Seamless

by Griffin, R. L.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The Fourth Time’s the Charm

  As Millie disconnected the phone, George just stood in his hotel room and looked at the phone in disbelief. He could never protect her. I’m going to lose her again. He got online and started trying to get flights out of Iowa, where Senator Ashby had again returned to campaign. He couldn’t find a flight online so he called the airline. Stella was currently unconscious and being examined at Patrick’s house. Millie had said she’d keep him updated. He finally got through and lined up an 8:00 am flight and started packing.

  Restless, he called Kara, frustrated when it went straight to voicemail and he had to leave her a message. Hopefully she’d be able to pick him up from Dulles while Finn was in school.

  George paced. He couldn’t sleep. He would’ve normally had a drink, but he was worried he wouldn’t wake up for his early flight. He’d called his boss and let him know he was running back to DC for a day or two. He paced some more. Most of all, he tried to convince himself it would be okay; she would be okay, they would be okay. He had a nagging worry in his mind that it wouldn’t be okay and that the best thing that could happen to them, Jamie gone, would be their undoing.

  He’d already left Stella a voicemail and a text for her to call him, to please let him know she was okay. Now all he could do was wait. It was torture to endure it, torture knowing she was hurting and he could do nothing.

  George’s knee was shaking the two joined together seats on his flight back to DC. He was anxiously waiting for takeoff when he got a text from Millie.

  El’s okay, but she’s gone

  I’d call you but I’m crying

  She left me at your place in the middle of the night

  I’ve called Patrick

  George sucked in a breath. He was right. She left him. He replied.

  What do you mean she’s gone?

  Millie responded immediately.

  She left me a note

  George hung his head.

  What kind of note

  Thank goodness Millie was an attentive texter.

  A sad one

  I’ll talk to you when you get here

  She loves you

  The flight attendant came by and told him to turn his phone off. Fuck.

  It was the longest flight of his life and sitting on the tram that moved him from his gate to the main terminal almost made him lose his shit. He’d talked to Patrick, Jesse, and Kara, but Stella still wasn’t answering her phone. Patrick was trying to get a flight from Atlanta to DC today and Jesse said if Patrick couldn’t get one, he’d fly him up to DC himself. He sent her text after text. It made him feel better, because he knew she would get them eventually, and he didn’t trust his voice for Voxer. He just wished she would reply.

  Love please answer my calls

  Let me know you’re ok

  Please

  Where are you

  When he exited the terminal, Kara was there in her Lexus SUV, waiting for him with a pained expression on her face. He threw his bag into the back and got in the passenger seat.

  She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I’m so sorry, Will.”

  “Just get me home.” George called Stella’s number again. “El, please,” his voice cracked, “please don’t do this.”

  His sister grabbed his hand. “We can make it through anything. Remember that.”

  He wiped a tear from his face and stared out the window. Kara left him alone and turned up the radio. She started to get out when she parked in George’s driveway.

  “Thank you, Kara, but I need to be by myself.”

  “Will, I think I should come in and make sure you’re okay.”

  George shook his head. “No.”

  “Will, let me help you,” Kara implored. “There are pictures of her driving away from here in the middle of the night. I think she’s gone.”

  “No.” George turned and walked to his front door. He waved without looking back at his sister.

  He walked through the foyer and smelled her; her coconut scent lingered everywhere. He set his bag down and took in the den, then the kitchen. His eyes stopped on the piece of paper on the breakfast bar. The ring he’d given her was sitting on top of the paper and he felt his heart rip out of his chest. He’d been in plenty of fights in his life, but he’d never felt pain like this. He picked up the barstool and threw it across the room. He looked at his phone, willing Stella to call him. It was 10:00 am. Where was she? Was she okay? Was she coming back? He called Millie.

  “Have you heard from her?” George asked as soon as Millie answered.

  “No,” she responded softly. “George, I’m so sorry. You should’ve seen what happened last night. I think she just needed time to think.” Millie sighed. “Do you want to come by?”

  “No. I’m going to find her,” he answered, resolved.

  “I… I think Patrick is trying to find her, too. He told me last night he was headed back here, but I just got a text that he’s following a hunch.”

  “A hunch?” George paced back and forth. “What kind of hunch?”

  “That’s all the text says and he won’t answer when I call him.” Millie cleared her throat.

  “Mil, she has to come back. I can’t—” George’s voice broke.

  “George, she’ll come back. I know her. She loves you. I can’t imagine she would just leave everything.”

  “Yes, she would. She has the only thing she wouldn’t leave behind; she doesn’t give a shit about anything else.” His head fell forward, hanging by his neck. “I have to go. I have to try to find her somehow. I can’t just stay here.”

  “Where are you going to go, George? What if she comes back and you’re gone? No one has heard from her. Have you talked to her dad?”

