24. Unwanted peace.
Chapter 24
Unwanted peace.
Christian
M y frustration boils over, and I hurl the wrench back into the toolbox. It slams against the metal with a deafening clang, the sudden noise echoing through the silent garage.
I grabbed the wrong one again, my hands shaking with a mixture of anger and self-loathing.
Amelia didn’t come home last night, and the weight of her absence is crushing. My mind is a whirlwind of anxieties, my focus shattered. It’s all my fault. I knew it was a stupid, reckless move, taking Linden’s bet, but his incessant taunting, his smug smirk, had gotten to me.
Pride, that insidious beast, clouded my judgment, and I fell for his bait.
Now, the consequences are devastating. Amelia, hurt and disillusioned, is staying with Nova. I get that she needs space and time to process the wreckage of my impulsive actions, but I fear I won’t survive this.
The silence in the cabin screams with her absence, each empty corner a stark reminder of the damage I’ve caused.
I hate myself right now. If she doesn’t forgive me, I’ll never forgive myself.
My entire body itches, craving a high. If I use again, my life is over.
Add the shit with Badger to the already fucked up situation and I can’t function properly.
“Are you going to throw every tool you have?” Sophia stops next to me and crosses her arms over her chest. “’Cause this shit is getting out of hand. My ears are ringing.”
“Sorry,” I mumble.
Maybe I shouldn’t have come to work today. I’m not productive, and I’m taking my worry and frustration out on everyone else by stomping around and throwing shit.
Sophia rests her hand on my arm, and it makes me feel even more uneasy. She’s only trying to comfort me, but I don’t like it when people touch me. Only Amelia.
“She’ll forgive you. You know that, right?” she asks. “She just needs some time to be mad at you.”
I nod. Logically, I know she’s right, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. She’s my angel. My peace. I need her far more than she’ll ever need me.
Digging through the toolbox, I grab the correct size wrench. This bike build isn’t going to finish itself and wallowing in self-pity is pointless.
Sophia stares at me, her gaze a mixture of disbelief and disappointment. Finally, she mutters something under her breath, shaking her head as if I’ve let her down. Then, with a frustrated sigh, she turns back to her work, attending to the needs of the client cars that have kept her busy all day.
Ash, who should be at the track with Mac, is stuck here, helping Sophia with the influx of customers. Mac has a big race coming up in a few weeks and needs to test out his car, but Chase volunteered to go instead, leaving Ash to play mechanic for the day.
I’m just starting to find my rhythm, my focus returning, when Ash slams a wrench down on the workbench, sending another metallic clang echoing through the garage.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” He grumbles as he rushes toward the open bay door. In the process, he kicks a rolling toolbox, sending tools scattering across the concrete floor.
I have my back to it so I can’t see who’s here. A part of me doesn’t even want to turn around to find out. My life is shitty enough as it is. I don’t need another asshole adding to the disaster I made all on my own.
Especially when that asshole is most likely a Koch brother.
I hear some grumbling and the low rumble of voices, but it’s not loud enough that I can make it out. Knowing Ash, he’s ready to start a fight. If he does, I’ll get up. But as long as they remain somewhat civil, I’m staying out of it. For Amelia. I’ve done enough damage to our relationship. I don’t need to add more fuel to the already raging flames.
“I just want to talk,” I hear someone say. I keep my head down and groan. It’s Linden Koch. The instigator of all my current problems. He’s the last person I want to talk to right now.
“No one wants to talk to you,” Ash says.
“Please, I’m not here to start shit,” Linden says. “I just have a few questions for Christian.”
I sigh and drop my head. Linden wouldn’t come here unless it was important. Especially not alone.
Tossing the wrench on the ground next to the bike, I resign to speak to him. It’s the only way to get him to leave. Plus, I’m curious about what he has to say.
“It’s okay,” I say to Ash. “I’ll talk to him.” I grab the shop rag I have slung over my shoulder and wipe the grease off my hands. It doesn’t do much to clean my hands, but it gets the worst of it off.
“You don’t have to talk to him,” Ash says. He furrows his brow and frowns at me. “He knows better than to come here.”
I squeeze Ash’s shoulder and give him a reassuring nod. “It’s okay. Let me handle this.”
He stares at me for a moment before he turns his glare back to Linden. “Don’t try anything stupid or I’m coming for you.”
Linden raises his hands in surrender. “Like I said. I’m not here to start shit. I just have a few questions.”
Ash takes a step back, but he doesn’t leave. He hovers behind me like he’s my bodyguard. It almost makes me laugh. The last thing I need is a bodyguard. I’m a stronger, faster fighter than him anyway.
“Alright, you got my attention,” I say.
Linden looks over my shoulder at Ash. “Can we talk in private?”
“I ain’t leaving you alone with him.” Ash puffs his chest out and the glare on his face deepens.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I can handle this. Get back to work before you get behind.”
“But I don’t trust him.” He insists.
“Yeah, well, neither do I.” I turn to Ash and wave him back inside. “He’s not going to do anything. Besides, you can see us from your workstation. If I need help, come running.”
