Hold Me (Promise Me Book 1)

by Brea Viragh

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Four blissful days went by without a word from either male. I wish I could say I didn’t look at the cell constantly, waiting for some spark of conversation and rush for the screen at any tiny sound. The only person to make contact, besides Leslie checking up on me, was Hank letting me know his boys were coming out to get the rest of their equipment and offering his help for the heavy lifting when I emptied the storage pod.

  I appreciated the thought, as I did the space. It gave me an opportunity to take Leslie’s advice to heart. To consider my time on this earth without the lens of failure clouding my reasoning.

  I was a woman approaching thirty-five, yes. I also was a woman who repeatedly rose up after being knocked down, which counted for something. Now I had a roof over my head with no mortgage attached, and a dozen roads stretching out from the point where I stood. I had the chance to do what I wanted, be who I wanted, without my own harsh opinions wearing me down.

  It felt different, strange. It felt good.

  Val delivered the beautiful wedding cake right on time and dropped it off with much fanfare. I barely had the heart to accept the damn confection, though considering the amount of begging it took to get I forced a smile to my face. He and his assistant drove away, the check cleared, and I sat in the middle of the kitchen floor with a fork.

  And demolished every last bite.

  The boys from the construction crew had left a couple of their buckets on the job site, one of which I commandeered for my own purposes, filling it with lemon scented cleaner and going to work scrubbing the newly installed baseboards in the living room.

  A knock on the front door echoed through the room. Looking up, wrist deep in murky water, I saw the shadowy figure of a man standing on the porch. Instead of dwelling on his identity, I returned to my scouring.

  I would know his head of hair anywhere.

  “If you have a penis, you aren’t welcome here.”

  “Not even if I come bearing good news?” August asked, calling through the glass. “Let me in.”

  “Not even if you had a million dollars in cash in your hands.” I furiously brushed the baseboards until flecks of paint dotted the steel wool pad. “Go away.”

  “You won’t even open the door?”

  “I won’t even entertain the idea,” I responded. “So get the fuck out of here and go on about your business.”

  His footsteps retreated off the front stoop, though I didn’t hear the car. I hadn’t heard the car in the first place. It made the surprise much worse.

  I grumbled, something hot and potent blossoming under my skin, leaving me nearly dizzy, though from pleasure or distress I wasn’t sure. The way he spoke, low, unconcerned, had shivers of anticipation running up and down my arms.

  “No,” I admonished myself. “Not allowed.” My fingers bit into the pad as I attacked the baseboards.

  The sound of a key turning in the lock had me whirling around flinging dirty water everywhere. August calmly let himself in, turning to close the door behind him.

  “If you’re going to keep the doors locked, then change where you hide things.” He gestured to the silver key in his hand. “You still keep it above the molding, I see.”

  Damn. I hadn’t considered my habits. August knew them all.

  I stopped and sighed, pushed the hair from my eyes. The rubber gloves caught on my skin. “What do you want, August?”

  He moved into the room, his attention focused on me when I could not raise my eyes to his. Still, I felt the force of them, the laser-like heat on the nape of my neck.

  “I want to talk to you.”

  The sweet scent of soap bombarded me until I scowled. “You had your chance years ago and you let it slide by.” I realized how petty I sounded the moment the words left my mouth. I wasn’t making good headway here.

  Stay strong, stay tough, stay firm. No matter how many times I repeated those words, I wanted to jump him. Attack, punch, kiss. Dealer’s choice.

  Nope, there went my traitorous mind once more.

  “Then let’s say I’m making up for our lost conversations.” He strolled closer and stooped, examining my handiwork. “You’re doing a great job, Iz. I know you hate the manual labor part of this.”

  I pointedly turned away, dipping my hands into the soapy water and continuing to scour. “I want you to leave. It’s not hard to understand. Get out and don’t come back.”

  “You and I both know I can’t,” he said softly.

  “Why not?” My lips pursed when a stray drop of cleaning solution splashed upward. “You had no trouble meddling in my life before. Now go find someone else to play with, because I’m not willing to be your patsy anymore.”

  “You were never a patsy to me. Christ, Isabel, I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

  “You have no right to say those things to me.”

  “I have every right in the world. Can’t you at least find a way to see things from my point of view?”

  That did it. I released the hold on my temper, that gently simmering pot inside. Now the gloves were off, literally and figuratively.

  I wrenched my hands free and threw the gloves at August, smacking him in the chest.

  “No, I can’t see this from your point of view,” I retorted. The bucket of water went next, the entire container, narrowly missing his leg and wetting the floor.

  “You put your grubby hands where they didn’t belong. You stuck your fingers into my business.”

  “Not yet, but I plan on it.”

  The broom sailed through the air to slap him on the shoulder and wipe the smirk from his face.

  “You’re cracking jokes?” Red-faced, pulse echoing in my ears, I glanced around for other items to throw. Out of options, I wrenched the shoes from my feet and sent them sailing as well.

  August, distracted by the bruise on his arm from the broom handle, had little time to move out of the way, as each sneaker hit him with a satisfying thunk.

