Two is a Lie
Page 24
“That was never my intention.” Cole closes the final distance, hard-jawed and hard-headed, with hellfire in his eyes.
“Fuck off, Cole.” Anguish claws at the flesh of my heart.
“You’re not leaving.” He crouches beside me and extends his fingers toward my face.
“Swear to God, if you put your hands on me or try to stop me in any way, I will escalate this into screaming, punching, kicking, whatever it takes, and I’ll probably end up hurting myself.” I wobble to my feet and pull on my coat. “Let me walk out of here with whatever remains of my goddamn dignity.”
Trace hasn’t moved from the island. His arms hang at his sides, his head bent low. The shadows of something dark and purposeful rotates in his frosty eyes.
“That goes for you, too,” I say to him, hating the tears plopping against my cheeks. “I’m terminating my employment at Bissara, effectively immediately.” My voice fractures. “I won’t be coming back.”
His fingers curl into tight fists, his entire body deadly still.
I need to get out of here before I have a total meltdown. My phone sits on the counter, and that’s where it’ll stay. No contact. No connections. Cut all ties.
Gathering my strength with a hard-hearted breath, I walk quietly to the elevator and press the button.
It opens instantly, waiting for me, mocking me.
I can’t do this.
It feels like I’m walking away from life. Everything I want and cherish, everything that I am is right here. There’s nothing outside of this room.
“You’re not a quitter.” Cole’s deep angry voice penetrates my spine. “Don’t you fucking run away.”
I push my feet into motion, step onto the threshold of the elevator, and turn to face them for the last time.
“I want you moved out in three days.” I force my watery gaze to Cole, pulling stinging breaths into the ice block of my chest. “Pack up your shit. Whatever you leave behind will get sold when I return.”
“Where the fuck are you going?” Cole flexes his fists at his sides, his eyes wild.
Trace lifts a hand to the counter, staring starkly at the floor.
“I put up with the secrets about your jobs, the manipulations with Marlo and Bissara, the rivalry and jealousy, the constant pushing and pulling.” I back up into the elevator and press the button for the garage.
“Danni.” Cole steps forward with the heel of his hand against his chest.
“I’ll coast along and tolerate just about anything. Until I have to push the throttle to the floor. Then I stomp on that son of a bitch with both feet and slam a heavy hammer on it to hold it down.” Tears course down my face as elevator doors slide close. “I just dropped the hammer.”
The elevator doors close, and the flood gates burst open. I double-over, choking on the brutality of the sobs fraying my throat. I can’t catch my breath. Can’t feel my heart beating.
I lost them.
I fucking lost my entire world.
It’s an agonizing drive across town with my fingers clenched so tightly to the wheel my knuckles blanch. I go straight to Bree’s house, and that’s where I stay for three days.
She doesn’t know about the photos, the cheating, or the cameras and murder. I told her I ended it with both of them because I couldn’t choose. Then I left it at that.
On the third night, I lie on her couch, with my face buried in a wet pillow. I haven’t stopped crying since I stepped out of the elevator.
“Cole’s supposed to be gone by tonight.” A thick keening noise garbles my voice. “I can go home now.”
“Stay as long as you want.” Bree sits beside my curled-up body and strokes my hair. “You need to give yourself time.”
I’m jobless.
Loveless.
Hopeless.
Fucking pathetic.
“I’m going to sell the house.” I choke on the words I’ve been chewing on for three days.
The dance room, the basement, the fucking street where I met Cole—it’s all too much, too many memories, too much pain. I lived through loss before, and I know this wretched feeling will never go away. I also know reminders make it worse.
Since Bree was with me the first time I grieved Cole, she understands my reasons. What she doesn’t know, however, is how Cole and Trace monitor, stalk, and invade my privacy. I’d be stupid to believe they let me walk away without keeping an eye on me. As long as I remain in St. Louis, they’ll be watching. To completely sever ties, I have to leave town.
“Where will you go?” she asks.
“I called Mom this afternoon.” I lift my heavy head and meet her eyes. “I’m moving to Florida. Going to live with them for a while. I’m starting over.”
Her chin trembles, and she wraps her arms around me. “Dammit, Danni, I don’t want you to go. But I get it. Whatever you need to do, I’m here for you.”
“Thank you.” I hug her back. “I’m going to miss you.”
I drive home the next morning. The motorcycle’s gone. The house is quiet. I force myself down the stairs and linger on the last step, unable to go farther.
Everything’s gone. The futon, weight equipment, punk rock posters… He even took the wedding gown. Why? It’s not like I’ll ever wear it. I would’ve sold it.
That’s why he took it.
My tears come back with a vengeance, shaking my shoulders and chopping my breaths. I turn back up the stairs and shut the door behind me, leaning against it to support the trembling weight of my stupid broken heart.
Do they feel like this? Like nothing exists but unbearable, inconsolable loss?
At least they still have each other. I hate them a little for that. I hate them for forcing me to do this alone. For making me find the strength to overcome this when all I want to do is lie down and be a doormat for their lies.
But I can’t do that. I won’t.
That afternoon, I purchase a new cell phone.
Then I call a real estate agent.
Five weeks later, I wander through my house, finishing up a final walk-through. My boots click along the wood floors, every step echoing with a hollow thud in the empty rooms.
I’m doing this. I’m moving on, and I fucking hate it.
I haven’t heard from Cole or Trace since that day in the penthouse. But several times a week, the rumble of a motorcycle passes down the street. Always early in the morning. Always the same slow speed.
The day after Cole moved out, I scoured every crack and cranny in my house, searching for cameras or something that doesn’t belong. I found nothing. If Trace is watching me, I don’t know how he’s doing it.
