Fragile Lives: A small-town, age-gap, brother’s best friend romance (Little Hope series Book 4)
Fragile Lives: Chapter 25

Three hours ago

My tears have dried out by now. There weren’t many to begin with because I didn’t let myself cry. We ended our arrangement, and I can’t hold him responsible for wanting a life for himself. If I caught feelings, that’s my problem, not his. He’s not responsible for me or my imagination.

Does it hurt? Hell yes. Hurts so much I can’t breathe. It’s hard to focus on the road as my mind keeps replaying the picture I saw. My chest feels tight, and I can’t take a full lungful of air. My shaking hands grip the wheel with all my might—which is not a lot.

Would I change hand-delivering the gazette to him, knowing he’d moved on? Absolutely not. I wanted him to get it from me. This article is a big invasion of his privacy—dirty laundry about to be aired for the world to see, but it was needed. I chose the lesser of two evils because he refused to talk about it. I’m still shocked Alex agreed to give the interview, but I’m very grateful for it.

I’m thinking of pulling over somewhere just so the level of adrenaline in my body subsides and I can stop shaking. Once I pull into a gas station and park, I go to check my phone. But it’s dead. Dang it! I forgot to charge it, and it died.

What if he called?

What would I do? I don’t know how I would react and what I would say. If there is even anything that needs to be said. Maybe he wanted to talk about the article? Oh crap, he needed me in such a difficult moment, and I wasn’t available.

I plug the phone in and will it to start turning on faster. I have a new voicemail. From him. I’m about to click it when my phone starts ringing. Unknown number. I so don’t need a call right now about how to lower my monthly electric bill or hear a creepy person’s breathing in my ear like a couple calls from the last week, so I send it straight to voicemail, but the same number starts ringing again. Could it be something important? The area code is from Massachusetts. I hit accept and put it on speaker.

“Oh gosh, thank fuck you picked up!” A feminine, sultry voice fills the car.

“Who is this?”

“It’s Cherry.”

Cherry? Oh, Cherry! Stephan’s friend.

“Yes?” I ask cautiously.

“Look, I’ll get straight to the point. You saw me on his table. I have a bad habit of sitting on every table I come across. Yeah, that’s me.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m not sure if you actually know who I am, but I’m his friend and almost sis—”

“I know who you are.” And with that knowledge, my heart begins beating steadier, and my hands shake less.

Her sigh is loud even in my car. “Cool. Saves me the trouble. Are you far from Boston?”

“Yes.”

“You need to come back.”

“Why?”

“I have a bad feeling.” She swallows loudly. “Like a really bad feeling. When Archie left right behind you, he wasn’t…himself.”

“What do you mean?” I ask carefully, not knowing how much she knows and how much I can discuss.

“Dude, he was in a real bad state of depression even before you showed up, but when he thought that you thought he’s cheating on you…” she lets her words trail off, “You know what I mean?” She pauses again.

“I do.” Unfortunately. And I just added more crap to his already full pile with my article.

“I thought so. I went to his place, but he didn’t open up. No surprise there. Even though I saw the light in his window. I’ve been asking for a key to his place for years, but knew he was never gonna give me one—for situations like this. He probably got super drunk and passed out, but I really want you to check on him.”

“Why?” I’m already starting the car to drive back, but I still want to hear her thoughts. She’s someone close to Stephan who is still somewhat of an enigma to me.

“Because you’re the only one who can get him out of this, and if you think otherwise, you’re probably not as smart as he says you are.”

So, he talked about me.

“Okay, I’m driving back now.”

“Cool.” She lets out a sigh of relief. “Please let me know when you talk to him.”

“Will do. Thank you, Cherry.”

When I hang up, I’m dreading his voicemail. And when his voice fills the car, I understand that Cherry was right to call me.

“Hey…” A pause. “It wasn’t what you think, you know.” A shuddering air intake. “I would never do that. Even though we agreed to go our separate ways after the cabin,” a sad chuckle, “I never could, you know. You’re all I can think about.” He laughs sloppily. “You know, I always laughed at guys at the base when they said they fell in love at first sight and got married a month later. But I get it now.” A sniffle. “I get it. It’s crazy how much you consumed me after such a short time. You’re deep here,” a sound of a hand hitting something. His chest? That was loud. “So deep I can’t get rid of you. But I must. Because it’s so fuckin’ toxic. I’m dependent on you, and you don’t need this fuckin’ burden. I’ll only drag you down. You’re so young and so pure.” A deep sigh. “Thank you for what you did. The work you’ve done…” he pauses, “is tru…tram…huge.” He laughs. “Sorry, I’m drunk. Can’t speak. You’ve given me the biggest gift. I’m too deep though, for it to change me, but I am grateful to you. And I love you, Leila. I want you to know that.” A sad laugh. “Fuck, I’m mumbling. Such a pitiful sack of shit. Anyway, I’m happy I met you.”

