Chapter 53
Josephine
Heat rushes through me as I flee.
By the time I make it back into bed, I’m so hot and agitated that I have to kick the extra blankets off.
Despite the way my pulse pounds in my ears, I’m as quiet as I can be. I don’t want to wake either of my guys or let on to my encounter with Decker. Not until I’ve processed it.
What the fuck happened up there?
Because that was real. The emotions and whatever just passed between us—whether it was a moment of weakness or a peek at the truth I’ve been so desperate to uncover—Decker was there. Waiting for me? Hoping I’d show up?
I lie awake, huffing as adrenaline courses through me for what feels like hours.
I can’t sleep.
Can’t breathe.
I can’t do anything but envision his face: The initial hope followed by the horror in his eyes when I rejected him. The shock that slid over his features when I denied his request.
My fight-or-flight instinct kicked in once the implications of his plea hit me.
Because what the fuck did he expect to happen?
Did he really believe we’d hold each other for a minute?
Allow ourselves sixty seconds to surrender to what we both want, but what he so unceremoniously and single-handedly destroyed?
And then what? Did he think that one minute would be enough to galvanize us until the next run-in? That it would pacify him for a while? That he could come back looking to steal another minute of my time when its effects wore off?
What about my wants? My needs?
What about the fresh wounds, just beginning to heal, that he’d reopen if I said yes to him?
Heat creeps up my neck as I silently seethe.
How dare he?
After I’ve lain in bed for what feels like an eternity, I sit up, more heated and aggravated than when I left Decker standing in the living room.
I quietly scoot to the foot of the bed for the second time tonight, grateful when both Locke and Kylian stay sound asleep.
When the door is latched behind me, I hoof it up the stairs, on a mission.
I don’t bother going slow or being quiet this time.
I don’t care if he knows I’m coming. He deserves everything coming his way.
The living room is quiet, but it was quiet before.
I scan the space, and when I find nothing but an empty room, I check the kitchen and the dining area. Unoccupied.
Hands fisted at my sides, I venture deeper into the house and down the hallway that leads to a set of bedrooms. I helped Kendrick get the girls settled into their room earlier, so I know which one is theirs, just like I know that K’s is right next door.
There’s another door at the end of the hall, which I discover is a linen closet. Then there’s a small half bath and an empty bedroom on the other side.
I turn the handle on the last door in this part of the house, and I’m met with another empty room.
Sighing, I take a step back, ready to pull the door closed, but the sound of water striking tiles stops me.
Then a tattered, broken cry echoes through the dark.
A bolt of concern shoots through me. I scurry toward the haze billowing out of the doorway, panicked.
But when I cross the threshold, I’m met with nothing but steam from the shower and the fogged-up mirror above the vanity.
That’s when my brain catches up. That’s when the identity of the person in the shower dawns on me.
“Decker?” I ask tentatively.
Because it could only be him.
I step farther into the room, shivering when my bare feet hit the cold floor.
Another step.
Another strangled sob rings out, reverberating off the tiles.
My heart bursts into a billion pieces.
Fragments. Fractures and slivers so thin, there’s no way to piece them back together. The edges don’t line up. It’s senseless to try to salvage something so utterly destroyed.
Because that’s what Decker did. Before we even had a shot at solidifying our connection. Before I could show him how deeply I loved him, he pushed me away and shattered my heart.
I freeze where I stand, my self-preservation warring with my desire to comfort him.
I should leave. Every iota of logic and reason I possess is urging me away from this place, from this man.
Vindication thrums through me as I listen to him cry. He wasn’t completely unaffected by what he did, despite the cool, heartless mask he wears. He’s hurting. He’s hurting so badly he’s sobbing.
Yet he’s the root cause of our mutual pain.
God dammit, Decker Crusade.
I should have known better.
I should have pushed back harder, refused to come here in the first place.
This is why I can never go back to the mansion.
It’s not about dancing around one another and what almost was.
It’s not about avoiding each other the best we can.
It’s constantly battling against the invisible strings and palpable pull that link us together.
“Decker?” I call out, louder.
There’s a startled grunt, then silence ensues.
The shower turns off.
But he makes no move to emerge from behind the steamy glass enclosure.
He knows it’s me. He has to.
I take another step further into the room.
Anxiety thrums through my veins as I wait for him to speak. To acknowledge me.
A massive palm slaps against the fogged-up glass.
It remains there. Inviting me. Resting. His open palm calls me forward like he knows I’d give anything to touch him for real.
To feel the warmth of him again, even for a minute.
Even though he was the one who brought about the bitter, cold darkness I’ve existed in for the last few weeks.
