Beloved (The Belonging Series)

by Corinne Michaels

  “Motherfucker! You don’t touch her!” he says as he hits him again, his fist finding his mark. With each blow, the sound of his knuckles connecting with Neil’s face cuts through the night air.

  “Jackson! Stop!” I yell over and over. My voice falls on deaf ears as they continue to assault each other. Tears are pouring again, and my entire body is running on adrenaline.

  I lean down, grabbing for Jacksons arm, finally snapping him out of his rage. He towers over Neil lying on the pavement. “I’ll fucking kill you if you ever touch her again,” he says, his voice venomous.

  Jackson turns and looks at me. His expression shifts from anger to pain to worry when he sees the tears streaming down my face.

  “Are you hurt?” His hands grasp my face as I pull away from his touch.

  It’s too much. I can’t do this. All I can do is shake my head back and forth as I pray my legs don’t give out on me.

  “Catherine, talk to me. Please.” His voice breaks on the last word and my heart goes with it.

  Neil staggers to his feet and Jackson’s back stiffens as he readies to protect me again. “You better have a damn good lawyer, Cole. This isn’t over.” He swipes the blood off his mouth and turns with vengeance in his eyes.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and pray for strength because I don’t have any left.

  Tears are streaming, leaving rivers of black mascara on my cheeks. Jackson’s strong arms encase me, holding me tight as I crumble. I breathe in his scent, which usually calms me, but right now it does nothing to help my state. My eyes close and the numbness takes hold. I’m floating, completely weightless—I’ve finally lost it. I think we’re moving but can’t be sure. I’m enjoying the peace and serenity my mind has given me, the reprieve from all the hell that broke loose a few moments ago. Images of Neil and Jackson brawling blur before my eyelids, and I fight for the numbness again.

  When I open my eyes, I’m shocked to see we’re in my apartment. I don’t remember walking, but then again I’m almost positive I’ve snapped. Jackson holds me in his arms and tries to speak to me, but I don’t hear him. I barely register his touch. His warmth is absent.

  Maybe, like everything else, he’s gone cold, the tenderness he once felt for me destroyed by the display on the street. He’s been distant all night. Maybe Neil just sealed the deal. The thought sends a wave of panic through my body, but I’m too defeated to fight it. He’ll take the last remaining part of my heart and shatter it. I knew it would happen. He’ll do what every man in my life does—leave.

  His arms wrap tighter around me, but I don’t want his arms. I don’t want anyone. I’m better off alone, making a clean break now before I fall further. I need to protect what’s left of myself. He’s already claimed parts of me that I’ll never get back. I wish I could get the numbness back. I want to stop feeling so much all the time. It hurts—everything hurts.

  His grip tightens, but I need to get away. I step back, pushing against his chest. His arms reach out as if I’m falling and he needs to catch me. But I’m done falling.

  I place my hands in front of me to stop him. Gone is the uncertainty I had hours ago. All my resolve is back with a vengeance. Stifling the tears, I take a deep breath, ready to salvage what’s left of myself. I look over to see his unsure face and posture. Ensuring my voice is clear, I answer the questions in his eyes. “You should go.”

  “What?” He steps back with a shocked expression.

  “Leave, please,” I croak out and point to the door.

  He looks at me cautiously, like I’m a wounded animal. Tilting his head, brow furrowed, he responds, “Why would I leave? I’m not going anywhere. I told you I was staying.” He stands defiantly, ready to fight me on this.

  “I don’t want you to stay here. I need to be alone,” I say with as much steel in my voice as I can gather. There’s a small part of me that knows pushing him away could be a mistake, but at this point I can’t trust myself. He’s already taken so much—I’m already in too deep. The last time we made love, he owned me. I knew then I’d never be the same. He’s going to destroy me if I don’t put an end to this now.

  Jackson takes a step closer, shaking his head at my request. “I’m not leaving you.”

  There’s no way he’s going to walk away on his own—it’s not who he is. This is the man who’d stand in front of a bullet and bear the pain so someone else wouldn’t have to. But I don’t need a hero. “I’m not asking you, Jackson. I’m telling you to leave. I want to be alone. I can’t deal with anything else right now.”

