Chapter 35 #2
“If I don’t go back, my dad is done for.
” Darius rolls over, gritting his teeth as he comes face to face with me.
“For a moment, I thought Floyd was going to kill me.” He drops his voice to a whisper.
“I don’t want to die.” Tears glimmer in his eyes and I feel them build in mine, my throat growing tight.
“I don’t want you to die, either. I can’t survive without you, baby. You’re my everything. My reason. I won’t lose you.”
“I don’t know what to do.” More tears fall down his cheeks and when my vision blurs, I realise I’m crying now, too.
We’re both naked beneath the sheets, and I take his uninjured hand, slipping his pointer finger between two of mine. I move it to the tattoo over my heart.
“Here’s what you do.” His fingertip traces the words. “You choose you, Darius. Not your dad, or his company, or even me. You choose you.”
He smiles, his eyes drooping. “Maybe.”
I don’t press him on it, knowing he needs rest in order to recover. I won’t let him go back. Even if he hates me for it, I will make sure this ends. Because if he won’t choose himself, I will always choose him.
“How can I fix this, baby?” I ask.
His eyes shoot open. “Don’t do anything, Ollie. Promise me. Just hold me now. I’ll work it all out somehow. But please, let me handle this. Promise me.”
I hum under my breath, not promising him because I don’t know that I could keep it. His eyes close, a gentle breath passing his lips. “Please,” he mumbles, exhaustion pulling at him.
Pressing a kiss to his lips, I manoeuvre us so that I’m on my back and Darius’s head is on my chest. Dancing a hand up and down his spine, I hold him close as his breathing deepens and soft warm breaths graze my torso.
I don’t sleep; I stare at the shadows dancing on my ceiling, my mind whirring.
Darius whimpers in his sleep, his face scrunching up when I slowly move him off of me and tuck the blanket over him.
I slide out of bed, throw on jeans and a t-shirt, then head to the bathroom and pick up our wet and dirty clothing.
I take Darius’s phone out of the pocket of his jeans, and carry it through to the lounge.
Pacing the small space, staring at the device in my hand, I come up with a plan.
I’m not sure he’ll like it, so I only hope he forgives me.
Despite trying to stay awake all night to watch over Darius, I must have fallen asleep at some point because I’m startled awake, back against the headboard, the room cast in a soft yellow glow where I left the side table lamp on.
My attention falls to the man next to me, whimpering in pain as he rolls onto his side.
“D, baby?”
He’s buried his face between our two pillows, a tremble running through his body when I rest a palm on his back.
Darius lifts his face to look at me, and I wipe the tears off his cheeks with my thumb. There’s a purple shadow above his top lip, where a streak of dried blood sticks to his skin.
“You’re okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.
” Lying on my back, I motion for him to come closer, and he does, sucking in a sharp breath when he moves too suddenly.
When he’s finally situated with his head on my chest, my hand on his back and his injured wrist laying across my stomach, I pull the blanket over us, then press a kiss to his forehead.
“Sleep, love.” Darius looks up at me, his usually sparkling blue eyes dull and afraid. “We’ll sort it all out tomorrow. I promise.”
He doesn’t speak, exhaustion pulling him back into a restless sleep. I don’t move for the rest of the night, watching as the flat brightens, sunrise filtering through the cheap cotton curtains. Then, I climb out of bed and silently potter around, getting myself ready for the day ahead.
Shortly before eight, there’s a barely audible knock on the front door. I open it to mind a worried-looking Darcey on the doorstep.
“Hey,” she says, keeping her voice low as she steps inside. “Where is he?”
“Still asleep,” I whisper, pointing behind me.
She peels off her coat as she looks towards my bed that’s hidden behind the large wooden bookcase. I messaged her early this morning asking if she could come over. I didn’t go into great detail, other than to say that Darius had been hurt.
“How’s he doing?”
“He’s been restless all night, struggling to get comfortable. I think he’s in a lot of pain. Wouldn’t let me take him to the hospital, but he’ll get checked out later today.”
“You didn’t say much in your message. Do you know what happened?” Darcey puts her bag down and kicks off her high heels. She’s dressed in a navy blue pantsuit, ready for a day in the office.
“Floyd.”
Darcey raises an eyebrow, her hand clenching into a fist. “That fucking asshole.”
“Yep.” Keeping my voice low, I say, “I need you to do me a favour.”
“I’m listening.”
