Kate
Chapter Forty-Three
I didn’t sleep.
I lay there all night, rigid and still, staring at the ceiling like it might give me all the answers to my problems. My arms stayed crossed over my chest like a shield, like if I held tight enough, I wouldn’t come apart at the seams.
I was so bloody angry.
Actually, angry didn’t even begin to cover it. But who was I angry with?
Him? Of course, I was angry at him. How dare he.
How dare he use everything I’d been through as a weapon against me.
But why? That was what I couldn’t get past. That was what I couldn’t stop asking myself.
I’d been there. I’d been everywhere for him.
I’d dropped everything to follow him halfway across the world. To support him. To love him.
But I was also furious at myself. I’d let my guard down too far. Way too fucking far. Dared to let myself believe that happiness would stick this time, and it had all imploded in my face…again.
What hit me the worst was that it was one loss.
That was all it took. One loss, and he spiralled.
And instead of letting me in, letting me help him, he turned on me.
Unleashed it all like venom. I think I finally got the message.
He only liked me when he was riding high.
Because I’d conveniently been there when he was on top of the world.
Now? Now I feel like I’d been fooling myself about what we really were.
He could stay out there for all I cared. Except…that wasn’t true. Not really. It was easier to be furious. Easier than letting the hurt settle in. Because once it did, it coiled inside me like smoke, thick and suffocating, wrapping tight around my ribs.
What’s left, Kate?
God.
Those words circled like vultures. Over and over. Picking me clean. What was left?
Because yesterday morning, I’d emailed in my notice in at work. I’d spent days agonising over it. But that night in Montreal, the night he was there for me, the night he showed me why it was me he wanted. That sealed it for me. I needed this man more than anything.
I’d found a way to consult remotely, to keep a foot in the door, to juggle it all from the road.
I had a call scheduled in that week with the agency to discuss it.
I’d even been looking into sport psychology training.
I hadn’t told him yet. I was waiting for the right moment. But he hadn’t even given me a chance.
And now…fuck. What had I done?
My jaw clenched. The lump in my throat wouldn’t budge. I could still hear the crack in his voice when he’d said it, like he didn’t even register the weight of his words until it was already too late.
And even then…he hadn’t run after me. He hadn’t fought for me.
He just let me go into the silence of the bedroom. I’d heard him leave and come back hours later.
That wasn’t the Jordan I knew. Not the man who made me feel safe. Not the man who kissed me like I was the very oxygen in his lungs.
This version, this man, wanted to wound. And he succeeded.
My stomach twisted as a quieter, more dangerous thought surfaced. Was this the real him? The man underneath all the adoration he showed me? The one who’d snap when it mattered most?
The sunrise slipped through a gap in the curtains, far too bright for the storm still raging inside me. I hadn’t even cried. Not properly. The tears sat there, hot and heavy behind my eyes like floodwater against a dam. Just waiting.
I heard him stir. The soft creak of sofa cushions. The low hiss of the coffee machine. He was trying to do normal.
Then, his voice came tentatively through the door.
“Kate?”
Silence. I still couldn’t speak. I was too deep in my own rage now.
“I’ll head out to train for a bit,” he said softly. “Give you some space.”
Still, I said nothing. Not even a fine. I didn’t trust myself to speak, because if I did, I might just give him a taste of what he unleashed on me last night.
The main door clicked shut.
And something inside me snapped.
I moved before I could think. Pulled the suitcase out from under the bed and started throwing things into it: clothes, chargers, shoes.
The dress from last week was still tangled in there, caught in a loop of its own.
My hands were shaking, stomach flipping.
I felt a stray tear slip from my cheek and brushed it away aggressively. My own tears enraged me further.
There was no plan. No thought. I just had to get out of here. I needed to not be here. Not in this room. Not in this city. Not anywhere near him.
I zipped the case closed, makeup bag shoved on top, and dragged it to the lift like it weighed nothing at all.
By the time I reached the lobby, my phone was in my hand.
I booked the first flight out of here on Skyscanner without even a glance at the price.
There was no room for logic with the way I was feeling right now.
As I got into the cab I’d managed to flag down, willing him not to come back at that moment, I texted Gwen so furiously that I was sure I almost cracked the screen.
Me
I’m heading to the airport. I need to come home. I’ll explain everything.
I pushed the fresh wave of nausea bubbling in my stomach down, and I didn’t look back.