Page 89 of Conflagration
“I’m sorry, Branson. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t tell you where she is. She said she needed to be alone. I’m probably going against some sister code here, but she’s a wreck, and that’s a good sign.”
I’m taken aback, unsure how this could possibly be good. “How do you figure?”
“When she left Ben, it was like she got her life back. I’d never seen her happier as she was driving away. That is until I saw her with you. When she left here though? She could barely keep it together because she was in pain over the idea of losing you. Give it time, and don’t give up. I have faith in you, too.”
Even though I feel defeated, hating that I’ve done this to her—to us—her words give me some semblance of hope.
Finishing my coffee, I stand. “Thanks, Alyssa. If you talk to her, tell her I love her.”
“And that you’re sorry?” she asks.
“No. That she needs to hear directly from me.”
She gives me a small nod. “I understand.”
Just as I’m about to walk out, she calls my name.
“She loves you, too, you know. Hold on to that.”
I sure as hell hope she’s right.
TEN. FUCKING. Days.
I’m a wreck. It’s been ten damn days since I left Alyssa’s, and I’m going out of my mind. The first week, I threw myself into my work, pretending with Dad and my family that Ariana was back in Atlanta on family business. It seemed to appease them, and no one batted an eye until Sunday brunch. Mom started hounding me about wedding dates, and in the end, I had to leave the room, pretend to call Ariana, and then pick a date and hope to God I had her back by then.
The next day, I called in sick.
Apparently this thing called heartbreak can really fuck with your system, because three days later? I’m stillsickand can barely move from my spot on the couch. I spend my days drowning in the bottle, watching South Park, wishing she were here with me.
And no matter how drunk I get, I never forget to call. Every hour, on the hour. I set my alarm so I never miss one. I’m a mess, and my text messages are probably half incoherent, but I don’t even care. It’s all I can do, and it’s not enough. For the first time in my life, I’m powerless. I’m alone. I’m fucking empty.
Every night, she plagues my thoughts and I ache for her. All I want is to see her, feel her, and be near her. All I want is her. Without Ariana in my life, I can’t function. I don’t want to.
The doorbell rings, and I groan, almost surprised that it took this long for someone to send out a search party. I mute the TV and ignore the bell, hoping that the silence will make them go away. It does the opposite. Whatever asshole is on the other side is holding down the bell, causing my head to throb.
I push myself up and shuffle down the hall, growling when I open the door. “What the fuck do you want?”
Shane pushes past me then closes the door behind him. “Jesus Christ, Branson. Your dad said you were sick. He didn’t say you were medicating with—what is that, scotch? You smell like a fucking distillery.”
“Yeah, well, what’s it to you?”
He rolls his eyes and puts his hands on my shoulders, guiding me to the kitchen, where he pushes me down onto a stool. I watch as he makes coffee before he comes to sit across from me.
“I’ve been trying to call you for ten fucking days, asshole. If it weren’t for Alyssa, I’d have no idea why the hell you’re avoiding me. Which, by the way, good fucking going.”
I narrow my eyes. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Alyssa doesn’t know the whole story.”
He gets up and pours us each a cup of coffee before sitting back down. “I have all day. Spell it out for me.”
And I do just that. I try to ignore his scowls and the way he shakes his head, and even as I repeat the things I said out loud, even I have to admit that I deserve her leaving.
“If you would’ve just called me back that day, all of this could have been avoided,” he says with a sigh.
“What the hell does that mean? I thought you were calling to warn me. After all, you tried to tell me before why they broke up.”
“I was calling to warn you, Branson. I wasn’t the one overseeing the acquisition of his company and had no idea about it until he came storming into my office, demanding to see you. According to Alyssa, their father found out you’re a Wellington, and those two shitheads decided you and Ariana planned this take-over together. According to Alyssa, she knew nothing about it.”
“What?” I ask even though my heart’s falling.
