CHAPTER 40
KILLIAN
“Should we call the police?” Bella asks, wiping another tear from her face.
“Already done that. She’s not a missing person until she’s been gone for at least forty-eight hours,” I mutter, swirling the whiskey tumbler in my hand and watching as the thick dark liquid spins against the glass. My voice sounds hollow to my own ears.
“Well, we can’t just sit here and do nothing, Killian.” Bella throws her hands up, her heels clacking against the wooden floor of Hunter’s front room as she begins to pace.
“There’s not much we can do, Bells. Daisy left of her own volition,” Noah says from the armchair, his cautious gaze flicking over to me.
I feel like I’m in a fishbowl. I can feel the eyes of every person in the room watching me, waiting for my next move. I’m not sure what they’re expecting, but I’m afraid they’re gonna be sorely disappointed. The only thing I plan to do for the foreseeable is drink.
I want to drink until I can’t drink anymore. Until the pain in my chest is numb and my mind is free of all the dark thoughts threatening to swallow me whole.
I feel like I can’t breathe.
I feel like I could throw up.
The room around me is pure chaos. Daisy’s parents are beside themselves with worry for their daughter.
My sister is pacing the room, chewing on her nails while throwing out random ideas every now and then.
Hunter, Noah, Grayson and Rueben are on their phones, calling everyone we know to ask if anyone has seen my runaway bride.
Mr and Mrs Calloway are in the kitchen, only making an appearance every now and then to make sure everyone is comfortable.
And I’m drowning in a sea of emotions I can’t even put a name to. Questions fly around my head relentlessly, but I don’t have the answers to a single one of them.
Why would she do this?
What happened between last night and this morning?
Where the hell is my wife?
I throw back the dark liquid in my glass, relishing the burn as it glides down my throat.
Slamming the now empty glass down on the coffee table, I reach for the bottle instead and stand from my seat.
I need to get out of here. I need to get away from all these people, from their pity-filled stares.
I half-walk, half-stumble to the front door, the whiskey creeping up on me and making my limbs heavy and push my way outside into the cool evening air.
I take several deep breaths, sucking air into my lungs for the first time in hours. Taking a seat on the top step of the porch, I pull my phone from the pocket of my suit trousers and dial Daisy’s number for the millionth time.
The phone rings.
And rings.
And rings. Until eventually, I reach her voicemail.
“You’ve reached Daisy. I can’t reach the phone right now but leave a message.”
I release a shaky exhale. “Dais, it’s me.” My voice cracks. “Where are you, angel? Please, just let me know you’re okay. I’m worried.”
I let my blurry gaze roam the darkness around me. “Why did you leave? Was it something I did?”
A choked sob escapes me as I run a shaky hand through my hair, tugging lightly on the ends. “Fuck, Dais. I’m going out of my mind here. Please call me back.”
I hang up the phone and stare down at the screen, making no move to wipe the tears as they land on the device in my hand. My shoulders shake with silent sobs as the weight of her silence closes in on me, squeezing my lungs and stealing the breath right from me.
The world spins, my chest heaves and a sweat breaks out along my forehead. Blackness creeps along the edge of my vision, my limbs become heavy and my ears ring.
Fuck, I think I’m dying.
I open my mouth to scream, to call for help, to do anything, but nothing comes out. Instead, I’m stuck here, on Hunter’s porch, doing absolutely nothing to find my wife while my body betrays me.
And I’m prepared to let it. If it takes this pain away and finally puts me out of my misery, then the darkness can have me.
I welcome it.
A hand grips mine, dragging me out of the darkness and pulling me back into the light. The ringing stops. The darkness recedes and my pulse slows as I find Mrs Calloway sitting beside me, her hand clutching mine.
“Amelia?” I croak, blinking away the moisture.
Her smile is warm but full of sadness. “Oh, my sweet boy,” she whispers, cupping my cheek and catching a tear with her thumb.
“It hurts so much,” I admit, my bottom lip wobbling.
“I know, my darling. I wish there were something I could do to take the pain away.”
“What am I supposed to do? I feel like I should be doing more.”
She grips my hand tighter. “You’re doing all you can do. She’ll come to you when she’s ready to explain.”
“And what if she doesn’t?” I voice the very fear that has been eating at me all day.
Amelia takes a deep breath, looking me in the eyes.
“If she doesn’t, then she never deserved you.
If she can walk away from you without an explanation, then you shouldn’t spend another second questioning her reasonings.
You’re one of the kindest, most loving men I know, and I’m so incredibly proud of the man you’ve become, Killian.
I’m so very sorry that this is happening to you. ”
She puts an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into her, and I let her. It’s been so long since I felt any kind of motherly affection, that it feels foreign at first, but after a minute, my body relaxes and I sink into her hold, allowing her to comfort me in a way my own mother isn’t capable of.
And when her hand smooths up my back, I surrender to the emotions I’ve been bottling up and sob like a baby into my best friend’s mom’s shoulder.
***
“It’s me, again. Please call me, Daisy.” I pinch the bridge of my nose as I hang up, willing the burn behind my eyes to subside.
The silence of my empty apartment is deafening. My sister left an hour ago for work after tossing my phone at me with the demand to keep trying.
What does she think I’ve been doing for the last twenty-four hours? I’ve left countless messages, sent hundreds of texts. All of which go unanswered.
Between me, the boys and Daisy’s parent’s, we’ve exhausted most of our options.
The only option left is to call every local hospital, but I’ve been holding off on that because it’s glaringly obvious that Daisy left of her own accord. If she needed a hospital, she would have told someone. And it just doesn’t track.
I’ve tried to come up with every scenario that could have led to her leaving, but I draw a blank every time.
