48. Reed
Tears blur my stare as I watch him leave, but I don’t move, I can’t.
Because if I take one step toward him, just one single step, I know I won’t stop.
I’ll go after him, I’ll tell him everything, I’ll spill all my sordid secrets and let him help me deal with the fallout.
I’ll tell him about my father, about the deal, about the bruises that have long since healed, but still flare with pain every time I see his name on my phone.
There would be so much word vomit that it would create a cavern between us, and he would do everything in his power to make it go away, but that’s not fair to him.
Because then he’d stay. He’d fight for me, he’d make promises I know he would keep, and my father would make him pay for every single one of them.
So I don’t move, forcing myself to remain upright until he disappears from sight, digging into my years of practice of remaining in control.
I watch the empty space, forcing in shaky breaths until I am certain he is not coming back, and only then do I let myself drop.
I stumble until my back is against the car, sliding down until my knees are bent and I am gasping for air.
“I’m a fucking coward.” The words bounce off the concrete walls surrounding me, only reminding me even more of just how alone I am.
Which is funny, because I’m used to being alone, used to fighting my battles without anyone having my back, but somewhere along the way Wilder snuck past all my defenses.
He took up space in my life without even bothering to ask, and now I’m left with a hole in my chest in the shape of him.
I’m almost certain the look in his eye will haunt me forever, and fuck, the way he pleaded.
Every word out of his mouth was ripping me apart, and I had to stand there and pretend like it wasn’t.
Another tear escapes before I can stop it and I wipe it away angrily, because crying won’t change anything.
It won’t change the velvet box buried at the bottom of my suitcase, and it won’t change the life my father has planned out for me.
Crying means nothing, the only thing I can do now is make sure Wilder hates me, because all of this was necessary.
I had to do it for Freddie, to protect him, to protect me.
It doesn’t matter that Wilder made me happy, that I do feel everything he just said.
No, the only thing that matters is keeping my brother safe.
I’m not sure how much time passes, or how long I stay rooted in my ball of self pity, but it’s long enough for someone to find me.
“Mierda,” Matteo sighs, bending down to meet me at eye level.
I can tell from the look in his eye that the sight of me like this is making him uncomfortable.
Sure we’re friends, but not the way he and Wilder are, and it’s only now at this moment that I realize that so clearly.
“Come on, mi pequeno artista, let's go.” He holds his hand out to help me up, but all I can do is stare at it completely perplexed.
He’s the last person I expected to see right now. “What are you doing here?” Matteo sighs again at my question, not waiting for me to take his hand, before he reaches down and basically picks me off the floor.
“Wilder sent me,” he huffs, dusting me off slightly, as his eyes trail over me. “Clearly it was necessary,” he mutters, but I’m too focused on what he just said to care about the state I’m in.
Just the sound of his name sends a fresh wave of pain through my chest, and I have to fight against letting more tears fall.
Of course Wilder sent him, he’s a good person, the best I’ve ever known, and Matteo isn’t here for me, he’s here for him.
Their friendship runs deep enough that it doesn’t matter they’ve shared more, they will always have one another’s backs, and my heart aches with jealousy.
“Is he okay?” I ask, desperately needing to know, but Matteo looks at me solemnly and full of pity.
“I think you already know the answer to that, mi amigo.”
I don’t say anything else, just let Matteo lead me out of the garage and into the waiting cab.
I’m guessing Wilder took the car and driver back to the hotel, and just thinking about his excitement on the way here almost kills me.
He set all this up for me, because he cares for me, because he loves…
I block out that train of thought before it can even take root, swallowing the bile that creeps up my throat.
I’m not going there, I can’t, because if I do, I’ll forget everything else that matters to me and chase after him on my knees, begging him to take me back.
I can feel Matt watching me as we drive away from the track, and it takes everything in me to not fall apart.
Except I can still feel Wilder’s mouth against mine, his hands on my skin, his fucking cum in my ass.
All of it reminds me of what we had, of what I just threw away, and worst of all, I don’t even regret it.
