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“I’ll be fine. Take as long as you want,” she says, waving her hand.

Chapter Forty Five

Brad

I stare at the wall, swigging whiskey straight from the bottle now. I’ve gone past using the glass that’s beside me on the floor. I don’t know when I last slept. Maybe three days. Every time I close my eyes, I see Scotty lying on the floor. Every time I look down at my hands, I see his blood trickling between my fingers. I’ve scrubbed my hands so many times to get rid of it that I’ve made them raw. There’s a heaviness in my chest that only she made feel lighter. Everything that’s happened the past few months has fucked me up and I can feel myself slipping.

I play the voicemail from Dad over and over.

“Marco, I need an answer. Tick tock, if you don’t find a way, then I will.”

To further prolong my torture, I open up the file of photos the photographer sent me from Gabriella’s photoshoot. I swiperight, one photo after the other. Each one more beautiful than the last. Her wide smile, her dazzling eyes, her sexy poses feel like repeated punches to the gut. I throw my phone aside and drag a hand over my face.

I’m drowning here. I don’t know which way to turn other than hoping I’ll find it at the bottom of a bottle. I ball my hand into a fist, pissed at myself for letting someone have control over my emotions. This is why I don’t feel, don’t let people in, keep to my routines. I was stupid enough to believe I could control how I felt about her, I had control over everything else but not her, not the way I feel about her, and now she’s with someone who doesn’t see her worth and there’s not a thing I can do about it. I’ve never felt so weak in my life.

In a moment of desperation, I text her earlier to tell I missed her, that I needed her. There’s a pain in my heart that only she can heal but I don’t know how much longer I can be around her and watch her be with someone else. I should have told her sooner how I felt about her, then maybe I wouldn’t have to miss her. I thought I could handle just having pieces of her, but it seems I need all of her.

I pick up the glass and launch it, watching it hit the wall and shatter to the ground the same way my heart is right now. I take another swig of whiskey and my ears prick up when I hear her familiar voice. “Brad, are you here?”

She comes round the corner and her face falls when she looks down at me.

“Your door was open. Are you okay?” There’s concern in her voice as she scans the mess that is my apartment.

“Never better, baby girl,” I slur, waving the bottle of whiskey before I take another sip, gasping when the burn hits the back of my throat.

“How much have you drank?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I lost count after glass number eight or was it ten?!” I snort and take another sip. She snatches the bottle from my grip and I growl. “What the fuck?”

“You’ve had enough,” she says sternly.

“You don’t get to decide that. I’ll decide when I’ve had enough.” I try to snatch the bottle back, but my back hits the cupboard door.

“You’ve proven my point; you can barely sit up. What have you done to yourself? This isn’t you.” There’s an edge of sadness and concern in her tone, and I scoff.

“Don’t act like you care, Gabriella,”

“I do care.” She looks wounded and it turns my stomach knowing I am the cause. I’m being an ass. I reached out and she came. I should be pulling her in and yet I’m here pushing her away.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me. I had everything under control and then…”

“And then what?’ she asks softly, placing her hands on my thighs and scooting in between my legs.

“Then you happened.” I want to reach out and hold her. “You spun into my world and made feel again,” I say, hitting my chest with my fist.

“You brought something inside of me back to life and now you’re gone, and you took it with you.”

She cups my face, the soft pad of her thumb brushes over my cheek. “Oh, baby, what have you done to yourself?” she whispers, and her words feel like a sharp dagger to the heart.

I squeeze my eyes shut and move my head, so her hand falls away. “Don’t, don’t call me that.”

“What?”

“Baby. That’s what you should be calling him, right? He’s yours.”

She chokes out a sob and her tears free fall down her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

Watching her fall apart begins to break down my walls. I can’t have her believing this is all her doing.