Chapter 46
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Daisy
Finn
Hey, never heard back from you. All good?
Finn
Did the roses get there okay? Thinking maybe I got the address wrong
Finn
Dais?
Finn
Where you at, babe?
Finn
Daisy…?
Finn
You got me worried now. Answer your phone
Finn
Fucking hell, Dais. Just let me know you’re okay
“You knew who I was. I never pretended to be something I’m not.”
When someone tells you who they are, you should listen.
Trouble is, I never do.
“Hey,” Callie says softly. “We’re here.”
I blink and look out the window until the San Francisco departures area comes into focus. I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn’t even notice we’d arrived.
I guess it’s a good thing that I forgot to cancel my original flight back to New York, but if I want to catch it, I’ll have to hurry, so I grab my backpack and hop out of the car.
“Thanks for driving me to the airport.”
“No problem,” Callie says, opening the trunk. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I force a smile and zip up my hoodie to ward off the chill in the air. How appropriate that the skies are gray with the threat of rain on the horizon. “I’m fine.”
She gives me a skeptical look, but I grab my suitcase and set it on the sidewalk before she can question me further.
“Make sure to text me,” she says, coming to stand in front of me. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too.” Blinking back my tears, I give her a hug and we squeeze each other tight.
“And if you want to talk, I’m only a phone call away.”
With another tight smile, the best I can muster, I snap up the handle of my roller bag and walk through the doors of the San Francisco airport with a heavy heart and unshed tears threatening to fall.
I guess I should have known how this would end. I shouldn’t have been surprised that Beckett would lure my mother here. Or that he would stop at nothing until he got revenge.
How foolish to believe he cared about me enough to be honest and treat me with respect.
I guess I was hoping for too much. My tragic flaw.
As I go through airport security and weave through the crowds to reach my gate, panic grips me and I break out in a cold sweat.
The airport is too crowded. Too warm. Too claustrophobic.
Little dots form before my eyes and a fear claws its way up my throat, forming a lump that I can’t swallow past.
I don’t know why this is happening. I’ve taken hundreds of flights and have never once had an anxiety attack over it.
But seeing my mother again reopened an old wound and now all my old fears and insecurities rise to the surface.
I check the board for my gate and all the numbers and letters jumble together.
Deep breaths, Daisy . You’re fine. Everything is fine.
I locate my gate number and curse as I turn and run in the opposite direction with my heart beating in my throat.
When I was a kid, I was always so scared my mother would leave me behind.
As long as I did as she said and played her little games, things were fine. But as soon as I pushed back or questioned her or demanded answers, she’d say, Stop pestering me, Daisy, or I’ll leave you on the side of the road.
As if I were a stray cat she took in.
A few times she even stopped the car and shoved the passenger door open. Get out and walk. You’re driving me insane .
She always made sure I knew that it was an accidental pregnancy and that I was a ‘mistake.’ You owe me, Daisy. If it had been up to your father, you wouldn’t even be here.
As if it was my fault she got knocked up. Never in the history of time has a child ever asked to be born.
Whenever I tried to get some affection, she’d say, Stop being so clingy. You need to learn how to stand on your own two feet.
Survival is a talent, Daisy.
And boy, am I ever talented.
I can stand on my own two feet, not because my mother taught me how to, but because I learned how to survive without her.
I’m not a little kid anymore. I can handle everything on my own, with no help from anyone, just like I’ve been doing for years.
Panting, I drop into my seat and fasten my seat belt, preparing for takeoff.
When my breathing returns to normal, I lean against the headrest and mentally berate myself.
I’ve worked so hard to get to where I am now and with just one visit from my mother, I feel like I’m back to being that kid she never really wanted.
If Beckett had at least taken the common courtesy to warn me, to clue me in to his plans, I would have been better prepared.
It would have been my choice whether to see her or to “sit this one out.”
But no, he couldn’t do that, could he? Instead, I was completely blindsided.
Now I feel like a fool for thinking I had to protect Beckett from Astrid when he was the one who tracked her down.
Before the plane takes off, I text Finn to let him know I’m on my way home, turn my phone on airplane mode and stuff it into the front pocket of my backpack.
Then I do a quick inventory to make sure everything is in my bag before stowing it under the seat in front of me.
In my haste to get away, I packed so quickly that I keep thinking I’ve forgotten something.
There’s a nagging feeling in my gut telling me I’ve left something important behind.
Or maybe it’s not something, but someone.
My first crush. My first love. The first boy who ever broke my heart when he carelessly tossed my drawings into the trash.
Getting your heart broken at twenty-five hurts a lot more than it did at eight.
But isn’t it just like me to fall for someone who will never love me back?
I let myself into my apartment just after midnight.
It smells like weed and incense, and after being gone for so long, it doesn’t even feel like mine anymore. And yet, everything looks the same as I left it.
My framed street photography and artwork from emerging artists still hang on the walls. Moroccan rugs skim the worn hardwood floors.