I did the right thing, I know I did.
For Freddie.
I repeat the mantra in my head, over and over for the entire car ride, back to the hotel and all the way up to my room.
Matteo doesn’t say another word until we get there.
“You gonna be okay?” he asks, looking at me as if he won’t believe any answer I give, so I force myself to nod.
“Just call me if you need anything,” he adds, and the tenderness he is showing me, that I know is only because of Wilder, is almost suffocating.
The only thing I need is Wilder.
Still, I wait for Matteo to disappear back the way we came, until I am left all alone.
My room is the same way I left it, except somehow it feels darker and colder, like it’s not even my room anymore. I flick on the bedside lamp. ignoring the silence pressing in on me from all sides, as I stare at the bed.
Was it really just this morning we woke up there together?
The thought is ridiculous, because I’ve slept alone for years and never cared, but then Wilder spent weeks teaching me exactly what it feels like to not be lonely.
Now the absence of him is a physical ache inside of me, and there is nothing I can do.
I drop down on the end of the bed and let myself cry some more, telling myself that if I let it out it will all hurt less, but it doesn’t seem to work.
So I force myself to get up and pack. We have an early flight tomorrow, but the second I do, I find one of his shirts mixed in with my clothes.
It’s an old, washed-out black one from his time at The Academy, that he wears after he showers sometimes, and the sight of it breaks me apart completely.
My fingers tighten around the fabric, bringing it to my nose where it still smells faintly like his aftershave.
Fuck I’m pathetic.
I move to toss it aside knowing it won’t do me any good, but I can’t, my fingers won’t let it go.
So I do the only logical thing I can think of, and strip out my clothes and pull it on, slipping between the sheets wearing nothing but his shirt, letting his scent calm me.
I automatically roll onto my side before remembering he is no longer there, and a sob catches in my throat.
I pull the duvet tighter around myself in comfort, but unfortunately sleep never claims me.
All too soon, light is bursting through the curtains and my alarm goes off from somewhere behind me, but I ignore it. I spent the entire night replaying the look on Wilder’s face, over and over again in my mind, until I wanted to claw my eyes out just so I would never see such pain again.
My eyes are burning as I get out of bed, my heart throbbing, as I reluctantly force myself into the shower to wash away the remnants of Wilder from my skin.
I get dressed, finish packing, put on my sunglasses and then head downstairs to face the consequences, still not sure I’ll remain upright when I see him.
The lobby is already busy with people checking out, since the season is officially over, and it doesn’t take me long to spot everyone.
As soon as I am close enough for them to notice me, I can tell they know from the way they are looking at me.
Expressions vary from confusion to pure pity, and it’s a struggle to keep my head up high.
I let my stare travel over them all, searching for the only one that matters, but coming up empty. "Where's Wild?" I ask, trying to sound casual, even though saying his name feels wrong now.
Something flickers across Knox and Beckett’s faces, but they both flick their stare to Wilder’s dad, who offers me a grim smile. “He caught a red-eye out of here last night,” he tells me gently, and that news is somehow worse than facing him.
He left.
Then I guess, this is goodbye.
His words from last night come back to me, and I swallow the emotion threatening to spill all over the hotel lobby while nodding tightly.
I shouldn’t be surprised, I mean, what? Did I expect to break his fucking heart and that he’d then stay around to chit chat?
I’m a fucking idiot. I should be glad he’s gone, glad he is saving us both from more heartache, but fuck, I miss him so much it hurts.
I can still feel all of them looking at me warily, so I clear my throat. “Shall we go?”
Everything feels empty without him, the car ride, the airport, boarding the plane, I just keep expecting to turn around and find him there.
Except the only thing I find is his empty seat across from me.
I have to pull out my laptop to pretend I’m working, just so no one will talk to me, but the only thing I do is replay the last four months over and over again.
I start with the night on the balcony, the way he was so cocky and free, then the kiss at the castle, the way he surprised me by being so passionate.
Then there was the night on the yacht, and still now I can’t fathom how he was so possessive while sharing me with someone else.
