.

  He... can’t.

  “There’s no feelings involved, Sous. I only want to hurt you.”

  “God, and that cock,” she continues. I’m going to gag. “Not only is it huge, but he knows how to use every inch.” The elevator beeps then, stopping at the main floor. I’m booking it while the woman stares at me as if I’ve grown two heads.

  My heart—or what was left of it—is gone.

  With those parting words, I know there’s no going back. It’s one thing to know about his affairs that happened while we were separated, but seeing them in the flesh, knowing he’s trying to get back into my good graces and is still fucking around? No. I practically book it to Mi Casa.

  When I see Sanje, it’s like he knows something is wrong. “Chef?”

  “I’m quitting. I know this is the worst timing, but don’t tell Toby for at least an hour.”

  “I can’t not tell him. That’s—”

  “My last act as your managing chef, don’t tell him for an hour. I need that. An hour, Sanje.”

  “But—”

  “Please,” I implore, my emotions must be trickling through because he nods solemnly.

  After I give him and my favorite staff members hugs, I practically bolt. Adrenaline rides me up the elevator. It pushes me to pursue this issue and not be a lost cause.

  He can’t fix himself if he’s still screwing other people. I can’t fix myself with him around. Maybe this was the push we both needed. Me, leaving.

  Hitting the sixtieth floor, my heart aches. Not in the physical sense but more psychosomatic. It’s painful, but only because my mind knows how much it hurts.

  After scanning my card, I grab the handle and freeze inside my door. Closing it behind me, I allow myself to soak in my only home. The foyer is elegant and huge. White upon white with black upon black accents. It’s perfectly modern and clean. The walls are filled with selfies from across the world with Toby. That’s who we were. That couple. The one who took selfies during every adventure, but instead of uploading them on social media, we cherished each memory for our eyes alone.

  I stop at my favorite one, unable to keep the smile at bay. It was our first anniversary. We decided to go to Italy. He took me to go wine tasting. The problem was, I couldn’t be with him for the tasting. It was the first time we ever really sexted, and God, it was so hot. He came back to our hotel and fucked me for hours.

  My body warms at the memory. The photo is of us wrapped in each other. We’re naked, but it’s so sensual and tactful that you can’t tell it’s us. It’s beautiful in a tasteful way. It’s my favorite photo of us.

  Toby always had an exhibition streak, and it turned me on to no avail. That is, until that night he sent me a photo of himself with the woman in the elevator. With that in mind, I check my watch and see it’s already been twenty-three minutes. Grabbing the photo off the wall, I carry it with me to our walk-in closet. Inside, it’s a mess. A metaphor for our relationship.

  We don’t have a side each; we’re intertwined. It used to bring me happiness. Now, looking at it with jaded eyes, all I see is madness.

  Grabbing the first few things I can see, I take them and look for my luggage bag. Not wanting to overpack, I grab all my favorite undies, socks, shoes, and dresses. He won’t even notice anything missing immediately.

  Shoving all the items in my bag, I grab my favorite make-up kit with all the essentials and my straightener. Forgetting all my other shit that’s replaceable, I rush out of my room and don’t even bother telling my mom as I trail to the front door. She’s been recovering here, but isn’t allowed to leave her room unless she is accompanied by someone. I’ve kept my distance, and after the doctor gave the go-ahead for her home recovery, she was back here for detox.

  I stop at the counter that I fell in love with when we bought this place and take off my ring. The one on my finger belonged to Toby’s Mom’s. Only then when I’m leaving my finger naked, after it being so heavy for years, do I let the emotions slip from my eyes. The wetness smacks my chest, letting me know it isn’t going to be easy to end this.

  “Goodbye,” I whisper to no one, shutting the door behind me. With a renewed sense of purpose, I head to the elevator, making sure not to enter the one the woman was in earlier.

  As it trails down, my only prayer is that he doesn’t come up. It’d ruin this easy break for me. It wouldn’t take much for him to convince me to stay. He has so much power over me and this treacherous heart of mine.

  When I finally hit the ground floor, I hit up the valet.

  “Mrs. Hayes, so nice seeing you.” I nearly laugh and crawl out of my skin at the same time. Wouldn’t it be convenient for someone to say it’s nice to see me when mascara streaks my cheeks? I didn’t bother to clean up before rushing out.