  He strides toward me with his lips pursed. “Don’t push me away. Don’t make me the bad guy here.” He reaches for me, but I take a step back.

  I throw my hands up. “Really? Push you away? You pushed me away back there before the fight. I didn’t do that—you did. I needed you! Do you have any idea what this was like for me today? Huh?” I step forward and push against his chest, but he doesn’t budge. Instead he stands there and lets me unleash my fury. “Did you think about how this would be for me when you beat the shit out of him? Did you hear me screaming and begging you to stop? My God! Do you get it now? I was engaged to him. He was supposed to love me and cherish me! But instead he pushed me away, cheated on me. He left me for someone else because she was better than me!” I slap my hand against his chest, broken and hurt, but he doesn’t move. He takes it. “I need to be more than that, Jackson. I need to be someone’s everything. I deserve that! I’m tired … I’m tired of being hurt. I want to be enough already!” I take a few steps back, needing some space.

  Jackson takes another step, but I put my hands up to stop him. No. He can’t touch me. He’s already shown me what all the important men in my life have told me—I’m not enough. Not good enough to open up to. Not enough to share himself with. Will I ever be enough? “Don’t touch me.” Jackson’s face contorts as if I’ve slapped him.

  “Really, Catherine?” He shifts forward and clenches his jaw.

  I take a shaky breath before continuing, “In the last two hours, I’ve had to face every fucking man in my life who’s ever meant anything to me—my father, Neil, and now you. I can’t do this. Please, just go!” I shake my head over and over, trying to grab on to the anger instead of the crushing pain of pushing him away.

  “You think this has been easy for me? I’ve never made you feel irrelevant. I haven’t cheated on you, or hurt you. No, I’ve been there for you, giving you everything I could. I held you when you cried and listened to you. I didn’t make you feel cheap or worthless.” His hands are shaking as he pauses to take a deep breath. “I’ve tried to be the man you say you deserve. Tell me what I did to make you think otherwise! So I pulled away on the train—we got past that. Did I get pissed off and beat the shit out of your fucking asshole ex? Yes! And if he fucking touched you again, I would’ve killed him. Is this about him? Do you still love him?”

  I gasp and press my fingers to my lips, shaking my head back and forth in disbelief. How could he think that? “This has nothing to do with him. But it has everything to do with me.”

  “So you’re going to take this out on me? I deserve this?”

  We stand there in the middle of my living room, staring at each other, trying to get the resolution we’re each fighting for. I look away and glance at his shirt. The blood there reminds me of everything that’s happened.

  “I just need time.” The faint whisper of a voice I manage to get out sounds so broken—even to me.

  His head tilts back as he grips his hair. “Fucking time? Time to what? Push me away and convince yourself that I’m like him. Are you sure you want me to leave? You’re ready for me to walk away?”

  “I need some damn time. I can’t think with you around!” I turn away from him.

  “You want me to walk out so you can hate me and blame me for leaving you. Well I won’t let you play some fucking bullshit game with me.”

  I let out a breathy laugh and roll my eyes. “A game? You think this is a game for me? What do I win, hu
h?”

  “You tell me. You’re the one telling me to leave. I can’t fucking believe this.” He throws his hands up and then claps them against his legs. “If I walk out this door, I won’t come back until I know you want me here.”

  “I’m used to watching men walk out the door.” I say bitterly.

  “Maybe you should stop pushing them out, then.”

  My heart stops as his words rip my chest apart. The pain is dragging me under, but he’s standing there, watching the tears fall, watching how deep his words cut. “You don’t know a fucking thing.”

  “I know you’re fighting me because you’re afraid. You think I’m like every other man. Have I hurt you? Have I lied to you?”

  “Not yet!” I cry out.

  Jackson takes a step closer. His breathing is heavy but he’s trying to keep his tone soft. “You’ve already sentenced me for someone else’s crime.”

  I weep into my hands because he’s right. “You can’t expect me to process all of what happened today with you here. My feelings for you … they scare me. You make me feel too much! Every time you’re around or you touch me, I lose something inside,” I say earnestly.

