THE NEXT DAY AT WORK, I’m shocked when I receive a text from Hayden. I kind of assumed after his rather sudden brush-off last night on my doorstep that he’d go silent on me again. Instead, he asks if we can get together tonight to continue his countdown. I suggest a coffee shop, but he explained that he’d prefer somewhere more private for what we’ll be discussing.
We settle on meeting at my flat. Wondering what day two of his countdown entails leaves me feeling anxious the entire day at work. He’s obviously keen to get it all out, and I’m quite amazed at his tenacity. To relive, in great detail, the days leading up to an attempted suicide has to be intense for even the most healed survivors. But one thing I’ve learned about Hayden is he doesn’t back down from a challenge.
I would have assumed that learning all of this about him would have tempered my attraction. A cold dose of reality is a sure-fire way to snuff out any sparks. But the truth is, it’s only adding to the magnetic pull he’s got on me. He’s rich, and deep, and complicated. So many mysterious layers reside within Hayden Clarke, and I’m desperate to reach the centre. The fear of rejection is beginning to consume me, though.
Last night, his demeanour shifted back to that ice-cold way again. It was the same way he acted toward me when we were dealing with drunken Benji. He’s sharing so much with me, but there always seems to be something about me that doesn’t make men climb mountains for me. I remember Leslie sharing Finley and Brody’s love story with me. He flew over a bloody ocean to chase her down after she crushed his heart with no clear explanation. Why can’t I find even a fraction of that type of devotion?
Regardless, I must be a glutton for punishment when it comes to Hayden because I rush home early to tidy up my flat. Not that it needs it much. I definitely have a minimalist style, so there’s not much tidying to be done. But my bedroom is an entirely different story than the rest of my flat. It is the one room where I let my personality play. Leslie calls the décor gothic glamour. It’s basically like the Addam’s Family meets Beverly Hills glamour. When I moved in, I covered the wall adjacent to my bed with a lilac and dark purple damask print wallpaper, adding to the drama of the room. My bed itself is a large king with a striking black baroque-carved headboard. The duvet is a decadent dark plum, crushed velvet material that Leslie found for me at some quaint fabric store in Brixton. Toss in the millions of upscale plush throw pillows and you have yourself a bed fit for a queen.
The room feels like a tribute to my upbringing, really. I fell in love with this style as a child when our dad took us on an incredible haunted house tour around London. The Jack the Ripper Ghost Tours inside old Victorian mansions sucked me in. I knew that when I grew up, I was going to have a room that looked just like those places. And with Leslie’s help, I more than achieved my goal.
Hayden said he’ll stop by after tea, so I take Bruce out for a nice long walk to tire him out. When I return, I take a quick shower and dress in a pair of soft black skinny jeans with holes in the knees and a white button-down blouse. I leave my hair loose and straight and try not to put too much effort into my makeup.
Just after eight, Hayden buzzes and I type in the code to allow him access to the eleventh floor. When the doors open, I’m awkwardly tugging at the buttons of my shirt, feeling like a kid on a platform at a tailor shop. Thankfully, Bruce pounces and distracts him enough for me to gain control of my fluttering heart.
After paying Bruce proper attention, Hayden strides toward me in a pair of sexily faded jeans that are snug around his muscled thighs. He’s wearing a dark green fitted T-shirt that’s tucked into the front of his jeans, revealing a masculine brown belt that matches the sexy leather cuffs on his wrists.
“Hiya,” I say, swallowing nervously as I take note of his glowing grey eyes.
He nods. “How are you?” His gaze is wide and thoughtful, like he knows he’s asking a lot from me by doing this and he appreciates it.
“I’m well. Are you thirsty? Shall I put the kettle on?”
“I’m okay, thanks.” He clears his throat.
“I thought we could pop up to my garden to talk. It’s really pretty up there this time of night with the sun setting. Does that work for you?” God, why does this feel so bloody formal? Oh, maybe because he snogged you senseless, then looked at you like you grew two heads.
He nods and sucks the sides of his cheeks between his teeth, chewing anxiously. I head to the kitchen to grab Bruce a new meaty chew and set it on his large pillow in the corner of the living room.
“Consolation prize?” Hayden asks, smiling at Bruce.
I nod. “There’s no way to bring him up, so I always give him something special before I go.”