Fuck, even our bike ride along the Berlin Wall that turned into the best date ever, and then all the nights he slipped into my room without a word.
Then I replay last night, the excitement on his face, the way he looked up at me as I kissed him, his face after I told him we could never be together.
All of it collides in one big fucked-up blur that I will be forced to relive forever, because I know what love feels like. I spent far too long growing up without it, and the fact I have just willingly let it go is something that will haunt me all the way to my grave.
My phone lights up and hope surges in my heart, before I spy Eloise’s name across my screen instead of his.
Eloise - Still getting home around 7pm?
I stare at the message for a long time before I finally type back.
Me - Yes
By the time the wheels touch down in New York, I feel like I've lived an entire lifetime since Vegas. The familiar skyline appears through the window, and it looks as gray and as cold as my heart feels. It’s not welcoming, nor does it feel like home, which I think is down to me realizing home was never a place for me.
I never truly experienced what it meant, not until I met Wilder.
He made hotel rooms and rooftops feel like home, and I’ll never know that feeling again.
I remain almost robotic, as we deplane and make our way through the private terminal.
Everyone is giving one another lingering hugs and promises of catch-ups, but I bid them all a pitiful goodbye and head straight for the car waiting for me.
For the first time in my life I don’t notice the traffic on the way home, just stare out of the window and try and pretend the last four months never happened.
They are done, it’s all over now.
When I walk into my apartment, Eloise beams at me as she pours two glasses of wine. “Aha, I knew tracking your location was good because…” she trails off when she looks at me.” Reed, what's wrong?”
Three words, that’s all it takes for me to fall apart completely.
“I had to give him up.” She moves before I can blink, wrapping her arms around me and holding me tight, but it doesn’t help because I am still falling apart. “I hate him.” The words come out broken between breaths I can't seem to control, and she knows I’m not talking about Wilder.
“I know,” she tells me softly, sliding her hand into my hair the same way she always has since we were teenagers, and it only makes me cry more.
She’s the perfect best friend as always, not offering me any kind of false hope or promising that everything will be okay, she just holds me and lets me cry.
When I finally pull away, she wipes beneath my eyes with her thumbs, searching my stare.
“You love him, don’t you?” All I can do is nod in response, and she takes her time before she speaks again.
“Then would it really be so bad to let him love you back?” I look at her confused, and she quickly rushes on.
“I mean, we’re both adults still bowing down to what our parents say, how pathetic is that?
” she tries to say it teasingly, but the panic is too raw inside of me.
“Would it really be so bad to just choose ourselves?”
“He broke Freddie’s arm!” I snap back, anger churning deep in my gut. “How can you even say that? I mean, how long until that becomes his ribs or his jaw? How long until he is broken and bleeding, and making deals like this one just to survive?”
Tears gather in her eyes, because she remembers all the times she had to help patch me up, and though her parents have never laid a hand on her, it doesn’t mean she doesn’t have scars all the same. So she nods, taking my hands in hers, and once again swiping away my tears.
“He’s expecting us for dinner at 8:30,” she says without emotion, and I almost laugh.
Of course he is.
“Then I guess it’s time to put on a show.”
An hour later, we are dressed in coordinating outfits and staring up at my father’s front door.
Not home, it was never home, not when the only thing I remember about living here was living in constant fear.
Behind that door is the life I chose, the life my father demanded, one without Wilder or the real me anywhere to be seen.
I almost don’t go inside, but then my eyes snag on a twitching curtain on the upper level, and I remember who I’m doing this for.
When the door is opened for us, I barely get to see anything before Freddie is flinging himself into my arms. “Reed, you’re home!” he sighs into my chest, and I feel his entire body sag against mine.
“Careful, watch your arm,” I say, but he only hugs me harder, so I wrap my arms around him as tightly as possible and just breathe him in.
“It’s okay, I’m here now.” My words are whispered into his hair so quietly, I’m not sure he even heard them, but it doesn’t matter, because I will never leave him alone again.