Unthinkable: (Unstoppable - Book 2) (The Unstoppable Series)

by Danielle Hill

  “You set it up so he’d walk in.”

  It wasn’t posed as a question, but I nodded anyway.

  “Oh, Liss.” She reached across and wrapped her arms around my neck. “I wish… I wish you’d told me all of this.”

  When she eased back, I shook my head. “You had enough going on.”

  More tears fell as she shook her head vehemently, her hands closing around my arms. “I don’t fucking care. I can’t believe you went through all of this alone. That you felt like you couldn’t talk to me. You’ve always been there for me, always. I want to do the same for you. Whatever happens, I’m here for you. I don’t care what’s going on in my life.”

  “I know.” I smiled thinly. “I know.” And I did. I just hadn’t been able to open up. Hadn’t been able to let myself need her. Or anyone else. I needed them all now. When I couldn’t have them.

  Her eyes held fast to mine in the dim light. “I need to say something, and I need you to listen, Liss.”

  I blinked.

  “I can’t begin to comprehend how you’re feeling. I understand why you felt like you had to do that, I get it, babe, I do.” Her eyes lowered, and I drew in a breath when they came back up. “I think you should talk to him.”

  My head shook so hard pain erupted. “No, Riley.”

  She pressed her lips together, head tilting to the side. “Do you love him?”

  My breath faltered, and I averted my eyes. She didn’t need me to say it.

  “He loves you.”

  Not anymore.

  Something splintered inside of me, and I gasped with the force of it.

  Riley’s grip intensified. “Give him a chance to make his own choice, Liss. This isn’t a decision you can make for him. Love doesn’t work like that, babe.”

  Wrenching my arms from her grip, I rubbed them over my forehead then pressed them to my eyes. I couldn’t fucking let him choose, because… because that would be fucking selfish. And that was the honest fucking truth. But it wasn’t the only reason, and I knew it.

  I could never let him choose… in case he didn’t choose me.

  And now, there were so many legitimate reasons. I’d know why he couldn’t. But it would still be rejection, and that was everything I’d always tried to avoid.

  Deep down, I think I’d always known the reason I hated Leon.

  He was so much like my father in so many ways. The looks, the charm, the attitude, the girls. And it was easier to hate someone than it was to love them and watch them leave you behind.

  But Leon was nothing like my father. Nothing.

  He was nothing like the boy I’d always believed him to be. And I’d never regret loving him. Not for one second.

  I only wished I could have had more of them.

  “You can’t tell him this, Riley. Promise me.”

  Her eyes dimmed, a tiny spark of hope flickering out, but she dipped her head gently and gripped my hand as she agreed to my request.

  ***

  I dragged my body through the dark house after Ri dropped me home, not bothering to turn on any lights.

  Ascending the stairs with light steps, I pulled off my boots, then paused outside of my sister’s bedroom door. I traced my fingers down the wood, inhaling deeply before nudging it open.

  Bella lay on her back, her blonde hair fanned out around her head, her small face illuminated by the soft glow of the nightlight she still used but would deny with her last breath if anyone dared mention it.

  My throat constricted as I leaned my weight against the frame, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest as she slept.

  Would she have a future? Or would she only get half a life? Would she grow old, would she have kids? If she did, would she live to see her kids grow?

  The questions kept coming, crowding my mind, and I drew in a staggered breath, fighting to stay calm with my eyes tight shut.

  After I’d regained some composure, I plodded silently to the bed and dropped to my knees with the heavy weight of my heart in my chest. Leaning forward, I placed a gentle kiss to Bella’s brow then reached out and smoothed her bangs back off her forehead, taking in the delicate line of her nose and the pink blush to her rounded cheeks. I allowed my eyes to linger a few seconds longer, taking her in, committing every facet to memory, as if I could sear it so far into my brain that nothing could ever touch it. Nothing could take it away.

  But I could already imagine it escaping, the image falling through holes in a sieve, memories fading into nothing as if they were never there.

  As if they never happened.