Hayden follows me through the glass patio door. I flip on the light switch for the roof. Then I grab hold of the ladder and climb. Feeling his eyes on me the entire time, I do my best to make it up without stumbling. I turn to watch his reaction when he reaches the top and takes in the area that brings me the most joy in my home.
The sun is just beginning to disappear and a romantic orange dusk casts a hazy glow on everything, making the greens look even greener. A large, slatted, four-poster overhang resides right in the centre of the small roof, and hanging from that are climbing flowers and Chinese lanterns. Below the lanterns, an enormous, round, wicker sunbed rests on the fake moss flooring. A mess of colourful throw cushions match the various bushes and pots spread out all around the lush vegetation.
“Vincent wasn’t exaggerating,” Hayden says, inspecting the climbing ivy and roses alongside a small wrought iron archway.
“I don’t know what most of them are,” I admit. “I think those are azaleas, but they could be dandelions for all I know.”
He huffs out a laugh. “More than I know.”
“I love it up here, but I can’t even call gardening a proper hobby if all I do is sit back and enjoy the flowers.”
“A garden enthusiast, perhaps?” The corner of his mouth turns up and the set of his sexy, whiskered jaw sends pulse through my body.
“I’ll accept that generous label.” Laughing, I flip on my small Bluetooth speaker, grab my phone, and lie down on my belly on the sunbed, kicking my legs up behind me. Scrolling through the music on my phone, I ask, “What kind of music do you like, Hayden?”
“Oh, this sounds like dangerous territory.” He strides over and lies down beside me on his side, glowering at me through hooded lashes. I close my eyes briefly, drinking in the heady musk of sawdust and soap that smells like his own perfect brand of cologne.
Suddenly, he snatches my phone from my hands.
“Hey!” I exclaim and reach over to grab it back. He holds it out of reach and I clamber over him to grab it. “Give it back!”
His chest rumbles with laughter. “Vi, this will be so much easier if we get this over with quickly.”
“Get what over quickly?” I ask, looking down at him and realising with a burst of excitement that my chest is pressed snugly against his.
He looks down as if recognising the same thing. Rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek, his eyes twinkle with mirth as he returns his gaze to mine. “I’m going to go through your playlist, Vi.” His voice is husky and ominous. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
I arch one challenging brow at him. “Which way means you don’t get to go through my playlist?” I ask, propping my cheek on my hand and resting my elbow on his chest in mock indignation.
His face screws up in contemplation as he stares into the lanterns. “Neither,” he teases while shooting out from beneath me and dashing away just as I make a swipe for my phone again.
“Oh, Christ,” he moans, scrolling through the list.
“What?” I ask, certain I know the answer to my question but needing confirmation before I start defending myself.
The tone of his voice rises into a comedic shrill panic. “Oh, Christ! Vi, Vi, Vi. This is worse than I expected.”
“Just tell me, you cheeky bugger!” I exclaim, resting my head on one of the pillows and preparing myself for the definite mockery coming my way.
“You have One Direction on here.” He walks over to me with a pained look on his face and falls backward onto the cushion beside me. He wields my phone as a knife and acts as though he is piercing it through his chest. “And Bieber. And…Christ, I can’t even say it.” He covers his eyes with his arm. “Miley Cyrus. Fuuuuuck, Vi.”
Without warning, and before he uncovers his eyes, I sock him hard in the stomach. He explodes a breath of warm air and curls up into the foetal position, laughing and groaning in unison.
“I didn’t give you permission to look through it,” I chastise, laughing at his ridiculous face. “Judge all you want, but their tunes are bloody catchy.”
He sits up and looks at me pensively. His long leg is bent with one elbow resting on it in the most relaxed way I’ve ever seen him. “How did your tough footballer brothers ever let you get away with this?”
I bite my lip and it does nothing to conceal my huge shit-eating grin.
His knowing eyes turn wide. “They like them all, too,” he guesses.
I nod, bursting into a fit of giggles. “You should see Gareth’s pre-match playlist. He’s got Taylor Swift!” My laughs really take off as Hayden sighs heavily and falls onto his back in complete defeat.
“I feel like a kid who’s just been told there’s no Santa,” he whines.
“Oi, it’s all right, love,” I say in a proper mother hen voice while leaning over him so he can see into my eyes. “Father Christmas still lives in our Beiber-loving hearts.”