By the time the line goes dead, my cheeks are wet and my eyes blurry. My heart stops, my palms begin sweating, and I hit the accelerator, willing the snow to disappear so I can drive faster. In fact, I’ve never driven this fast before. I’m a grandma behind the wheel, but instinct tells me to rush, because every minute counts.

That voicemail…That sounded like a goodbye.

I push the pedal deeper and pray I’m not late.

I reach his house faster than I could have dreamt of. Without even turning it off, I rush to the door and begin knocking. Nothing. I ring the bell. Nothing again. Alternating between ringing and knocking and yelling for him to open the damn door, I kick it for good measure and run back to my car. A good reporter knows how to pick locks (don’t tell anyone). I grab the tools from my bag (yes, I have them, and again, don’t tell anyone), and run back, slipping on the snow and landing on my ass. I’ll have a few bruises, but the tiny tool bag is firmly in my grip.

I kneel by the door and pray that his locks have the same key—that will make my life easier. It takes me a couple minutes, but I hear the orgasm-inducing sound of an opening lock. I carefully try the doorknob, and it moves! Just one lock!

I open the door, and it bangs against the wall from the force. I rush inside.

Only to stop in my tracks.

He sits on the floor, leaning on the couch. An empty bottle on the floor. A gun in his hand.

His head slowly turns toward the sound, and he starts blinking without a clear understanding of what’s happening.

I should proceed slowly—that’s what every book would tell you—but I can’t. I succumb to my emotions, and my feet carry me toward him.

Once I’m by his side, he lifts his head and blinks again.

“Are you real?” he croaks.

“I am,” I whisper and kneel by him.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is coarse like he’s been yelling at a stadium for hours.

“I got your voicemail.”

“Oh.” His cheeks pinken.

“Yeah, and I came to tell you that I love you too.” I carefully put my hand on top of his. The one he’s holding the gun with.

“You still do?”

“I always will.” I carefully move my fingers on his grip. “May I have this?”

He looks down at our hands, as if only now recognizing that he’s been holding a gun all along. He lets go, and my fingers wrap around it. I quickly stand up and move it to the cabinet in the kitchen. Then I rush back to kneel by his side.

His eyes are trained on his lap, his hands fisted on the floor by his sides.

“Stephan,” I call his name quietly, but he refuses to look at me. Instead, his fists squeeze tighter, his knuckles turning white. “Stephan,” I repeat in the same soothing voice.

No reaction.

So I put my finger under his chin and turn his face toward mine. When he faces me, my breath hitches. I can see the turmoil on it. A raw, unretouched painting of agony. His pain is here, I can touch it with my fingertips.

My heart bleeds for this man. And for everyone else out there. I can feel the pain he’s going through, and I can share it with him. But how many out there don’t have anyone in their corner. I understand him now. I truly do.

The edges of his face are sharper, his lips tighter.

“Stephan.” The name comes as a plea, and his whole, large body shudders.

“Go home, Leila.” He hides his face in his hands. “Please, go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I can’t use you as a fuckin’ crutch.” He’s still hiding his face, so his words come out muffled.

“I’m happy to be your crutch as long as you need me to be.” I cover his hands with mine and gently pull them away from his face. “Look at me.”

He finally lifts his eyes to meet mine. They’re raw and unhinged, with no barrier or pretty mask to hide behind. He is what he is—a broken, wonderful man who became a part of me.

“I can’t face you, Lei.” His voice is tired.

“Why?” I whisper, grabbing his hands in mine and not letting him pull them away.

“Look at me.” He takes a shuddering breath. “I’m a fuckin’ mess. You don’t need that in your life.”

“It just so happens that a mess is exactly what I’m lacking.” I smile.

“No.” He shakes his head. “Not like this. Look at me. Drunk out of his mind, on the fuckin’ floor with a gun in his hands. I won’t even be able to look you in the eyes ever again.”

I drop his hands and grab his face instead. I move mine closer to his.