My mismatched furniture—thrift store and flea market finds—are scattered around the open space living area, and the wall of shelves is filled with books and pottery and random keepsakes from my travels.
My gaze narrows on the flames flickering from dozens of candles dotted around the room in candelabras, glass holders, and silver candlesticks.
This feels exactly like when Finn and I were just two stupid teenagers squatting in a rundown building. We’d light candles and sit cross-legged on the floor eating our dinner, and then we’d tumble onto the mattress and hold each other until the flames flickered and died.
Finn knew exactly what he was doing. He knows how to play me. How to evoke strong emotions by reminding me of what we used to be.
Now, he comes to stand before me in a faded concert T-shirt with holes in the neck and ripped jeans.
Longish wavy brown hair, green eyes, full lips.
Just the same as I remember.
“Welcome home, babe.” He pulls me into his arms and holds me close. It feels so familiar that muscle memory kicks in and my arms wrap around his lean body.
Being in his arms used to feel like home. I always thought we fit together so well, but now it feels all wrong.
It doesn’t feel like home anymore.
Sutton Ridge felt like home. Beckett felt like home. Until he burned the castle to the ground and danced on the ashes.
My chest feels tight and my heart aches.
“Missed you,” Finn murmurs, sliding his hands into my hair like they belong there. They don’t. They haven’t for a long time.
His mouth slants over mine, our lips mere inches apart and it takes me a few seconds to realize that he’s going to kiss me. I rear back just as his lips touch mine and I pull away.
“What are you doing?” I take a step back. “We’re not together.”
“Yeah, I know.” He runs his hand through his hair and gives me a lopsided grin. “Sorry.” But he doesn’t sound sorry at all.
I used to think Finn was the hottest boy I’d ever laid eyes on. I loved his face and his lean build. His tattoos, his devil-may-care smile and his fuck-the-world attitude.
I thought we were two of a kind. Outcasts. Artists. Free spirits.
I thought we’d always have each other’s back.
But he’s failed me too many times, and now I can finally see him for what he is.
A rebel without a cause. A careless boy. A drug addict. A cheater who will try to charm his way back into my pants and my life by promising the world and delivering absolutely fucking nothing.
I can’t allow that to happen. Not again. I can’t be that girl anymore. The one who bandaged his bruises. The one who was always there to catch him when he fell. The girl he ran to whenever his life went to shit.
I don’t want to have this conversation tonight. I’m weary from traveling. Still shaken up after seeing my mother again. Heartsick over having to walk away from Beckett.
I feel betrayed and hurt. My heart has been battered and bruised. And like the flames flickering in the candelabras, I’m one breath away from dying out.
But I know that this can’t wait. I need to do it tonight.
So I flick on the lights, signaling that this won’t be a romantic evening or a reconciliation.
He frowns, barely hiding his annoyance. “What are you doing?”
“We need to talk.”
He laughs. “You need the lights on to talk?”
“For this conversation, yes. We need the lights on.”
He leans against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest like he’s sensed that he needs to be on the defensive. “What’s going on?”
No point in getting comfortable so I stay right where I am, standing across from him. I rehearsed this so many times on the flight home, but it’s a lot easier to have this conversation in your head than it is in person.
Time to rip off the Band-Aid. I take a deep breath and let it out. “We need to go our separate ways,” I say firmly.
“Go our separate ways,” he repeats. “And what exactly does that mean?”
“It means that we’re never getting back together, and I think that it would be better if we make a clean break.”
“You want a clean break, huh?” He gives me that surly look that’s always gotten him into trouble with authority figures. “Hate to break it to you, but it doesn’t work that way. I’m your family, Dais. I’m the only one who has ever been there for you. And what? You just wanna shit all over twelve years of friendship? Twelve years of love?” He juts his chin at me. “You don’t need me anymore so you’re just gonna kick me to the curb. Is that it?”
Only this morning, I said something similar to Beckett, but I can’t think about him right now, so I focus on Finn.
I have to hold strong. Otherwise, he’ll see my weakness and use it against me, so I forge on.
“We’re not good for each other anymore. We haven’t been good in a very long time. I’m tired of being treated like shit and taken advantage of?—”
“When have I ever taken advantage of you?” he demands.
God. He really has no idea, does he? “You’ve been living in my apartment rent-free for months?—”
“If this is about money, I told you I’d pay you back.”
“This isn’t about money. It’s about us. We keep falling into the same old patterns over and over. I can’t keep enabling you, Finn. If you were having problems with Asher, you should have stayed out in LA and fixed them. That’s where you should be right now. You can’t keep showing up in my life and promising me that everything will be different when we both know it won’t. We’ve been down this road too many times but I’m done?—”
“That was all in the past,” he protests. “I told you I’ll do better. You have my word. Cross my heart.” He gives me a lopsided, boyish grin and crosses his heart with his finger. I used to think that was the most adorable thing.
But how many times have I fallen for this act? Too many to count.