I think about them. With every breath. Every tear. Every miserable beat of my heart. I miss them so fucking much.
Christmas was the worst. I spent the holiday with Bree and felt utterly and completely alone.
Because I am alone. I tell myself I’m moving on, but I never will. Still, I have to try.
I walk into the dance studio, and a surge of misery fires behind my eyes. With my phone in hand, I pull up my song selection and play Moving On by Kodaline.
I’m going to Florida to start over.
It’s a new year. A new beginning. I can do this.
With a deep breath, I say goodbye to my house, my dance studio, the beautiful memories, the darkest hours. Then I whisper goodbye to Cole and Trace.
I open the back door, move forward, and pause mid-step on the threshold.
Sitting on the sidewalk just outside the door is a tall paper cup with a plastic lid. The logo on the side advertises my favorite coffee from the small coffee shop down the street.
I lift it, smell it, and confirm it’s my favorite blend. Peeking under the lid, I find it prepared exactly the way I like it. There’s no note. Nothing to indicate who it’s from. But I can narrow it down to two people.
My heart pounds as I scan the driveway, the street, searching for them, hoping, needing to see them with every aching breath.
The world around me is empty
.
Silent.
I’m alone.
With a trembling hand, I bring the cup to my mouth and sip. Still warm.
My stomach sinks. I just missed him. Cole, Trace, whomever it was. I would give anything to see one of their faces again.
The song streams from my phone, reminding me what I’m supposed to be doing.
Move on, Danni. One foot in front of the other.
I slip the phone into my coat pocket and lock up. All my belongings are in storage. Once I find a place of my own, I’ll have my things shipped to Florida.
I still have the Midget, and as I lower behind the steering wheel, I’m glad it’s going with me. I love this car.
Except it won’t start.
I crank the engine over and over. It doesn’t make a sound. Fucking fuck fuck!
Why did I think this car would get me all the way to Florida? I can’t even get it out of my driveway.
Shivering in the cold January temperatures, I drink the coffee, savor the warm rich taste, and consider my options.
I need to go back inside and call a tow truck. I can stay with Bree until the car is fixed.
Opening the door, I climb back out, and the pall of vertigo hits me sideways. Jesus, I don’t feel good all of a sudden. I attempt another step and sway. What the hell?
A loud rushing sound roars in my ears. Dizziness grips me hard, spinning the ground and splotching my vision. I need to sit down. I need to…
My knees buckle, and the pavement rises up, slamming against my chest. The coffee tumbles from my grip, and darkness creeps in around me.
Unable to lift my cheek from the cold ground, I stare in a daze at the paper cup where it rolls on its side beside my limp arm. Rolling… Slowing… Stopping.
The last thing I see before the world goes black is three words written in unfamiliar handwriting on the bottom of the cup.
It’s not over.
The Danni-Trace-Cole love triangle concludes with:
THREE IS A WAR
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Three means war.
Three sides vying for forever.
Cole.
My first love.
The bad boy with the dangerous smile and passionate temper draws attention like a lit fuse on dynamite. But his dark molten eyes spark only for me.
Trace.
My second chance.
Over six feet of Norse god in a tailored suit, he calculates every move and seizes my hungry breaths with an iron fist.
Me.
The free-spirited dancer, torn between two men with no resolution in sight.
I tried leaving, staying, refusing, and surrendering.
What options do I have left?
I love two men, and I do the only thing I can. I fight.
DARK ROMANCE
DELIVER SERIES
Deliver #1
Vanquish #2
Disclaim #3
DARK PARANORMAL ROMANCE
TRILOGY OF EVE
Heart of Eve (FREE)
Dead of Eve #1
Blood of Eve #2
Dawn of Eve #3
STUDENT-TEACHER ROMANCE
Dark Notes
ROCK-STAR DARK ROMANCE
Beneath the Burn
ROMANTIC SUSPENSE
Dirty Ties
EROTIC ROMANCE
An Infidelity World book
Incentive
Issues by Julia Michaels
Uptown Funk by Mark Ronson
Lust For Life by Lana Del Rey
Beautiful Liar by Beyoncé and Shakira
Don’t Let Me Down by The Chainsmokers
Pillowtalk by Zayn
I Hate U I Love U by Gnash
This Town by Niall Horan
Now Or Never by Halsey
Latch by Disclosure
Undisclosed Desires by Muse
Physical by Nine Inch Nails
Say Something by A Great Big World
We Can Hurt Together by Sia
Moving On by Kodaline
To my street team—you’re the coolest, most compassionate, selfless, warmhearted group of ladies I’ve ever known. You make my job one-thousand times easier and more enjoyable. I’m forever grateful for each and every one of you.
To my beta readers and proofreader—Ellie, Ketty, Shabby, LittleKitten, Shea, Brooke, Jillian, Ann, and Lesa—for turning this book around in record time. Your feedback is everything I need and depend on. I love you!
To my family—for taking my prolonged absences in stride, for bringing food and hugs when I haven’t emerged from the cave in days, and for remaining at my side through this crazy, demanding journey.
To my readers—for reading, reviewing, and recommending my stories. You fill my soul with humble, bottomless gratitude.
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author, Pam Godwin, lives in the Midwest with her husband, their two children, and a foulmouthed parrot. When she ran away, she traveled fourteen countries across five continents, attended three universities, and married the vocalist of her favorite rock band.
Java, tobacco, and dark romance novels are her favorite indulgences, and might be considered more unhealthy than her aversion to sleeping, eating meat, and dolls with blinking eyes.
EMAIL: pamgodwinauthor@gmail.com
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