“Look at me now then, so we don’t have this problem after.”

He tries to pull away, but I squeeze his face tighter, holding him in place.

“Look at me, Stephan!” I raise my voice. “Look in my eyes because I’m not ashamed of what I see. I’m proud of you for stopping. You had a moment to choose, and you chose right. You chose life. And you chose me.”

He starts pulling away, but I’m on a war path, so I speak even louder, almost yelling.

“Look at me! Do you think I can live without you? You selfish prick!” His eyes widen, not expecting that. “How would you feel if you found me with a gun at my head?”

His pupils dilate, and his nostrils flare.

“Would you feel ashamed if you found me like that and stopped me?” I yell in his face.

“No!” he yells back.

“So, why do you think it changes the way I look at you?” I ask quieter. “I’m just happy you’re here.” A tear slips down my cheek. Is it an angry one or a sad one? I don’t know.

“Don’t cry,” he croaks.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” I bark back. He lost that right when he decided to leave me alone.

“Okay.” His chuckle sounds wet. “I won’t.” He wipes the tear away with his finger.

“No, you won’t.”

“I won’t,” he parrots with a smile.

“Stop repeating everything I say!”

“Alright,” he chuckles once more and brings his hands to the sides of my face. “I’ve missed you, Lei.”

My heart beats like crazy after all the adrenaline of today. I drop my hands from his face and snuggle myself into him. “I’ve missed you too.”

We sit in silence, clinging to each other. His heart is palpitating under my cheek, and my own matches his tempo. I like feeling him like this: raw and real. I just wish his ‘real’ would change a bit. I could use some less life-changing events in my life.

His strong arms are wrapped around me, and even though he smells like a distillery, I still dig my nose into his neck, enjoying the scent of home I’ve missed so much. Those short days in the cabin changed me and the way I see the world. I’d always thought I’d end up alone because I didn’t know I was capable of this feeling of real, crazy love. The kind where you can’t breathe without the other person, and I wasn’t ready to settle for anything else. My daddy didn’t give me much assurance with his cheating antics, so yes, I lost some faith eventually.

When Stephan left Little Hope, it didn’t feel like home anymore. And I used to love our small town and adorable gossip-folk. Not anymore though. Everything annoyed me, and everyone was aggravating. Little things that brought me pleasure before stopped working. I couldn’t be around my family I absolutely adore, or even around my whole house because every time I lift my eyes, sitting on the couch, I saw us having sex or his back as he was leaving right after I told him I loved him. He invaded my home, making it feel unwelcoming. And that’s when I understood that my cozy house stopped being my home. Instead, home was passed onto a man with a gorgeous body covered in beautiful art with the most handsome face in the world, and a huge heart he doesn’t even know he has. Such a package—I couldn’t resist.

How do I tell him that I’m ready to marry him and have his babies right now? Is two months too soon? Nah, it’s alright, right?

“What do we do next?” he asks, looking for the real answer in my eyes.

Shit, did I say anything of my mental mumbling out loud? Well, that would be truly embarrassing.

“What do you mean?” I lift my head to look at him.

“You agreed to be my adorable crutch, and I’m not letting you go now.”

“Right,” I snort so hard, and he laughs.

“Told you—adorable.”

“Yeah, you told me that before and changed your mind.” I roll my eyes.

“Leila.” His voice turns serious, and he pushes away a little so he can see my face. “You are mine. You were mine then too. It’s just now I don’t have to pretend or hide anymore.”

“How do I know you won’t change your mind?” Insecurity I’ve never felt before slowly creeps on me.

“You don’t, but you can trust me.” His eyes dart between mine. “I know I’ve said shit before, but can you promise that you will try at least?”

I watch him for a minute before nodding. “Yes. But you need to promise me something too.”

“Anything,” he says without hesitation.

I start to worry, not knowing how to form the right sentence. “If you ever feel like you did today, can you promise to talk to me right away? No matter where I am or what I’m doing, you have to replace me. Can you?”

His lips thin before he gives me a quick nod. “The deal is active only while you’re alive.”

“I’m younger than you.” I roll my eyes. “I’ll try to make it to my nineties.”

“Works for me,” he says with a smile and pulls me onto his chest.

“I love you, Stephan. You know that, right?”

“Why do I feel like there is a ‘but’ coming?”

“That’s because you’re right.” The muscles under my cheek turn to granite. “But you smell like shit, dude. You need a shower.”

His chuckle is one of relief. “Care to join?”