Page 43 of Pieces of Us

Huge arms hug me from behind, encasing me in his strength and warmth. My stupid body leans into him. To the once-familiar.

‘You’re killing me, baby. You know that, right? Every time you break, I die a little more inside. I don’t want to break you anymore. I don’t want to cause you any more pain, but that’s all I seem to do. You are, and always will be, the love of my life. I was young and stupid. I never said it before, but I’m saying it now, and I’ll say it to my last dying breath. You are mine, and that will never change. You’re it. I’m going to fix us. I’m going to make this better.’

I wench my way out of his hold and twirl so I can face him.

‘No. Bullshit. Fuck you. Fuck you for declaring your love to me when it’s too late. When it should have meant everything to you seven years ago. This isn’t love. The way you hurt me can’t be what love is. Love isn’t fucking my close friend. Love isn’t choosing her over me. Love isn’t letting me walk away for seven years. Love is meant to be reckoning in the best way, but all your “love” does is ruin me. Ruin who I am, who I was. It made me the worst version of myself.’

Fuck. I know I’ve said too much when his eyes bulge out of his head in a questioning stare.

In a dash of hysteria, I flick the lock and miraculously escape through the toilet door. The bang reverberates behind me, knocking on the wall a few times, but at least I can’t hear footsteps getting nearer. Within seconds, I exit and run towards the bus to get as far away from Lincoln as possible.

Once I’m safe and sound, I practise my breathing and close my eyes, trying to un-jumble his deranged view of what love is, and how I’ve maybe just opened up a whole can of worms.

Chapter 20

Leave Out All The Rest

Lincoln

Licking her pussy wasn’t a part of the plan.

But fuck me, if it wasn’t the best thing I’ve tasted in years. Tasting her again has unlocked this visceral, feral need to fuck her senseless until she gives in to me.

While my plan is to wear her down enough to let me back in, I know I’m a step closer with the way she lost control at the game. She still has a flicker of feeling for me, which I plan to torch alight again.

Over the last week, I’ve upped my persistence. Technically, I gave up on my barrage of pressuring texts and phone calls, but I’ve managed to find a loophole and text her sweet messages each day, like ‘Hope you had a good day’, and ‘Thinking of you.’

I knew she thought they were endearing when she started liking them or saying something generic, like ‘You too.’

She isn’t ready to fully commit to having me back in her life again, given how much resentment, anger and pain I’ve caused her, but I’m determined to break through the brick-like barriers she’s built up around her heart.

Something I desperately want to badger her about is her statement about me making her the worst version of herself. As far as I can see, she is thriving. Yeah, I guess that sassy vivaciousness has dimmed down a little, but that could be put down to her ongoing work stress.

What has wholeheartedly changed is how her body feels in my hands. I’ve loved every version of this woman. To me, she is and always has been perfect. Fuck everyone who ever made her feel otherwise.

As I power away at plans for my next project, I can’t help to replay some of my favourite memories of ours over and over. Not just the ones of us as a couple, but also of the years of friendship we nurtured. I miss her so much as my friend. I was a damn idiot to let anyone else come before us.

It’s a lively afternoon at the office. Daniella—or Ella—from Marketing is flouncing around, being her regular jovial self. From where I’m sitting, I can see Dad has a glint in his eye, laughing at something she is expressively saying to him.

The only downer has been Billie sulking when I turned her down for lunch. I am in a precarious situation.

This is a woman I had a semi-long-term relationship with. A woman who, at one time, I had deep feelings for. I want to believe the best in her, but she keeps showing me her worst. It’s difficult to reconcile the person she is with me and the person she is to others. She’s inherently a part of my friendship circle and a slice of my past. It’s not as easy as just untangling myself for good. I don’t know how to keep straddling the line between her and Amity. I know that I will eventually have to completely cut ties with Billie, otherwise there’s no hope in hell of ever getting my Hart back.

As if I summoned the missing piece of myself, Amity appears, strutting towards my office. Billie stiffens in her seat, scoffing as her eyes work into slits at the sight of her.

Ella notices Amity and starts animatedly bouncing on the spot. I have to remind myself that Amity is kind of a big deal and restrain myself from laughing at Ella’s antics. She lurches herself at Hart, who stumbles back from the force. I see the shock and horror on Dad’s face, pulling his vivacious employee away. If she’s embarrassed by her behaviour, she doesn’t show it. She just giggles. Hart’s smile radiates as she gives her complete attention to Ella and whatever she’s started to ramble about.

Dad pulls Amity to his side and gives her a peck on her temple, making sure he holds her close. I stare at the easy demeanour she has with him, hugging his waist as Ella continues on her rampage. While I see Dad’s attention is on the two beauties in front of him, crinkles form on his forehead as his lips thin in a tight smile. He shuffles both feet and glances around. It isn’t long before he zones in on me, giving me a warning without words.

I interpret it to mean to stay put unless Amity seeks me out, which I’m not pleased about, but to appease him, I’ll listen. For now.

After what feels like eternity, she waves bye to Ella, who’s been called by another colleague. It’s then that I see Hart untangle herself from Dad, murmur something in his ear, give him a kiss on the cheek and walk towards me. Her smile is tentative and her steps unsure, but I can see by the conviction in her eyes that she wants to talk to me. My chest palpitates the closer she gets, half out of anxiety over what Billie might do and say and half because she chose to seek me out and not the other way around.

The memory of the last time she was here sits unhappily in my stomach. She was pale and shuddering as she slammed the doors open to escape me. I only hope her visitdoesn’t end in the way she left last time.

I race to the door. ‘Hey,’ I greet her with a cheesy grin, standing a little too close for her comfort.

Eyeing her up and down, I appreciate the fuck out of how she looks. I drink in her pale pink overalls and braids with her white New Balance runners. The whole world has seen her in a lot less—heck, I’ve seen her fucking naked—yet today, there’s something effervescently enticing about the way she looks.

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