Tamed By You (Always & Forever #2)

45. Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Five

Harry

We are sat in a VIP booth in Aurora’s. Our closest friends surround us, here to celebrate Brad’s birthday. Our booth overlooks the dance floor, the place packed with people. The club has a bougie vibe. Everything is sleek and black, with the odd accent of silver.

Brad sits in the center of the booth, dressed head to toe in black, puffing on a cigar, a whiskey in his free hand. Jack is sitting with Ria, her belly growing a little more every time I see her. I smile looking at them as they talk, never breaking eye contact with each other. So blissfully happy and I can’t help but feel a little jealous. Not of them, but what they have, and the idea that I could have had it with Ali. I’ve been back weeks now and she still won’t talk to me, won’t answer my calls, or texts so I am at a loss of what to do. Trying to make sense of it all is breaking me in two. I don’t understand how we went from everything that we were in London to nothing at all.

I sip on vodka soda, a drink that reminds me of her, and my eyes travel the length of the club until they land on eyes I’d recognize anywhere. Her body visibly stiffens when she registers me, and her gaze quickly diverts to Ria and Jack.

“Hey ladies.” Brad’s voice booms over the music as he stands to greet Gabby and Ali, everyone does except me. I freeze in place, taking in her black dress, the dress she wore to the theater, the dress I peeled off her bronzed skin that then laid on my bedroom floor. That was the night I decided to book Paris, and we were on the train the next day. I’ll never forget the way she looked in that dress. Sure, she’s worn fancier, sexier dresses than this one, but this dress she wore when the first shift in our relationship happened, and that now feels like another lifetime ago.

Gabby walks over to me and I stand, embracing her and pressing a kiss to her cheek. Ali awkwardly stands, looking down at the silver bag she clutches nervously in front of her stomach.

“Hey,” I mouth and nod. She gives me a weak smile and then sits at the opposite end of the VIP booth next to Kate and starts chatting. Given how we usually acted around each other, most wouldn’t question us, but tonight, Jack and Brad look at me and I shake my head in reassurance. I don’t need them fussing over me. I don’t know if Ali has told the girls. Tonight isn’t about us, it’s about Brad.

One of the bar staff carries over a bucket of Champagne with sparklers and we all sing happy birthday and cheer. He’s not usually one for grand gestures, but I can see in Brad’s eyes he’s grateful we are all here. He’s had a rough life, and although he might look like he will snap you in half for glancing at him in the wrong way, he has a heart of gold under all that hard exterior.

He claps a hand on my back, leaning in. “You good man, I know it must be hard being here.” His voice is full of empathy.

“I’m good.” I lie. I’ve never felt so uncomfortable in my life. I’ve watched her all evening. Noticed the drinks she is putting away, how she’s not up dancing, barely speaking to anyone.

She looks lost, hollow, broken. The light has gone out in her eyes. Her eyes, which were once full of passion and fire, are now dim and vacant and it breaks me to see her like this. I thought I’d felt pain when we lost Scotty or when I had to pull Tori out of her own darkness, but this, this is something else.

She excuses herself and my eyes follow her to the back of the club. I get up, hot on her heels. Needing to talk to her. She pushes through the back exit, only used for staff, but just like her, I couldn’t give a shit about the rules.

The muggy New York evening air hits my face as I push through the door she just went through. She’s leaning against the wall, hands covering her face, the streetlight glowing just enough to see her.

“Ali,” I call, and she looks up, moving away from the wall and holding her hands up in surrender.

‘Harry, please, not tonight.”

“I don’t want to fight. I just want to know if you’re okay.”

“I’m great, never been better.” She answers sarcastically, still not meeting my gaze.

I reach out, touching her arm and she flinches at the contact. “Please, look at me.”

She doesn’t and I take hold of her chin and move her to look at me. “Ali, give me something, please. Hate me. Fight me. But don’t ignore me, because this version of us is killing me,” I plead.

Her face softens, tears pooling in her haunted eyes. “I’m not trying to hurt you, Harry. I’m trying to save you.” Her voice is shaky.

“From what?”

“Me.”

I take a step closer, cupping her face with both my hands, and she closes her eyes.

“Why would I need saving from you?” I ask, pressing my forehead to hers.

“Because I’m poison. Everything I touch gets tarnished,” she chokes out, her hands coming up to grip the lapels of my shirt.

