Fight, Jamiee - Ellie R. Hunter Page 0,22
can’t bear sitting here doing nothing. He was going to meet Damon at the house, and that’s where I intend to go.
Grabbing my purse, I snatch my phone off the bed and head for the door. Swinging it open, I stop short when I find Freddie sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, his head hung low.
How long has he been out here? I drop to my knees and tip his chin up so I can look into his eyes.
“Why didn’t you knock?”
“Because I couldn’t bring myself to break your heart.”
What? I don’t understand. What the hell happened with my brother?
“What did Damon say?”
His eyes finally meet mine, and I don’t like what he’s not saying out loud. His mouth opens and then closes, opens and closes, the motion repeating numerous times before he finally says, “Nothing.”
He hasn’t seen him yet? My head spins with confusion.
“Where have you been all day, then?”
“I’ve been thinking. As I was driving to the house, shit got real clear. I knew what I had to do before I got there.”
“What do you need to do?” I question nervously.
“I have to stop this between us.”
Shock creeps over me like spiders spinning their webs. I fall back on my butt, losing the strength in my legs to keep myself up.
“You don’t mean that.”
I barely recognise the sound of my own voice. The last few months have been the happiest in my life.
The gold swirl pattern on the carpet becomes his main focus. Where I can’t look away from him, he can’t bring himself to look in my direction.
Anger builds, replacing the confusion. “Tell me why we can’t be together.”
“I thought I wanted to settle down, but when it came down to it, it’s not. I’m a fucking rock star, Jamiee. Having the world at my fingertips, I’m in no position to give myself to one woman. My life is full of temptations throwing themselves at me every single day.”
“So what you’re saying is, that even if we were together, you’d still want to fuck around?”
“I don’t ever want to hurt you—”
“You told me you loved me just last night.”
How can you go from declaring your love for someone to breaking their heart within twelve hours?
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he repeats, like that’s all I need to hear to be okay and move on.
“So you said, but you’re hurting me right now.”
The Freddie I know would come back at me, not wanting to hurt me this way. But this man sitting across from me only drags his ass up to his feet and stares down at me like we haven’t known each other all our lives.
“We fucked, and it was real good, but that’s all it’ll ever be.”
His voice is strong now—cold, even. He doesn’t say anything more. He doesn’t bend down to wipe my cheeks as the tears begin to fall. Instead, he walks down the hall and presses the button for the elevator. I stare at the back of his head, silently pleading for him to turn around and run back to me. The doors slide open. Time slows as he steps inside and presses one of the buttons, all while keeping his back to me as the doors close. I can’t move, my body frozen. I woke up this morning with possibilities, and a future with the guy I’m in love with, yet I’m the one left crying on the hotel floor. Alone.
Sometime later, I drag myself up to my feet, lock myself in my room, and fall onto the bed, letting my tears saturate the pillow. Hours pass by, and as the early morning sun pours through the window, I still can’t work out how it went so wrong.
My phone beeps from under my pillow. Pulling it out, I ignore the notifications from Facebook, concentrating on a notification from Twitter from a well-known blogger. He’s a huge fan of Four Fallen Souls, and I’ve followed him since I learned he posted the band’s every move. An image of Freddie leaving a club with an unknown brunette, his arm slung around her, his lips close to her ear, covers the screen. Her make-up is smeared, but her smile is cocky and arrogant. Reading the caption, my heart breaks all over again: Freddie Tucker, on the lookout for love?
The only person Freddie Tucker loves is himself. Why did I think he would be different with me? I’m not blind, nor have I been all these years when he’s been fucking