  “I’m trying to lighten the mood,” he soothed, hands coming up in front of him as a shield.

  “You lied to me.” All the terrible, foul words I wanted to say stuck in my throat, refused to come out even when I tried to force them.

  “I may have lied. I admit it. But I didn’t force Duncan and Leda together. I simply introduced them and let nature take its course. You aren’t meant for him, Isabel. You have to know it’s not right. No matter how you tried to fool yourself.”

  I hadn’t been talking about Duncan, but rather focused on my own hurt the moment I saw August again. A stray curl fell across his forehead and fuck if I didn’t want to tuck it back into place. Latent feelings I’d pushed down, refused to acknowledge, had at long last pushed their way to the surface and demanded to be seen. Only when I began to accept their existence did he decide to tell me the truth.

  Now I despised how I felt toward him, which was worse than recognizing those feelings in the first place.

  August sloshed through the water and I ducked away, keeping the length of the room between us.

  “No, do not come closer.” I held out a finger in warning. “Don’t you dare.”

  “Will you at least listen?” August kept eye contact with me, back hunched warily as though needing to make sure I would not attack.

  forced my hands to release from the fists I hadn’t been aware of making. “No.” My teeth rattled in my skull when I shook my head.

  “You belong with me,” August insisted. “Duncan wasn’t right for you. You have to see it.”

  I did see it. It only took an infidelity for me to recognize the truth. I shouldn’t have said yes to Duncan. My heart and soul were promised to someone else, had been since I turned thirteen. Unfortunately, he blew it for both of us, and now I saw no way to forgive him.

  “Duncan wasn’t right for me, I agree, and I should have figured it out sooner. But that’s not your call to make. It’s mine.” I straightened my shaky legs and glared at August. “Every decision I make, every wrong turn, e
very mistake. They are all mine. Don’t you understand?”

  I pursed my lips, biting the inside of my cheeks to keep the tears at bay. They, of course, chose the most inopportune time to make an appearance. Traitors.

  “Of course you don’t understand. You’ve taken my future into your own hands and done exactly as you pleased. Toyed with me from the beginning.”

  “I don’t see how you can say such a thing. You know me inside and out, Isabel. I never meant to hurt you.”

  August’s face looked fresh. And straight out of my nightmares. Each time I went to sleep, my subconscious conjured him. Those kinds of dreams where each punch sent his way fought through an invisible wall of resistance and never made contact.

  Did the man not have the decency to look upset?

  “Have I only been a friend to you?” he asked when I made no move to fight.

  “What?”

  “Have I been nothing but a friend to you all this time? There was never once, in our many years together, you thought about me in a different light? As something more than Augie, your buddy?”

  No. Yes. “You’re missing the point.”

  “It is exactly the point. You love me, Isabel Cook. You always have and you are too scared to admit it.”

  My breath came in shallow gasps until black dots danced in front of my vision.

  “I…I don’t have to admit it. It’s not real.”

  “Calm down, calm down,” August begged.

  “Can you not just leave?” I gestured toward the door. “Please.”

  “I’ll tell you what. Let’s table the discussion of our reconciliation for now. Before you hyperventilate and pass out.” August made sure to maintain eye contact as he reached into his rear jeans pocket to pull out a piece of paper. “Here.”

  “Whatever you have, I don’t want it. Keep yourself to yourself and we can go our separate ways.”

  I listened to his footsteps as they echoed through the open room. His shadow fell over me. “Take a look.”

  “Please leave.” I refused to glance up, to see him and catch myself on all the nuances of his face. To see reflected on his features the regret I heard in his voice. Peering into those eyes was bad enough, the blue depths captivating, pulling me down until there was no Isabel. No August. Only two people sharing a single soul.

  I wondered at the change, tried to pinpoint the exact moment in time when I gave up the ghost and realized my true feelings for him. It was impossible to tell, and a small part of me regretted all those wasted years spent apart. Lonely.

  “If you don’t want to talk, then hear me out. Do you remember our day in the field? The song I played for you and the words you made up for me?” August scratched his chin. “Well, don’t be mad, but I had a tape recorder hidden in my pocket.”

  I huffed impatiently. “Of course you did.” It figured he’d do something else underhanded without my knowledge. The longer I thought about August the more his name became synonymous with “sneaky.”

  “You are a real standup guy. The lengths you go to for your own self-gain are incredible.”

  “Just listen to me. I sent the demo tape in to this person I know in the business. And he wants to hire you for his next album.”

  I turned to August with such speed my head spun.

  “What did you do?” I couldn’t help but ask, fists clenching.

  He had the grace to turn his guilty gaze to his sneakers. “I know someone. He loved the lyrics and said he has the perfect melodies for your style. He wants to work with you on an album to be released next year.”

  “This is low even for you!” I lashed out. “How dare you use my weakness against me? Do you honestly think that I’ll jump into your arms?”

  August took a step back, blinking rapidly. “It’s true. Paul Cluxton wants to offer you a job. I told him you had the spunk and flair he wants for his new project. He’s waiting for your phone call.”

