Right then, all I needed to do was make sure my dad was okay.
I paused behind him, not wanting to make him jump, and as I looked down at the crouched, almost foetal position of my father, I felt the tears of loss and grief begin to well in my eyes.
Maybe he needed a moment alone to breathe.
Maybe I should have left him be.
Or maybe he needed a friend.
“Dad,” I whispered quietly.
He didn’t flinch or even react. The only movement he made was the bouncing of his shoulders as his tears took over.
It made my throat ache with a pain I couldn’t swallow.
I was used to Mum crying. I was used to hearing and seeing my own pain as it rained down my face, too. But nothing, not one little thing, no matter how many moments I saw that I wasn’t supposed to, could ever prepare me for how much it hurt to see my dad cry.
There’s a sound a man makes when he loses control. It’s a bit like when a baby screams at the top of their lungs and you know they’re in pain. Like when a dog yelps when he catches his tail, or when a cat screeches as another cat attacks. It’s a helpless sound. The shrieking defeat. The ‘oh God, it hurts’ intake of breath when they just can’t suppress it anymore. The ‘I’m not man enough to hold my family together. I'm a failure,' gasp. There’s nothing like that sound – nothing like it in the whole damn world. Most men – they don’t like to cry freely. They don’t like to let the pain pour out or let their loved ones witness their weakness. The sound a man makes when he finally loses control and gives in to grief is enough to make a grown woman fall to their knees and wrap them up in their arms.
So that’s exactly what I did.
Curling my arms around his neck, I gently laid my cheek on his back and held him for as long as he would allow me to.
To my surprise, it was longer than I thought it would be.
He never once tried to push me away and he never once choked on his shame. It seemed he was grateful for me being there, and I chose to believe that he was. I had no idea how long we stayed that way for, but while he shed an ocean, I held on to my tears. I held on to them because I needed to be strong for him.
Eventually, though, when his breaths had steadied, his hand reached up to cover mine.
“I miss that sister of yours.”
“I miss her, too.”
“Some days,” he started, “I can go a full hour without thinking about her or how much I miss her. A full hour. I shouldn’t look forward to those hours as much as I do.”
“I understand, Dad. I look forward to those times, too. I think we all do. No one likes to feel pain.”
“God, it hurts. It’s the worst kind of pain in the world.”
My mind drifted back to my conversation with Marcus about the stubbing of his toe, and I found myself smiling lazily against Dad’s shirt. “Marcus stubbed his toe a few days ago. He claims that’s the worst pain you can feel.”
“Marcus is a fool,” Dad blew out a little haughtily.
“You don’t mean that,” I sighed. “You two just like to wind each other up.”
Dad paused then, curling his fingers around mine even tighter before he bounced my hand against his chest.
“Are you happy with him, Natalie?”
“Very.”
“Very is a lazy word. If you were happy, you’d have said ecstatic, or… jubilant.”
“Dad, no one says jubilant anymore,” I said through a lazy smile. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d held my father this way, or if I ever had, but suddenly being so close to him felt like somewhere I’d needed to be for a lot of years.
“I say jubilant. I say it because that’s how your mother makes me feel. Every second of every minute of every hour.”
Feeling him tense in my grip, I slowly began to peel myself away. Dad spun on his feet until he was facing me, and my chest began to ache as soon as I saw the tear tracks on his cheeks and the redness of his eyes.
Pulling my hands together, he held me firmly in his grip and leaned closer.
“Promise me you’ll never settle?”
“Dad?” I pushed out, unable to stop my small frown of confusion. “What’s going on?”
“Just promise me.”
“I promise, but…”
“That’s all I want. I just want my daughter to have the best life possible.”
“I’m happy,” I reassured him softly. “I love Marcus. Nothing can or will change that.”
“Nothing?”
“No,” I whispered, pulling back slightly.
“I saw Alex this morning.”
Five words were all it took for me to feel winded again. My body must have shown it, too, because Dad tightened his grip on me. He held me as my knees turned to jelly again and I stared at him blankly. No matter how many times I blinked, though, it didn’t bring with it anything that made sense.
“Where?” I croaked.
“He was running.”
“Past our house?”
“Yes.”
Looking down at the ground, I searched every blade of grass I could find, trying desperately to ignore the way my frown was giving me the worst tension headache imaginable. At least, that’s what I told myself was causing it.
“I don’t understand. Why would he… He doesn’t even live… Why?” Snapping my head up, I scowled harder at my father and waited. While my face was gaining creases, his was smoothing itself out. “Did you talk to him?”
“Briefly.”
“And…?”
Moving his hands up to the tops of my arms, he squeezed them tightly before he brushed my hair away from both sides of my face and held my cheeks in his hands.
“Like I said, sweetheart… Please don’t settle. Be happy. Whatever the cost.”
With that, he rose to a stand, but not before he kissed the top of my head firmly. When he finally let me go, I watched him walk away as he wiped the tears from his face and let his old friend, embarrassment, take over. I stared at him like he had three heads until he disappeared inside.