The crinkles around Hayden’s eyes as he laughs are enchanting. Every individual line is an expression of his heart. As if he sees something similar in me, his hand moves to touch my face. He drags the backs of his fingers down my cheek and then brushes my nose affectionately.
“I think I’ll find a way to forgive you,” he whispers.
My heart swells and I bite my lip, battling away the incredible urge I have to kiss him. He’s right there…He’s right fucking there! But it’s him who needs to guide this ship. Not me.
I swallow hard and sit up, moving off his chest and into a more proper sitting position. “Day two, right?” I ask, attempting to shake off the heady desire rushing through me.
He sits up and I catch sight of his happy eyes draining into pools of anxiety. He clenches his jaw and nods stoically. I’m unsure if his mood shift is because of my abrupt change of subject or because of what we’re about to discuss. Either way, he begins informing me that day two was the day he wrote his suicide note.
Suicide. Note.
Those two words alone cause my heart to thunder beneath my chest. I find myself nodding repetitively.
Hayden touches my hand. “I have it here with me, and I want you to read it…But only if you think you can handle it.” His grey eyes are wide and haunting as he waits on bated breath for my answer.
The severity of his request is not lost on me. I’ll never be able to unread something like this. But I can’t say no. I need to read it as much as he wants me to read it. For whatever reason, Hayden Clarke has chosen me to walk this journey with him, and I can’t turn off his path now. I nod again as he pulls out a tattered piece of yellow legal paper and hands it over to me.
My hands tremble as I unfold the note. Watching me must be too painful because he stands up and strides over to the edge of the rooftop. The city lights pop on one-by-one as the London skyline turns more and more black.
To My Family,
People write letters like this to tell you why, right? Why did I do this? Well, I hope I’m clear because the last thing I want to do is leave you all with any shred of doubt. I need you all to know that what I did to myself was something I chose to do on my own. It wasn’t something that anyone pushed me into, and I don’t want any of you worrying over the idea that you could have done anything to prevent this.
The truth is my heart has been aching and deteriorating every single day since Marisa’s death. Scraps were all that was remaining. And now, at last, those scraps have also crumbled.
No matter what I do, I can’t find a way to forgive myself. I can’t let it go. In the wake of her death, I am drowning and I can no longer see the shore. I’m stuck here in the depths with the weight of her dead body pulling me further and further into the darkness. So much so, the darkness has become my only way of life. It’s where I’m at while I’m living, and it’s why I yearn for the nothingness of death.
Death feels like a break. Like a relief. Like a blessing. Like the only place I can find peace.
I don’t know why I’m taking Marisa’s passing harder than everyone else. Maybe because I was driving. Maybe because I felt the force of the quad against her body. Maybe because I loved her so much and I’m not sure I ever properly told her. How could I have never told her I loved her? She was the best sister anyone could ever ask for and I was oblivious. Ridiculous. Foolish.
It seems everybody but me is moving on with their lives. I refuse to continue to be the sad son, angry brother, disappointing friend, or jilted lover who holds everyone back. I despise being the charity case. When living hurts this much, what kind of life is it? So, instead of wishing every day that it was me who died in that accident instead of her, I’m going to do something about it.
My one final request from all of you, my only request, is to be happy.
I’m only sorry that I can’t be.
Love always, -H
Tears stream down my face and onto the paper. Shaking, I quickly turn it over on the cushion to pat it dry. A huge knot aches in my throat, so I attempt a painful cough to relieve the pressure. I let out a frustrated and somewhat garbled cry. Then I feel Hayden’s firm arms wrap around me. I curl up into a protective ball, failing miserably to stop my tears.
“Shhhhh,” Hayden whispers against my hair and presses his lips to the top of my ear. “Shhhhh. I’m sorry, Vi. I’m so, so sorry.”
“I’m sor—I’m sorry,” I choke out painfully around the lump and bite down on my kneecap to stave off my cries. I shake my head. “I’m sorry for not being stronger right now. I just want to wish that time away for you, Hayden. I want to wish it away with everything inside of me.” I wipe the tears from beneath my eyes and sniff loudly.
I turn my head and watch him exhale a shaky breath. His expression is grave as he taps the face of his watch mindlessly and replies, “You have no idea how many times I’ve wished the same thing. Still to this day.”
“That’s not you anymore, is it, Hayden? Is that man still inside of you?”
