We are lying on the roof of our hotel in Barcelona, nearly two weeks into our trip. After finally leaving Italy, the relaxed and laid-back feel of Spain is a welcome change. We spent yesterday in Madrid after flying in there, and I wish that she had arranged an extra night there rather than coming straight to Barcelona.
After having dinner and margaritas at a little outdoor tapas bar that we found opposite the beach, we’re back at the hotel, on the roof, enjoying watching the sunset.
The rooftop is the only nice thing about this hotel, but I’d book it again just for that. If you stand in the corner, you have a panoramic view of everything Barcelona has to offer. That, combined with the gorgeous purple-and-orange sky, makes it one of the most spectacular places I’ve seen. It would be the perfect place if you wanted to impress a girl—minus the uncomfortable and cramped rooms. I glance over at Erin and smile. I can’t think of anyone else I would rather be here with.
I have to admit, I’m having a blast. But more than, that I’m surprised at the level that we are connecting on. I came into this not sure what to expect, but this wasn’t it. I wasn’t expecting to be challenged like she challenges me. I wasn’t expecting it to be so easy to distract myself from my problems. I wasn’t excepting to like her this much. I’d convinced myself that her dying meant she would be hard to be around, but the opposite is true. Her sense of humour and positive outlook are infectious, and they just make you want more. How much more I want scares me, because I’m not sure where it will end.
This is the longest I’ve gone without placing a bet in months. It’s hard, I won’t deny that, but I just tell myself that there are bigger things to deal with in the world at the moment, which outweigh my problems. What scares me is what happens after this. What do I do after Erin? How do I move on from that? Only I can’t talk to her about that because that’s the whole reason she needed to get away in the first place—to escape that pressure.
“In high school,” I say, answering her question. “She transferred to my school in year seven. We got paired up for science and became friends from there.”
“Did you date?” she asks.
I laugh. “Teenage me only wishes. No, I spent most of my high school years pissed at my brother for dating the girl I was in love with.”
“Harsh.” She winces. “Did he know how you felt?”
“Everyone knew how I felt,” I say with a rueful grin. “I wasn’t the best at hiding my feelings. My father called me a pussy and told me to move on.”
“I’m not sure how you did it. I don’t think I could be friends with someone I felt that way about. Not being able to be close to them…” She shakes her head. “You’re stronger than me.”
“I’m not sure I’d call it a strength,” I reply. “We’re still friends because a part of me always held hope that she’d come to her senses and realise I’m a much better fit for her.” In my eyes I call that weak and stupid.
She hesitates, and glances at me. “It’s probably not my place to say this, but if getting her pregnant doesn’t make her see that…” Her voice trails off and she winces, like she can’t believe she actually said that to my face. I’m not fazed, though, because it’s true and I know it.
“You’re right and I know you’re right, but telling myself that and acting on it are two different things. I wish I could move on. It would make my life a hell of a lot easier. Come to think of it, I wish I could move on from my family too,” I joke.
“I don't believe you mean that,” she laughs. “I get that family be can be difficult, but they’re still just that: family.” She pauses, her expression thoughtful. “I don't think I've ever felt like I wish that I didn't have my family around. Not for a second.”
“Yes, but you haven't met my family,” I say with a grin. “Reserve judgment until you do.”
“It can't be that bad,” she says. “I think everyone thinks they hate their family—”
“Except you,” I cut in with a smirk on my lips.
“Except me,” she agrees, rolling her eyes. “But imagine life without them. Is that really something you want?”
“A life without judgment, and constantly being told what a disappointment I am? A life where I don't have to worry that I'm going to fail at everything? Yeah. I think I can handle that.”
“They’re really that bad?”
“My father, yes. Mum and I don’t get along at the moment, but we used to be close.”
“What happened?”
“It's complicated,” I sigh.
“I've got time.” She winks at me and I laugh. God, I love her sense of humour sometimes. “Come on,” she coaxes, taking my hand and squeezing it. “You’ll feel better when you tell me all about it.”
My heart jumps. I can’t believe I’m actually thinking about telling her the truth. Bella was the last person I told, and something changed in our relationship after. Maybe she pitied me, I don’t know, but something was different after that. Can I risk that with Erin? I don’t think she would judge me, but how well do I really know her?
I trusted her when I told her about Dad.
She’s the only person I’ve ever told, so why is this so much harder? Because what my parents did isn’t a reflection on me personally. Gambling is my problem. It’s my addiction, something I choose to do—even if it never feels like a choice. There are days when I’d give anything to go back in time and delete that first bet.
“I have a gambling problem. This,” I point to my once-bruised face, which has dulled to a barely visible, yellowish tinge, “is the result of owing the wrong people money. It’s wrecked my whole life. I got kicked out of school, I’ve disappointed my mother…” I take a deep breath. “…and it’s probably the main reason why I’ll never have Bella.”
“Wow.” Her blue eyes widen, but there is no judgment there, just concern. “That’s pretty heavy. So your mother found out?”
I nod.
“Did you tell her?”
“Her credit card statement did that.”