I stared at the door then for some time, too.
I had no idea what was happening, but something told me that Dad knew for me.
Dad knew.
And he was scared for me.
TWENTY-SEVEN
The next day saw the start of a new week for me. I was determined to straighten my spine and get a grip on my life. This wasn’t the time for any more bubbles or numb tunnels. My life was good. I was winning. I was determined.
There was a quiet buzz about being one of the many working ants that strolled through the streets of Leeds city centre on a hazy summer’s morning. Nobody spoke. Few even smiled. But still, there was a sense of comfort about being around so many like-minded people who were all about to suck in a breath and brace themselves for a week filled with computers, co-workers and caffeine.
In a bid to start my week off on the right foot, and after some lazy morning sex with my man, I’d asked Marcus to pick my outfit for the day. He liked me in nice things – the dresses, the heels, and the make-up. It took more effort than I liked on a morning, and meant losing precious sleep in favour of attempting to curl my hair at times, but there was a quiet satisfaction that I got from seeing Marcus’ eyes light up when I’d finished.
It was nice to be adored, and leaving his place had left me feeling happy, relaxed, and almost blissful. Or at least it did, right up until my phone rang.
Shuffling my bag around to my stomach, I dug through it until I found the source of the noise. Sammy’s name flashed in time with my ringtone, and it took me a good few seconds to decide on answering it. I loved my best friend, but first thing in a morning phone calls were never a good sign.
“Hey,” I breathed out as cheerfully as I could before I swung my bag back around and tried to focus on walking and talking at the same time.
“My brother still touching up my best friend?” It was the same way she started most of her calls to me. No one had been happier than Sammy about
us getting together, but that didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy making us feel guilty about it.
“Not right at this very minute, no, but he had a good feel earlier this morning.” I grinned.
“Gross.”
“Then quit mentioning it.”
“I’m waiting for the day when one of you sees sense and realises that you two being together only means I’m going to be in your lives even more than before.”
“And I’d hate that because…?”
“I knew you loved me.”
“I really, really do. Except on mornings when I’m just about to head into work. You have about three minutes before I push through the doors of doom, Sammy, so spit it out.”
“Spit what out?”
“The thing you’ve phoned me for.”
“I just called…” She paused. “To say…”
“You love me?”
We both laughed at the same time, and I was grateful for the fact that it sounded like nothing serious was wrong with her.
“I gotta go,” I told her as a few people brushed past me in a rush. While I’d become a little more skilled at wearing heels over the years, I still had my newborn deer moments.
“Call me after work, okay?” she said in a rush.
“Why?”
“Just do as you’re told, Nat. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
“Should I be worried?”
“No,” she said quietly. She may as well have screamed a yes in my ear. “Have a good day, gorgeous girl.”
“I will…” I lied equally as softly, but I knew that if I didn’t ask her what was wrong, I’d just spend the whole day worrying about it. “You’re not going to tell me what this thing is that you need to speak to me about before you go?”
“I don’t want to ruin your day.”
I slowed my walk until I’d unconsciously come to a complete stop with my phone pressed firmly against my ear. Glancing around, unsure why I suddenly felt so on edge, I worried my lip between my teeth before leaning closer into the mouthpiece. “Is this about Alex?”
“You know?”
“Know what?”
“That he’s back.”
Sucking in a breath, I nodded even though I knew she couldn’t see me. I guess it was to confirm with myself that I knew, more than to confirm it with her. No matter how much I was pretending, I knew. It felt like he was everywhere all of a sudden.
“I know,” I told her.
“And how do you feel?”
“Like I need to go to work.”
“Natalie…”
“Sammy.” I turned on my heels and began to make tracks again, shaking my head all the while as I tried to figure out a way to explain to her how I felt. It was impossible. “I’m fine. I promise. I’m with your brother now. I’m in love. I’m happy.”
She didn’t respond right away, and I could imagine the look she was wearing as she worried her hand across her forehead and worked out how to stay on the right side of the line without crossing it. She’d never been good at that.
“I love you, Nat.”
“I love you, too.”
“Phone me later.”
After a few promises to touch base, I finally made it to the front of The Oakmere Centre. My plan to start the week without any trace of the man from my past had already been unsuccessful, and as I stared up at the four-storey building and tried to focus on one particular emotion, instead of all the conflicting ones, I wondered what the hell the next few days had in store for me.
Did I want to see him?
Could I find a place to hide?
Would there ever be a day when the very mention of his name didn’t make me shake?
Did I want to see him?
Did I want to see him?
No, I thought. So, I dusted down my blue dress, pushed back my hair from my face and began to make my way inside.
Inner strength is something that we can only find if we dig deep enough, and I was searching every inch of the floor for it while wearing a smile to hide any uncertainty from the rest of the world.
