Chapter Fifty-four
A knock sounds at the door and my eyes flick to the clock ticking on the wall, eyes sore from how much I have cried and how little I have slept.
Except for a few spotty areas, I remember everything, including the night it all ended.
It was strange. When it came back, it was like someone had taken the lid off a can and everything overflowed. The heartbreak flooded back but so did the way I felt for him. I did – do love him.
“Did you order something?” I ask Sloane, watching as she reaches for the remote to stop our rewatch of One Tree Hill.
“No,” She frowns .
“It’s probably Bast or Willow,” I shrug, shoving off the blanket. My whole body is heavy but if I don’t keep moving, I fear I’ll become a permanent part of the couch.
Sloane shoves her nail between her teeth, her anxiety rearing its head in the way her eyes shift around the room, checking all the corners, “It’s fine,” I assure her as I pad through the house toward the door. I should have left the security system running since I could have just checked the cameras, but I turned them all off when I realized both Killian and Dean had access to them. I needed a minute without him, but I should have known that not even a second can pass without me thinking about him.
I pull the door open, fully expecting to see my brother but I freeze when familiar dark eyes land on mine.
“Killian,” I breathe.
He takes a step closer and sound rushes back in. I move back, using the door like its armor. Pain crosses his face, “Savannah,” He pleads, “Can we talk?”
He looks tired, his face a mash of blues and purples from the bruising that’s slowly healing. His hair is a mess, his beard is thicker and messier than when I last saw him.
“I don’t – I’m not–”
“You’re not ready,” He sighs, finishing the sentence for me.
“No,” I swallow thickly, “I don’t know if I want to. ”
His eyes squeeze closed, “I am so fucking sorry, Savannah.”
My head shakes frantically, “Stop.”
“Please,” He begs, “I just want to explain.”
“There’s nothing left to explain,” I push down the heartbreak, fight the tears that want to fall. “I remember it Killian.”
Tremors quake through my body, “You ended it. You made your choice, and it wasn’t us.”
“Savannah.”
“Please don’t,” I start to close the door.
“I love you,” He rushes, slapping out his hand to stop me shutting him out, “I fucked up.”
“But me loving you wasn’t enough,” I whisper, “Because you chose them, and you let me go.”
“It was a mistake,” He reaches for me, but I move out of his grasp.
“A mistake isn’t the same as a choice, Killian. Just like the lies you told were a choice .”
“What can I do, Tiny Dancer?” His glazed eyes plead with mine, “What do you need?”
I shrug my shoulders, “I don’t know anymore, Killian. Because you broke my fucking heart and then you rubbed salt into it. It’s not as simple as an apology and living happily ever after. I don’t want to be second, Killian. I deserve to be first, and I won’t ask you to choose between me and my brother.”
He doesn’t stop me when I close the door this time and after I turn the lock, I press my back to the wall and sink to the floor.
Sloane joins me there a moment later, throwing a blanket over the both of us before she passes me a spoon and the carton of ice cream that’s practically melted already. A watery laugh bursts from me as I accept the carton, digging straight it.
“Whatever you decide,” Sloane leans her head against my shoulder, “You deserve to be happy, Savvy.”
“I need someone to want me as much as I want them,” I tell her.
“I know,” She agrees.
I take a deep breath on the sidewalk outside of my agency office, Daphne is inside and the conversation I am about to have is going to be uncomfortable. Six months ago, I never would have done this or even thought about it and even though I have no idea what this will mean for my career, I know I can’t keep going the way I am.
I love the shows, the opportunities and videos but if I have to spend another minute with that woman, I might scream.
Greeting the receptionist on the way through, I head straight for the bank of elevators that’ll take me up to her floor. I recognize a few faces and stop a couple times to catch up really quick, but I can only stall for so long. Rip the band aid off, so they say and the quicker this is done, the quicker I can start to rebuild my life.
“Savannah,” Daphne leans back in her chair, her groomed brows high in surprise. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“This couldn’t wait,” I tell her, closing the door gently behind me.
“Oh fuck,” She slams her laptop shut, “Are you pregnant?”
My eyes widen, “What!?”
She snatches her cigarettes off the desk and flicks one out but doesn’t light it, “Pregnant. Are you pregnant?”
“No!” I rush out.
“Oh, thank god,” She sags in her chair, “That would have been bad for your tour next year.”
“There’s no tour.” I swallow thickly, “No shows.”
“Well not yet,” She taps the end of her unlit cigarette against her desk, “We’re getting it set up in the next few weeks. It’ll sell out.”
“There is no tour,” I snap at her, “You’re fired, Daphne.”
Her mouth drops open as she freezes and it takes her a few seconds to process, “You can’t fire me. ”
“I can.”
Before turning up here, I wasn’t so sure, but I went through my contracts with Willow, Dean and Bast this morning.
“This is my formal notice of the termination of our contract, I will honor my commitments for the next sixty days but after that, the working relationship we had will be over.”
Her eyes blink rapidly as she opens and closes her mouth a few times. “I have sent you an email also with the written notice, I have sent it to all necessary parties too.”
“I made you,” She suddenly stands from the desk, “I fucking made you, Savannah and this is how you repay me?”
I straighten my spine, “You got me my first gig,” I agree, “But I sold the shows. It was me on that stage, me in the music videos, me not you. You may have started the race, but it was me who crossed that fucking finish line.”
“And who will take you now, hm?” She curls her lip, “You’re getting older, Savannah, washed up. We could have kept you going until your retirement at twenty-seven, but no one will take you now.”
“I’m twenty-three, Daphne, and even if I don’t sign with another agency, then I can live with that.”
“So that’s it?”
“That’s it.” I nod, “I wanted to tell you myself. ”
“How noble of you,” She sneers, “Get the fuck out of my office.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her it was nice working with her but that would be a lie. She was fucking horrible, and it only took remembering how she was with Adrien and the way she spoke about me like I was an object and not a human for me to realize. As I step out of the office, a weight lifts from my shoulders.
It’s only one step but a step is a step, right?
Has it fixed the fracture in my heart or the pain in my soul? No. Not even a little and I’m not sure anything will heal that wound but it does feel like I have a little more control now.
And that’s something I haven’t had in a long time.