Page 66 of Branson's Promise

“Thank you. I’ll do my best to keep you updated,” the doctor said before nodding and disappearing through the doors to the emergency room. Silence filled the space he vacated and it took me a moment to shake myself and divert my attention from the emergency room door.

“Fiancé, huh? I think he’ll like that. You should make that happen when this is all over and you’re settled in London.” Resignation coated Milo’s words and it occurred to me that he’d settled in his mind that Branson and I would leave together, like the solution was that simple. Milo reached a hand out for me but as his fingertips brushed against my arm I pulled away.

“You’re joking, right? Fucking with me? Because you know as well as I do that he doesn’t just want to be with me. That I don'tjustwant him. Stop acting like you’re not every bit a part of this, like you’re some consolation prize.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t mean for things to go this way. I should have followed after him.”

A rage unlike any I'd experienced before swallowed me up, hitting me unexpectedly. “What you should have done is given us a fucking chance!” I bellowed, catching a warning eye from a passing nurse.

Milo steeled himself, dropping his voice to hard whisper so as not to draw more attention to us. “That’s not fair! You know it’s not that simple for me. You sprang this on us without warning.”

“And tell me, would it have made a difference? If I had told you a month ago, or two months ago? Would anything have changed? Or would you still be flogging this dead horse about my money?”

“I don’t know,” he said, “but this isn’t all on me. I’m not the only one to blame here.” He was right, and the guilt and shame, and fear mixed with the anger that I held inside - anger at me, anger at Milo, anger at the world for trying to take not only my dad but now Branson - left me with this overwhelming need to hurt someone or break something. To pass on just an ounce of the pain that was eating me up onto something else. And Milo, one of the loves of my life, was there, his face marred by guilt, a mirror of my own. So, I made him my punching bag.

Maybe I wasn't the good man I always thought I was because I didn't stop myself even when my words caused him to pale. “You know what? You’re right, we’ll make it work on our own. You're not needed here. You didn’t want to be with us, so just leave." It wasn’t fair, and I knew it and the last pieces of my already broken heart fell to a heap at my feet as his tears fell and he turned with a dip of his chin and walked away.

I wanted to chase him and yell at him, tell him to fight for us but what was the point when he had so clearly made up his mind?

Taking a seat and pulling out my phone, I messaged Caleb and offered him my jet, but he said they were already at the airport, waiting to hear if they had gotten a seat on a flight leaving in the next hour. There was nothing more I could do but sit and wait. Holding my head in my hands, I did just that. Nurses and doctors scurried past, paramedics brought in more patients but no one spoke to me. As every second and minute ticked by that no one came with an update, my heart sank further into despair.

I'd failed.

My job was to protect them, to take care of them and I'd let them both down. My men - the one lying damaged in a hospital bed and the other somewhere in this city plagued by hurt that I caused. Words that I said and the way I’d dismissed him as though he wasn’t a vital part of us. Milo may have had a hand to play in this but I was the one who ruined us.

Chapter 33

Milo

“You’re not needed here.”Noel’s words stung and as I sat on the cold metal bench in a deserted area outside the hospital, I leaned my head back and stared at the dark night sky. The rain from earlier had slowed but drops still fell, falling into my eyes, settling in my hair and soaking into my clothing. My body trembled against the bench, a mixture of cold and heartache seeping into my bones. He was right, Branson didn’t need me, Noel would take care of him and in time, they would forget I was ever a part of the equation.

“I love you, you're the other part of this three part equation. Ours, always.”Branson’s words came back to me and a feeling of wrongness settled in my gut, like a festering that I couldn’t shake.

A few hours ago, I had been so happy, waiting on Noel to return with cheesecake and joking around with Branson. How could it have all gone to shit so quickly and without warning? Noel wasn’t wrong for wanting to move back to the UK; if it had been me, and I’d had the opportunity to spend more time with my mom before she passed, I would have taken every chance to do so. But no matter how many times I played the scenario over in my mind, the result was always the same - me relying on him, giving him the power to control me. Shaking my head caused strands of damp, dark hair to fall into my face and I brushed them away with the back of my hand.

My ass stung as the cold metal seeped through my jeans, biting into me and my teeth were starting to chatter but I was glued to the spot. Motionless. Getting up and moving seemed like a chore and with no idea where to go or what to do next, I remained stagnant even as my body shook more violently from the cold.

I thought about my latest bank statement - a pitiful amount, hardly enough for a plane ticket yet alone for a move to another country. Over and over, I played the options in my mind. Stay here and move on. Beg Branson to stay with me. Save up some money and join them later. Stop being a proud, stubborn asshole and accept Noel’s offer - the next chapter of our life, he’d called it. That final option sounded so much like something Mia would say. I reached into my pocket, my hand fumbling with the phone as I pulled up her number and hit call.

She answered after three rings, “Hey, big brother.” The sound of her sweet, warm voice broke the last bit of tether holding me together and I sobbed down the line until each word I tried to say was punctuated by a hiccup. My stomach was queasy andit hurt to breathe. An all too familiar sensation of panic rose from the base of my spine, until I was dizzy and had to press a hand against the bench to feel the solidness beneath me. “What’s wrong?” When her question was answered with more sobs, she tried again. “Take a breath, Milo, and tell me where you are.”

“I ca…over… the hospital, it’s all…,” Words failed to form and stay together and what I could muster, I couldn’t push past my heaving breaths. Eventually, Mia insisted I ping her my location, saying she would be with me as soon as possible. I stayed on the cold bench, water dripping down my face and my clothing soaked right through until time was a foreign concept. When my phone rang ten minutes or two hours later - I wasn’t sure - I answered, my movements sluggish as my hands fumbled with the device.

“I’m here, where are you?” Mia’s voice was terse, laced with concern. Mustering all the strength I could, I pulled myself up and stumbled around to the front of the hospital, where I found Mia frantically pacing the pavement next to a black Tesla.

“Shit Milo! You’re drenched. Why the fuck are you sitting in the rain? Here.” She wrapped her coat around me but given our size difference, it barely covered my shoulders. “Let’s go inside.”

“No, please. Not inside.” My watery eyes met Mia’s and she pursed her lips, then gestured to the car she had climbed out of.

“Okay, get in.” Following Mia into the back of the car, I vaguely recognised the man in the front but couldn’t place him even when he turned towards me and smiled. Mia started to instruct the man to take us to the hotel, but I stopped her, asking instead to go to our apartment. She didn’t argue but I could see the question in her eyes.

Once back at the apartment Branson and I had once shared, Mia fussed over me like a mother hen. She ordered me into a hot shower and then bundled me up in a pile of blankets that smelled so much like Branson. I buried my face in them,finding comfort in his familiar scent. Mia had yet to ask me any questions, her sole purpose making sure I was okay.

The apartment was cold - no one had lived in it in months - and a layer of dust had settled on most of the surfaces. “This place is gross,” Mia scrunched up her nose as she filled the space next to me on our old sofa, then leaned over and swiped her finger through the dust on the coffee table. “You should really stop renting this place… seems pointless holding on to it.”

Looking around the apartment, I recalled the first time I had been in here and how much I loved it - how it had offered me something I had been searching for. It had been a refuge, a place of solace, where I had first gotten to know Branson and found the answer to six years of hard work. But now? It was nothing more than a dust-filled, empty reminder of everything I’d lost.

“You’re right,” I coughed, and Mia handed me a glass of water. “I’ll hand in my notice and look for something else.” Somewhere without the memories.

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