She looks confused and then it dawns on her. “Oh, you didn't,” she says in a soft voice.
“It gets worse,” I admit. “Trust me, it gets much worse.”
“Do you still…” She stops for a second. “I mean…”
“Do I still have a problem?” I say for her. “It consumes my thoughts twenty-four hours a day, so I guess I do.”
“Is that why you came on this trip?” she asks. “To get away from the temptation?”
“Yes.” It’s not a lie.
A big part of this trip was getting away from everything. I thought if I could just take myself out of the situation I was in, everything else would just fall into place. Except the one thing I didn’t factor in is that the temptation is everywhere. It follows you. It consumes your life, eating at you until you give in. That’s the thing with addiction: fixing the consequences isn’t going to do shit if you don’t address the cause.
She shifts onto her side and rubs her forehead.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
“I’m fine, just feeling a little dizzy.”
I get to my feet. “Come on,” I say.
She takes my outstretched hand and I help her up. She stumbles forward and I catch her, my fingers wrapping tightly around her forearms to steady her.
“Are you sure you're okay?” I ask. I study her face, concerned that she won’t meet my eye.
“I will be when I get back to the room,” she promises.
“Put your arms around my neck,” I order her.
She does and I hoist into my arms.
“You don't have to carry me,” she laughs, her cheeks flushed.
“Maybe not, but I’m going to.” I click the button on the elevator and wait impatiently. “So, you come here often?” I joke, filling in the awkward silence.
She giggles, her cheeks glowing red.
“You're so cute when you blush,” I tease her. “Anyone would think you like me or something.”
“Don't flatter you
rself,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “I’d blush at any random man who was carrying me back to his room.”
“So this happens often, does it?”
“No more than once a week,” she quips, her eyes sparkling.
“And what about this?” I ask softly. “How often does this happen?” I tilt my head up, my lips gently touching hers. I groan as her grip on my neck tightens. She pulls me closer, towards her. I lean in again, my heart pounding as I press my mouth against hers. This time I’m not walking away. Kissing her is exactly like I thought it would be, only her lips taste sweeter. I gaze into her eyes, wondering why the hell it took me so long to do that.
.
I carry her back to my room and I lay her on the bed. “Can I get anything for you? Food? A drink? An illegal substance?” I joke. The way she looks, lying on that bed in her skimpy blue top and tight jeans, is turning me on. All I want to do is wrap myself around her and pick up where we left off.
“What kind of drugs you offering?” she laughs. “Can you get me some weed?”
“Weed?” I repeat with a grin. This girl never ceases to amaze me. “In a foreign country? Sure, let me just go down to the corner and hold up a sign saying ‘arrest me, I’m looking for drugs’.”
“A simple ‘no’ would suffice,” she says, poking her tongue out at me. “Do me a favour. In my handbag, there's some painkillers.”
I grab the bottle from her bag and unscrew it. I hand her two, which she washes down with a mouthful of water before settling back on the bed.
“Lay down with me?” she whispers.
I crawl onto the bed beside her, snaking my arm around her waist. She sighs, and even in the darkness I know that she’s smiling. I wrap my hand around hers and gently kiss the back of her head.
“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met,” I whisper, my voice hoarse.
“Then you’re hanging out with the wrong people,” she jokes.
I chuckle and pull away, just enough to draw circles on her back.
“God, that feels good.”
“Take your shirt off,” I say. I feel her hesitation and chuckle. “I’ll be a gentleman, I promise. It will feel a thousand times better against your bare skin.”
She obliges, slipping her shirt over her head.
“Wow, you’re right,” she mumbles, her words barely coherent. She reaches behind her back and unclasps her bra. I help it fall over her shoulders, my fingers circling over her soft skin. With every touch she squirms, her body inadvertently pressing against my own.
A groan escapes my lips as she gently grinds against me, making me harden. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was trying to turn me on. If that’s her plan, it’s working. I slip my arm under her waist and pull her further into my arms.
She turns her head, just enough so our faces are almost touching. I stare into her eyes, willing myself not to kiss those lips, no matter how much I want to. It will make things so much harder. She tilts her head, pressing her mouth against mine. I groan again, my hand caressing her face as I kiss her harder. She tastes amazing.
“I don’t want to take advantage of you,” I mutter.
“You’re not,” she assures me.
That’s all I needed to hear. I unbutton her jeans and ease her out of them, flinging them aside as her fingers entwine around mine. She lowers my hand, down over her stomach, resting it over her panties.
“Touch me,” she whispers.
I groan, loving the feel of her wetness soaking through the sheer fabric. Our mouths touch again as I gently push aside her panties and slide my finger inside her. She gasps, her breathing heavy, her eyes not leaving mine.
Has anyone ever touched her like this? The thought of being the first is almost too much. My erection grows harder, pressing against my jeans. She turns around so she’s facing me and her fingers glide over my hardness, sending me into spasms. She slides my shirt up over my chest, her hands moving over my muscles. I lift it over my head and toss it aside.
“What are you doing?” I ask hoarsely as she fumbles with my zip.
She lowers it, releases the button, and then reaches inside, freeing my dick.