  I stood quickly and crossed to the door, pulling it closed behind me.

  I breathed in as my eyes fell on the door left slightly ajar at the end of the dimly lit hall. I moved toward it—each step heavier than the last—and my fingers trembled as I gripped the knob and edged it open wider. Soft moonlight filtered through the uncovered window, casting a muted glow across the bed and over my mother’s prone form laying atop it. Pain bloomed in my chest like a new wound, fresh blood pooling beneath the surface.

  Sleeping like this, she looked like any other mom.

  But she wasn’t. She wasn’t like them at all. And I couldn’t keep fooling myself into thinking she was.

  My mom’s mind was slowly wasting away to nothing. As I stood here, watching her, scissored hands were busy slicing away memories like branches on a tree. Stealing fragments of her life, piece by piece, until there would be nothing left.

  Not Bella. Not me. I clenched my teeth against the emotion surging up my throat, a toxic mix of bitterness and despair.

  Why fucking us?

  Everyone must have had reason to ask that at some point in their life. And when it came down to it, the answer was why fucking not?

  Who should this happen to? Who should watch the people they love disappear before their eyes? Who should discover the beauty of love only to realize they could never truly experience it?

  Moving closer, I carefully tugged the covers back and slid under. I lay on my side, facing my mom, and tucked my hand under my head as I just watched her breathe. The gentle inhale and exhale that told me she was still here, still with me.

  When everything turned watery, I slammed my eyelids down and cursed under my breath. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d allowed tears to escape.

  Because once upon a time, I’d seen my mom cry, seen her sob and beg and plead, and it had achieved nothing. Except to show my father her weakness. Crying wouldn’t help anyone, it wouldn’t change anything, and I’d trained myself to push that emotion down.

  But the tears were so close to the surface now, and so many, so insistent.

  Breathing in, I peeled my eyes open, and startled at the sight of a pair of vacant blue ones so similar to my own staring back at me.

  For a second, I froze, my heart crashing into my ribs. My lungs seized, holding the air inside of them captive. I didn’t speak; didn’t move, as my heartbeat throbbed in my head.

  I waited. And waited, panic rising with every passing second.

  And then my mom’s face softened, the faintest of smiles pulling at the corners of her lips, a warm glint appearing in her pale blue eyes. “Hi, honey.”

  And that was all it took for the dam to break.

  A choked sob of relief tore from me, a gasped breath breaking free from my chest as my eyelids slammed shut and released a torrent of tears that soaked the cotton pillowcase beneath my cheek.

  “Hey,” my mom crooned, her palm closing around my face.

  But I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

  The pain of losing Leon, the agony of hurting him. The prospect of facing a future with Alzheimer’s, of knowing how much I’d have to give up if that was the case. The terror eating away at my soul, the knowledge that someday soon my mom wouldn’t remember me. It would happen.

  And not like this—drawn out seconds of abject fear, quickly followed by a reprieve. Eventually, the reprieve wouldn’t come. And I’d be no one to her. It felt like every time
I’d looked at her since I found out, I’d held my breath and waited for her to recognize me, knowing that one day she wouldn’t. Knowing that was the reality I wanted to avoid.

  I lived in a constant state of fear of it.

  “Don’t cry, my darling,” she whispered, voice tight with emotion. “I’m sorry, Alissa, honey. I’m so sorry.” Her voice cracked, and sobs wracked me.

  I curled into her, my ribs aching as tremors crushed my body. “I’m sorry, Mom.” I reached out and gripped her arm, my head buried in the pillow, trying to hide the evidence of my breakdown and muffle the sound of my cries. She didn’t need to see this. “I’m sorry I left. And I’m sorry I made you feel like it was your fault. I don’t blame you. I don’t, and I never will. Please don’t ever think that.”

  These would be the last memories she’d make. I wanted them to be good ones, even if she was going to forget them. Even if it killed me to be here and watch it, I wanted to be there for every second she had. I wanted her every living moment from now on to be a good one.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again, squeezing my lids tight.

