Fight, Jamiee - Ellie R. Hunter Page 0,66

number?” Damon asks him.

I can’t stand his coldness any longer, so I slip out the back door and sit at the patio table. It’s warm out, but it does nothing to warm me.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I rub my upper arms, and it still doesn’t help settle the chills. I have to keep telling myself I did the right thing. That it’s not always the easiest option, but it’s the right one.

I knew he’d be angry, that he’d make threats against Deacon. It’s natural. What I didn’t expect was that I’d repulse him, but maybe I should have. It’s so fucking obvious now.

“He’s calming down. He and Damon are on the phone with Slate. The lawyer’s on his way to speak with you.”

Alice sits beside me and squeezes my knee. I try to smile, but I fail to muster anything resembling one.

“Do you ever feel like you’re constantly fighting against everyone and everything?” I ask her.

“I used to. Before I met your brother, I was constantly fighting for Joel to have a normal life without our parents. I fought to make a home for him, then I fought to save him. Before your brother whisked me away from London, I felt like I had to fight everything, even myself, every single day.”

I swipe my eyes and wipe away the fresh tears. “I’m tired of always having to fight for what I want. Last night was perfect. I had everything I ever wanted, and this morning…It’s all slipping away.”

She hugs me, and I cling to her as I sob in her arms. She strokes my hair, doing all the things that should make me feel better, but nothing’s going to help.

“You’re going to go inside. You’re going to deal with the lawyer and put Deacon behind you. So fucking far behind you, you won’t remember him at all. And you’re going to fight and take what’s yours. Freddie is yours, Jamiee, and you’re going to have your happily ever after. I promise you, this isn’t the end.”

I pull away from her and wipe my eyes, yet again. She’s right. I’m not losing Freddie over this. I’m going to fix my mistakes and fight for the man I love.

Freddie still hasn’t spoken to me, but he hasn’t left the sitting room since the lawyer arrived with a colleague of his and Slate’s. Two police officers have been here and gone, taking my statement and my phone with them as evidence. Alice was the one who sat beside me and held my hand.

Damon hovered close by, while Freddie lingered near the fireplace, always careful to look away before our eyes could meet.

Collecting sheets of paper from the coffee table, the lawyer shuffles them together and puts them away in his briefcase.

“You’ll hear from me soon. I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but stay away from Mr. Lockheart.”

“I assure you, that won’t be a problem.”

Freddie grunts, and it’s the first time I’ve heard him make a noise in hours. At least it’s something, I suppose.

The lawyer leaves with his colleague, and Slate and Damon head into the kitchen.

“I’ll leave so you two can talk,” Alice says, eyeing Freddie.

The tension grows thicker once we’re alone, making it hard to breathe. “Are you going to ignore me all day?”

He keeps his back to me, and the silence resurfaces. I’ve had enough. Jumping to my feet, I cross the room, grab a fistful of his shirt, and yank him around to face me.

“This is happening to me, and yet you stand here acting like I’m doing it to myself.” My voice grows louder, and it feels good to let go. “I’ve needed you more than ever today, and once again, you’ve let me down. I’ve been making myself sick worrying about you when I should’ve been focusing on myself. Fuck you for asking me to marry you when at the first sign of trouble, you act like you’re ready to give up.”

I’m seething, and I can’t stop. “I’m sorry I ever went with him. I’m sorry I actually developed feelings for him because you said I couldn’t feel anything for you. I’m sorry he filmed me without my knowledge. But most of all, I’m sorry I ever let you back in and believed you when you said we were forever.”

The tears saturating my cheeks aren’t because I’m upset—well, I am—but formed from pure anger, and I hate that he might think otherwise.

“I’m sorry we told my parents about us, because now I’m going to