“Decker. Talk to me. Let me in.” I’m practically pressed up against the glass now, with no recollection of how I got all the way across the room.
His answer is nothing more than a choked-out, hollow sob.
Even so, he makes no moves to slide open the glass shower door. To reach out. To put us both out of our goddamn misery.
I swallow past the nauseating emotion lodged in my throat, not even bothering to fight the tears that fall freely down both cheeks.
“Decker, please,” I beg, placing my palm against the glass, lining it up with his massive hand.
The shower door shudders, startling me, as he presses his forehead into the panel between us.
“I’m sorry.” His words are muffled, and his face, all but his forehead and brow line, is hidden by the steam.
“Josephine. I’m so fucking sorry.”
A guttural sob shakes the glass, triggering an onslaught of my own tears. They well and crest over my lashes, falling fast and splattering against my chest like raindrops.
“Decker. Open the door.”
He shakes his head, and the glass shakes with him.
This stubborn, obstinate, bullheaded man.
“Decker Crusade,” I plead, grinding my own forehead into the smooth, warm glass.
We’re so close. So fucking close. Why can’t he let me in?
“I’m so sorry, baby. I thought I could save you,” he sobs. “I thought I could push you away and stay away. But all I did—all I’ve ever done—is hurt you.”
He’s spiraling. He’s unraveling in front of me, and yet I can’t reach him.
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” I urge. “We can go back, Decker. We can figure this out.”
He didn’t give me a chance the morning he broke us. He didn’t give me even a minute to collect my thoughts or catch my breath.
I would have fought for us. I would have committed to finding a way forward, even if it hurt. Even if it was hard. Even if it required sacrifice.
He never gave me a chance.
He never gave us a chance.
“Decker.” I pull on the handle, determined to get through to him, but the door doesn’t budge. His weight holds the glass in place. “Decker. Let me in.”
“I can’t,” he cries.
“You can!” My heart hammers against my ribs as heat creeps up my chest and neck. “Decker, open the door. We can figure this out. Just give us a chance.”
“No,” he barks. The word echoes off the tiles.
“We fucking can’t, and now I’m hurting you more.
It’s killing me. It’s killing me to put you through this, and yet I can’t stop.
I’m a fucking masochist when it comes to you, Josephine.
” He shudders. “I’m not strong enough to do what I know has to be done.
You were right to deny me. Don’t give me any more of your minutes, Siren.
Promise me you’ll stay away. You have to stay away. ”
The glass rattles as he pulls back, removing his hand and his head and all hope in one fell swoop.
A second passes. Then another.
Tears fall in rapid succession as I sense the emotionless mask he wears for the world slipping back into place.
His tone is sharp when he speaks again.
“There’s nothing left between us. There can’t be. There won’t be, ever again.”
His words land like a physical blow. My stomach bottoms out, and all the air escapes my lungs. He’s so determined to push me away.
I press my forehead harder against the glass as the tears fall faster, dripping straight to the floor now.
They aren’t tears of sadness, though. I’m sad, of course, but my heartache will keep.
These are tears of frustration. Anger. Tears of outrage and devastation.
Because it doesn’t have to be like this. There’s always another way. Yet he’s so fixated on protecting me that he can’t see past his own bullheadedness to consider alternatives.
The world we live in isn’t black and white. There’s always another option, a new idea, an alternative. If only he’d let us try.
I’m willing to try. I’d put in the work. I could learn to deal with the media, agree to more security, spend a lifetime learning to accept that he’s a public figure.
If only he’d let us fucking try.
This realization hits so hard it’s almost enough to knock me off my feet.
He’s already given up on us. He’s not even willing to try.
“You’re a coward,” I whisper, the words raw as they scrape out of me.
“You’re a coward, and I wish I could hate you.
But I can’t. I can’t hate you, Decker. I’ll never hate you the way you want me to.
I can’t even stay mad at you the way you deserve.
I know you too well. I know you’re doing this to protect me.
And I know you’re destroying yourself to do it. ”
I wait, letting my words fill the space between us, holding on to one final glimmer of hope that my words, who I am, what I have to offer, will be enough to break through.
It’s not.
It never has been. And clearly, it never will be.
“I loved you. Even after everything. Even now, I love you still.”
Silence ensues.
Just like it always fucking does when Decker digs his heels in.
“I loved you,” I whisper one last time, the words barely audible to my own ears above my ragged breaths and the erratic beating of my broken heart.
His continued silence is the only reply I receive, and it’s all the answer I need. I pull myself away and walk out of the bathroom without looking back.