“Baby, please, if you can’t be with me right now, the way I want you to be, the way I need you to be, just give me something. Help me understand what’s happening here.”

“You want me to help you understand this, but I can’t. I don’t even understand it.”

“Ali, please,” I beg, weaving my fingers into her hair, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and she instantly pulls away. Turning away from me, taking two steps, then spinning on her heels, her eyes wild, finger pointing at me.

“We weren’t meant to be anything. You were meant to be one night, one and done,” she yells. “You made my mind and my heart believe that I could do it. That I could be normal, that I could have what everyone else has. But I can’t. I have so much baggage, Harry, you wouldn't know where to begin unpacking it. I am too much to handle. Trust me, I am doing you a favor pushing you away.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” I say quietly, trying to process her words. “How can this feel right Ali? I miss you so mu—”

“I know,” she interrupts. “I miss you too. I am falling for you in some type of way that I don’t understand. I’m getting so lost I don't know what to do.”

I take her face in my hands once again, forcing her to look at me as I utter my next words. “You might be falling and feeling lost, but I’m drowning without you, Ali. I can’t think, I can’t sleep, I can’t function, and I don't understand this either. Just let me help you, we can fix this.” My voice sounds far shakier than I intended.

“I can’t. It’s too big a burden for you to bear. I care about you too much to pull you down with me. If you feel anything for me, you’ll let me go,” she whispers, pressing her forehead to my chest.

“I can’t. I’m so far gone for you. I’m in that black hole with you. If you won’t let me catch you, then I’ll fall with you,” I tell her burying my face in her hair, inhaling her intoxicating scent. I’m close to getting on my knees for this girl and begging her to be mine again.

‘You can’t. Please, please just let me go,” she sobs into my chest. My arms wrap around her body, and I hold her tightly.

“I can’t do that.”

I lift her head to mine and press my lips to hers, needing the connection. She doesn’t pull away. Instead, she kisses me back with all the want and desire I am putting into this kiss. But even though she’s in my arms, it still hurts. It physically aches to hold her because even though I’m kissing her, she doesn’t feel like she’s mine. She doesn’t feel like my Ali. There’s something that’s wedged its way between us, and I don’t understand why.

She breaks the kiss, pulling away, stepping back, and looking at me, her tear-stained face lit by the streetlamp. “You have to. It’s not your choice to make.”

“How I feel about you isn’t your decision, Ali,” I shout far louder than I intend, anger, or fear, I don’t know, taking over.

“No, it isn’t, but how I allow you to pursue your feelings is. I have had too many people take away my voice, my choices, my power. I’ll be damned if I let anyone ever again,” she spits, not sounding like her at all.

My stomach drops, a pain hitting me square in the chest at her words, hurt that she feels this way. I lower my voice, conscious of coming on too strong. “Ali, I would never take away your voice or your choices.”

She swipes a lone tear that falls down her cheek with her fingertips. “I know you wouldn’t,” she cries, “and that might be even more terrifying. Because I don’t how to let you in, I’ve spent so long pushing people away. It’s all I know. I don’t want to be a burden or for you to see how weak I really am.”

“I want to be there for you, Ali. You’ve got to let me in, tell me what’s happened. There is so much strength and power in handing over the most vulnerable parts of yourself to someone. That doesn’t make you weak or a burden, baby, that makes you powerful and strong.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t.”

“Why, tell me why,” I beg her, desperation in my voice.

Tears now stream down her face, and I step closer to hug her, but she puts her hands up in defense. “Please… don’t.”

I step back, giving her the space she clearly craves. “This can’t be how we end, Ali.” I choke out. Not wanting to believe this is where we end.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly, walking past me and going back inside the club.

I wait for the door to close and yell, “Fuck.” My voice echoing down the damp alleyway.

How the hell did we get here?

I head inside, finding the group and making small talk with Mason and Jack, but I’m not digesting what they say. My eyes roam the club.

Where is she?

I assumed she had gone to use the bathroom, but it’s been a good thirty minutes since she came back inside.

I excuse myself from the conversation and walk over to Gabby, who’s sitting with Harley, and to my surprise, the guy she’s been dating. He seems nice enough, but I’ve only met him the once so it’s hard to judge off only one encounter. Dirty blond hair, dressed like he summers in the Hamptons, and has a typical trust fund kid vibe about him. He’s not really someone I’d hang out with. He has a protective arm wrapped around her waist and I don’t miss the way Brad is sizing him up from the corner of his eye.

