Chapter Four
Fallon
“Yes, Mrs Henry, I have booked all of your appointments for the next four months. You will get a text reminder twenty-four hours before, like usual.” I say in the perkiest voice I can muster.
She is one of those snobby-nosed clients who treat me like I’m ‘the help’, rather than a person.
I was running a few minutes behind today, and God didn’t I know it.
She sat staring daggers into the back of my head as I finished off the client in my chair.
But I know how these women work. Smile, compliment, and kill with kindness.
It’s a super power, and always works a treat.
“Make sure you do. You know I can’t survive without my weekly blow-dry.” She grumbles.
“Of course. See you next week,” I call after her as she storms out of the salon.
The second she is out of eyesight, my smile drops from my face.
Letting out the breath I've been holding all day, my shoulders slump. Fuck, my life. Somebody give me a break! I love my job, I really do, but sometimes it is so hard pretending to be somebody else. Masking my feelings to make sure others don’t feel it.
Sucking in all of the negativity that they hurl at me day in and day out is tedious. I’m so bloody tired.
I do feel worse than usual today, and I know that it's me; I'm the problem.
Not them. Last night was the first time I have slept with someone since the accident, and I can't pinpoint the exact reason I feel so crappy. At the time, I was living my best life, enjoying every second. It was up there with the best sex I have ever had. But the moment Luke's breathing became steady with sleep, I bolted out of the door faster than a speeding train. This overwhelming feeling of anxiety took over me, making me want to spew up everywhere, and I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t lie there and enjoy the after sex glow like I wanted to.
Because why should I feel happiness when the one man who truly loved me never got the chance to feel it too?
The guilt eats at me every day. Poor Harry was the kindest of men you could have ever known, and he really wanted to be with me.
Why couldn’t I have just given him that?
Maybe the guilt wouldn’t be so bad if I knew he felt love in return, but I couldn’t give him something I don’t have to give.
Not just Harry, but any man. The only people I know I love unconditionally are Maya, Blair, Gracie and my family.
That is a different kind of love, though.
The love he wanted was taken from me when I was too young to understand it.
Now, I will never be able to give it freely again.
My body, on the other hand, I have no problem giving that away.
I’m not shy when it comes to sex and fulfilling my needs.
I know what I like, and what men seem to like too.
Last night was exactly what I wanted, until it wasn’t.
I didn’t miss the moment his gaze changed from lust to something more.
The moment he looked a little more than horny.
But I'm poison, and even if I felt it too, I won't be dragging anyone else down with me.
“Hey girl, are you finished for the day?” Gracie asks as she locks up the door to her beauty room.
“Yep, all done. I just need to tidy up. You go on home, I’ll be a little while yet. I have to scrub the chair of all the hairspray Mrs Henry made me use,” I pout.
“Urg, what a client to end the day on. Are you sure you don’t mind me leaving?” She asks, and I know for a fact that if I said yes, she would stay.
“Of course not. Go home and enjoy the freedom,” I say, leaning in to give her a quick hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Bright and early. Love you.”
“Love you too, Gracie,” I call after her as she leaves.
Sometimes I forget just how lucky I am. Owning a salon with my three best friends is one of the best decisions I have ever made.
Even if we piss each other off from time to time.
It’s just that right now, it doesn’t feel the same.
The sisters have each other, but my other half, my soul sister, is still struggling and as selfish as it sounds, I hate it.
I want her to be happy and to do what she needs to do right now.
But I'm so fucking lonely. I need my girl back.
I didn’t feel lonely last night. Well, I didn’t until I ran off into the depths of the night and sulked until morning. That’s my problem, though. I’m broken.
After what feels like a lifetime, the salon is finally clean, and I’m locking up the door to head home.
The streets are a little manic tonight. Which isn’t strange, except for the fact that it’s a weekday.
My mind is away with the fairies, dreaming up scenarios of the dishy stranger when the feel of someone's body comes up behind me.
“Hello, Fallon,” a voice says from behind me.
I scream in shock.
Panic engulfs me, and without thought, I spin around and throw out my fist, connecting with something hard, which makes me squeal out in pain as well as fright.
“Oh, fuck, ow!” the male voice groans. “I couldn’t have been that bad in bed, could I?”
Finally, I look up and come face to face with the man I have been thinking about all day.
“Luke? What the hell? You scared the life out of me!” I shout, holding my hand against my chest.
“By saying hello? I’ll make sure to stand five feet away the next time I greet you,” he says whilst rubbing his jaw.
He looks just as good as he did last night, wearing suit pants and a black coat. The only major difference is the blood dripping from his lip.
“Oh, my god. I am so sorry. You’re bleeding.” I state.
Using the back of his hand, he swipes at his face, coating it in blood.
I raise my own hand to inspect the damage I’ve caused him, but the second I attempt to move my fingers, a cry leaves my lips.
Shit, I think I’ve dislocated my knuckle or something.
I know better than that, I’ve trained in self-defence for years.
“Give me your hand,” he says sternly, all emotion draining from him.
“It’ll be fine, don’t worry,”
“Don’t worry? My face just broke your hand. If we don’t look at it, you won’t be going to work any time soon. Now, give me your hand.”
Well, fuck. I didn’t think of that. All I thought was the need to escape. Of the memories that came over me.
“What are you going to do? I’m best seeing a doctor or something,” I say.
“Well, it’s a good job there's one right in front of you,” he says with a smile.
Well, that makes sense. He has the whole look going for him, and it explains the tidiness of his apartment. Why does he seem more attractive now that I know his job role? Wasn’t he gorgeous enough before?
“You're a doctor? And I hit you! I’m so sorry,” I cringe, looking down at the floor. I’m sure this is a felony. I don’t think I'd cope well in prison. I'd be someone's bitch in no time.
With his free hand, he uses it to lift my chin.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. Actually, I'm quite impressed, not many people could throw a punch like you,” he winks. “Come on, let's go and get you checked over.”