  “Don’t apologize, Lissa.” She stroked a hand over my hair as she wept. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

  “I don’t want you to leave me, Mom.”

  “Oh, honey.” Her tears slid over my temples as she wrapped her arms around me and pressed a kiss to my head. “I don’t want to leave you either. And I’m so sorry that this has happened to us.” Her voice clogged, her arms growing tighter around me. “But I’m also so grateful, Liss.”

  I eased back in her hold, meeting her eyes as I whispered, “How can you say that? How can you be grateful when your life is being ripped away from you?”

  Her lips curled up a little on one side as she brushed the hair back from my face. “No one can take it away, honey. Every moment I’ve lived? They happened. Whether I’ll remember them or not, they happened. They meant something to me, to the people around me. I experienced them, I lived them. And the best memories I ever made are the kind that live and breathe.” She smiled. “You and your sister, honey. I’ll never regret anything about my life because I have you to show for it.”

  I glanced down, wondering where she drew such incredible strength from. “How do you cope, Mom? Knowing every day, you lose a little more of yourself? Knowing that your tomorrows are numbered? How do you cope with that? If I have it, how do I live with that?” My words were desperate, tumbling from my lips before I could prevent them. If she was trying to avoid facing her reality, I shouldn’t be shoving it in her face, but I needed her guidance. I needed her strength. And she understood.

  Eyes filled with clarity and resolve locked on mine. “We live for now, Liss, honey. Don’t hold back. Live like you’ll remember every single moment and make each and every one of them count. People forget every day. They take so much for granted. We’re lucky, Liss. We get to cherish every minute because we know how precious they are.” Her eyes lifted over my head when the door creaked behind us. I turned to see my aunt walking through the door, her head angled to the side.

  “You know, Bree’s always telling me to see the positive, and I think that’s it. My baby sister is almost ten years younger than me, but she’s always been wiser.”

  A fond smile spread across Bree’s face as she came closer to the bed, lowering herself down and placing her hand on my calf over the sheet. I drew in a breath as I turned back to my mom, almost afraid to ask.

  “If you knew… before…” I swallowed. “Would you still do it all the same?”

  Her features smoothed out, the hint of a smile slowly fading as she tucked a section of hair behind my ear. “I don’t know for sure, honey.” She shook her head, eyes filling, and my heart sank. “I wish that wasn’t something you had to consider.”

  “People lose loved ones every day, Liss,” Bree said quietly. “Suddenly, tragically, without warning. If they knew it was going to happen, would they have walked away at the start? I know I wouldn’t. Every day is a day I could lose Jim, and vice versa. It goes for everyone because life is so fragile. We just don’t think about it. But if I lost him tomorrow, I wouldn’t give back one day I did get to have with him. Not one. And he feels the same way.”

  My chest caved, crushing the organs beneath it, and I wrapped my arms around my body. Because I hadn’t given Leon a choice. If our roles had been reversed, would I have wanted him to give me the choice? Would I have picked him, anyway?

  It was my answer that had me curled up in a ball of pain in my mom’s and aunt’s arms.

  “You know what’s worse than forgetting everything, Liss?” my mom asked quietly, and I shook my head, because what could be worse than that?

  “Having nothing to forget.”

  The quiet words, so simple yet so profound, slammed into me.

  And all I could see was the look of hurt on Leon’s face.

  I’d hurt him. Badly. So badly he’d probably never forgive me.

  He might forget. He’d probably forget. Over time. Next week, in a few months, or even a few years.

  But what if he didn’t? What if he never forgot? What if he carried what I’d done with him in some small way for the rest of his life?

  My heart twisted, because if every single memory was precious… I couldn’t bear the thought of that being the last one Leon had of me.

  I just couldn’t fucking do it.

  THIRTY-TWO

  LEON

  My head dropped back, hanging off the edge of the couch as my eyes slid closed and Ashley's firm ass ground down on my dick over my sweatpants.

  My hands on her hips, her lips on my neck, the warmth of her pussy radiating through the sheer fabric of her panties… and I couldn't fucking feel any of it.