  The tears came against my will no matter how I tried to contain them. “I will not be beholden to you, August McKenney,” I sputtered, wiping at my face. “I am done letting men control my life.”

  “I’m not trying to control your life,” he protested.

  “I have to learn to do things myself. Without your interference, without Duncan telling me what’s good for me, without anyone else.” I slapped my chest. “Me.”

  “You’re not happy to hear about the job opportunity?”

  I was ecstatic about it. Delighted to the point where a dead faint wasn’t off the table. Though I’d yet to decide whether to call Paul Cluxton or not. Did I follow through on learning to do things myself, or was I stupid to even think about passing up the opportunity?

  I pointed at the door once more. “August, please. Leave.”

  He stared at me, his eyes searching my face. “Okay,” he finally conceded. He laid the paper gently on the floor, then crammed his hands deep into his pockets. “But I’m not done with you, Isabel. I’ll be back.”

  I watched him walk away. That’s what I’m afraid of.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  I cried myself to sleep. I never saw the sense in it before, not when other people tried to explain the reasoning behind the act. It always seemed a senseless waste of time.

  No matter what I tried, or what I thought, the tears continued. My numbness, the blessed relief of the last few days, expired without my knowledge and somewhere along the way I fell into terrible sadness.

  It was impossible to think of anything beyond August and his job opportunity. My mind circled around to those two entities over and over until they meshed and I had a difficult time finding myself in the melee.

  The only thing I’d ever wanted for myself, truly, was being offered to me on a silver platter. Tailor-made for me. There was one catch: August himself. Did it make me a terrible person to accept the job but refuse to speak to the man responsible? Maybe. Yes.

  Then again, I was done waiting. Another conclusion I’d reached in those dark hours when the moon rode high in the sky and my thoughts were my sole company. Life passed me by while I sat and sulked about the issues I could not change. Would I wait for this one as well, to say to anybody who’d listen that I almost made something of myself once?

  Was pride really worth the price of admission?

  Duncan never sought me out, which surprised the hell out of me. I thought for sure he would come to expostulate, to explain his actions and beg me for forgiveness. At the very least I expected he’d be furious with me about taking his clothes. I wouldn’t say no to a little boot-licking in atonement. From either of them.

  So I gave myself enough time to thoroughly consider my course of action before heading back to the hotel where he still slept.

  The trek to the old room seemed to take hours, and each forward step a mile. Instead of barging ahead in a military assault, I paused at the door. And knocked.

  After a few moments of silence, I heard a voice from inside and only then slid the key home.

  I found him sitting on the edge of the bed, briefcase at his side and tie flung across an unmade bedspread. A quick glance around the room confirmed Duncan as the only occupant. There was little relief in that. Closing the door behind me, I sequestered the two of us in the hush of late afternoon, listening to the hum of the air conditioner.

  He looked good, I decided. Perhaps not as well rested, a little frayed at the edges, but decent. Part of me wanted him to feel as anguished as I did and have it show. Then I remembered. Duncan had never possessed the same flaws as me.

  “I knew you would come sooner or later.” He spoke softly and I strained to hear each syllable. “There’s so much we haven’t talked about.”

  “I expected you to seek me out, and when you didn’t, I waited. But I couldn’t wait anymore.” I leaned against the door with arms crossed.

  “Iz,” he began, turning to pierce me with his eyes. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

  I nodded and he continued to speak. “It happened quickly, out of control before I
even knew I’d lost it. I’ve never done anything like this before, never hurt anyone before—”

  “Before me,” I finished for him. “I know. You aren’t built for deceit.”

  “So why the fuck did I do it?” He stood, his large frame unfolding until the tips of his fingers grazed the ceiling. “I’ve been trying to figure it out in my head and, when all is said and done, I can’t defend myself. What happened is on my shoulders.”

  I’d pondered the question myself on my numerous restless nights and came to a single, possible conclusion. “Duncan,” I began. “I didn’t come here to rehash. And I didn’t come to force an apology out of you.”

  “Why did you come? I have to say, Iz,” he ran his closed fist along his temples, “I’ve been dreading this confrontation. I know how you can get.”

  Then boy, was he in for a surprise. “You probably expect an argument, but I’ll make this simple for you.” I dug into my pocket to retrieve the circlet of gold. “Here.”

  Duncan eyed me warily before taking two steps forward to grasp the ring I held. “You’re giving me back the engagement ring?”

  I nodded and linked my hands behind me. “Yes. I know you spent a good bit of money on it. This should help pay off what you put into the house and you can make a clean exit there.”

  “What do you mean, put into the house?” His brow furrowed.

  “Look, I’m trying to be noble here, and it doesn’t come easily.” I shuffled over to the chair and sat, deliberately ignoring the bed. “I spent more than my fair share of moments deciding how best to overpower you so I could punch you to death.”

  “I’m guessing you determined that violence wasn’t the answer?” Duncan shifted his weight from foot to foot.

  “I canceled the caterer,” I said by way of an answer. “The cake we had already paid for, so I ate it.”

  “All of it?”

  “Every single bite. I also returned the wedding dress and made all the preparations to stop the proceedings. Except for one thing.”