Ash hesitates for several seconds before he finally gives me a single nod and heads back inside.
I turn back to Linden. “Okay. Talk.”
Linden rubs the back of his neck and looks around nervously. I can’t tell if it’s because he’s checking for hidden dangers or he’s nervous to ask me his questions.
“What happened to Amelia’s arm?”
His question is not accusatory. From his tone, he doesn’t think I did that to her.
“Ask her,” I say. If I tell him the truth, it will only lead to more questions. Questions I cannot answer.
“I did, and she won’t tell me.”
I cross my arms over my chest, ready to stand my ground. “If she’s not ready to talk, then I can’t help you.”
He furrows his brow. “What does that even mean?”
“It means you need to talk to Lia.” I insist.
“I did, and she won’t talk to me.” He sounds exhausted and concerned in a way I’ve never seen from him before. Is this idiot finally opening up his eyes?
“Like I said, I can’t help you.” I turn to walk back inside, but he reaches out and grabs my arm.
“Please, I need to know.” He begs. “Something is off, and I can’t figure it out.”
I shake my head. “I already fucked up by letting you goad me into that stupid game. I’m not going to fuck up more by breaking your sister’s trust. Talk to her. Better yet, talk to your fucking friend.”
“Badger?” He furrows his brow. “I did.”
“And?” I raise a brow, curious about how that asshole spun the story.
“He said that he was consoling Lia when you barged out and threw a fit.”
“Threw a fit?” I snort. “Only because he was—”
I stop myself before I say something that I can’t take back. I can’t betray Amelia.
“He was what?” The concern in Linden’s eyes actually makes me feel sorry for him.
I take a deep breath and look him in the eyes. “Badger is not who you think he is. He’s a piece of shit. The only reason he’s still breathing is because Lia won’t let me touch him. But if he ever touches her again, he’s a dead man.”
His eyes widen. “Explain.”
I cringe because I’ve already said too much. “Talk to Lia.”
Then I turn around and head back inside. He calls out my name, but I don’t turn back. If he keeps probing, I’m liable to slip up and reveal her deepest secret. That’s her story to tell. Not mine.
If I do that, I could lose her forever, and that’s not something I’m willing to risk.
“Thank you for making an appointment this time,” Dr. Johnson says, her voice a gentle anchor in the storm brewing inside me. “I really appreciate that.”
“Mmhmm,” I grunt, my hands gripping my bouncing knees so tightly my knuckles are white. My nerves are a tangled mess, a deadly war of anxiety. I should have been here yesterday, should have broken down these emotions hours ago.
But she wasn’t available, and I’m trying to respect her boundaries.
Restraining myself, instead of storming in on my schedule, was agonizing. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. The only thing that stopped me was the miracle of her availability—a session scheduled within one day.
But that doesn’t lessen the torment. I needed to talk yesterday, to unload the weight of these suffocating emotions. Now, the rage is a simmering volcano, threatening to erupt. Dr. Johnson is one of the few safe havens I have, the only person who truly understands the chaos within me. Not even Chase, with his unwavering love, can truly grasp the depths of this pain.
Amelia understands, but she’s withdrawn, refusing to work through this yet. She still needs more time.
Three days have passed since the fucking game—three days of agonizing silence. Each passing hour feels like an eternity, the distance between us widening with every agonizing tick of the clock.
Worse, the craving is driving me mad, a monstrous beast clawing at the edges of my sanity. I haven’t felt this desperate for a hit in months. The urge is a terrifying, suffocating presence.
If she doesn’t forgive me soon, if this chasm between us doesn’t close, I fear I’ll do something reckless, something I’ll regret forever.
Stupid decisions are my Achilles’ heel, and I’m teetering on the edge. I’m one wrong move away from imploding.
I’m afraid of what I might do, afraid of the damage I might inflict on myself, on others. The fear is a cold, suffocating hand around my throat, choking out the last vestiges of hope.
“Christian, talk to me.” Dr. Johnson probes. “You said this was an emergency.”
I snap my eyes to hers and she flinches. I’ve got so much fear, anger, and anxiety bottled up inside me right now that I’m about to explode. It’s not a good feeling. Couple that with my inability to sleep, and I look like a rabid animal.
“Have you relapsed?” she asks. Her voice is calm and reassuring. There’s not an ounce of judgement in her tone.
I shake my head. “But I really want to. The craving is worse than ever.”
“Tell me what happened.” Her words are simple and express concern, but they’re also spoken with affectionate authority. She’s good at that, and it always gets me to talk.
“Amelia’s mad at me.” Just saying the words has me squirming in my seat. “She’s staying with a friend.”
My elbows dig into my knees, my head bowed in defeat. My fingers tangle in my hair, pulling at the roots, a desperate attempt to release the tension that’s building inside me.
I’m a coiled spring, ready to snap, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I started pulling out clumps of hair in my frustration. The thought of that, of the damage I might inflict on myself in this state, is enough to make me loosen my grip, a wave of self-preservation washing over me.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dr. Johnson says. Then she pauses.
