Page 18 of From Angel to Rogue (Four Foxes #6)

LAN

Guilt was eating every part of me alive.

I hated seeing her cry.

But what I hated more was being the reason that made her cry.

Even after months of being apart, she still didn’t get it.

She didn’t get me.

And for the first time in my life, she made me question the decision of loving her.

If maybe—if maybe I hadn’t come into her life, would my Katy have been herself? Instead of suffering in silent agony and despising herself and thinking she wasn’t worth my effort.

Would she have just been herself if I hadn’t come and ruined it?

I broke up with her to set her free from me but I hoped and wished she would fly freely and always fly back home to me.

But instead, she made me feel like a useless part of her life.

If she only needed me to appease the lies she created, to just be a false purpose to get her going, then what good was I being the love of her fucking life.

I shook my head, snapping out of my thoughts as the sounds of the city swept passed me in a blur. It felt exhilarating to be among this crowd and not have one person recognize me.

I did get a few glances, and it was probably more for the mysterious guy casually leaning over a Ducati Superleggera 998cc with his biker mask on. I would’ve much preferred my shiny new V4 monster, but I needed to blend in.

My back perked up in attention when my beautiful angel appeared on the sidewalk like I knew she would every evening to go to the corner diner to get herself a chocolate milkshake.

If I were to read her mind, she would say it was good, but nothing could ever come close to her beloved Louie’s milkshake.

I left my parked bike on the curb and followed her, maintaining a good distance between us.

She was oblivious to my presence, I knew because I’d been following her like a stalker stalking out his next victim for the past one hundred and eighty-nine days.

I didn’t correct others when they thought I was on my bike, riding across state lines with my hair flying in the wind.

Instead, I shadowed her everywhere, hoping she would wake the fuck up. But she was still stuck on whatever cloud she was in, rotting in the same cycle over and over again.

I was glad she was eating again, though. I never realized Katy had stopped enjoying food because of those poisonous reasons. If I had known, I would’ve fed her a few extra plates every single day and showered her in chocolates.

But that thought took me right back to last night when I made her cry.

We’d flown back to New York early this morning, and Katy blatantly lied to our friends and her twin that she was going back to LA, only she never went back to that city unless it was for her job.

She’d been here in NYC the whole time, living in a penthouse suite of the Four Seasons like it was her new home.

And I lived in the building right opposite to her room, the exact opposite in fact so I could watch her all day like a sappy fool.

I just had to make a phone call for that to happen, thanks to my last name.

A small smile curved my lips when her red lips closed over the straw and drew in her first sip. It was always my favorite part of the day. It was only when some of the light returned to her eyes and a smile spread across her lips.

Not the fake one she plastered on in LA, doing the job she hated.

Which she was still hanging on to like it was her lifeline.

I could storm to her and shake her awake and give her an ultimatum to quit, and bring her back to life again. But I knew a part of her would always regret not making that decision by herself. And that part of her would slowly despise me for making her see the big picture.

This was something Katy had to do.

On her own.

Till then, I would wait, even if it meant I had to wait forever.

I didn’t abandon her like she thought.

And I certainly didn’t leave her.

I was always by her side, whether she realized it or not. And I was never going anywhere for the rest of my life, even if there was no us.

She exited the café with the same smile still on her face, and a puff of cold air escaped her lips as she huddled closer to her jacket.

It was officially fall season, and Katy always got cold, so it was always my job to carry her milkshake while she sipped on it and answered her numerous calls that she didn’t have to.

Now thinking that she only did to soothe the pain inside her, hurt more than I realized it should.

I never thought much about wanting kids.

I only wanted whatever Katy wanted. Back in high school, her favorite topic of conversation was fantasizing about our future while she talked hours and hours about how she would be raising our kids in the home we built for ourselves.

A home that had a tree house and a swing because she never had that growing up.

It killed me to know that I could give it all to her except the children.

A confused frown creased my eyes when I watched her take the right instead of the left.

She always returned to her hotel after getting her shake. Was she going to meet a friend instead?

Contrary to popular belief, Katy didn’t actually have many friends. I was her best friend. Evy, Lily, and now Sierra were the only girls she actually considered her best friends.

I only thought that Katy entertained her fake social circle because she loved her job. I didn’t realize that she was doing it to put a Band-Aid on her broken insides, to show me she had a perfect life.

But I never cared for her perfection. I just loved her the way she was.

A cold wind swept across my face as I came to a standstill when her foot rooted in front of a familiar building. Blueline, the apartment where my bandmates lived.

I watched my girl take a deep breath and whisper something to the sky.

For the first time in one hundred and eighty-nine days, a genuine smile lifted my lips.

The thing is, Katy thought she created someone fake and lived with her all the time.

But I knew her—I knew her more than anyone in this world.

Though I didn’t know the reason, I knew she lied. I knew she pretended. And I knew she faked.

I kept quiet only because the one thing she didn’t lie, pretend, or fake was her love for me.

A guilty part of me did keep quiet as I watched her become someone unrecognizable.

And I thought if I finally left her, she would snap out of it, but with each day, I got more skeptical.

Fear killed me alive, thinking I made the wrong fucking choice once again.

But now, watching her enter Blueline with a determined look in her eyes, hope filled my blood.

It wasn’t much, but here she was, one hundred and eighty-nine days later, taking her first step.

Because she was going to the only other person she considered her comfort place other than me.

Her brother.

If there was anyone to hold her and love every part of her, it was him.

And I knew my girl was coming back to me after that.