Nothing makes sense.
I unlock my phone and pull up Daisy’s mom’s number, pressing dial. It rings twice before she picks up.
“Hello?”
“It’s Killian,” I say, skipping the hellos. “Any updates?”
Her heavy exhale causes the line to crackle, and the sound makes my stomach tighten. “She called me.”
I sit up straight. “What?” I ask breathlessly as I jump to my feet and begin to pace.
“Where is she? Is she there? Can I see her?”
I grab my keys from the coffee table and toe on a pair of sneakers; grateful I didn’t crack open a beer when I wanted to earlier. I’m halfway to the door when Mrs Bennetts next words cause me to halt in my tracks.
“She doesn’t want to see you, Killian.”
I freeze, all the blood draining from my face. “What?”
“Look, I don’t know where she is right now, or why. But I left her a voicemail threatening to call the police and she called me to assure me she was fine. That’s all I have right now, Killian.”
Right there, in the hallway, I sink to the floor. My head drops back against the wall with a thud as I squeeze my eyes shut. “Why is she doing this?”
Mrs Bennett’s tone is softer this time as she replies, “I don’t know. I’m sorry, son.” And then, she hangs up.
***
“Where did it go wrong, Dais? We were fine.” I shake my head lazily. “No. We were better than fine. We were great. We were newly married and in love.” I scoff. “Well, I thought we were in love. But the more time that goes on, the more I start to question whether you loved me at all.”
Taking a long swig from the bottle, I pause.
“Was it all a game to you? What do you gain from doing this? Do you even care at all?” I shake my head again, a half-laugh, half-hiccup escaping me.
“No, of course you don’t. Because if you cared you would answer your goddamn phone!
” My voice rises with every word, frustration mixing with the effects of the alcohol flowing through my blood.
It’s been two weeks since the call with her mother, when she told me that Daisy didn’t want to see me. It’s been two weeks and two days since she left me standing at the altar. And still, my messages and calls go unanswered.
“Fuck,” I whimper into the phone, sounding pathetic. “I can’t do life without you, Daisy. Please just call me.”
With that final plea, I hang up.
***
“You need to stop this shit, Killian,” Noah says, kicking his boot against mine.
I’m face down on my bed, still dressed in the clothes from last night. The usual scruff on my jaw has turned into a full, overgrown beard and I’m ninety perfect sure there’s drool crusted in the wiry hair.
I don’t give a shit.
“Fuck off, Noah,” I slur into the pillow.
“No.” I hear him shuffling around my room before the curtains are wrenched open, the bright light of daytime blinding me.
“Are you fucking serious?!” I yell, pulling the pillow over my eyes to shield them. My head is pulsating, my hangover hitting me with a vengeance.
“Yes, I’m fucking serious. It’s been a month, man. You need to get your shit together.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Noah. Get the fuck out.”
“Get your ass in the shower. You smell like a goddamn distillery. And while you’re in there, shave that fucking hair off your face. I’ll wait for you in the living room.” With that, he stalks from my room, slamming the door with a force that makes me wince.
I reach for my phone on my nightstand and check for any missed calls or messages, but much like it has been for the past month, my notifications are empty.
I called her again last night. I promised myself that I wouldn’t call her anymore, but I’m weak and I miss her so fucking much. All I want is to hear her voice.
For the briefest of moments, I thought she had answered the call. I might have conjured that up in my whiskey-addled brain, but I swear I could hear her quiet sobs on the other end of the line.
It’s like I’m grieving a person that’s still alive and it’s driving me to madness.
I can’t remember the last time I was sober.
Can’t remember the last time I ate anything or even showered.
The days have blurred into one long never-ending nightmare, and I don’t know where I’m supposed to go from here.
I don’t know how to move forward without her.
All I know is, I don’t want to.
Every time I close my eyes I see her. When I open my eyes, I see her. She’s everywhere and nowhere all at once. I can’t even look at Bella, because every time I do all I see is her best friend and every time, it kills me a little bit more.
Heartbreak fucking sucks.
My entire future crumbled right in front of me and I was powerless to stop it.
Half of my soul is missing, and I don’t know how to live without it.
One day, I might. But that day isn’t today.
With a long, disappointed sigh, I place the phone back down, pull the pillow back over my face and let the darkness swallow me once more.
***
I’ve relived those days over and over in my head since Daisy told me what happened on our wedding day.
I’ve been trying to understand what she could have been going through in the days that followed. While I was getting lost in a bottle of whiskey, where was she?
Was she in the hospital?
How long was she there for?
Why wasn’t I informed? I’m her husband after all. Shouldn’t I have been informed that my wife was there?
Did she tell them not to contact me?
Do I even have the right to be upset about this? I could have tried harder. I was moments away from calling the local hospitals to ask if anyone by her name had come in. But then I spoke to her mom and all of that went out the window.
I have so many questions I still need answering.
Hell, I think I might have more questions now than I had before.
But I’m not sure I’m ready to hear the answers.
I know I seem like a self-absorbed asshole. I’m aware that Daisy went through one of the worst things a woman can go through. And I know she had to have been dealing with more than I could ever understand.
But I also can’t forget the way I felt in the wake of it all. I can’t get myself to understand why she felt the need to leave.
We could have been there for one another. We could’ve grieved our child together. It’s the secretiveness of it all that bothers me. I know her parents knew.
There’s no way that they didn’t.
And somehow, them knowing makes the betrayal of it all that much more significant.
They saw how it affected me. They stood by and watched me spiral into depression for weeks, all while knowing the truth.
I grab my keys from the bowl by the front door and step out into the crisp spring air. I lock my door behind me and jog down the steps toward my truck.
I have questions that need answering, and I know just the place to start.