Her silence is a gentle push to get me to continue, but the words are caught in my throat. I desperately need to unravel these tangled emotions, to pour them out, but the fear of saying the wrong thing, of stumbling over my own pain, paralyzes me. In these moments, I feel like a child, frustrated and helpless, unable to articulate the storm raging inside me.
She must sense my struggle. “Start at the beginning. What did you do that upset Amelia?”
I take a deep breath before I let the words out. “I bet our relationship on a game of poker.”
She furrows her brows. “I’m going to need a bit more information.”
“Linden, her oldest brother, goaded me into a game of poker. If he won, I would break up with Amelia. If I won, I got to keep her.”
Dr. Johnson closes her eyes and gives me the slightest shake of her head. “I can see why that wouldn’t turn out well.”
“We didn’t get to finish. Amelia showed up and broke up the game.” I stare at Dr. Johnson, waiting for her reaction, but I don’t get one. “I would’ve won. Linden can’t beat me.”
“You realize that’s not the point, right?” she asks.
“Winning is always the point. I wouldn’t have made the bet if I didn’t know I could win.”
“Christian.” There’s a reprimanding tone to the way she says my name. “There are no winners in a situation like that. Everyone loses, especially Amelia.”
“Someone always wins,” I say with every ounce of conviction I can muster, even though I know there’s truth to what she said. Making that bet with Linden was stupid, and I know it. But, like a dumbass, I still feel the need to defend my actions.
“You’re smarter than that.” The firm tone of her words causes me to sit up straight. When I look her in the eyes, I see something far worse than concern or pity or anger. She’s disappointed in me.
Hell, I’m disappointed in myself. I know better than to let the Koch brothers get to me. Engaging with them like that will never work out. It’s exactly what Linden wanted. He’s her brother. Family. She will forgive him one day.
But what am I? I’m just the loser, former addict, who knocked her up. Even if she forgives me, that doesn’t mean she’ll stay with me. She doesn’t need to be with me to raise this kid. She doesn’t need me for anything.
Amelia possesses a strength that transcends the physical. It’s a force of will, an indomitable spirit that can weather any storm. No matter how hard the world tries to knock her down, to break her, she will rise again, stronger, more defiant than ever before.
“Christian.” Dr. Johnson probes. Her tone is much gentler now. “What are you thinking?”
“Amelia doesn’t need me,” I say without giving myself a chance to filter my thoughts. As much as I hate saying the words out loud, they’re true.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” she says. “You’re about to become parents. She needs your help with that.”
I shake my head. “Her strength is unparalleled. She can do it without me.”
“Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t need you.” She reassures me. “Parenting is hard. Having two parents makes it so much easier for everyone. Including the child. Trust me when I say she needs you. Don’t give up on yourself.”
“But what if she gives up on me?” I whisper, the fear an icy knot in my stomach. It’s my worst nightmare—the image of Amelia waking up one day, finally seeing me for what I truly am—damaged, broken, unworthy of her love. The family feud is just one obstacle, a minor inconvenience compared to the internal storm raging within me. Everything about me, from my demons to my self-destructive tendencies, makes me a difficult man to love.
“It takes two people to make a relationship work,” she says. “It also takes two people to make a relationship fail. The two of you are in this together.”
“That’s only further proof that I’m doomed. All I do is screw up.”
She sighs and laces her fingers together on her lap. “Let me ask you a question. How long have the two of you been dating?”
“A little over two years.” I furrow my brow and frown. I’m not sure where she’s going with this.
“And in those two years, how many times have you fought?”
Her question causes all the tension that’s gripped my body for the past three days to loosen its hold. My shoulders sag and I let out a low breath.
“None.” I admit.
“In those two years, how many times have you broken her trust?” She continues.
I widen my eyes. “Never.”
She leans forward on her elbows and holds my gaze. “And how many times have you stood by her side and supported her when she needed you?”
“Every single time,” I say without hesitation. “I’ll do anything for her. Always.”
“Two years is a long time to go without fighting or breaking a person’s trust. She just needs a moment to wrap her head around this small obstacle. She’ll come around.”
I close my eyes, and take a deep, shuddering breath. Dr. Johnson’s words echo in my mind, a fragile melody against the cacophony of doubt that constantly plagues me. Logically, she’s right. She’s always right, a beacon of reason in the storm of my own self-destruction. It’s why I keep coming back to our sessions.
But doubt, that insidious beast, has a tight grip on my soul, whispering lies and poisoning every hopeful thought.
“But what if she doesn’t come around?” I put those nightmares into words.
“Then we’ll deal with it, and I’ll help you work through it.” She gives me a reassuring smile. “But don’t sink the boat just yet. You’re a good man, and she knows it. She wouldn’t be with you otherwise.”
Dr. Johnson has been my lifeline, pulling me back from the abyss on more than one occasion. I owe her my life, my very soul. She’s been my compass, guiding me through the darkest of storms, and I cling to the hope that she’s right about this too.
Losing Amelia would shatter me.
I don’t know if I could survive the emotional wreckage her absence would create.