“I don’t have a condom,” I mutter, cursing myself for not being more prepared.
She smiles, her eyes sad. “Don’t use one. I’m dying, remember? I won’t be around to deal with any consequences.”
I want to. I want to feel myself inside her so fucking bad, but I can’t do it, because now all I can think about is the fact that she’s dying. I kiss her again, running my fingers through her hair, wishing I could fix her. It’s not fair that such an amazing girl isn’t going to get to live the rest of her life.
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be,” she interrupts. “I get it. Really, I do. Hold me?”
I shuffle down the bed and take her into my arms. She snuggles against me, a soft sigh escaping from her lips. She’s so warm. She wraps her leg around me, her fingers gently tracing circles on my side.
“I kind of ruined the moment, huh?”
I kiss her forehead in response.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things uncomfortable. Sometimes I think about everything I’m not going to get to experience and it makes me sad. I just wanted to be able to cross something off my list for once.”
“And what exactly was this on your list?” I grin and stroke the hair from her eyes.
“Being with someone I’m attracted to,” she admits.
“You’re attracted to me?” I tease.
Her cheeks redden.
I kiss them, laughing. “It’s okay, I think we established that earlier.” My heart swells, first with happiness that she likes me, then sadness when I remember.
She yawns, her eyes getting heavy. I gently rock her back and forth until her eyes close a few minutes later. My heart races as I watch her sleep, still tangled in my arms. Her face is so relaxed and peaceful. I stroke her cheek. She stirs, rolling onto her side. I carefully slide my arm out from under her and ease myself off the bed.
I throw my shirt on and button up my jeans, finally feeling like things are getting better for me. I’m not exactly sure how that logic works, considering she’s dying. I can’t think about what is going to happen when my life goes back to the way it was.
Grabbing my room key, I make my way to the door and quietly leave. In the elevator, I check my phone for the hundredth time and notice a text from Bella. I open it, my anxiety levels skyrocketing.
Bella: Just wanted to let you know I’ve taken care of it.
My jaw tenses as I read the text again. That’s it? Just a text telling me she got rid of our baby? I punch in her number. I have no idea what time it is in Australia, and I don’t really care.
“What do you mean it's taken care of?” I growl when she answers my call.
“You know what it means, Cade. I told you I couldn't keep it.” She sighs, an edge to her voice that only fuels my annoyance. “Did you think I was going to change my mind?”
“No, but I thought you’d at least let me know that was going to happen.”
“Why? None of this should’ve happened in the first place, so the sooner I could fix it, the better.” Her voice softens as she continues. “If I could take it back, I would. If I could go back and fix this, I would. I don't want to lose you, Cade. You're my best friend.”
But we’re not even that anymore.
Things have changed, and I can’t shake the feeling that we’re never going to get back to where we were. It terrifies me that after more than ten years, it ends like this.
“Does he know?”
“Don’t you think you would’ve heard from him if he knew?” She sighs.
She has a point.
I haven’t heard from Noah in more than twelve months, but something like this would have him flying over here to confront me. He’d think this thing with Bella was all about him, when it couldn’t have less to do with him.
“I know how strained your relation
ship is with your brother. I wouldn't tell him. I wouldn't do that to you. Are you okay? Please don't do anything stupid, Cade.”
“I'm fine,” I mutter. By stupid, she means gamble. I’m sure of it.
I leave the hotel, not sure where I’m going. It’s so late that not much is open. My choices are limited to a scary-looking sex shop, a couple of bars, and a twenty-four hour medical clinic. I choose one of the bars.
I walk inside and signal to the barman. He yells out, asking what I want in broken English. I point to a bottle of expensive whiskey, then find myself a secluded table near the back. It’s by no means busy, but I don’t want to risk anyone trying to start a conversation with me.
The barman places my drink in front of me. I down it, and ask for another two. He raises his eyebrows, but walks off to get them. I pull out my phone and bring up the message. Apparently I’m into self-harm now, because for the next half hour I torture myself, rereading her text over and over until I’m on the verge of breaking.
The worst thing is that I have no idea where my anger is directed.
I’m done. I close my messages and sigh, tossing the phone down on the table in front of me. I pick it up again and open my betting account app. Why haven’t I deleted it? Why do I leave it here, testing myself with the temptation—especially at times like this when I can feel myself cracking? It would be so easy to undo everything right now. I’ve gone so long without placing a bet, but I could convince myself in an instant that one time isn’t going to hurt. I know, because I’m doing it now.
The words of a true addict. One touch of my finger and I could distract myself from everything, even if it’s only for a short time. The ache intensifies, and I just want the pain to go away. My finger hovers over the screen, my heart pounding so loud I can feel it in my ears. One click.
That’s all it takes to undo everything.
**
It’s after five when I stumble back to the hotel. I’m drunk, but more than that, I’m down two hundred dollars and I hate myself for it. It’s not the money—I don’t even care about that—it’s the fact that I promised not only myself, but my mother. I can only imagine what Erin would say.
Don't Hold Back (Love Hurts Book 4) Page 12
