51. daegan

51

DAEGAN

"What do you want? How do you know she left? Did you say something to her?" I ask, throwing question after question. "Why are you talking to her? If you want answers, you should be talking to me."

"Daegan. You haven't seen me in almost a year. Let me take care of you."

"Stella. Why are you here? Let's get to the point. I'm already in hell and don't need to upgrade a tier."

"Daegan." She hisses. "I…I came here because this is the second time you've gotten hurt. I miss you. I'm worried about you."

"Why now?"

"I've always cared."

"Is that why you cheated on me and moved on with your co-worker? Is that why you called me a monster when I came back home because of my face?"

"I've changed. Things have changed." She grabs my hand, like she's trying to prove something to me and to herself.

I retract my hand slowly, and her smile falters.

"I miss you playing the piano for me. We can go back to that, you know?"

"Stella. I moved on. You moved on. It's been almost a year since we've talked, and now you want to see if we'll work out. Why? DAYS before we finalize our divorce?" I say with patience, somehow possessing my body.

I'm calm and collected, not bothering to raise my voice. This isn't worth it. Stella comes from money. I don't have any compared to what she has. Her boyfriend is a CEO of a well-known construction company globally. She always would get angry with me when I couldn't get her the designer things she wanted.

"I believe you threw my injuries, my job, and my less-than-impressive salary into my face, and that's why you left me. Do I need to make a list of all the reasons why we're getting divorced? To remind you that the real monster was you in designer clothing?"

"Daegan! I'm single again, first of all. It's given me time to think and figure out what I need to change. Please give us another chance."

I kiss her on the cheek, and she smiles with a flash of hope.

"Take your new, changed personality and find someone who loves it." Her bright green eyes fall to darkness. She stands from her chair with a face that could tear down buildings. She's sulking as she paces back and forth.

"You don't love me, Stella. And that's okay. You're lonely, and you think that if you show up here when I'm in this state, it'll put me in a place where I'm weak and take you back?"

She doesn't say anything. Instead, she rubs her bright, pigmented red lips together until it smears.

"Fine. No. I don't love you. You're right. But I do miss the way you feel."

"Stella." I snarl. I know what she's referencing—the sex we had together.

She pouts and then giggles, finally unmasking her true feelings. I knew this wasn't what she truly wanted. She walked in here after finding out that I may have found someone, and she wanted to ruin that because the man she left me for didn't want her anymore. Stella has always liked to manipulate situations in her favor. When I called it quits, I vowed never to let it happen again.

"Fine, fine, fine. I'm leaving. I'll see you in court in a few days to finalize the divorce." She walks to the sliding doors, but then turns around when her hand reaches it and that's when I find Dario in his wheelchair, my little sister, my older brother, and Graves waiting for me with bags of food in their hands. They wave at me, and Dario makes a ‘yikes' pose while Stella's back is turned and facing me.

"You risked your job. You put someone before your job—something you could never do for me."

After twelve days in the hospital, I am discharged. Another scar, another story on my body, a reminder I don't quit easily. God only knows why he's granted me so many chances but if I have one more chance at life, I want to spend it with one woman, and if she doesn't want me anymore…I'll accept it. But I won't ever love anyone else. I wasn't lying to her when I said she was it for me. I guess it's back to being married to my job. I fucked up. I know I did, but I hope she can forgive me, for her own peace of mind, not for mine.

I'm on my way home to tear everything down in that room Alessia discovered. She doesn't want me. I know she must not want me, and that's why she wrote me this letter. I'm holding it as Graves takes me home. I'm in the passenger seat of his Land Rover. The windows are rolled down, and I'm finishing up a cigarette.

"Doctor said you couldn't smoke."

I take another hit, inhaling the bitter taste, and it sinks into my lungs. I blow out the smoke out the window.

"I know."

Finally, I decide it is time to face the music. I honored her wishes and waited until I was discharged to open it. I open the crumpled, wrinkled letter and read.

Daegan,

I'm writing to you because I can't say goodbye in person. I can't look you in your eyes because I'll sink back into you like a snowstorm I don't want to be saved from. You're my anchor, Daegan. You're the light that shines through the grey, dangerous clouds that come to destroy me. On those days that the darkness overpowered me all year, you stood by me and went above and beyond to make sure I was okay, safe, and protected…always. This year, you've taught me a lot about myself. I hope that I've taught you things in return. Even though we agreed to do something that blurs many lines of my morals, I don't regret falling for you. I heard everything you said to me when you held me in your arms, when Gabe shot you, and I want to thank you for saving my life. There are no amount of words of gratitude that would be enough to explain that. The main point of this letter is to tell you this. Time can be a gift, it can heal, or it can make us go down a path we don't want to. And right now, I need time. You need time. So please…go do the good guy thing and let me go. I'll do the bad guy thing, and I'll leave.

~ Alessia

I fold the letter back up and put it in my jeans.

Fucking hell, Valentine.

I was already shot once. I don't need to be shot twice.