“I really wish your word meant something to me, Finn, but you’ve broken every promise you ever made. You cheated on me. You stole from me. You lied to me. You chose drugs and music and partying and other women over me time and time again. You have never put me first, Finn. Never. And I…”
I let out a shaky breath and blink back the tears. “I spent years wondering what was wrong with me that no one has ever loved me enough to put me first. But you know what? That’s on me. Because I allowed it. I allowed it because I didn’t think I deserved better. But I do. I deserve to be treated with respect. I deserve to be loved by someone who puts me first. So I need you to give my keys back and I need you to pack your bags and leave. I need you to go, Finn.”
I’m shaking but it’s out now. I’ve said what I needed to say, and he needs to respect that.
He works his jaw and I have to look away, so I won’t see the hurt in his eyes. “This is bullshit, Daisy. I love you.” His voice cracks on the words and I hate it.
I hate hurting him. I hate that I’m being forced to do this at all.
But it needed to be done. How long have I been putting up with his crap? How long have I been avoiding this conversation, and accepting the way he treats me?
The way everyone treats me.
My mind reverts to Beckett and a tear slips down my cheek.
No more.
This is the end of allowing people to walk all over me.
The start of putting myself first.
“No one knows you like I do,” Finn says. “No one will ever love you as much as I do. We’re good together, Daisy. Just give me a chance to prove it.”
“Our love was toxic. That’s not the kind of love?—”
“That sounds like the kind of bullshit your therapist was feeding you. She didn’t know what the fuck she was talking about. We’re not toxic, babe. We just went through a few rough patches. Nothing we can’t fix.”
I grit my teeth. He’s still trying to argue his side. Completely dismissing everything I said and treating me like I don’t know what I want.
Yet another example of how little he respects me. He doesn’t value my opinion or care what I want because he’s too busy thinking about what he wants.
I’m starting to wonder if we ever truly loved each other at all. Or if we were just codependent.
“Haven’t you heard a single word I said? I have given you so many chances. Way more than I should have. You’re not getting another one. And what’s more, I don’t want to be with you. I’ve changed. I’m not that same screwed-up girl you knew all those years ago. And I won’t be taken advantage of anymore. Not by you. Not by anyone.”
His eyes narrow. “Hang on. This isn’t because of the therapist. This is because of that asshole out in California, isn’t it? Did you fall in love with him?” He lifts his chin. “That’s why you’re saying all this, isn’t it?”
This is so like Finn. Instead of accepting the responsibility for his own actions, he’s always looking for an excuse or someone else to place the blame on.
My hands ball into fists at my sides. “I’m not asking you to leave so I can be with someone else. I’m doing what I should have done a long time ago. I’m choosing me. I have to start putting myself first because no one else ever does. I need you to leave.”
Because I’m about to break down and cry and I don’t want to do it in front of you because you’ll assume my tears are for you.
“You don’t mean this. This isn’t what you want.” He sounds so cocky, so certain that he knows what I want better than I do. What is it with the men in my life? “Why don’t you sleep on it, and we can talk in the morning?” Finn pushes off the wall. “How about I make you some of that tea you like?—"
“Don’t tell me what I want,” I grit out. “If you ever cared about me at all, if you ever loved me, you would want me to be happy and you would respect my wishes. Get. Out!” I yell, pointing at the door.
He holds up his hands. “Chill. I’m leaving.” He fishes his keys out of his pocket, tosses them on the coffee table and strides to the door while I stand in the middle of the living room, feeling like my heart is shattering. “You’ll miss me when I’m gone. I’m the only one who really knows you. The only one who ever stuck around. And why do you think that is, Daisy?”
He's being mean. On purpose. And even though I’m trying to block out his words and not let them get to me, they still do.
When the door closes behind him and the locks slide into place with a ring of finality, I slide down the wall, hug my knees to my chest, and cry.
Am I so unlovable?
I must be, because Finn is right.
Everyone leaves me.
Sobs wrack my body with the force of my tears as my heart shatters.
I chose me. But where did that get me? I’m alone again.
No mother. No Finn. No Beckett .
And it hurts. It hurts so fucking much that I can’t even breathe.
Curled up in the fetal position, the floor hard beneath my body, I cry an ocean.
I cry until there are no more tears left inside me, and when my tears finally subside, I don’t feel any better.
I just feel hollowed out and empty with an ache in my heart that won’t subside.
Beckett’s words echo in my head.
Why did you think you deserved so little?
Maybe it’s because all the most important people in my life have treated me like shit.
Why didn’t he give me more?
After I peel my body off the floor, I get to my feet on shaky legs and grab my camera from my bag.
Then I take a photo of the girl in the mirror. Of my tear-stained cheeks. My red, puffy eyes. The gaping Beckett-sized hole inside me.
The camera never lies. It’s the only witness to my misery and heartache.
And once again, I have no one to rely on but myself.
You’re on your own, kid.