I thought I’d almost found it, too. I thought I’d managed to convince even myself that I was in control. I should have known better. I should have known that the faint, familiar smell of his aftershave when I walked through the doors wasn’t just a figment of my imagination. I should have known that when the walls feel like they’re caving in, it’s probably because they are.
I should have known I was never in charge of my destiny at all.
Because when I finally looked up to greet Barbara with a smile, my view was eclipsed completely with something much sharper – something more powerful that had the ridiculous ability to make me stumble, pushing my steps back a few paces until my spine came slamming against the glass panels of the door.
There, standing in front of me with the bright lights shining behind him, making him look like he was that damned glowing angel all over again, was Alex.
My Alex.
He was there with his hands in his pockets and a knowing smile on his face.
He was there and only one thing, besides how beautiful he looked, was obvious…
He was there to see me.
*******
“Natalie.”
I'd been right to assume the years would favour him. The experience and knowledge that had always been there sat well on his skin. At just twenty-two years of age, Alex had that sophisticated look about him – the one that let everyone who ever saw him know that he held a million and one life secrets behind that smirk of his.
It hurt to breathe. Everything I'd tried to suppress for so long rose to the surface within seconds, desperate to bathe in the clean, truth-filled air, after years of life in denial.
The biggest part of me wanted to turn and run away. I knew it was what would be best for me. When the past comes knocking, you don't answer the door. At least that's what I’d read somewhere on the Internet.
“Alex,” I said, tasting his name on my tongue.
He rocked on the heels of his feet, his movement so small that he probably hadn't even realised he was doing it, but I saw. I saw everything from the bottom of his dark blue jeans, up to the colour of his tight, black collared t-shirt. I saw the new muscles, the new strength, the new determination.
“Hi.” He smiled lazily.
I glanced behind him to find Barbara, but she wasn't anywhere to be seen. I needed her now more than ever, but her chair sat empty and her computer screen was black, devoid of life.
Clearing my throat proved tricky due to the painful lump that had lodged itself there, but I moved despite my obvious awkwardness, pushing myself off the glass as I began to walk on shaky legs. I couldn't look at him. Not then. I wasn't that strong. My eyes found the floor quickly, and for some reason, my hand flew into my bag in search of my keys.
Keys.
I didn't even need my keys.
My fingers did, though. They needed something to pour their nervous energy out on, something to twist and squeeze and torture, something to make me appear too busy to talk to him.
“Hi,” I replied flatly, moving closer to him.
Walking and talking at the same time proved too much of a multitasking situation for me. My feet were all lefts and my hands may as well have been greased with butter. I eventually found the keys I didn't really need, and when I pulled them out of my bag, they flew straight out of my fingers, through the air before doing a well-performed belly flop to land right in front of Alex's feet.
Of course they did.
I stumbled for a moment, deliberating whether to retrieve them or leave them until my stubborn side won out and I moved towards the very man I wanted to run from. Turning my knees to the side, I crouched down in front of him and reached out.
Unfortunately for me, Alex bent at the same time, and all the gods played in his favour as his fingertips reached the keys before I did.
Then we both froze, our sudden close proximity feeling like someone had thrown a plastic bag ove
r my head and was squeezing it tight.
“Let me get them for you,” he offered in that low, smooth voice of his.
There wasn't anywhere I was willing to look but down.
“Thank you,” I croaked, “but I got this.”
“I'm not sure you do.”
“Move your hand. Please.”
To my surprise, he did as I asked, but not the way I wanted him to, instead picking up the bunch of keys and gripping them tightly in the palm of his hand, hiding them away from me even more.
“What are you doing?” I whispered, forcing myself to look up at him no matter how hard I found it to see his face.
“I'm helping.” He turned his hand over and slowly began to peel his fingers back to offer me what was already mine. “Or, at least, I thought I was.”
Alex's eyes searched mine intently. Like he owned me.
Like I was his.
There was so much I could have said to him. All the snarky comments were rolling around in my mouth, just not quite ready to play their hand yet.
I had to move.
Delicately reaching forward, I pinched the keys between my finger and thumb before slowly pulling them away, careful not to make any skin-on-skin contact with him. The last thing I needed was his touch.
His smirk only grew as our eyes stayed trained on each other's, and for one fleeting second, the old feelings returned. They wrapped themselves around my heart, making me think he was still my safety net, fooling me into believing we'd never walked away from each other.
Until the memories of him and Bronwyn slapped me up the side of the head and forced me to blink out of my trance.
Fucking move, Natalie.
I rose quickly, desperate to get away. Without even thinking about how it looked, I shoved the keys back into my bag, dusted down my dress and brushed past him as though he wasn't even there.
Oh, how I wished he wasn't there.
None of it felt real. After living life for so long without him, to be so close seemed like it was just an old daydream. All those times I had cried in bed after the night I walked away from him, all those times I had begged my heart to fall in line with my head and let him go... all the while secretly hoping he'd find a way to make things right between us.
Natexus Page 25