  “You think it’s any different for me? I fought against this! Every time you walked in the room, I fought the urge to take you. If you think you’re the only one who loses, you’re wrong.” His voice grows warm and seductive. “Somehow, at every turn, you’ve made me feel more than I’ve wanted to.”

  He closes the distance and I’m unable to fight him anymore. I allow his arms to hold me one last time. After this, I won’t let him back in.

  “Please,” I cry into his chest as he clutches me to him. “Please, if you care, let me have time to think.”

  His arms fall from my back and he slowly moves to hold my face, tilting it so we’re staring into each other’s eyes. Jackson’s expression is pained, but his eyes express so much more. “Fine. You win. I’ll go.” His eyes close as though the words are bitter in his mouth. When they open again he looks fierce and determined. “But hear me. You’re it for me, Catherine.” His thumb brushes a tear from my cheek. “I’m not walking away from you or us. I wasn’t ready to love again when you came crashing into me. But you made me want to try again.” Our lips touch briefly. When he looks back up, his eyes are intense. “Leaving you right now goes against every fucking thing I want. I’m going to let you push me away this once. But I mean it, when I walk out it’s up to you when I come back. Don’t make me wait too long.” He leans down and places a long, tender kiss upon my lips. Our eyes meet again and he waits for a second before continuing, “I told you I’ll always find you, but you have to want to be found. Let me find you, Catherine.”

  Without another word, his hands disappear. I want to beg him to stay, but I need him to go. It’s as though someone is sawing me in half. I’m fighting against the pull, but I honestly don’t know what I want anymore. He opens the door and hesitates, turning back to give me a sad smile before walking out.

  When the door closes, I fall to the ground and let out a strangled sob. What have I done? Why does this always have to be so hard?

  You’re it for me, Catherine. His words repeat in my head.

  I crawl to the couch and curl up, letting the tears come, hoping they’ll wash away the pain. He asked me not to push and I basically shoved him. I fight the urge to run after him, to beg him to stay and hold me. Hoping I made the right choice, I curl into myself and rock back and forth.

  What if I’m the reason they leave?

  Maybe you should stop pushing them out, then.

  If I truly pushed them all away, what does that say about me?

  You’ve already sentenced me for someone else’s crime.

  Have I?

  I lie here, soaking the cushion as I let out twenty years’ worth of devastation. I cry until my tears have dried, but the hollow feeling in my chest has grown. I’m truly alone. There’s no one here. What I wouldn’t give to go back a few hours and skip ever going to the lawyer’s. I would’ve waited for Ashton to go, or I’d go back even further to when I first met Jackson and not give in to him. Then I could live my life and not have to suffer all over again. If I thought the pain of losing Neil was bad, it’s not even a tenth of what I’m feeling right now. Jackson took pieces of my heart with every kiss, every gesture, every smile, and I’ll never get them back. Though, as I sit here and replay everything that’s happened, I wonder if maybe that’s not true. Yes, he claimed those pieces, but not to keep. He used those moments to put my heart back together. And then I made him leave.

  I need to find my phone. I need Ashton. As I grab for my purse, it tips over and all the contents fly out. Why not? At this point I’m not surprised the hell won’t end. I reach for my phone and see my father’s letter on the floor. Every bone in my body freezes and my heart plummets into my stomach. Am I ready to read this? I reach for the letter and hold it in my hands. It’s now or never.

  Sitting on the floor, my finger slides under the lip and I gently tear the envelope open. I hesitate for a moment. Once I read this I can’t unread it. My eyes water again but I stifle the tears. I’m tired of crying. Tired of feeling weak and not in control of my life. My heart is racing and the tightness in my chest is making me dizzy. I say a silent prayer as my fingers gently tug out the letter. Slowly, I open it and begin to read my father’s last words to me.