  Eyes open, closed. Awake. Asleep. All I fucking saw was Lissa riding some other guy's dick. I hadn't fucking breathed properly in two days. That image had imprinted itself on my brain, and the world around me had turned fucking red. Red with the rage I was struggling to control. Red with the pain I was fighting to contain.

  Which was why a near-empty bottle of cheap whiskey lay on its side by my feet as I sat back on Danny's couch.

  Why a girl I couldn't give a fuck about was rolling her hips over my groin, her skirt pulled up over her ass.

  Why I was trying to get my fucking dick to work.

  I wanted to pull my sweats down and slam it so far up Ash's pussy, I'd fuck out every memory of Alissa Bedford.

  I wanted to fuck anyone—everyone—until I forgot I'd ever been inside her.

  But she was so far fucking inside me, I couldn't see past her.

  This was fucking pointless.

  My lids squeezed, hands doing the same around Ashley's slim hips, and then I pushed her up and lifted her weight off of my lap. I paused with her hovering inches above me as a strange hush descended and the energy in the room seemed to shift.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Ash scathed, and I wrenched my eyes open, following the direction of her glare.

  My heart fucking somersaulted—soaring high, then crashing back to the ground—as I took in the sight of my beautiful fucking snow queen standing before me in Danny’s living room.

  A simple white shirt, black leggings, and a pair of flats, her gorgeous face bare of make-up, white-blonde hair straight and tucked behind her ears. She was the most beautiful fucking thing I’d ever seen. And I forgot to hate her for a second.

  Every possessive instinct I possessed roared to life. The urge to shove Ashley away and storm over to Lissa—to wrap my hands around her body and pull her close, to slam my lips down on hers and fucking devour her, to demand to know why she’d fucking ruined me—was almost uncontrollable. I was shaking with the effort of holding myself in place.

  I wanted her with an intensity I couldn’t even comprehend, even as the image of her on top of Bateman superimposed itself over the one of her standing here in front of me.

  But the knowledge of it sent a concentrated wave of disgust hur
tling through me.

  My eyes hardened. I wouldn't fucking give her the satisfaction of knowing just how thoroughly she'd screwed me. How completely she’d wrecked me. She’d took a match and burnt me to the fucking ground.

  Looking at her now, I played back every minute we'd spent together like a film reel, and it seemed almost fucking impossible that every touch, every word, and every look she'd given me could have been a lie, that I could have been so fucking wrong, but I couldn’t deny the facts. I almost wished I hadn’t fucking seen it with my own eyes. Then I could pretend. And like an idiot, I would, because I was so far fucking gone for her.

  But I had seen it. I’d seen it because she’d sent me the goddamn text making sure I'd find her fucking another guy. And the only logical reason for her to do that was because she wanted to fucking destroy me.

  Well, mission accomplished. My heart was a mangled fucking mess of tissue and blood, barely beating in my chest. So, well-fucking-played, Snow Queen.

  Instead of pushing Ashley away, I yanked her down over me, my eyes slitting as Lissa's gaze fell to the movement… to the sight of Ashley’s barely covered ass sinking down on my lap.

  Lissa’s deathly pale face blanched further, the blood draining as she swallowed tightly, her fingers closing over each other in front of her waist.

  I reached down and wrapped my fist around the whiskey bottle, tipping it toward Lissa in a silent salute before bringing it to my lips. My eyes never left her face, watching her reaction, as I took a drink then lifted my hips in time to Ashley's movements.

  Lissa’s gaze swept up to meet mine, and our eyes locked.

  The bottle fell away from my mouth as tears pooled behind her lids, sparkling droplets of visible pain filming her sad blue eyes, and then I froze completely when they spilled over her lower lids and flowed down her cheeks.

  She didn't lift a hand to stop them. Didn't take her eyes from mine as her breath hitched and her lips parted.

  My hands clamped down on Ashley's sides, holding her still.

  “What the fuck?” Ashley said, but I tuned out her outraged cry in favor of the whisper that barely carried across the room.