Terror courses through me from the absolute fear I have of that darkness returning inside him. The Hayden I’ve been getting to know for the past week is nothing like the man in that letter. That man was a broken, shattered, semblance of a person who truly just wanted out.
“That darkness will always be inside me I think. But as you can see, I’m changed now. I told you before that deciding to kill myself felt brave, but deciding to live feels braver now.”
I exhale at his important and meaningful proclamation. “I’m glad, but…wow. I can’t imagine how your family reacted after reading that.” I shudder at the thought. If I was his mum…If that was a note Booker had written…
“I’ve never shown that note to anybody, Vi.”
My eyes fly to his just as he pierces me with a gravity in his gaze that scares me.
“How?” I clench the note in my hand as if the reality of it is somehow different now. “Surely your family found it.”
“I never set it out. I never even told my doctor I wrote it.” He shakes his head, his eyes looking downward as if he’s embarrassed by his admission. “I’ve never told anybody. Not even Theo or Leslie.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “Why me? Why did you choose to share this with me?” My voice cracks at the end in a panicky fear that the meaning behind all this is more than I can handle.
His grey eyes lift and stare into mine with an unspoken answer that strikes straight through my heart. The vulnerability and connection in this one look blossoms beneath my chest and brings tears to my eyes.
“Why me, Hayden?” I ask again. My body moves closer to him as if operating with a mind of its own.
His jaw clenches as he leans toward me as well, inching himself further and further into my space. His warm breath brushes my shoulder, and I delicately touch the leather cuff on his left wrist. He hisses softly and his eyes fixate on my hand, but he does not pull away.
Hayden Clarke has entrusted me with the deepest, darkest part of his soul. In that moment…In that second…In that briefest flicker of time ticking away on the watch around his wrist, I do exactly what my soul is screaming in agony for me to do. What my heart is pounding beneath my chest in anticipation for.
I kiss him.
God, do I kiss him.
I clutch his coarse jaw in my hands and press my lips to his in a fierce, passionate encounter. My mouth moves against his, coaxing and pleading. And, like the sway of a pendulum, his lips return my movement. It’s in that second that everything inside of me clicks into place. Emotion rips through me as we rock back and forth, and I allow myself to believe that he feels the intense bind between us just as I do. His hands wrap firmly around my waist and push me back onto the cushion. The weight of him on top of me is intoxicating and heady. My body is screaming to take him inside of me with every passing second. I move to wrap my legs around him, but he suddenly rips himself away from me.
“Vi, no. Fuck!” he exclaims, sitting back on his knees. A look of agony casts over his face as he shakes his head at me accusingly.
“What?” I ask, sitting up and looking at him in complete shock.
“We can’t do this! You don’t get it. You read the note and you still don’t get it!” He stands up and scrubs his hands over his hair and face. He begins pacing aggressively back and forth in front of me, the backdrop of the London night sky doing nothing to distract me from his charged demeanour. “Look, when I wrote that note, I truly felt like leaving would be a gift. A relief. I don’t feel that way anymore. That is why we can’t do this.”
“I don’t understand.” I fold my knees to my chest, feeling like I need to grip something against me for protection.
“I’ve only been out of rehab for a year, Vi. I need to focus one hundred percent on myself. I called you a distraction for a reason. I’m sorry if that hurts you to hear, but it’s the truth. When you told me last night how much that bothered you, I instantly put you first. I kissed you in the shop because I wanted to kiss the pain from you.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” I baulk defensively.
“Yes, because I can’t put you first. I can’t put anyone else first…Ever. Or that fucking darkness could return.”
He snatches the note up off the ground where it fell and tosses it haphazardly beside me. My eyes fly wide. Does he seriously think that my presence in his life could cause him to become suicidal again?
Hurt. Deep. Painful. Hurt. Strikes me right in my back. It’s happening again.
I stand up on shaky legs and cross my arms, turning away from him but keeping my shoulders held high. “I need you to leave, Hayden,” I demand, my voice low and menacing. I refuse to let him see how much this is affecting me. How much this is shaking me to the core.
He exhales heavily and I hear his steps approach. “Vi, you are incredible. I still want to be mates. You’ve helped me through a lot.” I recoil from the close proximity of his tremulous voice in my ear. “You’ll find better than me, and whatever we are will shift into a brief and forgettable moment in time.”
I let out a bark of a laugh as my face screws up in pain at his dismissal.
Once again, rejection fucking stings…Even in the dark.