Chapter Forty-Five
Fallon
Air.
I need air.
Being stuck in the private room with a couple I almost destroyed was suffocating.
The rational side of me knows Geoff is doing okay, but the other side, the irrational side, knows it is all my fault.
This beautiful family that has accepted me with open arms almost had their world ripped away from them. All. Because. Of me.
I am the poison that spreads into everyone around me. I am the common denominator. I should have known it wouldn’t be so easy. I need to find Layla. I need that bastard to be locked up with the key thrown away. I need… I don’t even know what I need other than some air.
My chest is tight, and I start to gasp. Why can't I fucking breathe? I have had this feeling before, haven’t I?
Am I dying? Reaching my hands to my neck, I start to rub hard, hoping, praying, that I can get some oxygen inside of me.
I don’t know how much time has passed, minutes?
Seconds? But someone else's hand comes up to join mine, pulling them away from me.
“Look at me,” the voice says, but my eyes are too cloudy to see what is in front of me. “Fallon, it’s Maymay. I need you to look at me. Good. Now, deep breath in, hold it. Five, four, three, two, one. Release.”
She does this with me another six times before I can finally focus.
“Good, you did so well. What do you need?” Her eyes bounce between mine.
All I can do is stare ahead. I don’t know. I don’t know how to answer. I think I need Luke, but that is too selfish. His family need him more.
“Come on, babes,” she says after a beat, linking her arm through mine.
I don’t agree or say anything at all. I just follow, letting her guide me inside of Tommys idling car.
She sits in the back next to me, locking my hand with hers.
I don’t even feel us moving, I don’t notice the streets passing us by, it’s only when we pull up to her cabin that I realise we even left.
I wander inside, sitting down on the couch.
Her couch has always been my favourite place to be.
I take my own blanket from the pile and wrap myself up like a small child.
I can hear the kettle boiling, as well as Maya and Tommy muttering in the kitchen, but I’m not bothered enough to notice what they’re saying.
They both come in a few minutes later, one of them placing a steaming cup of tea in front of me. When I finally look up, they're both sitting on the edge of their seats, mugs in hand, watching me.
“We need to talk, sis,” Tommy says in the calmest voice I have ever heard from him.
I nod my head a little, because we do, it's just that I don’t particularly want to.
“Luke…”
“No!” I bark out, and he physically jerks back.
I will talk about anything, but not him, not now. Even just hearing his name makes my heart spasm in my chest. My beautiful, kind Luke. But he was never really mine. I had no right to want him to be.
“He won't stay away, you know that, don’t you?” Maya adds, her voice just above a whisper.
My shoulders droop. I do know that, and that’s the problem. If he comes here, my selfish arse will give in, and he deserves so much more.
“He loves you,” Maya says. “And I know damn well that you love him just as much.”
I lean forward and pick up my tea, drinking the piping hot liquid mainly to give me an excuse not to answer. I love him more than anything, more than I ever thought I could.
“Do we know any more about Layla?” I ask Tommy. “Maybe we could ask Jenson? He would be able to find her, wouldn’t he?”
“Luke already did. He’s tracking her down as we speak.”
“He did? When?” I blurt out.
“When you went into the hospital, that’s why we were all there waiting for you. He asked for us all to be there, for you.”
“For me? It was Luke who needed someone, not me.”
“From the way you just nearly passed out, I beg to differ,” Tommy says with a raised brow.
I don’t even realise that a fresh wave of tears has started to flow until the wetness drips onto the hand leaning under my chin.
Fuck. What am I even meant to do? He thinks of everything.
He does everything. All for me. And that makes me love him more, and I didn’t think that could be possible.
I wipe at my cheeks, but they don’t seem to want to stop flowing.
Have I done the right thing? My brain knows that I have, but my heart, well, that has a mind of its own completely.
I excuse myself to nip to the bathroom. Needing some space alone, even if just for a minute.
It’s only when I go to wash my hands that I look at the reflection in front of me.
I look like shit warmed up, and then steamrolled by a bulldozer.
My face is streaked with dirt, with tear stains in two perfect lines running down each cheek.
My once beautiful dress is ripped and covered in mud.
And my hair… well, that’s not even worth speaking of.
Without thinking to ask, I turn on the shower.
I need to get this shitty night off of me.
The second the water hits me, my body relaxes.
The tension in my shoulders has caused them to ache.
Using a mixture of Tommy's and Maya's things, I scrub at my hair and body.
I find myself staring at the water that heads towards the drain.
The dirt and grime washing away, leaving me so easily.
If only these feelings would do the same.
There's a soft knock at the door once I have turned the water off. The door opens and Maya walks inside with a big fluffy towel and some of her pyjamas in her arms. She doesn't say anything, just gives me a small smile before leaving them on the side. I wish I had the energy to return it.
“I have made up the spare room,” she tells me when I’m back in the living room. “Stay for as long as you’d like.”
Sitting back in my space, I curl my legs under me and lean my head on the arm of the sofa. Sleep does sound so good right now, and I don’t think I can face going home.
“Jenson found Layla,” Tommy says, once I sit down.
“What? Is she okay?” I ask, that sick feeling creeping back up my throat.
“She is absolutely fine. John lied. She hasn’t heard from him at all. He must have been saying it to get a rise out of you.”
“Fucking hell,” I breathe out, slumping back down on the chair.
All of that worry and stress, and it had all been a lie. Was it me he was always after? My head is lost in thought when Tommy coughs for attention.
“Do you feel like telling me what happened with John?” Tommy asks, startling me.
I turn my head to him, my eyes widening. My thoughts are too turbulent right now to rehash all of those painful memories.
“It’s okay, you don’t ever have to. But I want you to know that you can, whenever it feels right.”
Will the time ever be right? I don’t think I could stomach the look on his face when he finds out how weak I had been.
“Maya?” I ask, finally meeting her gaze. “Would you mind telling him? It’s just that… I don’t know if I can.”
Her own eyes start to glisten in response. Maya has always been such an empath. She reaches a hand across to squeeze my knee, then gives me a nod. She is the only one who went through it all with me, and the only other person who could tell the story.
The awkwardness in the room is stifling after that.
I manage a whole seven minutes sitting here in silence before saying goodnight and heading to the spare room.
The sun is already halfway up in the sky by the time I lie under the covers.
I’m so tired right now, emotionally and physically, but the annoying thing is, sleep never finds me.