  “No,” George answered. That was a good idea, though, he should call Frank next. “What happened?” George really wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

  Millie let out a long breath. “Well, El and I had drinks and were watching a movie; she was going to spend the night since the boys were out of town. Then we heard something at the front, and you know how paranoid she is, so we were on alert. Then, all of a sudden, Jamie busted in through the back door. He tried to talk her into coming with him. She was so fierce, George. She told him no.” Millie was silent for a beat too long.

  “What?”

  “Then he picked her up and slammed her down so hard on the coffee table that it busted.” Millie took a deep breath. “She hit him in the face with the wine bottle. He punched her in the face… so hard. And I didn’t do anything. I just watched him. I was frozen. I couldn’t even move. I feel so guilty. I just stood there. I couldn’t do anything.” Her voice cracked. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Millie, it’s not your fault.”

  “Then he picked her up and started dragging her toward the front door. She was kicking and screaming, and then there was this explosion. I ducked so I didn’t see anything else, but someone shot Jamie as he was trying to force El out the front door. His face exploded all over her, George. It was horrible. She kept saying that Jamie was all over her. She had to take off all her clothes and leave them with the police. Agent Harris inter—”

  “Agent Harris?” he interrupted.

  “Yeah, El was surprised too. He said he was in the area and because it was a federal agent that had been killed it was his jurisdiction. He dropped us off at your place last night. I fell asleep in the guest room and she was gone when I woke up. She left me a note. She’s coming back.”

  “What did your note say?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “What did it say, Millie?” he implored.

  “That she loved me. That she treasured my friendship, but she had to get away for a while. She told me to take care of Patrick and you; to make sure you were all right.”

  George felt his world shift beneath him. “I gotta go.”

  “George?”

  “Yeah, Millie?”

  “I’m sorry.”r />
  “Bye.” George could barely say the words. He disconnected the phone and took a deep breath. He turned and faced what he didn’t want to and picked up the paper he knew would leave him changed. He’d lost her again; this was the fourth time. He wondered if it would be the last time. He couldn’t for the life of him remember the last thing he’d said to her. George hoped it was that he loved her.

  George, you’re one of the good ones. I’ve always told you that because it’s true. I feel so lucky that I was able to have you in my life for so long, but you’re too good for me. I fear if I stay you’ll be hurt. You already have been hurt and I’m sorry for that. I’m not in a place where I can look past my own ugliness. I promise I’ll always love you and hope you can appreciate us and move on. You’re going to make some lucky girl very happy. Please don’t hate me. I just had a guy’s face explode on me. I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I’ve had all these things happen to me and you’ve been hurt in the process. I just want you to be happy. Please be happy. Love someone that is just as good as you. Don’t worry about me and Coop. We’ll be fine. I’ll make it. I just have to regroup once again. It seems I’m always doing that. This time I’ll keep you out of the fray. Whatever happens, know that everything I’m doing is for you. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise, but know that you are the only one for me. That’s my forever.

  Love,

  Your El

  He crumpled the letter and threw it on the floor, then he pulled glass after glass down from his cabinets and threw each and every one of them against the wall. He didn’t feel better.

  He’d never feel better.

  Waking in the random roadside motel didn’t allow Stella to block out the events from the night before. She refused to shower. She didn’t even turn the light on in the bathroom when she peed. Stella needed to get back on the road; she just wanted to make it to the beach. She called her dad as soon as she and Cooper got back on the road.

  “Holy shit, Stella. Are you okay?” he asked frantically when he answered the phone. “You’ve been all over the news.”

  “Don’t you get tired of asking me that, Dad?”

  “I...I guess.” His voice faltered. “I’m serious, we’re really worried about you and George got back to his house this morning and you were gone. He’s going crazy and says you won’t answer your phone.”

  “Dad, I want to stay at the house at the beach for a while. Can you arrange it for me?” Stella inquired, no emotion in her voice. “I’ll be there in a couple hours.”

  “Stella? Answer my fucking questions.” He raised his voice. “I’m not doing shit until you tell me you’re okay.”

  “I’m not, Dad. I’m so not okay. Jamie’s brains were on my face last night—on my shirt, in my hair—I’m not okay. I just left George, the only man that will ever love me, and I’m not okay. I don’t think I can ever be okay.”

  Silence.

  “I need this, Dad, please,” she begged. “Cooper and I are headed to the beach now. I just need to know that I can stay there for a few days to cry my eyes out by myself.”

  “I don’t know...” he started, “your mom is—”

  “Don’t tell Mom where I am. Please,” she pleaded. “Just tell her you talked to me and I’m okay, just taking a moment.” Stella finally looked in the mirror and cringed. Her face was stained red with blood. She’d washed her face a bunch of times, but she guessed she didn’t get all the blood off; she was stained.

  “Stella, if I don’t hear from you every single day, I will come and get you. I’m not kidding,” he choked. “You’re breaking my heart.”

  “I’m sorry, Dad, I really am, but I’m so tired. I’m so fucking tired of pretending to be okay. I need to fall apart for a while.” Stella was honest; she’d let herself fall apart when Jamie “died,” so maybe she needed to release the pieces of her she’d been holding together for so long in order to heal.

