Page 82 of Cru's Crush

“I can’t keep it, Cru.”

“I don’t want it, Daphne.”

I sat on the bed,crying for several minutes, expecting he’d return and we’d at least talk about when he planned to leave.

When he didn’t, I went looking for him. The front door of the guesthouse was slightly ajar, so I went outside.

One of the housekeepers walked past. “Have you seen a man, quite tall, dark brown hair?”

“Yes, miss.”

“Where is he?”

“He left a few minutes ago.”

My eyes scrunched. “What do you mean?”

“A car picked him up, and he left.”

I nodded once and retreated inside before I broke into shattering sobs. As many times as Beau and I had ended things between us, I’d never felt like I did now. I doubled over in pain, crying harder as I realized my heart had just broken.

When I showedup at the rehab center a couple of hours later, both my parents appeared puzzled.

“Is Cru resting?” my mum asked.

I shook my head, keeping my eyes focused on hers, knowing that if I looked at my dad instead, I’d break down. “He had to leave.”

The sound that came from my father was one of the worst I’d ever heard. He wailed, repeating the word “no” again and again.

“It’s okay, Dad,” I said, rushing over to him. “The harvest. He couldn’t stay long.”

He shook his head. “No,” he repeated, grabbing my wrist when I turned to leave, not wanting to upset him.

“Dad, please…”

“No…Daphne…No. Can’t stay.” He closed his eyes and dropped his head, shaking it vehemently. “Go home.”

“This is home, Dad.”

My mum, who was crying as hard as me, got up and left the room.

I knelt beside my father and grasped his hands with mine. “You need me here. I can’t leave.”

Tears streamed down his cheeks.“Don’t want.”

I rested my head on his lap, and both of us cried.

23

CRU

Instead of going straight to the airport, I asked the driver to take me to the harbor. I sat in a bar, looking out over the water, waiting, hoping, and praying my phone would ring and Daphne would ask me to come back.

After a couple of hours, I knew two things: she wasn’t going to call, and if I kept drinking, I’d never be allowed on a plane.

I ordered food, switched from bourbon to water, then called another car service. While I waited, I booked a flight to the States. I was able to get a seat on one that left later tonight. Rather than stopping in Sydney, I’d travel through Manila. With the layover, it would take me over twenty-four hours to get home. But time didn’t matter. I was leaving behind the woman I’d loved most of my life. Nothing mattered now. Nothing ever would again.

Instead of askinganyone to pick me up, I took a car service from the San Luis Obispo airport home. When I arrived, I paid the driver and walked into a house I no longer wanted to live in.