  My Dearest Catherine,

  I’m sorry you’re reading this letter and not hearing the words from me. It means that I was never brave enough to come find you. I’m a coward. I want to try to explain, and I hope that someday you’ll forgive me. You see, I loved your mother very much, but we couldn’t make it work. You were never to blame. Ever. Not one single thing that ever happened between us was your fault. I’m sorry for hurting you. I know my absence must’ve caused you a lot of pain, and for that I’ll have died bearing that burden on my shoulders. I thought about you every single day since I walked out that door. I wondered about you, hoping you grew to become a beautiful woman, never doubting you did.

  I’ll start at the beginning. When I left that day, you broke me. Your tears ripped through my heart. The pain of having to pry you off my leg destroyed me. Having you beg and promise to be good … I can’t describe my emotions because there aren’t enough words to do so. You couldn’t have been any better—you were already perfect. I didn’t know how I was going to walk away. The agony was almost more than I could bear. At first, it was easier to stay away than imagine having to watch you hurt every time I had to leave. You were my world, Catherine. You gave me something I never knew I was missing. When you were born, you stole my heart. Then your mother and I realized it wasn’t working, and I had to make a choice. That choice changed the rest of our lives. After I walked out the door that day, I knew I could never do it again. I couldn’t walk away from you. Your tears, your hurt—they were caused by me that day and I’ve never forgiven myself for it. If I close my eyes, I can still see the anguish on your face. I can hear your pleas as if I’m right back there again. That does something to a man. When he sees the face of his daughter breaking, it forever changes him. I’m not excusing my absence because there is no excuse. I stayed away because I couldn’t see that again. I didn’t want cause you any more pain. I regretted that decision every birthday, every Christmas, every holiday, and every event that you’ve ever attended that I missed. A father I was not. A man I was not. Because I was too scared.

  I want you to know I did follow you. I went to your dance recital when you were thirteen—you were an amazing swan. You were breathtaking in your prom dress—your date was a lucky guy. I attended your high school graduation. You looked beautiful—I was so proud. Standing in the back as they called your name, I realized how wrong I’d been. You, Catherine, deserved more. You should’ve had a father who was sitting in the front row, clapping for his daughter, not cowering in the back of the room. At that moment my shame and self-loathing was never clearer. I didn’t deserve you. Which is why I contin
ued to stay away after that. You were doing so well without me. If I came back into your life again, it would only confuse you. I’d already done enough of that.

  When I was diagnosed with cancer, I started to re-evaluate my choices. I spent days in the hospital alone, contemplating how stupid I was. I couldn’t call you and ask you to be there for me. I’d never been there for you. I wouldn’t expect it and I couldn’t ask you to do it—it was my penance. I still don’t know if things would have been different, but please know I’m sorry, Catherine. More than I can ever fully express. I am so sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t the man you needed. I can only hope that as you read this you see that I loved you. One day you’ll marry and he won’t be good enough for you, because you, my daughter, deserve nothing less than perfection. I hope that he will love you with his whole heart and not make the same mistakes I did. I hope he’ll show you every day just how special you are. I hope he’ll be the father to your children I was never able to be to you. He should fight every day to show you how worth it you are. There will come a time it will get tough, but if you truly love each other, you’ll find your way.

  If you’re still reading this, I want you to know that I’m looking down on you and smiling at the woman you’ve become. I wish I could turn back the hands of time, but I can’t. I can’t take all the hurt away, but I hope you understand that it was me. It was never you. I’m sorry. I want you to know the last person I’ll think about when my time is up, is you. Every time the sun shines down upon you, I hope you’ll think of me keeping the gray skies away. I love you, Catherine.

  Love,

  Your Father

  It’s too much and yet not enough. I place the letter down, lie on the cold floor, and cry myself to sleep, hoping for blackness to take hold. But there’s no darkness, no absolution from the pain.

  Even in my sleep I can’t escape it. My dreams shift and change, haunting me with what I never had but always wanted. I wake up feeling nauseous, my headache now a throbbing migraine. Crying yourself dry of tears will do that. I glimpse at the clock. It’s only nine thirty. Sheer emotional and physical exhaustion is all I register. I hate that I couldn’t even sleep past midnight. At least then this horrific day would’ve been over. It’s seriously the day that’s never going to end.