“Gabs, where’s Ali?” I ask, trying not to sound too concerned. I give Patrick a friendly nod and he mirrors my actions.

“Oh, she took a cab home. She’s been in bed with the flu all week. I think she’s still recovering and tired. Just needed an early night.”

“Yeah, she didn’t look herself,” Harley chimes in.

The flu?

“When did she leave?” My words are a little rushed as my throat constricts.

“Erm, not long ago, I offered to go, but she said she was just going home to get some sleep.”

I give her a brief smile. “Thanks, Gabs.”

I head for the club entrance. Something in my gut is telling me to go to her. I didn’t like the way we left things; she didn’t seem herself at all.

I wave down a cab and jump in, giving the driver Ali’s address. I fire a text message to Brad apologizing for leaving. It’s thankfully a short ride to her apartment. I pay the driver, getting out the cab at speed, and rushing up to her apartment, thankful I knew her entry code.

I reach her door. Knocking on the door.

Nothing.

I knock again and no response.

I dial her phone and hear it ring inside. I may regret what I’m about to do but something in my gut tells me I need to get there. I brace my hands against the doorframe and kick it.

Chest heaving, burning to the point of pain, I rush into her apartment, frantically scanning the open living space to find her.

Just darkness and silence. A low light shines down the hall towards her bedroom.

“Ali, Ali, are you here?” Heart thumping wildly, I push open her bedroom door, a loud creaking noise sounds from the hinges. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, something in my gut telling me something is very wrong. The same feeling I got just before Scotty was shot.

“Ali are you okay. I tried knocking bu…” I freeze, unable to speak, to move. I feel the blood drain from my body.

There on the bed face down, a tangled mess of blonde hair spread across the crumpled white sheet, still wearing her black party dress, lays Ali and my alarm bells start ringing. I scan the room. It’s a mess. My eyes zone in on an empty bottle of vodka and an orange pot of pills on its side. I rush over and pick up the pot, noting the label: Ambien .

Panic floods my body. Limb's trembling, I touch her,

“Ali?” I mutter, shaking her gently, but she doesn’t respond. “Ali, baby, I need you to wake up.” I roll her on her back and her body flops like a ragdoll. I look at her face and note how pale her skin and lips are and I kneel on the bed beside her.

“Ali, no.” My voice comes out strangled and panicked. With shaking fingers, I press them to her cold skin, searching for a pulse. I sag in relief when I find one, albeit faint. “Ali no no. What did you do? what did you do?” I yell.

“Alice, come on, come on, wake up.” But she doesn't. I scoop her up, her body sagging in my arms and run for the bathroom, turning on the shower, hating myself for what I’m about to do to her.

“Come on, baby, wake up, wake up,” I say, my voice not sounding like my own, it's loud and guttural. Only once before has my voice sounded like this and it triggers my fight or flight mode.

“Come on, Alice, wake up,” I bellow, shaking uncontrollably as she hangs in my arms, limp and lifeless. I tilt her head back under the running water and nothing. She doesn’t flinch.

She’s dying, and I can’t save her.

Yes, you can, I tell myself.

Tapping her cheek, my voice strangled, I beg her to open her eyes. “Ali. Please wake up. You’re not dying on me, you hear me, wake up,” I roar, panic well and truly taking over.

Still nothing. I know there is one last thing that could work. Something I’ve had to do once before with Tori and something I hoped I’d never have to do again. “I’m sorry, baby…” I open her mouth pushing my fingers down her throat till I hit the back, and she gags. Turning her head, vomit shoots from her as she chokes and splutters.

“Yes, baby, get it out. Get it all out,” I mutter, relief flooding me as she expels the contents of her stomach.

She’s coming back to me.

Small gasps escape her, her eyes flickering open, and the tiniest bit of color flushes her cheeks.

“Fuck, you're okay, you're okay, you're okay,” I repeat as I hold her to my chest and sag against the shower wall, sinking to my knees, the water beating down on us. I cradle her in my arms rocking her like a small child as she catches her breath, my body trembling as the adrenaline works its way through my body as realization hits me: if I’d been a few minutes later, I would have lost her.