“I need to go out. Can you stay with him? I don’t want him left alone.”
She nods. Removing her phone from her pocket, she taps at the screen before dropping it into her bag. “Done. I’ve let work know I won’t be in today.”
“Thank you.”
“Where are you going?”
Sliding into my trainers, I check I have both phones in my pocket, then blow out a breath.
“To end this.”
Darcey frowns. “Is Darius okay with what you’re about to do?”
I shake my head, my voice an angry whisper when I reply. “I don’t know. I haven’t told him. He needed his rest and I…” Didn’t want him to stop me. “Better to ask for forgiveness, right?”
She cocks her head to the side, furrowing her brows. “Right.”
I open the front door and step out into the corridor, Darcey moving to stand in front of me at the threshold.
“I’m not waiting around for that fucker to kill him before anything is done,” I say. “If Darius is mad at me after, I’ll live with that. But at least he’ll live and have his life back. That’s all I care about.”
For so long, my life could have been a study in disappointments – one after another they landed until I wasn’t so sure I deserved anything better – and then I met Darius and I understood what it meant to be loved and cherished.
He became my exception. The sun after the storm.
I’ll do anything in my power to protect him.
Darcey places her hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “He’s lucky to have you.”
“No,” I say. “I’m lucky to have him. Which is why I have to do this.”
“What do I tell him when he asks where you are?”
I shrug. “The truth? That I love him? Whatever you need to, just don’t lie to him. We don’t do that.”
Darcey nods, letting go of my shoulder.
“Ollie?” Darius calls, his voice sleepy. He can’t see me and though I’m torn between rushing over to him and leaving, the desire to follow through on my plan wins out.
“I’ve got him,” Darcey says. “Go.”
With one last look over Darcey’s shoulder, I spin and hurry down the stairs, pushing through the lobby door and onto the street. Grey skies to match my mood, greet me.
I double check the directions to Darius’s place – grateful he gave me the address last week – then head towards the station.
I toyed with the idea of a cab, but figured that this would be quicker given it’s one line between the two stations, and at this time of morning, the trains should be regular.
A train pulls into the station as I arrive and I cram in among the morning commuters, making the short journey to Clapham Junction station.
Once there, I exit onto the street, making the short walk to the terraced apartment building overlooking the common.
A marble staircase leads up to a solid wooden door adorned with the building’s name above it in frosted glass.
There’s a panel to the right of the door, which unlocks with the tap of the keycard I took from Darius’s wallet.
Inside, the lobby is impressive – wood floors with black and gold accents and a touch of nature in the form of two adult sized potted palms. There’s a lift to the three floors each housing one apartment, but I take the stairs, two at a time, passing from the first to the second, to the third floor, until I’m standing outside the rooftop apartment.
My chest heaves and my heart thuds angrily against my ribcage. Drying my sweaty palms on my jeans, I roll my neck on my shoulders, blow out a breath and knock on the door.
When no one answers, I knock again, this time harder.
There’s shuffling behind the door, before it’s flung open. The man in front of me scowls, his lips curling, a faint hint of alcohol wafting off of him.
“You –” Floyd doesn’t get another word out before I’m pushing inside, shoving him against the wall, my forearm pinned across his neck.
“You fucking asshole. I should kill you for what you did.”
The motherfucking piece of shit laughs and I see red.
Rearing back, I punch him in the face, the satisfaction of the blood that spouts from his nose dulling the pain in my knuckle.
I’m not a fighter. I hit Alister once when I was younger, and that ended with a bruise on my shoulder that he sold to my parents as a skateboarding accident.
Floyd rubs his nose, pulling his hand back and staring down at the blood. His eyes show no emotion when he looks back at me, like he’s wearing a mask. He straightens his shirt, adjusting his cuffs, and takes one step forward, his movements composed and eerily calm.
I’m breathing heavily, my legs shaking with the desire to both fight and flee. The stillness in the room sets me on edge, the atmosphere thick with anticipation, like a spark fizzing, waiting to ignite into a full on explosion.
“You should watch yourself, boy,” Floyd says through gritted teeth. “Stay out of my business.”
We’re a similar height, but he has more bulk on his upper body than I do, so I straighten up, widening my stance to appear more intimidating. “Darius is my business.”
He tsks. “I figured he ran off to you after his lesson last night.” The word twists at my insides, my mind fighting off images of Alister using the same word to describe what he did to me.