  “I can’t say I understand, Stella, but I’ll try,” he conceded. “At least promise to text me every day.”

  “I promise.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Dad. Thank you.” She hung up, turned her phone back off, and cried the remaining miles to her sanctuary.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Falling Apart

  When she pulled into the driveway, her lips almost turned up into a smile. Almost. When she opened her door, Cooper forced his way out her side of the car and ran to the beach. She just stared at the house; she couldn’t decide what to do or if coming here was the best choice after all. She walked to the mailbox and pulled out an envelope with the key. There was a note in it from her dad’s friend.

  Please stay as long as you need. Let me know if you need anything else.

  She sighed and walked around the house to the beach to sit on the stairs and look out at the water. It was warmer than she expected for December. Cooper was running up and down the shoreline, jumping the waves and barking at the birds. She clapped her hands for him and he came running, clambering up the steps to the back door. She opened it and memories flashed back of her and George. She could swear she felt herself breaking into a million pieces. Why keep putting yourself back together if you’re just going to keep breaking apart?

  Cooper ran all around house, smelling every corner, and then followed her to the bedroom she’d shared with George. She climbed on the bed and got into the fetal position, but all of a sudden felt sick and ran into the bathroom where she threw up bile. Stella hoped that her concussion would hurry up and release her from all the vomiting. She hadn’t eaten in a while. Shit. She’d stopped and bought liquor, but no food, and there wasn’t any food at the house. Instead of being smart and going to get food, she climbed back in bed. Cooper put his head on her stomach and they slept.

  She woke with a start, hearing steps on the stairs, and jumped out of the bed, her heart racing. Cooper bounded down and thundered to the door, hair raised. Stella’s stomach clenched as the steps got closer.

  “I thought you might be here,” Patrick said, pushing the door open. “You okay?”

  Stella slumped on the bed in relief. Patrick. She should’ve known he’d find her. “No,” she said very softly, shaking her head.

  He walked over and sat next to her. He put his arm over her shoulders and pulled her close to him, not saying a word. After a while, he moved her back toward the pillow and they lay in the bed together, her head propped on his chest. Cooper jumped on the bed and laid on her side, getting as close as possible to Stella.

  “So what’s the plan?” Patrick asked.

  “I have no fucking idea,” she answered honestly. She relaxed into him and let him comfort her.

  George sat at the end of the bar with Emanuel and let Owen pour him his fifth Jameson. His slumped shoulders conveyed his lack of sleep and complete weariness. He hadn’t heard one fucking word from Stella. She’d broken up with him via a note and left without another fucking word. She promised she wouldn’t run. She lied. Again.

  “She broke her promise,” he muttered, putting his head on the bar.

  “What?” Emanuel asked, leaning closer to George.

  George sat up quickly, too quickly, and almost fell from his barstool. Emanuel and Owen both grabbed him. “She broke her fucking promise.”

  “I’m sorry, Will.” Emanuel shook his head. “Have you heard from her?”

  “No.” He slammed the glass down after he guzzled its contents. Stella’s whereabouts were media fodder and reporters yelled at him every time he left his house. George got up and walked to the office. He needed a minute.

  He slammed the door and gazed around the room. He could clearly see his first kiss with Stella. He’d pushed her against the wall and attacked her like he was a fifteen-year-old boy. What do I do now? How could this be happening to me again? He paced the length of the small office, trying to figure out his next step. Could he let her go? Should he let her go? They’d been doing well, or at least they’d been making a go of it, until this. The
y were going to get married. She said yes.

  It always lead back to fucking Jamie. George was glad Jamie was dead, but pissed that he was still hurting her from the grave. A knock sounded on the door.

  “What?” he barked.

  “Will?” The door opened hesitantly and Hazel peered around the side.

  He sighed. “Yes?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fucking great. A big bundle of fucking awesome,” he answered sarcastically.

  Hazel stepped tentatively into the office and shut the door. George stalked over to the desk and sat on the edge.

  “What can I do for you? You know Owen runs everything now. I’m just up here…drinking.”

  “I saw on the news she’s gone,” Hazel started.

  He blinked.

  “She left you? After everything, she just left?”

  “Yep,” George admitted. “It appears she just left.”

  Hazel walked toward him, closing the gap between them. She had her red hair up in a messy bun and a V-neck Finnegan’s shirt on, the neckline dipped low enough to bring in good tips behind the bar. George gazed past her, wondering why she’d closed the door.

  “You know, I could help you get over her. No strings attached.” She licked her lips, watching his eyes follow her tongue across her lower lip. “It worked before.” She kept moving until her body was between his legs, pressing into him.

  George looked at her and nodded. Maybe he should just do it; it would help him get over Stella and he did love redheads… But he saw the look in her eyes and knew it wouldn’t just be strings attached, it would be super glue. Hazel leaned in and took his lower lip in her mouth gently. George stood up quickly, putting much-needed space between them.

  “Bad idea,” he said, walking past her and out the door, through the bar and out into the night.