  “My car, Adam,” I rush. “And please hurry.” He must see the urgency in my eyes because his widen in response, and before I know it, he’s running toward the parking garage. I have my own spot, but parking in Hollow Ridge is hell. Their stalls are miserable to reverse out of, so I always use the valet service here.

  When he comes back with my Lexus series, I smile and nearly cry. Toby bought me this car for Christmas, saying my Avalon needed to go. It’s the most beautiful vehicle I’ve ever owned, and it’s fast as hell too.

  He exits the car and smiles at me, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. I reach into my purse and pull out a hundred, making sure he makes eye contact.

  Handing it to him, I hold his hand a moment. “Please, don’t say anything to my husband.”

  Understanding licks his features, but I can tell he’s getting the wrong ideas. Toby doesn’t beat me, I just need to leave. He nods at me. “Your secret is safe with me, Mrs. Hayes. Safe trip.”

  More tears surface as I cry, and when I get into my car, the time on the radio shows my hour is up. Fuck. Connecting my Bluetooth, I set up my Heartbreak playlist waiting for my heart to literally break. Will I feel it? Will it make a sound? Will I even care?

  NF’s “Time” blares from the speakers, and the waterworks come pouring out. This man always knows how to brutalize my vital organs with his vocals and emotive performances. And as the lyrics belt out, I press on my gas pedal and leave. Hollow Ridge has never been my home.

  Being raised here, then moving back with Toby, it was never set in my soul as a place to stay forever. It wasn’t until Toby told me how much he wanted me to settle here with him that I did.

  It’s amazing that in the years we’ve been here, not once has our paths crossed with his brother and Lo. It’s like they all avoided areas that they knew each other frequented. They don’t call him or reach out. It’s almost as if he disappeared, and they don’t care.

  Even now, only five minutes from my favorite beach, I feel myself leaving like a death toll. It wracks my body with solidarity, making a pact with my soul that we’re damaged and done.

  Now, I can move forward.

  That’s what we both wanted.

  The difference between then and now is it won’t be together.

  Maybe it was never meant to be.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Present

  Toby

  “What is it, Sanje?” I ask, wondering why he’s calling me and not talking to Joey. She works all day today. She wanted the extra time away from her mom, not that I blame her. She’s being tortured by memories that are all lies.

  It’s not surprising she’s diving in deep.

  �
�Remember when you told me not to waste your time three years ago?” he mutters dumbly. Either this guy is stupid, wasting my time, or thinks I care about that far into the past.

  “Look, I don’t have—”

  “Joey quit,” he interrupts me, sending my brain to skyrocket. I’m at the office on the main floor. Why didn’t she come to me? What happened? I’ve been in meetings all day; we’re opening a new store in Las Vegas, and it’s taking all of my spare time. Is she okay?

  “Is she okay? Did something happen? Is she hurt?” I mutter quickly, spitting the words like I’m a rapper in a battle of life and death.

  “She chose to leave, sir. Forced me to give her an hour of time or she’d fire me.”

  I laugh sardonically. There’s no way she did that. Joey isn’t rash or cruel. She says what she means and means every word she says.

  Shit.

  “How did she seem?”

  “Erratic. She had mascara stains and red eyes. She had to have been crying. She was a mess.” His voice seems far away now. What the fuck happened?

  “I have to go. Take over for her.”

  “But, sir—”

  “No buts, Sanje. Get it done.”

  “Of course,” he says before I hang up. Not even taking the time to shut down my computer, I rush out of my office and run to the elevators. People glance at me as if I’ve lost my mind, but I’m beyond caring. The only thing that runs through my mind is fear. What if her dad did something? What if Marsha did? What if her mom... my mind trails to the woman fighting for her life in our home. She has a full staff watching her, keeping her alive as she purges her plague.

  The elevator is too slow, but I wait as it rises, hoping it goes faster. It doesn’t. When it finally hits our floor and beeps, I run out, heading straight for the door.

  Why ask for an hour? Who was she running from?

  I make it to our room and see nothing is missing. I head to the guest room, our shared bathroom, then our closet. I can’t really tell what’s different—

  My mind stops as I peer at my side of the closet. She ensures it’s not my side. That there are no sides, but there is. It’s where I put all of our favorite clothes. Hers and mine. And that’s where I notice all the missing items.